MY WIFE IS A STRIPPER
CHAPTER FOUR
While I was sitting in my uncle’s living room watching a movie, Patricia’s phone rang. The caller ID showed “Sister Martha.” Curious, I listened as she answered.
“Hello, Sister Martha,” Patricia said. But the voice on the other end was clearly male voice, and their conversation was brief and hurried.
Are you still coming?” the voice asked.
“Yes, just for a while. I won’t stay for long?” Patricia whispered, glancing around nervously.
I strained to hear more, but she quickly rushed off to her room, closing the door behind her before I could catch anything significant. Something about it felt off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
A few days later, my uncle announced that he would be traveling to attend a pastor’s seminar a little far from our town. He mentioned he would be away for a week.
“I’m not quite sure if everything will be fine here,” he said, giving me a stern look. “Take care of yourself and try not to be too heady as usual.” Before leaving, he handed me some money that my mom had sent.
“Thanks, Uncle,” I said, taking the money. “I’ll be fine. Have a safe trip.”
The next day, I decided to go out and take some air. That’s when I met Cilia. She was a goddess of beauty God must have created her the day after He rested, because she was extraordinarily beautiful. I approached her and greeted her.
“Hi, I’m Fred,” I said, smiling.
“Hi, Fred. I’m Cilia. I live next door,” she replied, her voice soft and melodic.
We exchanged greetings, and I couldn’t resist flirting a little more. “You know, it’s hard to believe I’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you around here before.”
She blushed and smiled. “Well, I’ve greeted you once, but you ignored me.”
I was surprised. “Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice. I guess I’ve been too caught up in my own world.”
She laughed, and we continued talking. “So, how long have you lived here?” I asked.
“About six months now,” she said. “But I haven’t seen you around much. Except once though”
“I’ve been here for three years, but I’ve been pretty much indoors,” I admitted. “I guess I’ve been dealing with some personal stuff.”
“Well, I’m glad we finally met,” she said, her smile warm and genuine. “I’ve been wanting to make more friends around here.”
As days went by, Cilia and I became friends. I would visit her house, and we’d chat just as neighbors do. Her mom was always nearby, watching us. I didn’t mind because I had no bad intentions toward Cilia. She was a nice person and a good girl too.
One day, during our discussions, I confided in her about my situation. “I just feel so stuck here,” I told her. “I want to go back abroad, but my uncle is so controlling, and everyone believes these ridiculous rumors about me.”
Cilia looked thoughtful. “Why don’t you get a job?” she suggested. “If you can show that you’re responsible and can take care of yourself, maybe your uncle and everyone else will start taking you seriously.”
Her suggestion felt like a relief, and I was very happy with the idea. “You know, that’s a great idea, Cilia. Thanks. I’m going to look into it.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something,” she said encouragingly. “You’re smart and capable. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise.”
A few days later, I invited her to my house. When she came, Patricia was not happy about it. She was so angry that it could be seen on her face. She kept making slangs about me, saying many things to provoke me. When she noticed I wasn’t reacting, she added fuel to the fire.
“Do you know he’s a gay and that he’s interested in men?” she asked, looking directly at Cilia.
Cilia was taken aback. “What are you talking about?” she asked.
“He’s a very bad guy, he sleeps with men”
The accusation was too much. “That’s enough, Patricia!” I shouted, grabbing Cilia’s hand. “Let’s go.”
We left the living room, leaving Patricia to talk to herself. As we walked away, I felt a mixture of anger and determination. It was time to take control of my life and prove to everyone, including myself, that I was more than the rumors and misunderstandings that plagued me.
“Are you okay?” Cilia asked once we were outside.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just tired of all the drama,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Thanks for sticking by me.”
“Of course, Fred. You’re a good person, and I believe in you,” she said, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
“Thanks, Cilia. That means a lot to me,” I said, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude. We continued walking, and I felt a newfound resolve to change my situation and prove everyone wrong.
TO BE CONTINUES.
