Broken Condom

A short story..

Tomorrow,

You will tell your blind date that you’re infertile.

You will say it calmly. Matter-of-fact.

Chief Kaka.

High chief, wealthy, traditional, will hear those words and immediately decide you are not the one. He needs heirs. Legacy. Children to carry his name.

You removed your womb. Intentionally.

You know what this means to him. That’s why you’ll say it.

The ties will cut themselves.

—

Then in the evening,

Aunty Rhoda will show up at your apartment.

She will find you in the living room, writing.

She will scream her head off and remind you, for the umpteenth time, how she supported your mother, who conceived you by mistake when she was just fifteen, and died during delivery because her body was too weak.

“I raised you. I starved so you could eat. I worked so you could go to school. And this is how you repay me? By embarrassing me in front of Chief Kaka?”

You will keep typing.

“This is the fourth man I’m setting up for you. And you know how special this one is.”

She will pace. Her voice will get louder.

“That man gave me money. He promised me a trip to Mauritius. A new car. Property in Banana Island. And you sat there and told him you’re infertile?”

You will not look up.

“Marriage isn’t about love in this family, It’s survival. Your grandmother learned that the hard way. Your mother chased illusions, and it led her to an early grave.”

“You are thirty-two, for goodness sake!” she will say.

Then she will remind you about Fred. How you told him you were a witch. And men who get entangled with you experience either bad luck or untimely death.

She will bring up Kunle. How you spilled hot water on him and almost burned his penis.

“Who even requests hot water on a date?? Ehn Rose!”

You won’t make a sound.

But you will laugh.

Not out loud. Just… inside. Where she can’t reach.

—

Eventually,

Her anger will exhaust itself.

Her voice will soften.

“Please, be the one who takes away the family shame. Elevate our status,” she will plead, “Call Chief Kaka. Tell him it was a joke. Prove it to him. Get pregnant and become his third wife.”

She will sit down beside you.

“You come from a line of women who have made poor choices, this is your chance to correct it.”

A thought will cross your mind:

What shame is she talking about?

You have a good job. You live comfortably. What status needs elevating?

And why do you have to correct anything?

You will sigh.

Then she will point at your hand.

“And take off that ring. Why is a single woman walking around with a ring on her finger? Are you married to a ghost?”

Your fingers will pause on the keyboard.

You will look up at her, without a word.

You could tell her.

You could explain that the womb removal was not a lie.

That three months ago in New York, in a quiet civil ceremony with no family present, you chose love.

But,

How do you tell her that you got married,

To her only daughter.

Your cousin.

?