He
pushed the pedal all the way_ and even though the sole of his right foot was
almost flat on the floor, he applied more pressure. The loud responsive rev of
the engine belied the slothful pace at which the antiquated Opel Astra climbed
up the hill. He pushed the pedal harder still, slapping the steering wheel and
biting his lower lip in sheer frustration, the Astra slowed and sputtered, its
entire frame spasmed as the vehicle threatened to go off. He quickly stepped on
the clutch and shifted gears to neutral and pushed the pedal down again. Thick
black smoke emitted from the exhaust pipe as the vehicle made coughing sounds,
regularly at first, then intermittently, until all that could be heard was the
loud cry of the ancient engine. He pressed the pedal a few times more then
engaged the first gear.
A
sharp pain seared through his right shoulder just when he started the
calculated process of lifting his foot from the clutch and pushing the accelerator
down, the resultant reflex action caused him to lean to his right and lift his
foot off the clutch pedal, the vehicle lurched forward and died an instant
death.
“Hurry
up!!!”
came the belaboured cry. He turned, and the sight of the woman in the back seat
threw him off even more.
In
all of his adolescent through to adult life, this was the most beautiful and
put together woman he had known… well, up until thirty or so minutes ago when
she threw all she knew about poise to the wind and was thrashing about
uncontrollably in the back seat, keeping her legs as wide open as possible and
cursing with every breath.
Pearly
teeth, beautiful eyes, superb afro, fist sized breasts, unbelievable waist, not
so wide a hip, a perfect curve of a rump that could pass for a Guinness book of
records contender, and above all of these; a beautiful mind with the sweetest
demeanor… well, that was until fourteen months ago.
He
had done the right thing, he had married his queen. He loved how she still
decked herself in her finery, her denim pants and turtlenecks when outside and
her wicked bum shorts when they were alone. How glorious that day felt when
five months into their marriage, she showed him the result of the pregnancy
test. She still wore her tight fitting outfits, she was still smashing hot, but
the demeanor diminished with each passing trimester.
Her
cravings were unbelievable; if she wanted coffee, it had to be from the
Colombian mountains and they had to be beans of a certain weight and harvested
at a certain altitude…
if
she wanted chocolate, it had to be made from cocoa plucked at 5:15 in the
morning in the south of Ghana…
if
it wasn’t catfish with three pairs of whiskers with the exact same length
caught from the ikogosi warm spring (an impossibility mind you), then the
peppersoup was cyanide to her. Her demands became more unimaginable as her
denims became more difficult to fit in.
There
was a low rumble, like the sound of distant thunder. He looked at the sky; it
was clear, the only change in it was the characteristic orange hue of late
afternoon.
“Hurry
up, Enyinnaya, aaaah!” she grunted in pain.
