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Poses

This was written by one of my favorite writers and an amazing human being…He says I inspire him and he is only trying to be like me… i think he is flattering the crap out of me. He has his own style so jst in case you don’t like my work, hopefully you will like his. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present the one, the only, ooluwafunminiyi .

He had been talking about it for a while, and when he was excited about something, he became a child again – sated only by the fulfillment of his fantasy.

It was their son’s first birthday. He said they could not make any noise about it, for obvious reasons. Instead, they’d have a sunny day out in the park, just the three of them, and cap it off with a photo shoot at the new and expensive studio where the creme de la creme took powerful photographs with state of the art cameras and printing machines. He talked animatedly of the poses he would strike with his son. She watched him handle the child like a pearl while he dreamed up pose after pose; she eagerly agreed with the poses he tagged ‘fantastic’, and laughed indulgently when he discarded others. And when their son began to cry from all the activity, she had stuck a nipple in his mouth before asking his father to show her the poses he and she would strike.

There had been a new light in his eyes when he described those, a light that held hope in its beams. Laughter rang out in her little apartment that night, the first time in a long while. Long after the baby had slept and she had placed him in his Graco playpen, they practiced their poses under the flickering lights of the muted television. It felt a little awkward at first, their bodies touching like that. He had not touched her since she had broken his commandment. The sun rose in her heart when they held hands and locked eyes across the miles that stretched out between them. Finally, they practiced ‘the pose of the shoot’ – as he called it, the one in which she laid on the rug, her head propped up by a palm, and he got in behind her.

‘This is a risky one,’ he laughed, his voice suddenly husky, his breath hot against the nape of her neck.

They knew they were going too far when they stayed like that a little longer than was necessary, ‘refining the pose’. It wasn’t long before she felt him hard against her back, before she felt her skirt lose its tightness against her stomach – before she helped take away what was left of his inhibitions.

The made love like a prayer, a word less plea for forgiveness – for her desperate attempt to trap him with a child, for her inability to bear the thought of losing another woman’s husband, that he forgive himself also for cheating on his wife, and for the many other wrongs he had done to her and perhaps, countless others. Her passion implored him to stay with her and with their child. Yet when she had paused and held his face between her palms, earnestly searching for answers, any at all, he had kept his eyes shut, refusing to let anything through except a recalcitrant tear drop.

And for that rare moment, no matter how much she was hurt, she had been eternally
grateful to him.

The following morning, they had gone back to yesterday. He was gone before she awoke. Her world was empty once more, the harsh silence of the apartment interrupted only by the cries of her baby and the ricochet of the curses and threats they had traded in that room.

It was also not surprising either when three days later, at the photo shoot, he had taken gleeful pictures with his son – and when they had gotten to the part where she was supposed to join in, he had refused, asking her to take her pictures alone with the baby.

She was stubborn too. ‘Let us go then,’ she said, and picked up her hand bag, her voice quivering, her eyes brimming with tears. The photographer had never met a stranger couple.

That evening, she left the apartment that he had rented for her and her baby in a part of town where he was sure his wife would never have found them. She had no clear idea where she was headed. She would let her destiny work that out.

‘Where ever we go, your father will never find us,’ she smiled sadly at her babbling baby as they melted into the night.
Song of the day: Ellie Goulding – Burn

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5 Comments

  1. eloho October 1, 2013 Reply

    Oh my, what a fantastic story. I love that the theme ‘poses’ was maintained all through the story. And the practice session was better than the real life one and spoke of what could have been if he wasnt married and she wasn’t the other woman ! So much pain for the woman, so many underlying themes. I wish the story was longer. But this was poignant for me. Thanks Kiah for sharing. Great peice Oluwafunminiyi

  2. Kitten October 5, 2013 Reply

    Fantastic piece, Oluwafunminiyi! I did not want to stop reading…there is so much emotional turmoil here lined with the hope and beauty of this child.

    Kiah, thanks for introducing us to this very gifted writer.

  3. Ralee October 11, 2013 Reply

    Nice write up…..I love the song of the day.

  4. moyoor October 15, 2013 Reply

    Beautiful piece! All you wonderful writers make a sister jealous.

  5. HoneyDame May 19, 2014 Reply

    You are definitely mentoring ooluwafunminiyi very well. This was an easy yet intricate read….not enough can be said about “The Other Woman” and “The Cheating Husband”…the good, the bad, the ugly

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