WHERE DO BROKEN HEARTS GO II

Pastor Doctor was good to me… But he was the first son, a child of promise; his mum’s little boyfriend.

She had an idea of the direction she wanted his life to follow and apparently, I didn’t look like the right accessory for the future she wanted for him.

His mum was skeptical before we met. I didn’t blame her. My parents also didn’t like him so much. To them, he was Ibo. To me, he was my Ikwerre prince. To everyone else looking in, he was a fabulous multi-sided person and an Arsenal fan extraordinaire… One of these days, I should ask him “Oga, how market?”

I had been living the first lady life for a while… Planning and organising. I’d been involved in the food ordering and drinks coordination for the induction. His folks came in the day before and I must confess that I have never been that nervous about meeting people before. I knew what his relationship with his mum was like so I knew it was a big deal for him – her liking me.

I didn’t get to pick them up. I sent a driver I was working with at the time to do that. I freshened up after work and went to greet them where they were lodged at Rofel Hotel on Aare.

Of course, as a well brought up Yoruba girl, I went bearing gifts. That didn’t help my nervousness though. He brought me into their suite and introduced the almost queen to the royal family.

I thought the welcome was okay. I had gone down on my knees forgetting that that was meaningless to them. It got me a pull-up hug though (which would have meant I was accepted if they were Yoruba).

His dad thought I was beautiful and said so. His mum was all smiles. I was sure I was passable, even if I was not a hit. It was the next day, at the event, that I started locating myself.

My first locator was when as “official girlfriend” I didn’t get an invite into the College Auditorium to applaud him as he received his prizes… I was devastated. We worked for those prizes together. Instead, I was relegated to checking on the caterer
and arranging the “hall” we would use for the
reception in ABH. I’d only ever been in seats
of honour before. It was very strange for me.

When they eventually finished and came to the hall
that I had arranged about 30 times because I didn’t like the wait, the Mama who was all smiles didn’t give me more than a nod and wasn’t willing to introduce me to anyone! Pastor Doctor was also too busy basking in the adulation of the crowd that
he didn’t remember that I was far in the shadow of the spotlight. I was confused. Even Fela met me when we were not dating. All of a sudden, I was wall paper!

For sure, Mama had said something to his son to cause the chills I was suddenly feeling. In a strange moment, everything suddenly made sense.

His friends knew me and were giving me first lady treatment. While chatting with one, I just got the urge to look back at where Mama was standing and I withered when I saw the disdain with which she was staring me into oblivion, even though I hadn’t been looking at her.

My heart shattered into a thousand fragments!

Apparently, it wasn’t indifference. It was disdain, bordering on disgust. In my mind, I concluded the relationship was over. I quietly carried on my hostess duties and pointedly ensured there were no attempts at introductions. I also stayed back to clean up and just generally make myself useful. I could read the handwriting in Mama’s eyes. My days were numbered.

Of course, after the pain came unbelief, after the unbelief came the love, I couldn’t believe one person’s opinion could change how we felt about each other. Of course, right on the tail of love came the fighter’s spirit. I started feeling like Juliet – I wanted to fight for our love. Too many romance novels and fairy tales took their toll. I decided to discuss the problem with him. Abi, what else was I supposed to do?

Pastor Doctor denied that his mum did not like me o! So, he also denied the cooling of his ardour. Something I was seeing and feeling… Oga denied it patapata. I had to keep enjoying the leftover love he was then giving o…

I was sure things would go back to normal since my financial care did not suffer any damage.
He had systems for caring for me. He maintained them automatically. There was hope since the acts of the relationship didn’t change even though the feelings had.

Pastor Doctor had started attending my church. They had given him the microphone a few times and trust me, there’s nothing as attractive as a man who preaches the word. He had also joined the drama team and we used to attend rehearsals together. We still went everywhere together but I just felt he had taken out emotional insurance in case of eventualities. I could just feel him withdrawing…

Then came the big blow – he got a space to undertake his housemanship in Port Harcourt. Me, I knew myself and I knew that my destiny did not support long distance relationships. I didn’t understand how doing his housemanship in PH would fit into our couple’s goals but his mum had gotten him the space and he couldn’t say no. The end had officially begun. That was how he left.

God loves me. He loved me back then too and he knew I couldn’t handle too much time apart. He made sure he arranged for Bar Conference to be in Port Harcourt in August of 2006. I went over to PH for a week.

By the way, that’s the only bar conference I ever attended from start to finish.

It was on my last day in Port Harcourt that he dropped the bombshell. He told me he didn’t think our relationship was working and that we should just put it on hold.

Dear readers, that was the point at which I disgraced all of you o! I cried and begged like my life depended on that relationship. I begged so much that he said okay, let’s try a bit more.

So, one week after my disgraceful display, I got a phone call informing me that it was officially over. The call came in sometime in the middle of the night and by 5am, I was out of the house.

I walked from Bodija to UCH, I can’t remember if I wore shoes. I do remember that I cried all through that walk. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was going there to do.

I eventually found myself knocking on the door of his best friend’s room in one of the quarters there. That one took me in and tried to reason with him on the phone. The conclusion was that his mind was made up and the relationship was over.

I stayed there crying till 4pm when I wiped my tears and just stopped crying. Mourning was over. I went back home. Since I didn’t leave home with a purse or money, I guess I walked back home too.

So, we are back to the title of this short story – where do broken hearts go?

I ask because today, I am grateful that that relationship ended the way it did. I am thankful that although it hurt at the time, I was not misled into a future of pain.

Don’t get me wrong former Pastor Doctor is a good man but today, you can only call him Doctor and not Pastor.

From my narrative, it is easy to see that I loved what he was and what he stood for a bit more than who he was.

Today, he doesn’t preach.
He doesn’t act.
He isn’t into Nigerian politics.
He isn’t building a business empire like Dangote’s yet.
He is simply focused on his medical practice.

Wasn’t I in love with an illusion?

Broken hearts get mended but the breaking becomes a part of the story.

Scars add beauty. Life has lessons.

Every great person you have met has given you a story to tell.

I pray that like me, you learnt the lessons you were meant to.