Fate brought us together in a most tricky way and we boarded a fatal flight of testing destiny. Matthew and I met at the popular Jibowu Motor Park. He was already seated in the south East-bound blue Marcopolllo bus when I arrived at the park. I was made to sit next to him. He occupied the window side and I, on the isle. I preferred the window side and so, I politely asked for a seat swap. He obliged without hesitation. What a gentleman. This rare act of maturity endeared Matthew to me instantly. We became friends. We talked throughout the tortuous journey to the East. And we established our identities. He was in his final year in a Seminary College while I was also in my final year in the university. Our schools were not far from each other. So, we maintained close contacts after we parted at our destination.
Handsome and highly cerebral, Matthew often displayed his vast knowledge of theology yet he was well versed in technology, economics, literature and international politics. We became closer and went deeper in our relationship. But we knew the limit of our affections. Matthew often reminded me of his priesthood. ” Sister Kate, don’t forget that you are talking to Reverend Father ” And I would say “Okay sir, My holy man of God”
In truth these were mere verbal expressions and could not in anyway diminish the tidal passions that had enveloped us. We were in love. We knew it. We were insane. We sensed it. But we lacked the strength to stop the drift. We lusted along until we got lost.
The day I finished my final degree examination, Matthew offered to give a special lunch date to celebrate the completion of my bachelor’s programme. Being a celibate, he couldn’t be seen with a lady in an open eatery. We opted for a quiet hotel in the outskirts of the town.
Not just that, Matthew also paid for a chalet so that we could have some privacy. I thought that was wasteful since were not going to spend the night in the hotel. He assured me it was the best option in the circumstance. I agreed.
The food came in spicy sequence: fried rice, with grilled chicken and later peppered snails with tomato sauce. Matthew asked for a bottle of stout and persuaded me to take one too. I declined. I opted for orange juice. As we were sipping our drinks, Matthew drew close to me, tenderly stroking my braids and kissing my brow, neck lobes and then, slowly, he planted a deep kiss in my mouth. I was blown away. He lifted me from the dining chair and placed me in the middle of the bed. I watched him undress. His prancing manhood shot into view as he stepped out of his boxers.
I also, took off my dress and spread my legs apart, staring at the ceiling as he began thrusting. I moaned and twitched unconsciously.
A week later, we returned to the same hotel which became our love nest. We made love with passion and we were catching fun with gists, jiggles and jokes.
Two weeks to Matthew’s ordination as a Reverend Father, I became pregnant! I woke up from my illusion of love and confronted the reality of revulsion. How would I explain that I got pregnant for a Reverend Father? What will I tell Philip, my fiancé?
Sadly, I was carried away by my reckless indulgence, so much that I compromised my allegiance to Philip, who has promised to marry me. Philip and I started dating in my second year in the university. He was two years ahead of me in school. But by the time I met Matthew, Philip had gone for his National Youth Service Corps, NYSC programme in Kano. Though our relationship was intact. What I had with the Reverend Father was meant to be a fling. In the end, I was flung into confusion.
Nevertheless, Philip wouldn’t deny me if told him about the pregnancy. After all, he still had sex with me recently when I visited him at his new station in Abuja. Immediately after NYSC, he got a job in a consulting firm in Karu, Abuja. We had extensive deliberations on our wedding plans. The pregnancy wouldn’t be any hitch anyway. But I knew Philip wasn’t responsible. Since we started dating, I have never been pregnant for him though we had regular sex while he was in school.
When I told him about the pregnancy, Philip didn’t raise any eyebrows, unlike Father Matthew, who suggested that I had an abortion.
I moved in with Philip after my convocation and we had our baby, a boy. Trouble started when I couldn’t get pregnant four years after our only child. I began to suspect that Philip had fertility issue. But I wasn’t sure.
Meanwhile, Father Matthew and I remained in constant touch. Though he didn’t claim paternity, he always sent me money for the boy’s upkeep, always apologising for being unable to be with me. He often prayed for marital bliss for me and my husband.
Father Matthew came to Abuja sometimes ago. I was happy when he told me of his arrival. He lodged in a Hotel in Maitama. I visited him the following morning. He was just getting dressed for the day but the moment I entered his room he dropped his white cassock and gave me a warm kiss. Priesthood jumped out of him and his manhood bulged out with fervour. I couldn’t resist his touch. He undressed me quickly without unplugging his mouth from mine. He made love to me. I enjoyed every thrust and truly wished he could come to Abuja regularly. I wondered how a Reverend Father knew so much about sex styles. For the three days he spent in Abuja, we had sex every morning after dropping my son in school.
Weeks later, I got pregnant. Hmmmm. Father Matthew had done it again. My husband and I celebrated the news. Nine months after, I gave birth, it was a boy again. Meaning that I now have two sons for a Reverend Father!
Tragedy struck early this year. Reverend Father Matthew died in ghastly car accident. I grieved in my heart but my husband didn’t know exactly what was wrong.
While still adorning the sackcloth of mourning, I saw Father Matthew in my dream, urging me to take his children to his parents in Badagary. Ha! How would I do it? What would I tell my husband who has been taking care of these children?
Either in a trance or in a fit of hallucinations, Father Matthew continues to dominate my dreams. It is high time I told my husband the truth. But how would Philip handle this? Even me… How can I face my husband?
