He played for two hours. He lost three games but he kept at it. The only way he could get to sleep was if he tired himself out.
“Thank you, Cruz.”
“I had a great game today, Kyle. I must be getting better. Looking forward to our next game.”
≈≈≈
“Don’t bet on it,” Kyle said absently as he hurried off.
On Thursday, Kyle delayed calling Rev. Jones. He was nervous about today’s session. It was eleven in the morning.
He dialled the number, changed the appointment to six pm and ended the call. Rev. Jones accepted the change in schedule without protest. It helped that the retired priest did not give him a hard time.
The afternoon flew by. Before long, he stood on Rev. Jones’s doorstep. This time a fair complexioned handsome man came to the door. He looked older than Kyle.
“You must be Kyle,” he said, extending his hand. “Welcome. I’m Duncan. My friends call me Dune.” He was as tall as Kyle and had his father’s light brown eyes but his mother’s exuberant personality.
“Hello Duncan, good to meet you.” Duncan stepped aside, allowed him in and shut the door. “You can call me Dune,” he repeated. “Dad says you’re a friend of the family.”
Really? A warm feeling eased its way into Kyle’s spine. “Thank you, Dune.”
“What can I offer you? Open the refrigerator and help yourself. Dad has a pack of coke in the fridge. When I asked who drank coke, he said, ‘Kyle likes coke’.”
“He did?” Kyle was touched Rev. Jones stocked up the fridge to his taste.
They sat at the kitchen table. Dune popped a can of beer. “My marriage went through a rocky patch within the first few years. But we pulled through.”
Kyle’s hand on the door of the fridge froze in place. “You’re married?” he asked when he recovered. The fact this stranger was willing to share his personal story with him was a surprise.
Dune took a long swallow from his can and chuckled. “Why? You think I don’t look old enough?”
Kyle laughed. “No. That’s not what I mean. Rev. Jones didn’t mention it, that’s all.”
Dune waved away his reason. “My dad’s a rock. Secretive to the core, but you can bank on receiving unconditional love.”
“That’s so true,” Kyle nodded.
“I’ve been married for eight years. We hit an iceberg after three years. We got separated for about three months and then, we got back together and we’ve become rock solid. I’m grateful for the rough times. It was very tough, I must admit, but our relationship is better for it.”
Kyle drank the coke and the sweetness taunted the bitter taste of his life. “It’s great to meet someone who has actually gone through a break in his marriage. Before now, I felt so alone and adrift.”
Dune grinned. “Everywhere you look, marriages are troubled. You’re not alone. Many couples attend counselling sessions with dad. It’s so common, you need not hold it all in. Better days are ahead, trust me.”
It was amazing to meet a family who were so open, and willing to help others pull through a bleak patch and give them hope.
“If you don’t mind me prying, how did you sort things out?”
Dune laughed off his discomfort. “I got claustrophobic about the marriage, she got irritated with me, complained about neglect, whined about everything and eventually reported me to my parents.”
Kyle’s eyebrows raised several notches. “Your story sounds pretty similar to mine except my parents helped drill the nails into the coffin.”
Dune did not appear shocked. “I love my parents dearly for the work they do. But I know many parents who help wreck marriages. Yours is no different.”
Dune’s words provided some comfort. “How did you feel washing your dirt before your parents?”
He shrugged. “We had hit rock bottom, Keira had moved out, so there was no pride left. It was either I admitted I needed help or lose my wife. Dad was very calm about it all. We attended sessions with him. It was hard-hitting and uncomfortable, but we committed to going through with the entire session.”
Commitment was the key word. Kyle wondered if part of his problem was in not committing fully to building his marriage.
“How long did it take for you to find your way back?” Kyle was full of questions. Thank God Dune did not find his probes intrusive.
“About three months.”
Kyle recoiled. “Three months?”
“Imagine how long it took to sow and feed the rot. It depends on how quickly you identify and uproot the weeds.”
From Dune’s analogy, he understood the extent of the mess, and the repair work required.
“What do you do?” Kyle wanted to know a bit more about this man, who was very much like his parents – warm, helpful, and generous.
“I’m a trained medical doctor, once an army reserve, but now I own and run a gym.”
“Ah, an interesting mix. I play tennis. And I love to go to the gym as often as possible.”
Dune stood up. “Tennis is great. You should stop by my gym sometime. Mum has made dinner. Once you’re done with Dad, we’ll have some food.”
Right on cue, Rev Jones and Aileen appeared by the doorway.
“Hello Kyle. Good to see you again.” Both of them spoke in unison. And they all laughed.
Aileen gave him a hug and a peck on both cheeks. “We see Dune has kept you busy. He talks ten to the dozen.”
Dune stood between his parents and rested his arms over their shoulders. The posture needled Kyle’s heart. He missed his family.
“Go on to your discussion. We’ll have dinner once you’re done,” Aileen said with a shove at Kyle.
“Kyle, you know the way,” Rev. Jones said as he left the kitchen. It felt good to be in their midst.
And so Kyle made weekly appointments with Rev. Jones for the next three months. In that time, he faced some harsh truths about his attitudes – his selfishness, and single-minded focus about his work. He learnt how these failings hurt his wife. In a few sessions, he had to list all the emotional ways he knew he inflicted pain on his wife, and why he acted the way he did. Oh and his neglect of her stank to his nostrils.
Rev. Jones made him discuss every minute detail. At first, he cringed, but when he remembered Dune’s advice, he opened up freely.
In the final weeks, he had to discuss what he could have done differently in every instance where he failed.
After the twelve week period, it was obvious he alone had control over his actions and inactions. And he alone could determine whether he wanted a happy marriage or not.
Once his therapy sessions came to an end, he flew to Warri to visit his parents-in-law under the pretext of completing a bogus film project. How he managed to cover his problems from their inquisitive queries beat him.
Before he made the trip to Warri, he shopped for clothing and shoes for his wife’s parents and brothers. As an afterthought, he bought a Mercedes Benz for his father-in-law straight from a showroom in Warri. To some extent, his generosity threw them off his trail.
His life was still on tenterhooks. Now, after nearly six months, his Private Investigators still had no clue where his wife had disappeared to and he was almost at his wits end.
Nine
For the next couple of months, Alero spent more time at Zane’s place than she would have imagined possible. But tonight, she was seated in front of her dressing mirror with a cotton pad in one hand. She gently removed her makeup. Zane was busy selling cars to a group of Arab men he met at a car show last week.
Sex with Zane was great. He was attentive and caring. She cooked him dinner and they went night clubbing a couple of nights each week.
She didn’t bring up her marital status with him again. If Kyle never showed up in her life, it would be stupid to lose a great man like Zane for a non-existent marriage.
“Divorce Kyle,” she murmured. Her chest squeezed. “I can’t. My parents will have my head on a plate,” she groaned.
Za
ne helped set up her nail studio and assisted in recruiting two more manicurists. He was there when the doors opened for the first time, and he spread the word. Before long, sessions were by appointment only.
As they laid in bed one evening, after a hot sex spree, she shared her vision to donate a portion of her monthly profits to local school children who could not afford to buy lunch. He was so thrilled, he made it happen. He took the day-to-day stress out of her life.
When Zane found out after their first date, she hadn’t explored the glory of Marrakech, he whisked her off to the Jamaa el Fna square. During the day, the city’s square and market place bustled with orange juice stalls, Moroccan spice traders, and traditionally-attired water sellers, story tellers, dancing boys and chleuh. Although she had cringed at the sight of the performing snake charmers, Zane had quickly rushed her along to the food stalls where they bought and ate local delicacies. He encouraged her to taste so many flavours – spicy Moorish eggs with minty pitta chips, palmiers with a touch of harissa and cumin scented cheese crumbles washed down with a bottle of fizz drink.
So many people crammed in the well-lit open space. If she had to take a head count of the drifting crowd, it would take a decade to count them all.
A day after the trip to the city’s square, Zane had taken her on one of the desert tours. They went to Zagora along the Dra’s valley. It had ended with a camel ride in the dunes at Tinfou.
Still keen to deepen their relationship, he took her to the beach once a week, and they had a meal, and enjoyed a swim in the cool water.
To her amazement, Zane peeled off every layer of heartache. And so she allowed him into the part of her life - the adventurous and lively personality - she hid away in the closet after Kyle lost interest.
Okay, Zane wasn’t perfect. He snored lightly every now and then, when he was really tired. All she had to do was prop her ears with a pillow. A smile shadowed her lips. And he let out wind wherever he saw fit. She admired him for that. Okay, and he did not pick up after himself. She enjoyed taking care of him. Name one person who didn’t have one or two weaknesses?
Her mobile phone rang. Alero almost jumped out of her skin. “Jeez! Calm down,” she grumbled. She stared at the name on the screen. It was her mum. She let it ring. If Mrs. Tosan found out her daughter bailed out of her husband’s house, she would be in Casablanca before Alero finished removing her makeup.
Her throat tightened, and she got up to get drinking water from the refrigerator on the landing.
The phone rang again. She dashed back to her bedroom. It was her dad. Great. Her parents must have found out she was on the run.
“Oh dear,” she groaned. Honestly, she did not have the strength or patience to explain her situation to her beloved parents.
Alas, her younger brother, Temi, called. Alero let the phone ring until she heard the voice message beep.
Temi was the first of her three brothers. He was getting married to his sweetheart in December. Hopefully, he would have a better shot at the world of marriage than his big sister.
Too tired to take a bath, Alero slept and dreamt of a very disturbed Kyle.
≈≈≈
It had been six months since Alero disappeared from Kyle’s world. Nothing in his life had prepared him for a turbulent marriage. Kyle put a call through to his friend in Los Angeles.
“Hey, Dickson, how are you? I need your help.”
“Before you shoot, Kyle, I heard something interesting. While I’m working every hour of the day and night on your project, you’re busy popping champagne in Africa.”
Kyle sneezed. “Sorry man. What are you talking about?”
“I have to ask you a question. Have you fixed your issues with Alero?”
The hair on Kyle’s back stood still. He had not mentioned his wife’s disappearance to anyone, including, Dickson.
“Why do you ask that? She’s my wife or has that changed?”
“I don’t mean to pry, Kyle. But she was seen in Casablanca a few days ago. Never mind, perhaps you guys were on holiday.” The words hit his chest like a sledgehammer knocking bricks. Kyle grappled to sit down.
“What did you say?” he croaked.
“I assumed you were on holiday. Thandi mentioned she saw Alero in a nightclub in Casablanca, having a good time. Of course, I concluded you probably went over there on holiday.”
Kyle exhaled. His throat clogged up with relief. His wife was alive and well. Then fear clutched his gut. “Did Thandi mention the particular nightclub?”
“Hey man, you sound like you didn’t know.”
“Alero left me six months ago and I have tried to find her. Okay, I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t get my head around the truth. Thank you for sharing the news. I didn’t check Morocco,” he screamed, losing his cool.
“Geez! You should have said something earlier. I told you to let me know if you needed my help. Go find her, Kyle. She’s a good woman.”
Fresh hurt lacerated his heart. “What if she doesn’t want me back, Dickson? Have you thought of that? She has survived for six months in Casablanca without me.”
“You sound like you still love her. Okay, so you messed up. We all do. Tell her what a flop you have been, and beg for her forgiveness. She’s your wife. Go get her.”
If only it was going to be so easy. The receiver shook in his hands. “I intend to. But it is the outcome I’m not sure about.”
“Hope for the best, Kyle. You’re a damn good film director. One of the industry’s finest. You can be the best husband, if you put your mind to it.”
Why did I avoid Dickson for six months?
Kyle could have won his wife back ages ago. He didn’t recall Dickson being so positive in the past.
“It is La Villa Fandango in Boulevard de la Corniche. You can make your way there before she replaces you, Kyle.” The edge of a knife stabbed his chest and he choked.
“Dickson” he said through gritted teeth. “Don’t joke with something so serious.”
“I’m sorry, Kyle. You’re right. What did you call me for in the first place?”
“Not important. Thank you, Dickson. I owe you one.”
His friend laughed. “No, I have run your business for six months, I think you owe me a whole lot. Take care and keep your head down.”
In the past six months, Kyle had visited the retired priest and his wife twelve times. At the onset of his marriage breakdown, he had not imagined he needed emotional support. But after two months of hoping for word on Alero’s whereabouts, he had been at the edge of losing his mind. One evening, he rang Rev. Jones. And the old man invited him over as if he had been waiting for his call.
The one-on-one sessions Kyle had with the priest and his interactions with Rev Jones’s family had helped him cope with his wife’s rejection.
Kyle made another call. After one ring, a deep voice answered.
“Yes, Kyle. You have good news for me.” It was not a question. Rev. Jones spoke as if he had an inkling.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Alero has been sighted in Casablanca. I’m flying out as soon as I can get on a commercial flight.” There was a pause. Kyle wondered if the old man heard him at all. “Rev. Jones are you still there?”
The man cleared his throat. “The Lord will be with you, Kyle. Remember all we talked about over the past few months. Don’t expect to pick up where you left off almost a year ago. Keep that at the back of your mind.”
The dread that formed in his mind as he spoke with Dickson, threatened to overwhelm him. He fully expected Alero to wait for him. She had always waited for him. Could she have moved on? His gut constricted, and he touched his hand to his throat.
“Rev., you have to pray for us. I can’t face the prospect of Alero with anyone else. It would kill me. I know it.”
“I have prayed for you, and I’ll continue to do so. In life, you come across many crossroads. So also in marriages, the streets are filled with thorns, weeds, pests, beautiful flowers and fruits. Your job is to tend
the marriage garden until it blossoms. Patience and love are twin virtues you need in abundance. Go in peace, Kyle.”
“Thank you,” Kyle squeaked as he disconnected the call. His fingers shook.
For six months, his life had come to a standstill. Now, he had a reason to hope for a better future with Alero, no matter the curved balls life threw his way.
Ten
The flight to Morocco was long, and Kyle’s head ached in more places than he could count. At the moment, all he had was the address of the nightclub. His heart skipped at the thought of facing his wife after almost a year. The guilt that almost broke his soul no longer had a grip on his conscience. Yes, even though he muddled up his marriage, he had learnt to forgive himself. Rev. Jones had helped him fully understand all he read from the holy book concerning forgiveness. At best, Alero would ask for time to reconsider.
When they landed at Morocco International Airport, Kyle snatched his small bag, threw it over his shoulder, sailed past customs and got into a waiting taxi in the queue.
After a brief chat with the taxi driver, he learnt La Villa Fandango offered live music in addition to the DJ mixing in between performances. He hadn’t taken Alero out to a nightclub in nearly three years. His heart twitched a bit.
Is my wife frequenting a nightclub on her own or with friends? Would it be wise to tell her he knew she was a regular face at the club? Many questions wired his brain.
“Here we are, sir,” the driver announced, intruding his thoughts.
He pushed five hundred Moroccan Dirham into the man’s hands. “I need you to wait for me.”
The driver smiled. “No problem. Thank you.”
“I have to check in to the Le Royal Mansour Meridien when we finish from here.”
The man grinned and nodded. He seemed impressed with his choice of hotel.
“It is in the heart of the city. Very good place.”
“I’ll be back.” Kyle hurried into the nightclub, found the manager and made enquiries. The man could not confirm if he had seen Alero in the club. Kyle tucked the photograph he had shown the man in his blazer.
“I’ll be back tonight,” Kyle assured the man. They shook hands and he returned to the taxi. Kyle stretched his legs in the front passenger seat. Once they were on their way, his thoughts roamed.
Forbidden Dance: Will She Forgo Her Marriage for a Lifetime of Happiness? Page 5