Short stories · The unforgiven

The unforgiven: Episode #7

Episode title Comrades 

Narrator: Ebo (daughter) 

I hate strikes, especially in the middle of a semester. The middle was when things got really heated up, academically and socially. An indefinite strike especially was never what we hoped for. I went home to mom and Aba going through their problems. Mom told me, she said he’s handling himself well and they’re sure they can get pass it.

Aba hated the strike just as much as I did. Mom’s work was not affected by it. She worked in the private sector. Aba said people outside Nigeria will be amazed at how cheaply we embark on strikes. It doesn’t matter whose fault it was, whether it’s the unions’ or the government’s, the strikes were just wrong.

I got bored after a week and enrolled in a computer class. Aba spent more time in his morning gym sessions. Usually in the afternoon, we watched the news looking for updates on the strike. Aba and I have been hanging out together more often at home. We kept each other company sometimes from noon to 4pm when we start making plans for the evening. We got bored of the news and started watching movies.

We talked a lot hanging out. At forty, he had seen a lot. Aba is smart and I learnt a lot from him.


“How long has the situation been going on?” I asked, plainly, hanging out with him in the sitting room.

“What situation?”

“Mom told me about the Not-sharing-the-same-bed situation” I replied, giving him an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry she didn’t give me any details”.

“A month and some days” he said, fidgeting on the couch. “You talked about it with her”.

“Yes” I answered. “She has had that problem before—disconnecting intimately. It usually lasted long; too long for the men in her previous relationships so I had to know. But I’ve never seen her as happy with anyone as she is with you. So I’m sure she’ll come around soon.”

“Very soon I hope. It is really hard for me” he said.


I came back home crying from my computer class. My teacher was killed in a robbery at his house. He was such a good guy, young and full of live. I rushed straight to my room. Aba followed me and asked what happened.

“How did he dead?” he asked, standing by the door.

“The robbers, they just shot him” I said. “What happened to just taking people’s stuffs and not kill them?”

 “The world is not fair my dear” he said, sympathetically, sitting beside me on the bed.

“He was a really good guy…. He…”

“Sshhh, I’m so sorry for your loss” he whispered, hugging me by the side.

I didn’t understand the emotions that came over me. Maybe I felt I didn’t want to see another good man suffering, so I felt compelled to help. Maybe I felt too tire of being good or I somehow wanted to get back at the world for taking someone I know. I still don’t know. 

But I gave Aba a long kiss on the lips. He was confused. I pushed his back to the bed and I was on top of him within a second. I reached for his zipper just as fast and against his better judgment, didn’t stop me. 

He must have really wanted it. I forced my pants to the side, under my skirt, and guided him into me. At that moment, nothing else mattered. I rode him aggressively. We moaned loudly, and climaxed at the same, staring into each other’s eyes. Even without removing a single clothe from our bodies, I’ve never felt so satisfied before. Not so long, lying in his arms, another feeling slipped it—guilt.

Oh my God, what have I done?

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