Odds: Neighbor
ODDS
Mayowa Ojo
6/10/20265 min read
I used to think the one thing I hated doing the most was packing for a trip… until it was time to relocate. Kris and I have been married for nine years and just as we were getting tired of everything around us, my promotion from work came in the form of a pay raise and a relocation to another state.
There were all the concerns we had about our daughters’ school, church, friends… everything but the first step was getting Kris’s office to also transfer her to the same state I was being moved to. Once we got that, it was time for the move.
After many dramatic housing agent episodes, I finally found the house and thankfully, Kris approved of it when she visited. It was a twin-duplex building and we were going to move into one half of it. Our girls, Tori and Jade were ecstatic. The compound space for playing was more than they could ask for. Jade, the younger but more social one was already planning her next birthday party and how it would look in the compound.
Can I just go back to being a child? Growing up is such a scam, I told Kris. We had a good laugh talking about the joys of being a child!
And so we moved. I had one week off work for this. My very meticulous wife had almost everything neatly packed in one box or the other. It wasn’t until then that I understood her need for keeping the cartons that products came in. I honestly thought she had a cluttering problem up until then.
Kris also got some time off work so we could move and unpack. By Thursday we were done moving but there was still the long journey of unpacking ahead of us. We decided to unpack together while we sent the girls over to their grandparents. Kris and I had a lot of ‘unpacking’ to do after a stressful week and the kids would have been a ‘distraction’.
Late that night while we lay on the mattress in the middle of our bedroom floor we heard a door slam and we both bolted up. It was so loud it had to have come from inside the house. We gave each other that you-heard-it-too look and then I got up. Before I reached the bedroom door I heard the sound.
Smack! It sounded like leather hitting a smooth surface. Along with that sound came a loud shrill of someone in agony. It was almost eerie. I turned back to look at my wife and she was already on her feet. We knew what was going on then.
We could hear two distinct voices; one male and the other female as they yelled at each other. The fight seemed to move from one room to the other as their voices faded in and out. The woman’s voice stood out though. I could almost imagine the veins in her neck as she screamed at the top of her lungs. The man on the other hand was a bit less vocal. The only other sounds we heard were of leather hitting skin and the occasional breaking of something made from glass.
Two days before, we ran into our neighbours from next door. They seemed very nice with their two sons. Kris and I later joked about how our girls would be receiving “guests” in a couple of years. After all that fighting and screaming I was sure I did not want my daughters near those boys for obvious reasons.
Kris kept crying for whatever the woman must be going through and whatever the boys may have been exposed to so far. Just as I was thinking it was such a great idea that our girls had moved in yet, it occurred to me that if the fighting was a regular occurrence it was only a matter of time!
I’d have called them but we had not yet met so I did not have their phone numbers. I’d have gone to bang at the gate but what were the odds that he wasn’t drunk and capable of doing something rash?!
The rest of the weekend we barely saw anyone go out or come into the compound. It felt like they were deliberately avoiding contact with the outside world. Once I saw a car exit the compound on Saturday evening and it did not return until very late.
That weekend was one of those times when I asked myself what sort of mess I’d gotten my family into. Rent had been paid and there was no going back. How would I explain to my daughters that whatever was going on in the next house was not normal? Kris already started singing the we’re-not-staying-here-for-more-than-a-year song! I’d have put my foot down and countered her opinion after all I went through but I totally saw reason with her.
Sunday morning, we woke up. Tired! The stress of the past week finally came crashing down on us. My joints felt like they needed oiling and I could have sworn I heard Kris’ joint creak as she got out of bed.
One thing was sure, we would not be going to our regular church today. We already established that when we moved here. Since we were changing locations entirely, everything else would change from school for the kids to church and even social circle progressively. We’d seen a church earlier in the week that we were keen to attend.
We got set to leave and I noticed from our bedroom upstairs that the car that went out last night was still parked there. When I told Kris, she asked if I expected them to be devout Christians.
“Don’t be so judgemental!” I chided.
“I'm sorry but think about it; wouldn’t you be surprised if they were?”
“Do you think there are no men who attend church who still beat their wives?”
Kris sighed. I knew that sigh. It was her accepting defeat in an argument without owning up to it.
“Well,” she said as she walked slowly toward me. She adjusted my tie and brushed off imaginary dust from my jacket. I waited for it. “I’m glad my husband isn’t one of such men and that he’s the perfect male-figure for our girls,” she said in a sultry way.
“Keep talking that way and we will be having service in this bedroom,” I warned her.
She laughed as she ran to finish her make up.
********************
The new church was nice. Nothing like our former church but nice all the same. There was something very warm about the reception that made Kris and I start to wonder if we should bother going elsewhere.
Kris took a few minutes to go check out the Sunday school area to be sure it would be perfect for our girls and she came back with rave reviews.
The choir finished their special number and it was time for the sermon. The pastor walked up stage and talked extensively about someone and their accomplishments. The person had books on as many topics as any one man could possibly be an expert on. The congregation cheered and clapped loudly. Eventually he introduced the person and as he got on stage, Kris and I froze.
It was our neighbour – the wife beater.