Dee Osah

Ibelema was freaking out, and she hardly freaked out. Today was supposed to be the perfect day. Her traditional wedding was being celebrated in front of her family and friends in Houston, and yet, nothing seemed right.

It all started last night when Ibelema fought with Tonye over the bloated guest list, and now, Ibelema couldn’t even remember why she’d kept pressing the argument. Then earlier this morning, after arriving at the wedding venue, someone had locked Ibelema’s traditional attire in the bridal suite, and the organizers couldn’t find the key to open the room. Things got heated as the women went around blaming one another for the mistake, which brought Ibelema to tears, and still, the culprit was never discovered.

Almost a year ago, when Ibelema had married her husband Tonye in a makeshift ceremony at the airport, Tonye had promised her a real wedding. But now, their private wedding had somehow turned into another political event. At least a hundred important people she’d never heard of had insisted on being invited to their wedding just to be seen with the hotshot politician with a bright future.

Now sitting quietly in the bridal suite, Ibelema took a picture of herself and sent it to Tonye, not expecting him to respond. But Tonye’s reply came seconds later in the form of heart eyes and drool emojis, which made her smile. She could hear the loud music coming from the main hall. The DJ had ruined her playlist, even after she’d stressed that he play the songs in order to produce the necessary effect. That’s the problem with weddings, too many people think they know better than the bride, and if you dare insist on what you want, they’re quick to anoint you a bridezilla.

The music suddenly stopped playing, meaning the aunties were presenting the first fake bride, whom Tonye was supposed to guess wasn’t his Ibelema. All the ladies had left Ibelema alone in the bridal suite after she put on her red traditional wedding dress with gold embroidery. She felt like an ancient Ijaw princess with the white beaded crown on her head, exquisite coral beads around her neck, and matching coral-block earrings. But no one had prepared her for how heavy wearing all these things would feel.

These past months, her whole life had felt heavy, caught up in Tonye’s campaign for the Nigerian House of Representatives. Even with the AC blasting from the vents, sweat trickled down her arms. There was no clock in the room, probably on purpose to calm the anxious brides. Her phone had been confiscated by Efe, her sister-in-law who had left to buy a smoothie because Ibelema couldn’t keep anything else down.

With no way to tell the time, Ibelema felt like she was waiting in the room longer than usual, and couldn’t help wondering if something was wrong. The muted activity behind the closed door didn’t help, as she imagined a nervous Tonye waiting for her to appear, so he could apologize again. He was always apologizing to her. The man didn’t like to fight with her, and yet they somehow found things to argue about, which made her feel like she was the problem, though she would never admit that to him because that would only justify his behavior. If you’re feeling like you’re the problem, then you probably are.

She hadn’t spoken to Tonye since last night when her mom had swooped her away to her old house, her parents’ home. To honor the traditional wedding, her mom had insisted that Ibelema and Tonye spend the night apart, even though they’d been living together in Nigeria for almost a year now.

You would think one night wouldn’t hurt, right? Wrong. All night, Ibelema had tossed in her bed, barely getting any sleep. She’d never realized how addicted she was to being held by him, his husky voice that often chased the what-ifs swarming her mind. Even singing worship songs and praying hadn’t stopped the anxiety from crowding her peace and excitement about today.

Enough of the negative thinking, Ibelema reminded herself. She got up from the plush sofa, trying not to cry and piss off her mom by messing up the makeup that had taken all morning to get right.

She pinned her eyes on the door, praying Tonye would walk in and take away all of her doubts. Leaving America for Nigeria in the name of love had revealed how much of a doubter she truly was. It’s easy to have faith when things are going right.

She loved Tonye, and didn’t doubt that she was meant to marry him, but the grind of these past months had left Ibelema wondering if she’d rushed into marriage because she was scared of losing him. What if today–her second wedding day–was actually supposed to be the day she married him instead of a year ago?

Whenever Ibelema tried to explain it to her friends, no one understood how her husband could be the best gift that God ever gave her while also being the one variable who made her question if she was truly following God’s will for her life. Those two months of hustling to finish her first movie while falling in love with Tonye had felt like indoor skydiving, which she had tried for the first time during their last trip to Houston to visit her parents. Ever the Loverboy, Tonye had recently described their courtship to a room full of people as a never-ending free fall of two hearts crashing into each other and sticking like glue.

Ibelema smiled, remembering that cheesy grin which never ceased to melt away the walls she had painstakingly built around her heart. She’d come to accept that she adored him even when he was annoying, like last night, when he’d chosen to fight instead of being his usual loving self. Wasted moments like yesterday made the doubts echo louder in her head, even though her spirit knew it wasn’t entirely her own voice she was hearing. The enemy of our minds prowls around looking for prey to devour, whispering lies that she’d fallen in love too quickly and got caught in a whirlwind that clouded her common sense to simply wait for Tonye to settle things in Nigeria before she had joined him.

As hard as it was to admit, she hadn’t known her husband as well as she thought she did. If she had stopped to use her head, she would have discerned that they might be “unequally yoked” as some like to call it. Tonye wasn’t on the same level as she was spiritually, and he might never be, which wasn’t how she’d grown up. Her dad was the undisputed faith champion of their house, and Mom never had to be the strong one.

But not surprisingly, the theories of right living often fall short of the practical nature of our lives, and none of that knowledge had served Ibelema while she was falling in love. She had desperately wanted to be accepted by the man of her dreams, and unlike the jokers who came before him, Tonye celebrated her for being special.

In that light, he was a unicorn, a man who could fall on his knees in earnest prayer, right before falling on her and making her gasp words she’d never thought could escape her lips. The man knew romance, and wielded it like an extension of himself. He dripped with deliberate swoon and sex appeal. She couldn’t imagine doing life with anyone else.

Then why was she entertaining all these doubts? She wasn’t making any sense, even to herself.

A sudden knock on the door made Ibelema jump. The door cracked open and let in the noise from the women mingling outside the room. First, Ibelema saw the smoothie cup, then Phoebe Teka walked in and shut the door behind her.

“Efe asked me to bring this,” Phoebe said. “Her aunt just pulled her away.”

“You’re a Godsend,” Ibelema said, taking the cup from her. She returned to her place on the sofa but made no move to drink the smoothie. Her stomach felt like a thousand knots. All this thinking was giving her a headache.

“Are you okay?” Phoebe asked.

Ibelema managed a smile. “Why? Do I look off?”

“No, you look amazing, just like one of those old African queens.” Phoebe sat beside her on the sofa.

“Thanks. I feel like an oversized mannequin in a store.” They both laughed, and Ibelema took a sip of her smoothie.

“Anything bothering you?” Phoebe asked.

Ibelema hesitated, wondering if she could just spill her guts. Christians had this unique way of judging you without meaning to, using scripture to make light of those universal fears we all struggle with. Everyone always has an answer until the question becomes personal to them.

“Did you feel strange on your wedding day?” Ibelema asked, because the women who attended Vessels’ fellowship weren’t like most Christians.

“You mean like nervous?” Phoebe’s smile widened. “My mom had to stop me from freaking out and messing up my dress and makeup. Your dress looks like you probably couldn’t move much. Is it heavy?”

“Very,” Ibelema said, feeling a little annoyed that her mom hadn’t come to the bridal room in a while, probably too busy with the wedding program and taking care of their overdemanding relatives.

“Honestly,” Ibelema went on, “I think I’m freaking out.”

Phoebe stared at Ibelema as if waiting for her to elaborate. Ibelema tugged on the coral bracelet and the beads clinked in protest, reminding her of Mom’s warning to keep the jewelry in one piece.

“It sounds crazy since we’re already married,” Ibelema said. “If I had reservations, I should’ve considered them a while ago.”

“Do you have regrets?” Phoebe asked.

Ibelema shook her head. She could never regret saying yes to Tonye. Their married life was mostly bliss.

“Then you have doubts about the future?”

Her shoulders dropped. “Too many. I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking. This week has been a rollercoaster.”

There was no judgment in Phoebe’s eyes. “Sounds familiar. I had to take melatonin and magnesium the night before my wedding day.”

“Darn it. I knew I forgot something.”

Phoebe chuckled. “Well, you certainly don’t look how you feel. Are you worried about Tonye running for office?”

It was most likely an ongoing prayer request at fellowship nights, praying over her husband’s ambitious plans to win a seat that had long belonged to an old-time politician with deep connections. Tonye had received death threats from some overzealous constituents, and one man had even cursed them out after throwing his drink at them at a restaurant.

“That certainly keeps me up at night,” Ibelema admitted.

“Understandably. I hear Nigerian politics can be a little brutal.”

An understatement. Since moving to Nigeria, Ibelema had been forced to adjust her thinking and expectations on how that side of the world functioned. At first, the culture shock was crippling, and if not for Tonye, she would have run back to Houston. But now, she couldn’t see herself living anywhere else. Port Harcourt was one of those special places that was hard to shake once you had gotten the feel of it, and Nigeria as a whole was more beautiful than she ever imagined. It was a blast living in Africa, a short plane ride from some of the magical spots in the world, locations she would love to film at.

“I never imagined myself ever being a politician’s wife.”

“Didn’t you know he wanted to be a politician?” Phoebe asked.

Ibelema shook her head. “Even he didn’t know.” The whole thing had sprouted wings of its own as they’d set about clearing Tonye’s name from the homewrecker scandal. But then Tonye’s dad had a lot to do with Tonye finally taking politics seriously. “I just feel like we jumped the gun, again. I don’t think he was supposed to run for office so soon.”

Phoebe seemed to be taking it all in. “When you say again, are you talking about marriage?”

Ibelema looked toward the door. Why hadn’t anyone come in yet? She met Phoebe’s keen stare. “When you met Abe, was he…how do I put this? Was he as strong in his faith like you?”

The Abe that Ibelema knew in high school wasn’t as bad as most of the guys in their youth group, but he wasn’t the type to volunteer to pray or read the Bible. Although Abe’s parents had been strong believers who hungrily pursued God, Abe and Bart never gave Ibelema that vibe. Then again, she only knew a handful of younger men who were truly serious about walking with God. On Sundays, many of them knew how to pray great prayers and break down scripture, but the rest of the week, they prowled the streets, devouring sisters left and right.

“Not at all,” Phoebe replied, with a sigh.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. You’re right. I didn’t know much about Abe’s walk with God when I fell for him. All I knew was I was tired of guys who said they were Christians and behaved like demon interns.”

Ibelema laughed. “That’s a good one.”

Phoebe twinned her fingers together, her wedding ring flashing under the lights. “He just felt different from any man I’d ever met, no pretense, just unapologetically Abraham Teka.”

Ibelema nodded. Tonye wasn’t like any of those spiritual Christian guys who had tried to pursue her. He wasn’t comfortable leading a men’s bible study, but no matter how many times he fell short, he always tried to live out the Bible to the best of his ability.

“I had so many questions in the first months of our marriage,” Phoebe went on. “Once Abe got comfortable, he would say some weird stuff, blasphemous even, and I’d be like ‘what in the world was that?’ God, a little help here. Who exactly did I marry?”

“Exactly.” Ibelema nearly leaped off the sofa. Finally, someone who understood how it felt to hear your husband—whom you thought you knew—say the strangest things. Like excuse me, it might have been good to know some of that stuff before you went and committed the rest of your life to him.

“How do you let that stuff go?” Ibelema asked Phoebe, who looked like she was enjoying every bit of her first year of marriage.

Phoebe spread out her hands in a posture of surrender. “Trust. I simply have to learn to trust God’s plan for my life, and his life.”

Ibelema swallowed hard. Trusting God wasn’t her problem. If she didn’t trust God, she would never have married Tonye with all his red flags. But in this moment when she thought to herself that trust wasn’t her issue, it suddenly struck her that trusting God isn’t the same as trusting yourself to figure your life out. All this time, had she been trusting in her own abilities more than she depended on God to sort her out?

“I almost married the wrong guy,” Phoebe said, with a sad smile. “Did I tell you we ran into Zef on our honeymoon?”

“How?” In shock, Ibelema sat up straight. “What did your husband do?”

“That’s a story for another time.” Phoebe laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that even though I failed at trusting God, He still stopped me from marrying the wrong guy by placing Abe and his family in front of me. I have no doubt that God wanted me to marry Abe. Even with all his faults, he’s the best husband I could have asked for.”

Ibelema felt the tears coming on. That was exactly how she felt about Tonye, but was it really that simple? She had gotten used to things not working out in her life, so that any sign of tension between her and Tonye felt like a sign that their marriage might not work out in the end. But then Tonye would seek her out, even when she was the one at fault. Sometimes she felt like the prodigal son in her marriage, and yet she still considered herself the more spiritually mature one? Why? Because unlike Tonye, she knew all the old and new worship songs and how to pray eloquent prayers? When had that become the measuring tape of spiritual maturity?

“Okay let me stop before I make you cry,” Phoebe said. “Just be yourself and try not to overthink things. Marriage, I hear, is about more than fuzzy warm feelings and good sex.”

Ibelema couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Sounds like you and Abraham are having a blast. Good for you, Mrs. Teka. Never would have thought you get down like that.” If not for Phoebe’s caramel complexion, she would have sworn the woman blushed.

“Girl, I had to learn fast,” Phoebe said shyly. “What about you and Tonye?”

The quick deflection was cute. “It’s great. I just tend to go along with whatever he wants.”

Phoebe covered her mouth as if scandalized. “Whatever he wants?” she repeated. “Sometimes the stuff they want is just plain…”

“Ridiculous,” Ibelema finished. Tonye seemed to think she was more flexible than she actually was. Whatever happened to good old missionary. The man was a little too adventurous.

Phoebe raised her brows. “I guess marriage stretches you in more ways than one,” she said, which made Ibelema laugh harder.

“Iron sharpening iron,” Ibelema countered. “A knocking of heads together for the greater good.”

A laughing Phoebe responded with applause. “Even when your hubby’s head is harder than yours.”

“Hard heads? Sister Phoebe,” she exclaimed in mock alarm.

“No,” Phoebe cried, waving her arms, “I meant like stubborn.”

“I’m messing with you. The Abe I grew up with was stubborn to no end.”

“And what of Tonye?”

“He’s bad. We fight over the silliest things, not to mention his campaign, or the theme of my next movie. The man who swore up and down to support my dreams of making world-changing movies is now calling them too provocative and combative. Can you imagine?”

Phoebe shook her head. “Men, they can be quite silly.”

“And we married them, so what does that make us?”

“Naive?”

“Let’s go with that.”

“Is that the main thing bothering you? That Tonye isn’t as supportive as he said he would be?”

Ibelema folded her arms and her bracelet clinked noisily. “What time is it? Why has no one come to get me yet?”

“Maybe God wanted us to have this talk,” Phoebe replied, with a straight face.

Ibelema smiled. She had needed someone to calm her down before the ceremony, so God had sent the best possible person.

“I just feel like maybe he wasn’t ready for marriage,” Ibelema revealed. “Like I should have waited until he was…more ahead in his walk with God. There were parts of him I totally missed during our courtship, which was way too short.”

Phoebe nodded. “I heard it was like a movie.”

Ibelema groaned. “And now we’re in the second act and I’m stunned at how different we are when it comes to spiritual things. Phoebe, I find myself now dreading Sundays more than him. He’s rubbing off on me in a bad way. Sometimes I get scared that it’s in more ways than I think.” She sagged into the sofa.

“Oh boy,” Phoebe said, scooting forward to the edge of her seat. “What’s bad about Sundays?”

“Where do I start?” Ibelema sighed. “We wake up early to pray–he usually initiates, I’ll give him that. Then begins the fight on what to wear, which spills over to our drive to church. We complain the whole way, mostly me because we’re late. We arrive, and before I can apologize for my bad attitude, someone from the choir whisks me away to the stage. Then it’s singing and playing my guitar, and my feet hurt from wearing heels that I hate wearing but feel like I need to because I’m Tonye Banigo’s American wife. And after all that singing, my throat hurts, and at some point during the service, I see Tonye’s face growing darker, like he’s pissed, but still doing that fake smile thing he does.”

Ibelema took a deep breath and released it in a shudder. “By the end of the long day, after getting dragged to a meeting of church workers that neither of us has the bandwidth for, Tonye successfully gets me to the car and we begin the long drive home, annoyed, hungry and tired. And I feel defeated because I didn’t hear a word from God the entire time, which was the reason I made us go in the first place.”

Phoebe’s mouth made a Wow. “I can see why you’d dread Sundays. IB, that’s not what the good Lord intended for a Sabbath.”

Ibelema threw up her hands. “Now you sound just like Tonye. The guy prefers volunteering on Sundays instead of church. He says it’s ministry for the folks that matter. And I’ve resisted him because I was raised as a church-first girl. I don’t know how else to be. It’s who I’ve always been.”

“No, you’re a follower of Christ, and He wasn’t limited to the temple. Even on Sabbath.”

Ibelema squinted, the words too familiar. “Did Tonye send you?”

Phoebe smiled. “Church is important, IB. But the act of going to church should never take the place of being the church to those around us.”

She snorted. “Even while I was here in America, church felt more like a career, a thing I should do, rather than an offering I give to God.”

“Even worship felt like that?”

“Yes,” Ibelema cried. People always think worship leaders and pastors are different, like they have some direct line to God which takes away all the rough edges of being human.

“I had to learn that too when I got married. Abe’s parents were the sort that would miss Sundays so that they could take church to those who couldn’t make the physical church. Even if they got flack for missing services sometimes.”

Ibelema shook her head, remembering when her dad once scolded the hypocritical elders wanting to chastise Papa Teka for missing too many services. But the way Mr. and Mrs. Teka had lived their lives inspired a lot of younger people, and the Vessels community they had taken under their wing was thriving and would continue to outlive them long into future generations.

Even far away in Nigeria, Ibelema and Tonye had made it a point to keep in touch with the Vessels family in America. Becoming friends with godly men like Daniel and Judah had only refocused Tonye’s dream of gathering a community of believers committed to changing their home.

Ibelema almost laughed. She had known it would happen, but didn’t expect it to happen this soon. When had she started calling Nigeria home?

She met Phoebe’s gentle eyes. “Thank you,” Ibelema said, for being the voice she needed.

In less than a year, God had changed her so much through Tonye. Just like Phoebe had been sent to settle her doubts, Tonye was sent to be her partner through life’s countless moments. Meeting and loving Tonye was no mistake, neither was the timing. God would use every day of their marriage to shape them into world changers, in His own way, and time.

“Girl, drink your smoothie before,” Phoebe said, and the door opened, Ibelema’s Mom rushing in with a bright smile, followed by her aunties carrying the decorated cloth.

“It’s time,” her mom said, helping Ibelema to stand as the woman fussed over the traditional headwear that didn’t feel as heavy anymore. “You’ve done well, my daughter. Time to go to your husband. Everyone is waiting to dance in.”

Ibelema waved at Phoebe sneaking out of the room. “I can’t believe you left me alone for so long,” Ibelema whined to her mom, who flashed a guilty smile.

Mom ushered Ibelema out of the bridal suite into the lobby, where over thirty of Ibelema’s friends and female family members noisily cheered her arrival. Mom covered Ibelema’s whole body with the decorated cloth so that Tonye would have to decide she was his wife without being able to see any part of her.

As the double doors opened, Ibelema heard her song booming from the speakers, and just like that, the DJ who had been playing her playlist out of order was forgiven for coming through at the precise moment.

Dancing into the hall with her aunties and friends, Ibelema peeked through the translucent material to the stage at the end of the path, her heart racing fast, trying to find Tonye among the people crowding the stage. She was so distracted by the guests along the path calling her name and taking pictures that she didn’t see Tonye until she was almost at the stage, and her heart flooded with joy, pure and unrestrained.

He looked like an Ijaw hero-prince in his traditional garb, and Ibelema was glad that she had sewn a special traditional dress to change into that matched his outfit. She loved matching her clothes with her man, which she hoped would be symbolic of their life together.

A few feet from the stage, the aunties around Ibelema had to grab her hands to stop her because she kept walking toward her handsome husband without a thought for what came next.

The music got low, and Ibelema heard the MC ask Tonye to check if the maiden under the decorated cloth was his bride.

A true actor, Tonye looked at the MC like the man had lost his mind, and breaking with tradition, Tonye snatched the mic from the MC. The music stopped as a hush fell over the crowd.

“E-be-le-ma,” Tonye cried out her name like a song. “You’re the only one for me. I can’t even see anyone else.”

Ibelema tried her hardest not to laugh because the aunties had warned her not to, but the aunties themselves were already laughing. She looked down at the red carpet, so she didn’t meet Tonye’s eyes as he came to stand in front of her with his impeccably polished shoes. He had shone them himself in their hotel room simply because she’d once mentioned how much she loved a man in polished shoes. It was amazing how the little things he paid attention to made her fall in love with him again and again. His constant devotion and heart-melting sincerity always brought her guard crashing down.

Tonye had promised to welcome her with the biggest smile on their important second wedding day, and now, as he reached to lift the veil covering her face, Ibelema grabbed his hand, and his fingers hooked hers, sending delicious shivers down her spine to splash at her feet.

Tonye’s face peeked underneath the covering, his dark gaze roaming from her red-pedicured toes to the crown on her head before settling on her eyes. His handsome face lit up like a dawning sun, his mouth curving in a satisfied smile she recognized from making love to him. She knew that she had pleased him, and it made her happier than she could have imagined.

“My sugar in Sugar Land,” Tonye said, throwing open the covering so that the cloth fell back to the floor. “There really is no comparing you. How would I not know my beautiful Ibelema?” he proclaimed in a loud, clear voice that echoed with pride and promise.

Laughter bubbled up Ibelema’s throat as Tonye pulled her into his arms. The entire hall erupted in cheers.

“I’m sorry,” Ibelema whispered to him, and Tonye looked at her as if he didn’t understand. “For fighting with you last night.”

His smile was warm. “I’m sorry too, and I promise to always let it go.” He turned to fend off the aunties. “Please now, let me have my wife. Tonight is going to be a night to remember.”

Ibelema laughed against his mouth and clung to him, not caring a lick that they had broken tradition. Nothing else mattered but being there in his arms, and she wondered how she could have been so silly to ever doubt that they belonged together, and the timing of their love had little to do with that truth.

Her beloved husband had kept his promise, just like he would keep the other promises, and all she had to do was believe in him, believe in them, and hold on to God.

Come what may, she just needed to trust in God.

The End.