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Anthills of the Savannah - Chinua Achebe [30]

By Root 722 0
affairs I had had in my time including a full-fledged marriage in London for six months I was actually ready and grateful for BB’s conservative style. Sometimes when I thought of her what came most readily to my mind was not roses or music but a good and tastefully produced book, easy on the eye. No pretentious distractions. Absolutely sound. Although I realized the folly of it I could not help comparing BB and my ex-wife. Louise was so bent on proving she had a mind of her own she proved instead totally frigid in bed despite weekly visits to the psychiatrist. There was another type—at the opposite pole—the aspirant sex symbol, flaunting her flesh before you. I’d met her too. Her style usually worked for a while and then out of nowhere a coldness descended into your soul and you wanted only to tell her to cut out the moans and all that ardent crap and get to it fast. Beatrice is a perfect embodiment of my ideal woman, beautiful without being glamorous. Peaceful but very strong. Very, very strong. I love her and will go at whatever pace she dictates. But sometimes I just wonder if I am not reading her signs wrong; if as MM says, without fully intending it, I have become too wizened by experience; if I have lost the touch, so to say.

Neither of us was really hungry. So we decided on a bottle of wine and some fried shrimps. My cook, Sylvanus, was always upset if a guest came and he was not allowed to display the full extent of his culinary arts. Even as we ate his exquisite shrimps he kept at us.

“Make I fix madame small sometin,” he pleaded. We begged him not to worry and he went away but soon returned to hover around the door of the kitchen. He could not understand how two grown people could eat nothing but “crayfish” for dinner.

“Or sometaim you wan go for hotel?” he said. And when Sylvanus said that you had to swear that his cooking was better than that of any chef, French, Italian or whatever on the west coast of Africa.

“No Sylvanus,” said Beatrice trying to mollify him, “we no de go anywhere. We jus wan sidon for house. Make you take evening off. If at all oga wan anything I fit getam for am.” I knew at once and she soon realized she had committed a blunder. Sylvanus did not exactly storm out but his resentment was very clear on his face and in the tone of his goodnights.

“Do you know why I wanted us to come here and stay by ourselves?”

“Well, yes and no.”

“OK, let’s have the yes first.”

“You don’t want to be seen too often with me in public.” It sounded premeditated but wasn’t. Beatrice didn’t reply at once; she seemed to be weighing the point as if to say: there may be something there. Then she shook her head gently a few times and said simply: “It was a year today that you first asked me to dinner here.”

I was completely overwhelmed with feelings I had been skirting for months. I drew her to me on the sofa and kissed her—a little too roughly perhaps. I thought of making apologies for my own forgetfulness. With any other girl I would have proceeded to do so at once. But with her I couldn’t pretend. I am not the anniversary kind and it would be utterly deceitful to say it just escaped my mind. I kissed her again and said instead: “You are a great girl.” We were silent for quite a while.

“How long has Ikem known that Joy girl?” I asked.

“I can’t tell you. I had only seen her a couple of times before this afternoon.”

“She seems so young. And so illiterate. What can he possibly be saying to her?” I asked.

“Ikem doesn’t say much to any girl. He doesn’t think they have enough brains.”

“Good for him, the great revolutionary.”

“Well, you know, I am exaggerating a little. But really women don’t feature too much in his schemes except as, well, comforters. I think that’s about the only chink in his revolutionary armour… Do you notice how much he resents you now?” she asked in a sudden change of tack. “I don’t think you are even aware of it. It bothers me because it wasn’t there before. I can see plenty of trouble ahead for the two of you.”

“Oh, you exaggerate. But you are right about the resentment. And I think

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