Saxophone boys

 

I hate noise. I especially hate it when it is too close. I cover my ears with my pillow and turn over to ease the ringing in my ear. There is still noise; a piercing scream and two sniffs in between. Before, I would try to shut it up; the body changing, sleep depriving, breast deflating thing that I had no desire to keep but, tonight I remain frozen at the corner of the bed, pillow over head. I know my sister would come running in soon, cradling that thing in her arms trying to calm it down, making me wonder how she has so much love to spare for something I hold in nothing less than contempt.

I wish someone had told me to be careful of boys, in any form they came. Especially tall boys with nice hair and good dentition, especially boys that play the saxophone in church boys like Jite.

But nobody had.

Jite was perfect when we first met. It had been a long service and I was in a hurry to get home. There were no cars, no buses, no bikes at the junction and I was drenched in sweat where I stood. All the vehicles that were coming were either filled or stopped by other people.
One empty taxi eventually came my way and I flagged it down, or at least, I thought I flagged it down. Before I could slide into the passenger's seat, there was Jite holding the car door.
I was angry when I saw him and I was ready to fight. At that time, I had never really thought of him. I only knew him as the guy that played saxophone during the service. I knew nothing about how charming his smile was or how perfectly his hand fit in the small of my back, or how nice his fingers looked, I did not even know his name.
I spoke aggressively to him that afternoon, telling him about how I flagged the taxi down and I would not let myself be intimidated. He remained calm throughout my speech and smiled when I was done. I did not realise that while I was talking, someone else had entered the taxi and the driver had zoomed off.
I felt frustrated. My aunty only allowed me to go to church on the condition that I was back before 2PM.
Usually, the service would end by 12pm and in an hour, I'd be home but there was a special service that day. I did not know I was crying already where I stood until Jite slid a finger across my cheek and handed me a handkerchief. I wanted to slap him. He was the reason why I lost my ride.
Now, he is the reason why I have lost everything. If I could, I would have rejected his handkerchief instead of using it as an excuse to see him the next Sunday. I should have seen it in the way he pampered me, that he was treating me the reverent way he treated his saxophone. I should have known that in the end he was only going to play me, isn't that what saxophone boys do to saxophones?
Jite lied to me. He told me he loved me, that I meant the world to him, that he would marry me and I would no longer have to be a slave to my aunty. I believed him. He gave me all the hope I needed.
Maybe it wouldn't have hurt if he had told me face-to-face that he no longer loved me, or if weren't already pregnant when I found out about his wedding to one Anita through Facebook.

I was right. My sister is here cooing and coaxing the demon baby now. She is worried about me, I know. I am worried about what to do next, and how to keep surviving with the cursed child I named "Saxophone".

Author's note:
Nothing much to see here, just be careful of boys that play the saxophone, or guitar, or drums, or keyboard, or football...or anything at all. Oktnxbye!