DELILAH

The clock on the coarse, white wall ticks from above the pew; beside it is a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary carrying a miniature Jesus in a sculpted shawl. The pastor, in a white suit and dotted tie, stands on the altar and preaches about endurance. The congregation chants amen after every of his word. On one of the seats sits Delilah howling as if in a trance: “Oh! Jesus! I’m never doing that again, please wash all my sins and grant me eternal peace. Count me among the righteous ones, shower me with your blessings, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Her voice is so desperate that even the angels might be compelled to plead with God on her behalf.

Deborah was born into a family of four. Her father, Mr. Ogunyemi, was a driver who used to traverse the Kano—Lagos Road before he passed ten years ago due to a road crash. Her mother, Mrs. Ogunyemi, a trader, still owns a stall in Lekki. Her junior sister, Loba, is a graduate of Animal Science. Loba concluded her National Youth Service within the past year and immediately settled down with her sweetheart. A few years ago, on a Christmas Eve, her cousin, Jenny, always the matchmaker and a busybody, but also out of concern, had introduced Samson and Kunle to Loba and Delilah respectively.

The evening air bristled with the sounds of Christmas: carols playing from the shops, children running around blowing whistles and plastic trumpets, mothers calling to them. Red, white, and green were the colors of the city. Delilah and Loba sat down on one of the settees. Opposite them sat Samson and Kunle.

Loba exchanged pleasantries with Samson and both walked away, chuckling and giggling, towards the corridor. The English poet, John Dryden, must have witnessed firsthand the blossoming of the romance between Samson and Loba. He must have anticipated their kind of love when he wrote in one of his poems that “In dreams and in love there are no impossibilities.” However, before they met, Samson had had a bitter relationship experience, where he was dumped because of his Eegun dialect and tongue. He had thought his lack of money, his moderate looks, and his Eegun-tinted English were the problem. But the absence of Loba was. He realized when he saw her that Loba was the woman he needed, his missing rib.

Delilah cleared her throat and touched her right ear restlessly. She shifted in her seat. It was obvious that she was ill at ease. Looking into her phone screen, her fingers tapped the keyboard. She chatted Jenny on WhatsApp, “Why didn’t you introduce Samson to me? Why Kunle?”

Kunle extended his hands and said, “Hey, Pretty, how are you doing?” Wearily, Delilah stretched her hand and said, “I’m fine”

“Because of the bonestraight you wanted from Ola, didn’t you betray Segun, the man I introduced you to last year? I won’t give you the chance to betray Samson this time, just like you did in the Bible,” Jenny wrote back.

Kunle stood in amazement wondering what kept Delilah busy on her phone.

“Segun was not capable of footing my bills, and I am not the treacherous Delilah, of course!” she responded to Jenny.

Kunle began to introduce himself to Delilah, “I’m Arowolo Olakunle, how about you?” he asked calmly, despite the anger burning in him.

“Ola committed suicide. Bayo told me on Sunday.”

Delilah went cold as she read the message from Jenny. She knew what this meant for her. Once, she and Bayo were lovebirds, inseparable. But just like she did to every man she had met, she had dated him to get impossible things out of him. And to justify her uncouth behavior at the end of the relationship, she named him a misogynist after sucking him dry.

“I am sorry,” she finally muttered as she looked, reluctantly, from the phone to Kunle. As if she was seeing him for the first time, he wore a well-ironed t-shirt, white sneakers, and a pair of blue jeans. Delilah stood, not knowing what to make of the news she had just received. She could see that the man she had just been introduced to was disgusted. After a minute of silence between them, she faked a call and asked to be excused. Kunle watched as she darted across the lawn, disappearing into the crowd. Kunle stood there like a block of ice, unable to figure out what had just happened, his masculinity melting around him.

* * *

It took only a few months of the performance of guilt. During the hiatus, Delilah prayed vigorously, fasted consistently, and joined the Hallelujah Challenge—just to hook up with a man who would meet all her qualifications. She looked up to the sky, tearfully praying to God for a man to locate her — the time was ticking. She was still haunted by the ghost of Ola, whom she betrayed and stripped of his wealth and properties – spoils she hoped to divide with the lawyer, Lenre, with whom she schemed the dreadful plot, who defrauded her in turn. She cried for mercy, asked to be forgiven. But it was as if God had relocated from heaven, and the ears of the angels were stopped to her voice.

It was in one of these prayer sessions that she met Tunde, who introduced himself to her as a car dealer. On Instagram, he posed as a multimillionaire (using a profile picture edited with AI). His wall was filled with pictures of expensive wristwatches, houses, and luxurious cars. Their connection was smooth, and after some weeks they became entangled. Delilah was so in love that she dreamed Tunde into every frame of her future. Setting up a family. Living in a large house with no more than three children. Travelling the world with the love of her life.

One morning, Delilah walked into a nearby store to get some groceries. While scanning the store, she saw one of the attendants walk past one of the shelves and thought he looked familiar. At the counter, she looked at the man from behind, down to his rough toenails. There and then, the dream Lamborghini faded, and despondently she shouted: “This is not him! God!” She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Tunde!!!” she cried, and the man turned to face her. He, too, was shocked as their eyes locked. That was the end of his lies; he could tell. Showing up in a rented Bentley and borrowed outfits on their next date was not going to work any longer. He quickly grabbed the groceries he was about to arrange on the shelf and disappeared into the inner store without looking back.

Delilah went back home questioning God. She thought about all the men she had played, from Tunde to Loba. Crying, she took the family picture they took during Loba and Samson’s wedding. The eyes stared back at her. The wedding returned to her: the five-star hotel, the glamorous Aso Ebi clothes worn by the attendants, the bride’s and groom’s people. She was the mastermind behind the ceremony. She reminded herself of the cranky joke of Papa Nene — Samson’s father — told on the day: “You will also make a good bride in our family,” Papa Nene said as the family burst into laughter.

She remembered how, a month after the wedding, Loba had returned home, recounting to her sister how Papa Nene and her husband’s family had shown her love, and did their best to make her comfortable.

Delilah broke into more tears and soaked her blue tracksuit. She wanted that but could not envy her sister. “After all,” she muttered to herself. “I am the origin of my ache.” She sobbed more intensely as the sun shot its light through the glass pane of her window.

“”
The pastor continued praying. Deborah threw herself to the front of the pew. The pastor walked toward her and whispered into the microphone he held: “May the Lord be with all the sisters in this church who are in need of a righteous husband.”

“Amen!!!” Deborah’s voice, earlier muted from the memory of her bruised life, echoed across the church. Anyone would have thought her voice would bring Lazarus back from the dead.