Omonigho knew that if she wanted to ask her Husband for a favour, the best time to do so was on Saturday afternoon. She knew that she would find him in his favourite chair in the sitting room which faced the television at a perfect angle, wearing the glazed and perpetually weary expression of an Arsenal fan.
She had asked him once why he didn’t just switch English Premiership teams if his team kept on its current losing streak. He had just stared at her in bewilderment, like she had suggested that he lit his Mother on fire.
‘Hmm’ he replied. His eyes never left the screen. Even if Omonigho had stood in front of him wearing a full football kit whilst doing kick-ups, he would probably still have looked through her.
‘Please could you watch the kids so I can pick up my car from the mechanic? He just called and…’
Her husband jumped up, dropping the remote control in the process and embraced her tightly, lifting her off the ground.
Arsenal had apparently chosen that moment to break its losing streak.
‘Honey, put me down!’
He did as she asked, and did a small victory dance in front of the television.
‘My Love, you’re our good luck charm. Sit beside me’, he said as he pulled her down on the sofa. ‘The first half has just ended. Once the game is over I’ll take us all out for a treat before we get to the mechanic’.
Oh God, kill me now, she thought.
‘Yayyy that sounds lovely, Honey’, she said.
Omonigho endured the tedious first half analysis as her husband chatted with barely concealed glee on multiple WhatsApp groups.
‘Just a second, Honey’, she said as she stood up to get her phone out of her jeans pocket.
She began to type on her phone:
Mechanic: I will pick up the car later today.
Mechanic 2: Can’t see you today. Will explain later. Kisses.
She returned to her seat and listened with the glazed and weary expression of a non-football fan as her husband analysed the goal in minute detail.
Ivie M. Eke 2020.