“Do you have everything you need packed?” Cynthia asked as she dashed back into the bedroom to do a double check that the electrical switches were off.
“I am pretty sure I do,” I said. “But if it turns out I don’t, I doubt I’ll need what it is so badly.”
“Okay o,” her voice was faint as she moved to the guest bedroom further away from me.
A horn honked downstairs, our cabbie getting impatient.
“We’re coming,” I yelled not caring if he heard me. “Babe we have to get a move on. Epe is far, and I would like to get there today.”
We were going away on our honeymoon and, like with the wedding, decided not to break the bank. We chose the Epe Resort because it promised what we wanted, the same things we could travel to a number of countries for, but literally at our backyard. We looked at the reviews and liked what we saw, so we made reservations.
The drive was long. That was what stayed with me about the journey there. We got there about 1:30pm.
I was impressed by the staff that received us. They were courteous, and seemed happy to answer the questions Cynthia and I had.
I fell in love with the way the resort was laid out: each bungalow housing two rooms was set in its own ‘yard’, surrounded by lush grass with a cobble walkway.
Walking up the tarred road that split the resort in two, bungalows on either side, the rumble of our suitcase tyres sounded loud in the quiet afternoon.
The bed occupied one side of the room, and there was more wardrobe spacer than we knew what to do with – we planned to live out of the suitcase we packed. I liked that the bathroom was spacious and had a shower rather than a tub, though a tub might serve the purpose I had in mind it might get too cramped there.
“Here we are, Mrs. Nkiti,” I said with a bow.
Cynthia wrapped her hands around my neck and pulled me close.
“Now there’s no fear of going to hell when we do this,” she whispered before flicking her tongue in my ear.
I lifted her off the floor and she squealed, kicking. We stumbled onto the bed and didn’t leave the room until it was dark outside and we were hungry.
The next four days were idyllic, spent mostly in bed.
“This thing is not food,” Cynthia joked once.
“Are you saying apple isn’t food?”
“What are you talking about?” She asked.
“What do you think the forbidden fruit slash apple in Genesis was?” I replied.
“You’re so corny.”
Before the sun came up we would take walks around the resort, and everywhere we looked was a good backdrop for a picture. We probably took more pictures in those days than on our wedding day. A stretch, I know.
We would then go to the pool where I swam and Cynthia lay under the parasol reading or taking pictures of me. This was followed by lunch; again the waiting staff was courteous. The evenings we spent on the viewing deck watching lizards cavort and the sun go down.
On the third day, we met a couple I know from my previous work – they had gotten married on the same day as us and were on their honeymoon as well. Unlike us, they got the honeymoon package which included a complimentary bottle of wine and a cake. Cynthia and I did the math and the difference wasn’t worth it.
The next day, about 1pm, there was a knock on our door.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked her.
“Nope, maybe it’s your friend come to catch up some more.”
I opened the door already preparing my excuse, but it was a delivery guy with a cake and a bottle of champagne.
The inscription on the cake read Just Because…
“Now you have the complete honeymoon package,” Cynthia said from behind me.