Daniel Ogba: Acting
Meet Daniel Ogba - a shortlisted writer of the Bad Form x Bad Love short story competition. Daniel wrote the short story Acting, inspired by the following line from Bad Love:
“He was the colour of dark mahogany these days, strong and weathered but more beautiful for it, from weekend trips to sunnier climes throughout Europe."
Daniel Ogba
Q&A with Daniel…
Why do you write?
I write because it's the only way I can make sense of the world spinning around me.
What's your secret talent that not a lot of people know about you?
I am a countertenor singer.
If you could be one character who is considered a 'bad lover'/ relationship villain from books, TV or film, who would you be and why?
I've thought about this question so hard, and I know many relationship villains from books and movies, but I don't want to be any of them. I don't want to be a 'bad lover.'
Read Daniel’s shortlisted story below.
Acting
This evening, Betty watched him from across the room — downing glass after glass of bourbon, throwing his head back in stylish laughter that seemed to erupt from the vaults of his stomach at one of the men’s jokes, the lights bouncing off his eyes, highlighting in full contrast his geographical features .
She’d seen this version of him in his travelogue published biweekly; never this close up in real time. She did not un-follow his blog after the separation (they were taking a break and were not divorced, after all), so she never missed updates about cities he’d traversed or cuisines he’d tasted.
Two nights ago when Betty finally settled herself to read his email with an attached invitation, she couldn’t get that one line out of her head.
“We don’t have to stay till the end so our act doesn’t fall apart.”
She’d lost sleep, tossed and turned in bed, trying to think of a perfect response. Yinka had continued:
“If you’re not up for it, I could write Paul back, say we’re extremely choked.”
But Paul was both a close friend and counselor when the first rift in their ship had manifested. Betty and Yinka were also his child’s Godparents, whose birthday was the occasion. She would not let the kind man down. Early next morning, she replied.
They’d decided to keep their separation private, away from friends. Only a handful of family members knew. Yinka moved five states away. Betty remained in the apartment they rented together, still working at the General hospital. When friends attentive enough to have noticed his absence, or with itching ears and tongues ready to spin gossip, asked about Yinka, Betty’s response was always the same;
“He’s off exploring the world.”
She picked him up in her seagreen Camry from the hotel where he lodged that night. Aside from initial hellos, the ghost-quiet in the vehicle had been punctuated only by infrequent, radio music. They arrived to the ambience of the weather and their hosts warm welcome.
“Yinks, man!” Paul exclaimed. “You made it!”
Arms linked together, they offered cheery smiles in the direction of other guests - mutual friends. Betty flaunted the wedding band she’d last worn six months ago, a solid statement.
She felt as though they were on a movie set, both unreal characters acting out their scripts . At a table with the other ladies, she quickly got bored of their endless probings; how she had coped with a long absent husband, what with the empty nights and lonely spaces. How their marriage had been so far, and whether she was expecting. Some of their concerns she responded to with feigned interest, as expected of her character. Others she simply ignored.
“You’re lucky to have him, such a beautiful man,” one of the women said. “I mean, look at the material. My God!”
And Betty did look.
Granted, Yinka had grown more beautiful, a bit weathered perhaps. With skin colored rust from soaking up the sun during his travels. She marveled at how he seamlessly blended with other men, how he was completely removed from himself, as though his marriage was not riding the waves to wreckage. If he won an Oscar, it’d be well deserved.
