I’m at Trattoria in wabera street. Everything is ace. It’s circa 5pm on a friday. There are those that are rushing back to their wives, those that are getting ready for their night shift jobs, those boarding ubers to get to their sleep over locations, perhaps and those that are already into the party moods. All this is visible from my table adjacent the window upstairs. I suddenly spot a couple stride in. They occupy the table behind me.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t decide where you wanted to eat, even after all those months of lockdown.” I overhear the guy croaking to the lady. The urge of turning my head to look behind itches but I Instead opt to have a folk of my panzenella.

“But I chose to eat here.” She responds, a giggle follows.

“So tell me about your lockdown experience.” The guy diverts, after requesting two plates of Pasta Carbonara quite rudely.

“It wasn’t a good experience. I had a few chances of meeting you…” a guffaw drops, then she continues, “my husband was overprotective, and very annoying. If this pandemic could hang in here a little longer, we could be having a conversation on how you did a good job on helping me divorce him.”

I get more interested in the topic at hand, So I order a glass of negroni to sip down as I forge a busy posture.

“True, I have recieved copious calls from clients filing divorce petitions. It’s getting messy. It’s like most couples realized they were in the wrong marriage during that pandemic. They were used to seeing each other only in the evenings and at times twice a week. But Covid-19 brought the beast in the room, they had to wake up to the same face daily and in the process they got to discover new traits of their partners that they dislike.”

“But who is to blame?” The lady intervenes.

“China?” The guy replies.

I come to learn that the guy is a lawyer and the lady is a housewife, married to a journalist.

It hits me that indeed, most couples have had it rough in the past months. Those that had to live with abusive partners. Those that had to persevere daily violence in the house. Those that slept in different rooms. Those that faked grins in the eyes of their kids but grimaced at each other when in the bedroom. I won’t forget to mention the side chicks who finally learnt to respect their positions.

“Why haven’t you divorced him though? Look, I’m here.”

“How many girls do you tell that?” She retorts.

He gives a smooth laugh then replies, “I can help you divorce him, you know?”

“I know where this is heading, can we talk about something else”

It’s at that point that I slide my bill in the booklet menu then bounce out, peeking at the ‘couple.’