Chapter 17
IT HAD BEEN A beautiful day. The birds had sung all day, and the sun had been bright, but not too hot. Esi gazed outside the dining room window at the fading daylight, her heart as heavy as a piece of lead in her chest. She didn’t feel much like stopping to smell the roses or basking in the sunshine. Not even when the sun lingered longer, beautifying the horizon with its amber hue, as if intent on beckoning her to enjoy its rays before inevitably giving in to the night.
It seemed like ages since she and Michael had spoken to each other or had a meal together, and she wondered what it was he wanted from a wife. A woman good in the kitchen and in bed? It seemed so unlikely of the man she’d spent her first days with back in Ebinom. Where had that Michael disappeared? Her marriage was turning out to be a lot different from her dreams, and yet, something in her believed the man she’d known so briefly in the village was the real Michael. What did she need to do to get him back?
As her thoughts consumed her mind, despair ate at her heart, her tears imminent. Didn’t he love her? Why had he married her, then?
A baby. Maybe that was what he wanted. She was more than happy to oblige, but if he wanted a child, then why hadn’t he touched her since that night?
It was after six when Michael returned from work. She’d already eaten, or she wasn’t yet hungry—she didn’t remember which. Turning towards him, she longed to hear him say something nice like, “How was your day?” or “Did you miss me?”, or better still, “I’ve missed you so much.” She certainly had. Then again, she missed him sometimes even when he was around.
****
The table was already set when he arrived, and Michael’s hunger led him straight to the dinner table. It was that or Esi, and touching her was out of the question. He didn’t say grace, hadn’t done so in ages, and it never bothered him, except today, he wondered if he should have. Or maybe he should have changed his clothes before hitting the dinner table, giving her the chance to leave the room—anything that would make it easier to keep his hands off her.
She stayed, sat on the chair next to him. He could smell her—not just the sweet lavender of her soap, but the even sweeter smell of her—the sensual scent that made his heart work overtime whenever she was near. His muscles wound tight at her closeness, and his every instinct begged him to hold her, kiss her. He forbade any further thoughts from weakening his resolve, but if she remained so close, he knew it would just be a matter of time before he threw all caution to the wind.
As his breath became more laboured, he snapped. “Look, do you have to sit here and watch me eat?”
“Why not?” It was an innocent plea rather than a question. “My mother does it sometimes.”
“You’re not your mother, are you? And this isn’t Ebinom.” His forehead began to prickle. He rubbed it as if that would ease the tension in his body. “Please, put a stop to it.”
She didn’t respond, but he saw the look in her eyes, the surprise, the hurt, and the beginning of tears. She stood up slowly and left him alone as he requested.
Dammit! Nothing seemed to be going right. He buried his face in his hands. He hated the way his heart went out to her when she was sad. Every time. That wasn’t part of the plan. He was supposed to be resolute, aloof, untouchable…yet, avoiding her seemed to hurt him just as allowing himself the pleasure of having her would hurt her.
Today, just like several times before, he’d tried to convince himself that his actions were for both their benefits—his as well as hers. Staying away was for her own good, but did it have to be so damn difficult?
After he had finished his dinner, he retreated to the study where he spent an hour pretending to read some industry-related magazines before giving up the effort and settling on the couch. A knock sounded at the door before it opened, and Esi stood before him. Temptation personified. As she pushed the door, it hit a short stone wall behind it.
This was the first time she’d come in here while he worked. Her gaze trailed over the stack of books and magazines on his desk to the bookshelves filled with rows of books mainly on agriculture and basic sciences. He should probably ask her what she liked reading and stock up on it. Her gaze finally found him on the couch from where he was watching a documentary on a small colour TV set.
“Can we talk?” she asked.
“Sure.” He lowered the volume of the TV. “What do you want to talk about?”
She hesitated. “I want to find work. I thought you could help.”
“Is there any particular reason why you want to work?”
“I have plenty of time on my hands each day even after all the cooking and cleaning.”
A moment of silence ensued. He lifted the remote and switched off the TV, buying time.
“No,” he said eventually. “I don’t want my wife to work.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Why not?”
“Young wives are supposed to stay at home and take care of their husbands.” What a crock.
She gasped. “You ignore me half the time you’re at home. How do you expect me to take care of you?”
She had a point, of course, so he raised his voice a shade and spoke harshly because it was the only way he could win this argument. “You’re my wife, and you will do as I say.”
She stood still for a while, gaping. After several seconds, she turned to leave. It shouldn’t have mattered, yet the stiffness in her stance got to him.
“Esi,” he called, and she stopped.
He should have shown more sympathy. A little compassion won’t derail his plans, would it? When she turned, her hand rested on her lower abdomen, drawing his attention.
“I know it must get lonely when I go to work. Maybe if I gave you a child—”
He hadn’t intended on saying that, but her hand on her stomach put the thought in this head, and the idea of having children with her appealed in ways it shouldn’t have.
“What?” Her hand rose to her chest, and his mind immediately shifted focus. “Look, if you think I married you just to have your babies, think again, Michael, because you’re wrong.”
She gasped, her hands coming over her mouth, as if she hadn’t expected her outburst. Without another word, she rushed out.
Michael stared after the door, surprised at her sudden show of emotion. She was always calm in her quiet strength, taking everything like a bitter pill. Of all the unlikely things, he’d finally managed to say something that struck a chord. Why did his first significant step towards freedom feel so lousy?
****
Esi’s whole body trembled as she walked away. She couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Something in her wanted to go back and apologise, but she was too hurt to do so. In any case, he was the one at fault. His words still swirled around in her mind. She wanted children, too. His children. But now, she questioned his motives. Did his proposal come from a genuine desire to start a family with her, or a need to keep her at home?
When she reached the sitting room, she met Ama.
“Ama, if you’ve finished with your work, you can go to bed.” She patted the girl on the shoulder.
“Are we not going to study?”
“Oh, I did promise you, didn’t I?” Esi replied, checking the time on the wall clock. “It’s not too late. Okay, go and get your book, and also bring a comb so I can do your hair.”
As Ama went, tears came to Esi’s eyes. He’d called her so sweetly, but wasn’t that how he always mentioned her name? He didn’t care about children. All he wanted was to have her for his stupid games. If that was the way he felt about it, then she didn’t want to have his child. She struggled to compose herself before Ama returned.
When the girl came back, Esi took the book from her. “I’m going to write down words, and you’ll read them to me.”
The girl nodded eagerly as Esi put down words: ball, call, mall, tall; bad, dad, mad, sad; most of which they’d studied before. Esi plaited the hair and listened as Ama read.
“Sad,” Esi said when she noticed Ama had stopped, her finger resting on the words she got stuck on.
“What does it mean?”
Esi explained the word to her.
Ama considered it awhile before commenting, “Auntie Esi, you are sad.”
“Yes, I am,” she said.
“Why?”
“Oh, Ama, I think I miss my family and friends,” she said, starting a new plait. “My best friend, Mansa, used to plait my hair, and my little sister is just like you.”
Ama smiled, evidently satisfied with Esi’s response, and continued reading.
****
Coming out of the study, Michael followed the sound of Esi’s voice and found her and Ama in the sitting room. He stood in a corner, out of their line of vision, and watched them. He longed to join in, knowing, though, that he dared not. Since the words had come out, the idea of children refused to vacate his mind, its presence filling him with a powerful yearning beyond his comprehension. She’d be a good mother—but to someone else’s children.
He belonged with Forest Girl. At least, he needed to make sure he didn’t go through his entire life wondering what he could have had with her. It wouldn’t be fair to any woman, least of all Esi. That thought made him strong enough to retreat without disturbing them. By the time she came to bed, he hoped he’d be asleep. There was just so much resistance he could take.
****
Esi dragged herself out of bed the next morning, her throat parched from crying the previous night, and her head throbbing. Unable to bear the pain, she went to a nearby pharmacy to buy some painkillers. The pharmacist, a chatty old man, engaged her in conversation, and before she left, he’d told her about using contraceptive pills. Having spent the whole night praying she wouldn’t get pregnant, she took the old man’s advice as a sign from Ɔdomankoma and bought some.
Returning home at close to noon, she changed into a boubou and began to prepare lunch. As soon as she’d finished, she heard a knock on the main door.
“Ama, go and see who is at the door.”
The young girl left the kitchen to do as instructed. She returned a few moments later.
“It’s Miss Lena,” she announced.
When Esi entered the sitting room, she found a lady with long, glossy hair comfortably seated in one of the armchairs with a valise at her feet. Wearing a pair of tight jeans and a fashionable silk blouse, she could easily have been a model, for she oozed style.
“Good afternoon,” Esi greeted, and the visitor responded, studying her critically. “Would you like some water to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
She spoke with an accent, just like Michael.
“My husband isn’t at home, but he should be in soon.”
“I’ll wait,” Lena said.
“Let me see if the driver has already gone to pick him up,” Esi said and left.
Upon her return, she found neither the visitor nor her suitcase, but Ama rushed to her, announcing that the lady had entered the master bedroom. Esi frowned. Who was she? Ama had called her “Miss Lena.”
Lena?
No.
True enough, when Esi entered the bedroom, Lena sat on the bed, tossing her hair in a manner that might have been attractive to a man.
“I don’t remember asking you to wait in the bedroom.”
“Lady, the man belonged to me before you came into the picture. I’m here to see Mike, so please, go on with your wifely duties.”
Lena crossed her legs, giving Esi a good view of her shoes. They looked a lot like the pair that had been in the wardrobe the day she arrived.
“You’re Michael’s girlfriend.”
“Damn right,” Lena answered. “You’re smart for a villager.”
For a moment, Esi thought she’d lose her mind. She wanted to kill this woman, slap that smug sneer off her face, but she couldn’t move. Her hand tightened around the latch. It would have been better if Lena had lied. Pain pierced her heart, and tears came to her eyes. She whipped around and ran out of the room, not wanting to cry in front of her.
Why had Michael planned such an unpleasant surprise for her? She cried even more. Lena was beautiful and elegant. No wonder he didn’t want to give her up. She was older, taller, more educated—everything more than Esi.
For the first time in her life, she felt terribly inadequate. She might love Michael with her whole heart, but she was not enough for him.
****
Michael opened the door and saw Esi bending over the piano. He smiled as he listened to her rather loud, discordant notes, but the smile faded away when he realised she was crying.
He rushed to her side, alarmed. “Esi, what’s wrong?”
Quickly, she stood to leave, wiping away her tears, but he stepped in her way.
“Esi, talk to me,” he begged, but she only cried harder, unable to utter a word. “Please, don’t cry.”
He rubbed her back as he held her in a comforting embrace. His pulse raced as he took in her familiar smell. He only wished he knew what was wrong with her. Was it because of him? Had someone died? He became apprehensive. Who was it? Who had brought the message?
When the crying subsided, he asked, “What is it?”
“Lena,” Esi managed to whisper, and more tears flowed down.
“Lena?” he also whispered, frowning.
Before he could say anything else, the object of his wife’s misery entered the room, holding her valise. For a second, he thought he was dreaming. He sucked in a breath. This isn’t happening. He’d always known this day would come to pass—when the two women would meet. He’d known it would take him by surprise when it happened, but he’d imagined he would panic and do something stupid. Yet, right now, he felt as calm as he could ever be.
Esi’s arms closed around his waist, drawing his attention to her. She was the only person he’d seen who looked beautiful even when crying, and it tugged at his heart.
“I’ll take care of this,” he whispered with determination and kissed her, to his own surprise.
He went to Lena and practically dragged her out.
Outside, he finally released her arm. “What the hell are you doing here, and what is this suitcase for?”
“Oh, relax. I’m only here to help you make up your mind.” She glared at him. “Maybe a weekend with the three of us will do the trick.”
“A weekend? The three of us? Are you insane? Is that why you called in sick today? So you could come and upset her? I thought we were clear about the nature of our relationship now.”
“Do we still have a relationship, Michael? We haven’t slept together since you told me about her. The same day you asked me to help you get rid of her, remember?”
“I don’t need this kind of help.”
Lena shrugged, ignoring him. “Your bedroom is cosy. Who redecorated?”
“You went into my bedroom?” When she’d appeared, he’d assumed she had been to the guest washroom. “What came over you?”
She turned to leave, but he held her.
“Don’t you dare walk out on me. You can come into my house, although I won’t advise it, but don’t ever think you can misbehave towards her and get away with it.”
Lena snatched her hand away from his, glaring at him. “Are you trying to play me, Mike? Tell me, is she anything like me? Does she understand you? Is she educated? What does she know? My God, Mike, she’s just a villager.”
“She has a heart, Lena, which you don’t seem to have,” he said. “She’s a very sweet woman.”
Lena pursed her lips. “If you love her so much, why don’t you go ahead and dump me right now?”
“Lena, come on.”
“I didn’t think so.”
With that, she turned and began to walk away.
Dammit. She’d given him the perfect opportunity, and he’d choked. He needed to find a way to rectify it.
When he returned to the house, he found Esi still in the sitting room. He stared at her for a while unsure of what to do. He wanted to hold her again, smell her, whisper things in her ears. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Ama entered.
“I’ve finished setting the table,” she announced.
Esi walked out of the room, leaving him to follow.