His Only Wife by Peace Adzo Medie

Author:Peace Adzo Medie [Medie, Peace Adzo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781643751115
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2020-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Eight

If I had had any doubts before, Eli’s behavior that night made it clear that any mention of the Liberian woman was out of bounds. I was to pretend that she did not exist. Every once in a while he let something slip about Ivy: what the girl liked to eat, how she stayed up crying through the night, how she clung to him in bed. But those slips were followed by heavy silences tinged with regret; the countenance of a man who had disappointed himself. The uncertainty circled like a mosquito that is buzzing in a dark room, always threatening to land so that its victim can never know peace. I told Mawusi about what happened and she too was bothered that Eli was still pretending while he was with me that the woman did not exist while acknowledging to his friends that she was still in the picture. I was also troubled that I was yet to enter his house, that at the end of each week he took the traveling bag away, filled with dirty clothes, and returned in the evening with a fresh set of clothing.

“What’s happening?” I asked my mother, hoping that she would have heard something from the Ganyos.

She didn’t have an answer. “Just focus on taking good care of him. That is what will get you into his house. Do your best to make him happy and everything will be fine.”

I sighed; I was already doing everything I could. I was cooking every one of his favorite dishes, even when it meant that I had to leave school before closing time. I timed my cooking perfectly so that the food was warm and the table set as he walked into the flat. I washed, starched, and ironed his clothes whenever he would allow me to, and after he had taken his evening bath and was poring over the documents he usually brought home from work or was typing away on his laptop, I tried to make myself useful. I hovered nearby, ready to respond to his every wish.

“I’m fine,” he would usually say without lifting his eyes from his work, “don’t worry yourself, get some rest.”

But how could I rest? Resting would cost me my marriage, my husband. There could be no rest. I did my best to stay up with him, watching TV or reading novels while he worked, then rising to go to bed with him as soon as he put away his documents and laptop. The bedroom part was still a bit of a challenge. I didn’t want to be loud and enthusiastic but he seemed to like it, to enjoy my pleasure, to find nothing wrong with it. So I reluctantly allowed myself to show how I felt, all the while hoping that it would not come back to haunt me.

But when it came to the woman, I could not show how I felt. I asked Richard one day as we stood in the hallway waiting for the lift, what was going on between his brother and the woman.

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