by Agnes Musa
Chapter 7
There’s a strange car packed in the driveway when I come back from tea. It turns out to be David’s.
David told me he changed cars because Dawn didn’t like the one he used to drive.
Dawn.
Nice name. Very nice, romantic name. Classy sounding too. Hope would like the name.
David said they had a little girl now, Dawn and him. The little girl’s name is Catherine. David said a lot of other things, about this Dawn.
Strangely, I don’t feel hurt or angry. I can see that it took Dawn for David to fall in love, the real thing.
It took Graham for me to know.
Well, well, well.
People do that. Fall. Sometimes slowly, other times with a thud. It doesn’t mean that they love or don’t love the one they take to the altar.
Not necessarily. I mean, look at David and me. Took us all of ten years to figure that out.
And so, we talked, David and I, as two adults discussing adult issues for the first time.
He spoke about his business, what he was involved in and what he was trying and hoping to accomplish.
I accepted his marriage calmly.
It’s not as if I had a choice.
If you’re dumped, it doesn’t pay to have tantrums. Those are only allowed during the period you’re married. Thereafter, it’s someone else’s turn.
Therefore, I surprised David.
You can do that too to the one who abandons you. Surprise them. Not the pride thing. No.
But, genuinely, because you’ve to surprise yourself first by the acceptance then the rest is easy.
David had been dreading meeting me. He knew the moody, tempestuous and unpredictable Lisa.
Now do I look, or have I, at any point so far given you that impression of me?
No. You know why?
It’s because in marriage, you wear a mask.
You buy one getting into your first dwelling when you come back from the only trip you will ever undertake to the moon. What can one expect from people who think that they can get honey from the moon?
David is right. Yes.
David asked after Natalie, then Hugh. He said he was going to be withdrawing the custody application if we could work it out amicably between us.
David said he had only filed the papers for custody after getting unsolicited advice from his friends and lawyer.
They do that, the friends and lawyers of the one who abandon. Give rotten advice on the one hand and come and try to get into your bed behind the ex spouse’s back on the other.
Relent and agree and you’ve always been loose. Disagree and they find a way to tarnish your already battered image.
Reconcile and they’re the first to congratulate you and say they knew the both of you would finally see sense.
Talk about their approaching you while the divorce was on and they say they understood the field to be officially open…
And David wanted to know about my life. I told him what there was to tell.
He wanted to know more.
You notice what I see too? Yes, the ones who abandon then remarry on the quiet, like David, want to know about the life of the one they abandoned.
Not general life, mind, but love life.
He left.
Now the question he will not ask is have I done better or worse than what he himself has gone and done?
Will he ask it straight out? He doesn’t. Here is what he does.
He goes round and round in circles asking questions he has no business asking but which he thinks are pertinent.
David gets answers, which he mostly ignores because he’s not really listening to what you’re saying. You’re not answering what he didn’t ask.
Notwithstanding all that he goes on to deduce the answer for the question he dared not ask, which answer is wrong and which answer he already has from the active grapevine he suddenly finds himself interested in.
It usually is the same grapevine he was not interested in when the two of you were living together.
Now, he justifies the interest, you know, to keep abreast of what has been happening in the other party’s life.
It would not surprise me if David already knows that I stopped wearing panties last month.
I saw no useful purpose they were serving.
Since I’ve nothing big against David, besides his leaving me or course, I told him the truth about my love life.
It was what he wanted to hear. I also didn’t see what harm it would do to let him see that I was still quite marketable, beddable and marriageable.
David: “You, you never loved me like that.”
Quiet statement, just stating a fact.
Me: “I loved you differently.”
David: “Loved. Yet you love him still, the man you talked about.”
Me: “Which man David? I spoke of three.”
David: “The Graham fellow. Why could you not love me like that Lisa? What is it that he did that I didn’t do?”
Me: “What is it that Dawn did that I didn’t do? You left me, remember?”
David: “I left because you didn’t want me.”
Me: “I never said that.”
David: “You didn’t have to. I was merely the provider, for life it was Hugh and you. Always has been, even now.”
Me: “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’s how I made you feel. Is it better with Dawn and Catherine?”
David: “Dawn treats Catherine as hers. Just like you and Hugh but I will not make the same mistake twice. Catherine will be my child. She’s my daughter.”
Me: “Are you saying that to convince you or me David?”
David: “I don’t know. I feel tired a lot of the time now.”
Me: “You told me you work shorter hours.”
David: “I do. Maybe I’m trying too hard with Catherine. (pause) What I meant about you and Hugh, sometimes it feels like Hugh is not my child.”
Me: “Excuse me!”
David: hurriedly “I’m not questioning or doubting the biological aspect of the process.”
Me: “Then what are you saying David?”
David: “Just that somehow, I feel robbed of the proprietary belonging I should have for him. I see him belonging to you.”
I understand what he’s saying. I know that minus his relentless quest for bread, David would have made time for Hugh but I want him to sweat.
You get to do and enjoy things like that to people who have left you. You buy them the ticket and make sure they ride the guilt trip.
No disembarkation allowed save at destination.
How do you know you’ve accomplished your task? When they appear, act and become more confused, more melancholy and more disorganized than you ever were at your worst.
At which point you would have accomplished your intended purpose, to wreck havoc in their lives. If you cannot instigate the action, let it be the children who do. After all, no one asks anyone to leave.
Me: “No parent owns a child David. They simply respond to the one who makes the effort to relate to them.”
David: “Hugh does not relate to me. He defers to me when he does not get what he wants from you.”
Me: “You were there before the boy was born, after he was born as you still are. Make the effort. It’s not late, even now.”
David: “I didn’t mean what I said in an accusatory way. I’m only saying… Oh, forget it. Look, if there’s anything you want me to help with, let me know.”
Me: “Start by picking Hugh from school.”
David: “You know my schedule Lisa, I can’t.”
Me: “David, schedules are made to be broken. You’ve time for Catherine. Make some for Hugh.”
David: “Lisa, please listen to me. I took Hugh hoping we could work something out.”
Me: “You took Hugh to hurt me.”
David: “I told you I would never do that Lisa. I meant what I said.”
Me: “Why couldn’t you talk to me David?”
David: “Listen, my intentions were good. It was just that I didn’t think things through properly. So there were problems.”
Me: “What problems?”
David: “Catherine is young. Hugh and Dawn wanted attention. I did what I could.”
Me: “You mean you decided to dump Hugh, just like you dumped me?”
David: “Lisa, there was tension in the house.”
Me: “That should have been expected.”
David: “Like I said, I didn’t think things through. If I gave Hugh attention, Dawn became withdrawn. If I gave Dawn and Catherine time, Hugh misbehaved.”
Me: “Hugh is ten going onto eleven.”
David: “I know, but everyone’s nerves were on end. That was not the way I thought it would work out.”
Me: “How did you think it would work out?”
David: “Lisa, all this made Hugh miserable, so I thought it best for him to come back.”
Me: “What about Hugh, did you stop to consider how he felt David?”
David: “It’s late Lisa. I’ve to go. Dawn and Catherine will worry.”
Like we never did.
Gerald phoned. I didn’t understand what he was talking about.
I seem not to hear what people say these days. My eyesight also? An electrical pole came hurtling towards me when I drove the other day.
Do those things move?
I had to swerve to avoid it.
Maybe I should cut down on the time I spend with Natalie and get someone else to help out?
The fact is, I don’t want to. I enjoy Natalie’s company. She’s fun and full of life. It’s only bad when she gets her turns but I’m happy to tell you we are managing.
I feel bad about one thing though. I’ve neglected my friend Hope. I need to make time to see her. Also Kim.
There’s something about the way little people laugh. It’s priceless. A visit, yes.
Now what to wear?
African outfit? Too loud. The blue dress from Wrapper? Too dull. Katie’s cream suit? Too office-ish, the Hawaiian outfit – bohemian.
Calvin Klein trouser suit? Too casual; hipsters? Tight. Bill Blass jeans? Cheap. Armani number? Too plain. Best go and get something from that boutique Hope buys from.
They would know what to recommend if I say Hope sent me. It pays to be known by name at exclusive boutiques.
I’m feeling good and I’m looking it. I should do this more often. It doesn’t matter that I still have to figure out which Paul will have to be slotted in to pay the Peter that I got the money from.
I’m back to my basic budget plan, the one I’ve had as long as I can remember. It’s the current best-selling budget plan and millions of people use it, because it works.
The plan is simple to adapt.
Of course there are the usual minor hitches, like mastering the art of juggling which Paul to slot in to pay which Peter.
Hope likes carnations. What the heck? I’ll treat her to a bunch.
The gate is open. Good. I drive in.
Hope has one of those surveillance cameras mounted at the gate. It normally takes quite a bit of time and patience to get to see her. I hope she’s not about to go out.
No sign of her car outside the garage door. Hope must be in. Oh, there’s Kimberly. She has seen me and is coming.
Excuse me while I park the car and go to Kim. I can call her that, strictly between you and me of course. We are after all buddies, thanks to the candy.
Kimberley is excited. She tugs me and tells me, in the language only the two of us can understand, or I can after listening very attentively and repeating slowly in my head, that she wants to take me to her daddy.
I’ve been looking forward to meeting Hope’s new husband. You do you know, like to meet decent men who get into marriage with a spouse for whom it’s the second time. For Hope the best part is that she’s the one who dumped her first husband.
The man in Hope’s life has been a bit of a mystery.
That’s an accepted part of Hope’s character. We round the corner to get to the kitchen entrance, Kimberley and I.
Hope prefers that Kimberley uses the kitchen entrance for her forays into the yard and garden. The play area is right next to the kitchen.
I know because I’ve enjoyed rolling with Kimberley there. I’m not sure whether that privilege will come my way again.
To think Hope phoned Trish about the candy, and all the while I was thinking I got away with it! I’m still feeling good about my decision to come.
Kimberly continues calling for her daddy, her little pudgy hands outstretched in front of her. I’m smiling and enjoying following close behind her, watching that funny crooked and tottering step.
A man answers and comes out of the kitchen door to meet us. I raise my eyes to make sure I avoid a collision.
The man I see is Graham.
He looks me straight in the eye. Kimberley calls daddy again, Graham answers, bends, scoops Kimberley up, and then kisses her.
Kimberley giggles, points her little finger at me, calling her aunt Lisa.
Graham is Kimberley’s ….? No. Kimberley is Graham’s …. No. But….. Hope, Graham and Kimberly?
No.
Nausea.
Have to get to the car. Have to get home…
To everything there’s a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven.
A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal, a time to break down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together.
A time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing. A time to get and a time to lose, a time to keep and a time to cast away.
A time to rend and a time to sew, a time to keep silence and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate, a time of war and a time of peace.
I read all this as the rivers of my eyes burst.
They run. I cannot contain them.
They run for Natalie, Hugh, David, Kimberley, Graham, Jacob, Hope and mostly, for me.
I’ve to fight. I’ve to fight bitterness. Anything but bitterness.
A wound is most painful at the point of infliction, so is the worst that can happen in one’s life.
Thereafter, the body, true to life, adapts. The body endures anything, and everything.
There’s a funny vibrating noise that keeps bothering me. I throw off the bedclothes looking for it. Nothing. Back to sleep.
There it goes again. I do the thing with the bedclothes for a second time, something falls off. Looks like something I should know, like, like a phone - my phone.
The vibrating again. I look at the face. I’ve trouble concentrating. My head aches.
The phone stops, then rings again. There’s a number and a name on the minute screen. I cannot make out the number but I can make out the letters they spell.
Hope.
I ignore the phone. It continues to vibrate at intervals, displaying the same name until I switch it off.
Mr. Alexander and Mr. Simon are under strict instructions not to let anyone in, not even my mother. Officially, I’m out of town. I sent Hugh to stay with friends for a week.
Please excuse me. I need to get back to sleep.
Something woke me. I listen. There, the rumbling again. It sounds like it’s coming from yes, it’s my tummy.
There’s untouched food and drink on a tray. It registers in my brain that I should eat, settle for the drink, feel better and immediately go back to sleep.
Someone shakes me. Their mouth is working. I try to concentrate on the sounds their mouth is making.
Gibberish.
I’m trying hard to identify the person. Looks like Mr. Alexander, no, its not. Mr. Simon?
When did he grow that tall?
David?
Yes, it’s David bending over me, holding a spoon. What is he doing here?
Talking - can’t see what he’s saying, keeps talking. Another person in the room, got to focus, yes. That’s Hugh, face looks funny.
Why is he looking at me like that?
Sound of door opening, a woman’s voice. I know that voice. My mind is slow.
The mind slows down if you feed it a diet of pain, alcohol and sleeping tablets, no matter how much rest you get in between.
I think my mind is playing tricks. That voice I just heard, it cannot be. Joy works and lives abroad.
You see Joy once every two years, at Christmas.
She cannot be in my bedroom. It’s not yet Christmas. Joy was here last Christmas. I cannot have slept for months.
Thoughts blessedly surpass the speed of light. That’s my opinion. Sir Isaac Newton is not around to prove or disprove my assertion so I can say so.
And I say I’ve to get up. I cannot have people going round me like I’m an invalid.
Natalie?
Natalie is in hospital, no better or worse than before. I will tell you the following in as brief a manner as I can.
When she heard I was out of town, mother decided to temporarily move into my house so that she could use my car to go to hospital to see Natalie.
She also needed to get away from my father, so she alleges. With David no longer at the house and me away, she saw no harm.
Mother phoned to let me know, left a message with that woman on the phone, the one who asked her to leave it after the beep. Mr. Simon and Mr. Alexander were no match for her. Few people ever are.
Mother got into the house and ‘found’ me. David came to drop off something for Hugh when he heard the banshee on the phone telling whoever was on the other end that I was dead. He came in, took over and by the time he had everything under control, Joy was on her way to the airport.
Joy came home.
You do something idiotic because you’re hurt. You don’t think of the consequences.
It’s just you and your pain.
It costs money to fly, costs time too to rearrange one’s life.
Joy. Exactly what I needed but not like this, not this way. Trish came by too. She brought magazines, books and flowers.
Trish looked sad, quiet and withdrawn. I mentioned this to Joy when Trish had gone.
Experienced pain is a password to an exclusive club. You recognize members by their expressions.
Joy told me Trish lost a child. Said the child’s name was Isaiah.
Isaiah died when I was in my alcoholic stupor.
I looked in the mirror, that day when Joy told me about Isaiah. My eyes? They were dead.
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