The Sunday News
THE sound of the cellphone startled me from my reverie. John had left earlier in the day to attend an interview in the Lowveld, Triangle Limited to be precise. Hoping it was him with some good news, I glanced at the cellphone screen. Damn! It was that malicious gossip, Malice. Yes that’s her name. Parents must learn that if they give insidious names to their progeny, the likelihood is that they live up to them.
“Yebo Sphiwe,” she starts. I am tempted to cut the phone but she is a good friend you see. So I answered, “Yes Maly, who got you out of bed so early?” It is early afternoon but our Malice leads a typical rich man’s housewife type of lifestyle.
“I am already up and about; in fact I am from downstairs in the gym. I need to shed off the fat, I am fighting cellulite you know,” that’s my friend, always boasting of her good living. Before I could reply, she continues, “How is John, has he got a job yet?”
“You know Sphiwe you spoil that husband of yours. You feed him, give him pocket money to go and carousel with the so called boys. How do you know whether he is with the boys or splashing your hard earned cash with some sluts? That’s why he is not looking for a job.” I let her prattle on for a while as she says, “James and I are already planning a vacation to Mauritius. We have exhausted all the local holiday resorts.”
“Look Maly, our economy is not so conducive for the likes of John’s qualifications.” I responded coolly and diplomatically to end the conversation.
My husband John is a qualified accountant. But with industries closing down here in Bulawayo, he has been in and out of jobs for the past six months. I have been the sole breadwinner since then. I am a practising psychiatric nurse. As we all know, we civil servants earn peanuts.
Some of my colleagues sometimes say — do the powers that be think we are monkeys who survive on peanuts. Anyway some of those peanuts I dole to John to go and frolic with his friends and relieve some stress.
Then what Malice had just said awakens something in me. Suppose John actually goes and splashes it on women?
I spend the whole afternoon ruminating and mooning on the possibility of John gallivanting on my financial resources while I am having a battle with “opengas” at Ingutsheni Hospital. Come evening and I make up my mind. First he hasn’t phoned to update me on his interview.
Second, Malice has successfully convinced me that John is being unfaithful.
I decide to pack my bags and go ‘squat’ at Malice’s place. When John comes home he will find an empty house. That will teach him a lesson. Malice’s husband runs a flourishing import and export business and they own a double storey mansion in Selbourne Park.
When I got to their place, it was about 9pm. I was surprised to see their gate wide open, so I drove my battered skorokoro 323 into their driveway. I could see Malice’s merc parked alongside James’ 4 x 4 in the garage. These guys are filthy rich I tell you. I notice the lights are ablaze as I knock at the front door, no answer. I try the door handle and the door swings open, I stepped into the lounge as a family friend. I am about to shout “Is anybody home?” when I hear voices coming from upstairs.
“Who do you think you are, you bitch? I come home every night to face a cold meal. All you do is to laze around and spend my money.”
Wham!
“Don’t hit me in the face please, James. I will go and cook right now. Izvozvi.”
Whack!
“You better do. After that you pack your bags and take your monthly sojourn to your relatives in Mhondoro. That is if you ever get there or you will be bitching halfway in Harare.”
Wham! Whack!
“Please James, you are hurting me. I might have cracked a rib there, I will go down and cook.”
Wham!
“You better do or I will beat kill until you die!”
“Kill you until you die?” I suppress a snigger as I sneak out of this ostentious mansion. My ever faithful battered 323 took me to our modest house in Ilanda and I find the house in darkness. John hasn’t come and this time I really need him.
When I let myself into the house, I headed straight for the bar. This needs celebration, Miss High and Mighty squealing for mercy? John does not allow me drinking except on outings. But this is a rarity. So I fish out myself a bottle of Amarula and settle on the couch. I can’t wait for morning to broadcast this latest malicious gossip to our circle of friends.
I must have dozed off but I was startled by the incessant ringing of the cellphone. It was John. Glancing at the whole clock, I saw it was 3am.
“Sphiwe, I am at the door, open up please I forgot to carry my keys.” Hearing him say “please” was out of this world.
As I stood up, I realised I was staggering. Damn, so what. On opening the door, I visualised a John grinning from ear to ear. Glancing over my shoulder and seeing the bottle of Amarula on the coffee table, he said, “Celebrating already?” I drunkenly quizzed. “Didn’t you get my message? I got the job. Group Accountant, three figure salary, company car, housing allowance and all the perks.” The man could hardly stop talking. How could I have got the message when I was busy witnessing a double barrelled Vietnam and Waterloo at Selbourne Park?
So I stopped his yacking with a big smackaroo full on the lips. Slowly I undressed him and led him to the couch. This morning we are going to make a baby whether the heavens like it or not. We have been failing to have a baby for the last five years.
A week later Malice phones. I feel I should ignore her but courtesy tells me no. As usual she starts nettling me “Has John got a job yet? Because when we were on vacation in Mauritius, James suggested that he could take John aboard at his company.”
I laugh so loud like a prostitute that has been given an unbelievable offer.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
“Since when did Mhondoro become Mauritius? Did James eventually hit you in the face?” With that I cut the conversation. A friend indeed, my Malice.
Just then I felt a queasy feeling. I felt bile rising into my mouth, I hardly make it to the toilet sink before I started vomiting. Smiling to myself, I realised I had missed my periods.
Baby on the way!
