Ola. Guys!! This is post 100 on my blog!! Chapter 9 is here!!! I am screaming with you. Do enjoy the drama… Comment, comment, comment… Tell me what you think…
13th January 2016
It’s absolutely perfect.
Waking up next to him is absolutely perfect.
Hmmm. Taken men are so hot. Bonus? Grey haired men have that thing that just makes sin all the more better.
This man is perfect.
Granted he is married and he has the perfect wife at home waiting for him, waking up next to him is amazing, especially after a night of drinks and bed spring squeaking. I open my eyes to his hand squeezing my breast. I stare at my breast sitting comfortably in his large hand. It’s a beautiful right. If only taking a picture was harmless. This could be the best wallpaper a phone could have.
He squeezes my breast again and I smile. As always. This man loves waking me up in the best way possible. Squeezing my breasts is the worst way.
I turn to face him and his hand slides to my waist. With the little light seeping through the curtains I can see his face or half of it that doesn’t play in the shadows. His eyes closed I stare at his face. His grey beard stands out. Or I think it stands out, screaming sexy. I lift my hand and touch his beard. He breathes deep, still asleep I think but yet he squeezes my breast early in the morning.
He shouldn’t be here, with me, right now.
He should have gone home last night. He was supposed to. That was the plan after the dinner and drinks we had planned to have. But instead he slept over. And now he is here. In my bed. Pretending to be fast asleep on his front. I wonder how his wife feels since he didn’t go back home to her. I wonder if she will question where he went. Who he was with or if she already knows he is cheating on her. Women always know. We have that sixth sense about these things.
But do we ever leave if the man has put a ring on it? No. We stay. Hoping to grow old with the men who promise to love us when we have no teeth. Oh well. Not my problem. I’m not the man she married. So I owe her nothing. Now to wake this man up. I need me some loving.
I lean in closer and kiss his nose. He groans but doesn’t open his eyes. Instead he pulls me closer to him. He knows what time it is. Like clockwork. I love older men. It’s like they have something to prove. Just like my Mr Forty.
Time for boss man to play with Yolanda.
I smile and kiss his nose again.
Keep your smile bright. Never look guilty. Never lose the confidence. That’s my motto for today.
Okay maybe I’m smiling too bright.
I should be given a Zambian Oscar for best pretender.
Two hours later, I am at the office, a cup of coffee in my hand looking like I had over five hours of restful sleep, smiling like everything is right with the world. To world peace. I feel amazing and no one has the slightest clue that I had an amazing night with the man we all call our boss.
And no one will ever know.
Just thinking about him and our early morning rounds givees me goosebumps. I need to stop smiling and soon. Grey beard. That man. I look at my laptop, noticing it’s only a few minutes after eight and Mr Forty not in the office. Yet.
We both deserve the award. Me for being a food employer and working my booty off professionally and sexually. And him for keeping up appearances as a good boss. Coming in late my ass. A secret is a secret. Time to work.
I am looking at my laptop reading an email from a client when my phone rings.
“You’re early.” He says.
I smile. No more smiling. Stop it. His voice always makes me smile. Especially after… It’s one of those voices that command you to listen. Entranced by it. That same voice has undressed me and ordered me plenty times and I never tire of listening to it.
“On time.” I respond.
“On time?” He asks.
“I woke up on time. The alarm worked today.” I respond.
I hear him laugh. He knows what I mean. He didn’t stay and sleep for long after I woke up. I made sure of it. He woke up soon after and then proceeded to show me how the morning is supposed to be spent – making sheets wet with sweat.
“You got the alarm to work way after you woke up.” He laughs.
“Well I wanted to test it and ended up getting a taste of it.”
“Why does you saying that make me feel like having you again?”
“I’m working. Besides I’m tired.” I laugh
“I made sure you were tired earlier.” He says
“I was. Lets just say cold showers truly work.”
“Next time you will not be able to get to work on time.”
I laugh making some of my colleagues face me.
“Are you coming over tonight?” I ask
If he is then I need to find time to get me some new lingerie. He likes laces and thongs. Black and red are his favourite. The less the lace and material the better for him he says. He says lace makes him feel like I dressed up with him in mind. And the thongs? Well he loves the strings. Probably reminds him of his young days killing birds with a catapult. Who am I to judge. I need to stock up on more lingerie.
All Mutale’s fault.
Ever since I started dating Mutale I had reduced on the lace lingerie because it reminded me of Mr Forty. And I didn’t need the memories to ruin my new relationship. But now that Mutale is gone I can get back to shopping.
“I can’t tonight. The wife is angry I never came home.” He says.
“I can imagine. What a horrible man you are.”
“A simple make it up to her will work. Though I wonder why she’s angry when we are having problems.” He sighs.
Will he have sex with her to calm her down? Then what? Does she know the truth I wonder. About me. I do not ask him. Does she know that when we met that night he came to me afterwards? Did she care about what he did? I don’t think I want to know the answer. Whatever I don’t know will not affect me. Besides he’s the one cheating and not me.
“Maybe the weekend.” He says. “Weekend seems perfect.”
“Maybe.” I tell him.
I look at the calender on my desk and roll my eyes. The weekend just won’t do for me and him. I will be meeting up with the ladies for dinner and drinks. Maybe afterwards. Who knows. I can make it work. I always do.
“I miss you.” He says
He’s so sweet. And I like him for that. Old men and proving things.
“Miss you too.”
“I have to go. Work calls.”
“Have an amazing day.” He says
He cuts the line then. I drink my coffee with a smile on my face. Best day ever. The phone rings again and I reach out for it all the while imagining Mr Forty calling me back to tell me he’s changed his mind and tonight it’s on.
Black lace. Black thong. Red heels.
“Yolanda. To my office. Now.” The Tyrant says loudly.
Firstly, I hate being stuck in bed. Bed rest for at least two days. Two days!! That was what the doctor prescribed yesterday and James promised he would make sure I would rest. So unnecessary. It’s not like I work anyway. James and over worrying. Nausea is normal. The man panicked over a little vomiting. And now I’m stuck in bed when I should be at the boutique, taking care of my finances. Gosh I hate that husband of mine sometimes. It’s like he’s never known pregnant women to suffer from carrying children.
It’s bad enough the doctor forced the bed rest on me, the doctor also prescribed more medication for me – which kind of helped with the nausea morning sickness – kind of, even though I still got sick earlier this morning. This baby wants me sick forever. I should be enjoying my day, in my favourite heels. Staying in bed is not my way of resting.
Secondly I hate having my mother smother me with her ideas of what is healthy and what is not. I hate James for calling her yesterday and telling her to come for a visit – more like to take care of me when I can do it myself. And the woman was too excited to say no. A request from her favourite son-in-law? She took up the quest in a heart beat. She got on the first bus she could find heading to Lusaka from Kabwe yesterday. I couldn’t believe James would do that to me. In as much as I am happy to see my mother, I just don’t want her around everyday and now I’m stuck with her indefinitely. How swell.
Mama sits on the edge of my bed with a bowl of soup in her hand. A look of disapproval on her face as I type on my phone. As if I care. Just because I’m stuck here doesn’t mean I don’t work. The scent of her famous chicken soup has me turning my head away in disgust. Who eats this? Mama and her remedies. Why can’t I have chocolate? Or fries? Chicken soup. I roll my eyes.
“This will help with the nausea you’ll see.” She had said when she walked into my bedroom.
That was thirty minutes ago.
At nine in the morning mama looked every inch like a woman who enjoyed the finer things in life. From her short blond bob hairdo, to the five thin gold chains sitting around her neck. Then again my father allowed her to have the finer things in life,even in death he made sure he left her enough to afford anything she wanted. She took care of her image, she always said, “one never knows who is watching and looking!” Wearing a dark blue loose shirt and leggings I realise she is trying to tone down. For now. I must have gotten my looks from her, small frame of a body, the slim face, the big eyes, the full lips that whenever they broke into a smile men turned to stare in wonder; we were literally lookalikes just that one of us had the wrinkles and the other had smooth skin. She looks younger than her sixty-five years. I hope to look like her at that age. Stress free and happy.
“Open up.” She says.
Her red lips break into a smile. I open my mouth and she feeds me a spoonful of soup. I swallow the horrible soup praying it stays down. This is punishment. I’m only slightly over two months pregnant and thanks to James overreacting, I’m being fed by my mother in my marital bedroom; what will happen when I’m five months pregnant or eight months? Will I even be allowed to go to the bathroom? James might get me a chamber pot.
I wonder how my mother managed to carry me to term. She was thirty-six when she had me. Her only child. Old age others called it. It was dangerous for her but she was determined to have me and she did. Through scares she managed, against all odds she managed and according to her she was happy she had me so late in her life. She said she got to do everything she needed to do before I came into her life and that included working hard, getting married twice, divorced once and widowed once. When I was young she told me I was all she had of my father and that was why she made sure she had me no matter the cost. I was the best part of their life together even though he was never around to fully live it.
My mouth opens as she feeds me the soup. She looks at me and smiles. Such a happy soul. I know she’s happy she’s here. We barely get to talk what with me in Lusaka so busy with my new marriage and boutique while she spends time at the farm in Kabwe. I never make time. There are times I miss her and make the effort but of late I’ve just not been in the mood to. So much going on in my life, like having a baby I don’t want. Plus dealing with my non existent feelings for James since we got married really have had me asking myself if this is what marriage is supposed to be. Mother would know I think. She can explain what I’m missing.
I place my phone on the bed beside me and meet her gaze. Mama will never judge me. She will understand my problem and help me find a solution. She’s good at this.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?” She asks.
“How did you know?” I ask.
“How did I know what?”
“That marrying daddy was a good choice?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Did you love him? Was it hard? Marriage that is.”
She smiles at me and feeds me more soup.
“Well I definitely did not love your father as much as he loved me. That’s for sure.” She says.
“But you still married him?”
“To be honest, I was not in the mood to get married again after that other son of a warthog left me for another woman.”
“But then why did you marry daddy then?”
“Because he promised he would take care of me and give me everything I wanted. And he had the means to.”
“And you married him and stayed married?”
“Yes. He was a good man my love. Too good. He made my life easier for me.”
“That’s it?” I ask shocked.
“He was a romantic. Much like your James. Ahhh your father was a darling. His love was amazing. And he gave me you. The money helped of course.”
“My gosh mother. Really?”
“Why subject oneself to pain and add to it poverty? Happiness comes with money.”
“Young girl what you have here with James is beautiful. What is it?”
“Nothing.” I respond and look away.
“You can’t lie to your mother. Tell me.”
I sigh and shake my head.
“What if I make him miserable mama? What if he realises I’m the wrong wife. What if he leaves me for someone else? What if he realises that maybe I married him for his wealth?”
“Do you make him miserable?”
I shake my head
“Do you think he’s cheating on you?”
I shake my head.
“Did you marry him for his wealth?” She asks
I shake my head. She knows why I married him. James was a sensible man compared to my ex. Mama hated Mischeck, she hated him even more for abusing me. She never wanted him near me. Mama was happy when I introduced James to her. To her he was the right man to settle down with. Stable and nice was what she said. So James had the money, but it was his kindness that got to me first.
“You’re just going through the normal worries of a new bride. It will pass.” Mama says.
“It’s almost a year mama. But what if I don’t love him in the end.”
She looks at me and smiles.
“Awww you will love him. Your feelings will change.”
“The baby. That’s your bond.”
“Mama we both know single mothers exist.”
“Oh… So you want to leave him? You want to raise your child alone?”
“Then it will be fine. Look at your mama. I loved your papa in the end. And even though he’s no longer with us he was the best husband and almost father.”
I know she means it. She loved my father. I know she did. She always talks about him with a look on her face. Wonder or joy I’m not certain but it tells me she loved hi; but in my case it’s different. I’m newly married with a baby on the way and I have no idea if I want to have the child. I don’t even know if I truly love my husband.
Maybe I married him because he reminded me of my father, a father I knew from my mother’s stories of him. He died before I was born, mama said he got sick from liver failure and died soon after. But she never failed to tell me about him every chance she got and maybe I wanted a man like him for a husband in the end.
Obviously Misheck was never going to be anything of that sort.
“Marriage is work my love. I’m telling you now. It’s work. There is no walk in the park marriage. That’s a lie. You have the power to make it interesting. Don’t lose the fun. Plus having a child shouldn’t change that.” She says
“But..” I start.
“No buts. James loves you alot. He cares about you. That’s more than some of your friends will ever get. I’m sure some of your friends are suffering in their marriages. You have a good man.”
“But mama, what if…”
“Shut it. No what ifs here. James is a wonderful boy. He will take care of you and support you. He will never leave you. You have to find the spark and fan it.”
“Don’t mama me. Unless you don’t mind losing James to another woman who will know what to do with him.”
And that shuts me up.
Can I see you today?
Can you believe I dreamt about you?
After the chat we had yesterday. It got me thinking about some things.
There is something about you Mable Kalunga and it’s not a bad thing.
Are you busy?
Can I see you today?
Gosh this man is never busy. It’s like he has no work in front of him. The opposite of Chinyama and his ever busy with work to have no time to check up on me. Why is it easy to find in a partner when someone else offers you what you never knew was missing in the first place. What happened to me? How did I become this woman, so content with nothing?
When was the last time Chinyama sent me a check up text? When I was sick at home with no one to take care of me… Years ago. When was the last time I felt like the teenager that fell in love with him? When I had no stretchmarks that’s when. This is who I am now. A married woman smiling alone because another man cared.
What would Chinyama say if he saw me smiling like a fool? Would he be jealous? Would he finally realise that he is in love with me?
My phone beeps again.
Are you ignoring me?
Not a good sign.
Should I start panicking?
Come on Mable. Lunch on me.
I read his messages again and smile. What am I supposed to say? Yes or no? What am I going to wear? Why am I even thinking about this? This is not right. I am a married woman.
My phone rings again.
We really need to meet again.
I won’t stop saying this until it happens.
I am not going to push you but I will make sure you say yes.
Here are the reasons I think we should meet again.
I think you’re a very interesting woman.
You’re a beautiful woman.
You just make me happy.
I really like talking to you.
I like you.
So what do you say?
Think about it. Lunch or dinner. Your choice.
He’s playing with my mind. He’s playing with me. He knows how to get to me. It’s fascinating. It’s been a long time since a man has paid me so much attention and Isaac is pressing the right buttons right now. Women and communication, once that is right, everything else flows smoothly and when it comes to communication Isaac has definitely set the standard. Yesterday he kept sending me messages, we ended up chattitng most of the day away, even after Chinyama got home.
It made the evening with my sinful husband bearable.
That’s the problem with marrying young. The thing about marrying your first love is you never know what the world has to offer. I met Chinyama and he was my first and only one. I went from finding out men exist to getting pregnant and being a wife all in a short space of time. And maybe that’s why Chinyama cheated on me. Because I was still the same woman he married then. Same meat, Same soup.
What do I do?
Chinese? Indian? What do you say? I don’t mind whatever you choose.
What do I have to lose anyway.
Not as if my marriage is working at the moment.
Chinyama and I are still not on talking terms per say. Since the day I saw him with Cynthia I have kept my distance. Of course we sleep in the same bed and we pretend in front of the kids that everything is alright but deep down we both know what’s wrong. Him and that Cynthia woman he can’t let go of.
And it’s not as if Chinyama hasn’t tried to get us talking. Chinyama has tried to get through to me. He’s used the children to get me to open up. Its easier when the children are around but whenever we are the two of us I simply shut down. I don’t think there is anything for him to tell me that will make the situation better. Cynthia is back and that’s all there is to it. If Chinyama wants her in his life then who am I to stop him from seeing her. He will see her behind my back either way.
He will never change.
And I am supposed to be looking for ways to get our marriage on track.
I am unwilling to leave Chinyama right now even if that Cynthia woman is back. Why should I leave him and this home for Cynthia to come and sleep in? No. Chinyama will leave this house first. And I know he would rather cut off his hand than leave this house.
So I only have a few options left.
One. To accept the situation and still support him.
Two. To argue with him again and try and stop him from seeing Cynthia for the sake of our family.
Three. Beat Cynthia up again.
Four. To do the same thing he does. Cheat and be proud of it. After all, my happiness is dependent on me.
I shake my head and smile.
I am a woman. I cannot play the same games my husband plays. This will lead to bigger problems.
I should ignore Isaac and move on with my marriage.
My phone beeps again.
Hey Beautiful, I am still waiting for your answer.
Chinyama is in for the trip of his life.
Sorry, was bathing, didn’t hear my phone.
Lunch would be perfect.
I pause and look at my phone, quickly increasing the call volume.
“Sonia? Are you there? Can you hear me?” I ask.
“Yeah. Hi.” She says slowly.
“Iwe Sonia, you’ve been silent ala. What’s going on? You still haven’t told me how the dinner went. Ah. You’re keeping things from me now?”
I hear Sonia sigh. Is she that busy? Now I feel bad for disturbing her. To hell with gossip.
“Ah Sampa. It’s a mess.” She responds.
A mess? What is a mess? This cannot be good. Isn’t she supposed to be giving me all the amazing details. Meeting the family is always a big thing. She should be screaming and gushing over Ian’s parents. But Sonia has been silent. She never called any of the ladies to tell us how it went the night she went to dinner. Unless she has been busy with “other” things. One never knows.
“Just hold on Sampa.” She says.
I hear her say something to someone and then the background noise quickly changes to silence. Sonia must be in a quiet room alone I assume. Time to gossip like we know how.
“Sampa. Are you there? She asks after an interval of silence.
“Uh huh. Mami ninshi.”
“Ahh sorry I had to move from the kitchen. The noise.”
“Okay. Are you okay?”
“Yea yea. Busy with stuff. You know how it is. Food this, food that. I’m so sorry I never called.”
“It’s okay. I assumed everything went well.”
“What happened? Tell me everything. I’m curious wei.”
All I hear is silence. Sonia does not say a word. I hear her take a deep breath and sigh.
I am worried. Sonia is never silent. She does not hide anything from me either. Something must be wrong with her.
“Sonia. Are you sick?”
“Sampa, Ian’s mother hates me.” She says quickly
Oh my. This is bad. Very bad. That’s why she is so silent. Gosh what must have happened then? Besides what’s there to hate about Sonia. She is beautiful. Smart. Funny. Kind. Caring. She has been my best friend for years and I would like to think I know her as well as I know myself. Her best and worst moments. So I know when she’s going through something. The thing with Ian’s mother must have been really bad for her to be this low.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Well firstly I’m black.”
Huh? Black? What does that mean now?
“Black? I don’t understand.”
“I am too black Sampa.”
“I know you’re black hun. You’re darker than all of us but we still love you.”
“But am I darker than what is considered normal? Like being too black?”
“Is there such a thing as being too black? Black is black. Why are you asking these questions hun?”
“Sampa I am lost.”
“Explain from scratch wei.”
“Ahh Sampa. Awei. I’m too stressed to explain this.”
“Iwe I’m your friend. If you don’t tell me I’ll come to the hotel so and sit at any table and wait for you to tell everything.”
“Eh. Head chef will have my knives for that.”
“Then tell me. What happened?”
“Ian’s mother didn’t know I was this dark…” She starts. “This black.”
“Your skin is too dark for her?”
“Can you imagine.”
“Are you being serious? We can bleach your skin.” I laugh.
“Sampa I’m being serious.”
“I’m sorry. That was a wrong thing to say.”
“She said I’m too black. I’m too dark.”
“And she said this to you out loud?”
“Ahh. Proper so. She said it out loud. I heard it all. Ati Ian never told her I was this dark. Can you imagine that?”
“You lie. So race did she think you were ayi?”
“Exactly. And you know what’s really on my mind? I’m wondering about what Ian ever told his parents about me. Because surely she should have known I was this dark.” She says. “Or this black whatever.”
“Did he not send any pictures of you?”
“I think he did. But his mother mentioned something about coloureds. Kaya uko.”
“My gosh Sonia. Iye.”
“And in as much as Ian tried to explain she just refused to listen. Even his father and siblings tried to explain awei his mother just kept talking.”
“Is she racist?”
“Who knows ayi. I’m pretty sure my afro almost gave her a heart attack when she saw it.”
“And the rest of his family?”
“They were okay. More than okay. Granted his siblings answer back to their parents and don’t care what they say they actually treated me better than his mother.”
“I’m so sorry Sonia.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I’m sure she will change her mind. You know parents are weird sometimes. ”
“Really? Not her. Iwe, that was her first issue. The second one is I’m older than Ian. Ati I’m marrying a child.”
I place my hand over my mouth. I don’t know what hits me first. Laughter, shock or disappointment. People still follow the age thing today? Gosh. Ian’s mother was looking for issues in Sonia and clearly she found them.
“So Ian is a child? That full grown man is a child?”
“Uh huh. She hates it that I’m older than her son. And to think it’s only two years. She made me feel bad.”
“I don’t know what to think ayi.”
“What’s Ian said.”
“He says she will change which is basically nothing. He’s too happy his family is here. I can’t ruin it for him. You know me.”
Too nice and too good I think. I know how it took her a long time to take up Ian’s offer on them dating. Age had been an issue for her but he had convinced her it was alright and that it shouldn’t matter. She chose to trust him even when her gut said no; but if his family thinks otherwise then who know, Sonia’s insecurities might resurface.
This is just plain bad. What is it with mothers and son girlfriend issues? Looking for issues where there’s nothing. They can’t accept their sons are happy. They never care if their sons suffer in the end. Where is happiness? Do they care? I wish I could help Sonia, but look at me, I am also dealing with my own version of mother drama. Sonia will be fine. Ian’s mother will realise her mistake and fall in love with Sonia.
“You’re a good woman Sonia. It will all work out for you.” I tell her
“What if it doesn’t? Maybe I should end it all. What if she never accepts me?”
“Well will she sleep with him? She won’t even marry him. Ala. She should chill.”
I hear Sonia laugh. Finally.
“That’s what you think but no one will say it.” She says.
“Ahh these mothers. Clingy as hell onto sinners.”
“Oops. Uhhh Sampa lemme call you back. Ian is calling.”
“Okay. Cool. Call me back. Or I’ll call you.”
The call cuts and I am left to my thoughts. I whisper a silent prayer for Sonia. I pray everything works out in the end.
“Sonia. Are you there?”
I do not respond immediately. I sit on the bench in the locker room and sigh. What is it with men and pushing women into corners with unnecessary plans? I don’t know what he wants me to say now. Ian seems to be the bearer of bad news.
“Ian.” I start. “Is it necessary?
“Yes it is.”
“Today? Why not the weekend?”
“That’s too far.”
“That’s not a valid reason for bringing that on me without consulting me. You know I don’t like random meetings.”
“It is not a meeting babe. It’s lunch.”
“Lunch meeting then. Why today? Why this at all?”
“Because I think it would be awesome for you to bond.” He responds. “My two favourite ladies bonding over a meal, talking about your passion for food.”
“Over food? You want us to bond over food?”
“You both love to cook. I want you two to get along.”
“You don’t think I’m too black and old?”
The minute I say the words I regret it. Ian, just like his father apologised to me the night after dinner. He didn’t understand why his mother had gone off the way she did. His excuse, as pathetic as the reason I kept my hands to my side instead of slapping her.
“Mum is not normally like this.” He said. “It’s not that she doesn’t want to accept it. She’s just looking out for me.”
His words shocked me and I didn’t say a word after that. We went to bed and made love like nothing happened hours before. He apologised yesterday as well, promising his mother would be better at our next meeting which I prayed would not be anytime soon. Ian convinced himself his mother would love me no matter what and I didn’t agree with him. His mother hated me from sight and nothing would change that.
“Baby. It will be okay.” He says
“What if she says what she said nights ago again. Gosh Ian. I work here. You can’t bring her here. I need my safe haven to be just that, a safe haven.”
“She won’t.” He argues. “I promise she will be on her best behaviour.”
“And if she’s not?”
“Believe me she won’t.”
“How will you make that happen? What will you do about it? I’m still the same woman. Darker and older than you.”
“Look it will be fine. You’re over worrying.”
“No Ian. Weekend is better. I will devote the whole day to her if she wants but not today.”
“Look I am still coming to terms with the fact that she hates that I’m black and older.”
“She was drunk.” He says.
“Are you being serious. This isn’t funny Ian.”
I shake my head. Another excuse. What will be the next one? She was pregnant at the time? Or menopause is still kicking in. Sons and mothers. Bond from hell in this case.
“Okay not drunk. She had enough to drink.” He laughs. “I won’t allow her to drink today.”
That’s his solution. Their excuse as a family being she had enough to drink yet she looked sober to me. Drunk man’s words sober man’s thoughts ring a bell.
“I can’t do this.”
“You know what, I wasn’t gonna tell you this but seeing as you want to avoid this I am going to be honest with you.”
“What is it?” I ask.
Do I have to wear granny panties now as a requirement? I giggle at the thought. Wouln’t put it past his mother to make that a new rule.
“Mum wants to meet you.”
I keep silent. She wants to meet me? Why? To tell me about how to lighten my skin? Or how to fake my age? Gosh can this day get any worse?
“She told me wants to meet you over lunch today.” He says. “An apology coming your way.”
“I am busy Ian.”
Did this man not understand me earlier. I will be working at lunch time. Ian knows this. Does he ever care about my job? Gosh men just are trash sometimes. Really. Now I should think about entertaining his mother today at lunch. Oh my gosh why?
“Sonia. Baby. Please.” Ian says. “Please love. My African queen. My wife. My best friend. My better half.”
He knows I won’t be able say no to him. Maybe this is what we need. Or what I need. Maybe Ian’s mother will be better this time around. Ian did say she wants to meet me. So no one is forcing her to see me. She is making the effort.
“Thank you baby.”
“Great.” I tell him. “I can’t wait.”
“Thank you baby. I love you.”
“I love you more.”
What have I let myself into…