“Mandla, can I come over there?” she called him.

“Your impotent fool didn’t give you pleasure?” Mandla asked, a bit of sarcasm in his voice.

“Leave it, Mandla!” Monica kicked off the blankets and walked to her closet.

“OK, OK. I’m joking, baby. You can come over. Leave your panties at home too,” Mandla said, before hanging up.

Monica slipped into her bathtub.

“You left your panties at home?” Mandla asked, as he opened the door to Monica.

“Shut up,” Monica kissed him, and kicked the door behind her.

***

Monica had dreaded this day, and now it was here.

She looked at her yellow sunflower dress and smiled. It suited her. It’s not like her mother-in-law would care about her dress, all she wanted was a grandchild.

Mojalefa came out of the shower looking handsome. He wasn’t tall like Mandla nor muscular, he was average height and thin. He was light in complexion and he had a neat brush cut. He wore black denims and a white floral shirt.

“You’re beautiful. Mom will like that dress,” Mojalefa said, hugging Monica from behind.

Monica untangled herself. “She won’t even notice, Mojalefa,” she said.

“She will,” Mojalefa smiled at her.

“Are you stupid or just plain ignorant? Your mother doesn’t care what I wear, she just wants grandchildren!” Monica shouted.

“You’ll find me in the car.” He went out.

“Coward!” Monica shouted after him.

As soon as they walked in the beautifully furnished eight-room house Mojalefa’s parents owned, Monica felt uncomfortable.

“My son!” His mother hugged him, completely ignoring Monica.

It was his father who welcomed Monica warmly. They sat down.

“Come help me in the kitchen, Monica.” Mojalefa’s mom, Mokgadi, said, standing up.

Monica followed politely.

“What’s wrong with you? Why is your womb still empty?” Mokgadi asked, frowning and pointing helplessly at Monica’s stomach.

“Mojalefa isn’t ready, Ma.” Monica held her stomach.

“No man is ever ready to have kids. It is our job as women to make them realise how important it is to have kids,” Mokgadi said, giving Monica plates to set the table.

“I’m not going to force Mojalefa to give me kids,” Monica said, as politely as she could.

“At a certain age, women reach menopause. Which makes it impossible for them to bear kids,” Mokgadi said.

“I know that,” Monica said.

“Men aren’t like us. Men are fertile till death,” she said.

“I’m not anywhere near menopause, Ma,” Monica told her.

“Stop being stubborn and give my son a child,” Mokgadi said, in a cheeky voice.

“It’s your son who’s being stubborn, and doesn’t want to give me a child,” Monica said.

“Don’t give me that crap.” Mokgadi placed knives and forks on the table.

“Please, Ma, can we not talk about this?” Monica pleaded.

“Maybe it’s high time my son found a wife who will bear him kids. All Mojalefa’s younger brothers have kids. He’s the oldest, he’s married, yet no kid, all because he chose to marry a good-for-nothing barren wife!” Mokgadi said, waving her hands in the air.

“What would Mojalefa need a second wife for?” Monica asked.

“To do what you cannot do. Bear him kids. You stay home, spend his money, yet you don’t want to give him kids. All you ever do is take, take, take, you never give,” Mokgadi said.

“Mojalefa doesn’t need a second wife,” Monica said.

“Look how fat you are. All because of my son’s money, yet you’re selfish with your womb,” Mokgadi said, walking out of the kitchen.

***

Tell us: Do you think Mokgadi is being harsh towards Monica?