Here we are, in the present day. The seventh month of our relationship. “Marriage” I call it because I trust Benjamin is my husband. It’s Monday, 7 am, yet he is still asleep. Snoring. So far he is not a breadwinner, but I don’t mind.
I do everything for him. Even my neighbors by now can relate that I’m a hybrid of his love. I’m dressed up for work, in a yellow cosy dress that conceals my small bump. My first bump together with Cake.
“Cake, I’m going to work,” I sing to him, I’m sure he heard it.
He has a hangover, somehow he forces himself to escort me to a taxi motorbike rank. I feel heavy, nonetheless, he usually lifts me up and places me in the passenger seat. His good luck kiss on my cheek always comes thereafter.
‘Caring, loving, eating, drinking, sleeping’ – That’s his normal daily routine. Right now. He seldom bets.
Yes, he still drinks but I like it because he tells me jokes that are rare when he is sober. The joke that first rings in my mind is; “Our landlady is so fat that by the time she passed by her TV, all the world cup games had been played.”
I love everything about Benjamin. He keeps refreshing our relationship to the extent he convinced me to give him a baby. Although he does nothing for a living to support it.
Meanwhile, I’m at work, facing Mandala in his office. He is back after three months in Saudi Arabia. He had been agitated at seeing my bump during the morning meeting.
He, grinding out his flaming cigar on an ashtray on his bronze desk. Extinguished it. He is abstaining from my eyes, his head sloped, his bald shiny, saying, “I summoned you here, to let you know I’m firing pregnant employees.”
“What?” I’m shocked. My mouth remains agape. This is something I’ve never heard before. I was hoping he could give me a martenity leave. My mouth tastes more sour.
He laughs to himself, “Mhaha, relax, I’ll not fire you… on one condition.”
“What condition?” I ask, holding my breath.
He looks straight at me, “Abort that baby, be my fourth wife, and I’ll support you with everything you need.”
How foolish he can be. I join my arms, “I’m sorry, I’ve got a husband, and that’s his baby you’re talking about.”
“Mhehe, husband huh? A poor guy, who can’t even afford a bike for you, using you for sex, only to cheat you in the end.”
I stand up, “That’s enough, I’m going back downstairs.”
“Whoa, pretty, know that once you get out of that door without accepting my offer, you’re fired.”
I thought about it for a minute, but my mind still favours Benjamin. So I declare, “It has been a pleasure to work for your restaurant.” I turn my back on him, walking towards the door, “I choose my husband over your offer. Bye.”
“You’ll regret that choice. Do you hear me!?” he shouts at me by the time I step into the corridor.
I respond with a door slam. Out of his office. I love Benjamin even if that means quitting a job that brings my only income. I change my uniform for my dress, pick up my handbag and walk into the highway without goodbying my workmates.