don’t really need a house help,’ I said. ‘I think I can manage –’
‘I can come and help,’ Funmi broke in.
‘What?’ I said.
‘You don’t have to pay for a house help. What if I come to live here so I can help around the house?’ She smiled. ‘You should be very relaxed during this period.’
‘And that is true,’ Moomi said. ‘In fact, I think that is what you should do.’
‘Only if it’s OK with you, Ma.’ Funmi leaned towards me. ‘Do you mind?’
I had been fooled again. For some reason, I was still stupid enough to imagine that the two of them had entered into my sitting room without a ready agenda. Yes, the pregnancy had made me generous enough to entertain Funmi in my salon, but I was not ready to allow her to move into my home. I was smart enough to know that if she moved in under the guise of assisting me, she would never leave.
I could not think of a way to say no to Funmi. At least there was no way to say it without Moomi thinking I was being disrespectful to her. In spite of everything, I wanted Akin’s family to love me. I did not want my child to live under the banner of resentment against its mother as I did. In case I died, I wanted love for who I had been to compel the people left behind to care for my child. I was about to become a mother. The stakes were higher, I had to be calm and agreeable or at least appear so. The fate of my unborn child depended on it.
So I smiled while I boiled inside and said I would ask Akin. Moomi smiled in satisfaction, Funmi in anticipation of victory. My smile felt tight and I could hardly wait for them to leave so I could take it off. We would have made such a pretty picture, all three of us with our perfect smiles.
9
It began with the ultrasound scans. The machines claimed that there was no baby in my womb.
Dr Uche was the first doctor to run the scan. She had small eyes that swam in a pool of stagnant tears that refused to fall. The sheen in her eyes glittered as she broke the news.
‘Mrs Ajayi, there is no baby.’
‘I heard you the first time and the second time too,’ I said.
She kept peering at me with her shimmering eyes as though she expected me to do something. Cry? Scream? Leap onto her table and start dancing?
She leaned forward in her seat. ‘How long have you been pregnant?’
‘I thought you said there is no baby.’
Dr Uche smiled a cautious smile. I had seen that smile before, on my father’s face. It was a small smile that looked like his mouth was prepared to burst into a loud cry for help at any moment. It was a special smile reserved for his third wife, the one who once went into the marketplace naked. The one who was always talking to people no one else could see.
‘Can I have the results?’ I said.
‘I want to discuss this pregnancy with you,’ she said.
She obviously thought I was losing my mind.
‘Have you heard of Perfect Finish?’ I asked.
She nodded.
‘You know Capital Bank?’
‘Yes, I have an account there.’
‘I own Perfect Finish and my husband is the manager of Capital Bank. I got my first degree from Ife. I am not some mad woman off the street. Why are you discussing pregnancy with me when you just said there is no baby?’
Dr Uche placed a palm against her forehead. ‘Madam, I’m sorry if I sounded patronising. I’m just worried about your health, your mental health.’
She said mental health in such hushed tones, as if she was afraid to hear her own words. I wondered about the state of her own mind.
‘Doctor, I am fine. Just let me have the results. You have a lot of patients waiting.’
She handed the results over. ‘It happens, this kind of . . . pregnancy. To people who can’t have . . . haven’t had children. It happens – pregnancy symptoms are there but no baby. We are agreed that you aren’t pregnant, right? Perhaps you could see a gynaecologist again about this issue? I can see on your file that you have had a number tests done before, but maybe we could run some more tests?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
I walked into the hallway with a hand on my slightly swollen stomach, undaunted by doubting Akin and the doctor. I felt like a balloon, filled with hope and a miracle baby. I was ready to float over the wards of Wesley Guild Hospital.
Akin laughed when I told him Funmi wanted to come and stay with us during my pregnancy. We were getting ready for bed; I was already in my white nightgown. He was still taking off his office clothes.
‘That girl? What pregnancy anyway? Have they confirmed it at the hospital?’ He yanked his belt off forcefully; it snapped against the bed like a whip.
‘The doctor I met does not know what she is doing. She needs glasses, I’m telling you, saying she can’t see my baby, ehn? The baby that has started kicking.’
‘Kicking?’
‘Yes, now. You are shaking your head at me? Shake it well, shake it until it falls off your neck, you will see.’ I climbed into bed. ‘When I hold my baby in my arms, you will be put to shame, all of you who think I can’t have a child. Even that stupid doctor will be put to shame.’
‘You know you sound crazy, right?’
‘What are you saying?’ I cradled my belly and waited for him to reply.
He stripped down to his boxers and lay beside me. ‘Yejide, please dim your lamp.’
‘What did you mean by what you said just now?’
He rolled onto his stomach and turned his face away from me.
‘Akinyele? Me, I sound crazy?’
‘You are not pregnant and Funmi is not coming to stay here. Can I sleep now?’ He pulled the covers over his head.
His words crept across the room and clung undetected to my body like soldier ants would. Then they stung without warning in the early hours of the morning when I woke up to urinate for perhaps the tenth time in the course of that night. As I sat in bed and sipped water from the nearly empty bottle that I now kept on my bedside table, his words played back in my head, triggering questions.
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