Two months and two weeks after I became a wife, my mother and aunt came to visit. They gushed over the house, as I knew they would. My mother could hardly tear her eyes away from the terrazzo flooring and the louvres.
Just like the first day I had arrived, Nafisa was in the same spot on the staircase, looking down at us in her white dress. Thinking back on what Rama had told Mr Anderson, I concurred that it was better that she would not be coming around to greet my family. I doubted that it would be a peaceful meeting, knowing what Nafisa thought of them. I was not quite sure of Rama’s opinion, because she didn’t say much when I shared stories of my mother and aunt.
“You look wonderful!” my mother exclaimed, finally tearing her attention away from the house. “Marriage certainly agrees with you.”
“I agree! You’ve gained some weight in the right places,” my aunt added.
“Thank you,” I answered automatically, trying to usher them inside where Rama was waiting for us before they could spot Nafisa. However, it was too late.
“Who is that?” my mother asked, looking straight at Nafisa, who was staring back with a blank look on her face.
“That is Nafisa, Mr Anderson’s second wife.”
Auntie Felicia looked over as well. “Oh. No wonder she looks so put out. She must be angry that you have taken over her spot as the current and favourite wife.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. How did I explain Nafisa? I didn’t even think that she liked Mr Anderson. I had never seen them having a nice conversation. To be fair, the only people I had seen Nafisa have nice conversations with were Rama and the kids. And me, since she started talking to me. She rarely spoke to anyone else, and they tended to avoid her.
“I hope you’re not allowing them to bully you,” my aunt whispered sternly as we reached the front door.
“No, no, they’re very nice,” I responded quickly.
“They better be,” my mother said before one of the househelps opened the door for us. I felt a flash of embarrassment, hoping that nobody had heard my family talking down on the other wives. Rama and Nafisa had been good to me, and I wouldn’t want them to think I was ungrateful.
My mother and Aunt Felicia gasped in awe when we entered the beautifully decorated living room.
“You’re welcome,” Rama said, coming into the room. There was something different about her as she greeted my family. She was smiling, but the smile was different from her usual smile.
“This is Rama; she’s the first wife,” I introduced. “A— Rama, this is my mother and my aunt.”
“You have a lovely daughter,” Rama said, and then gestured to the sofas. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I will bring you some drinks. Would you prefer soft drinks or some wine?”
“Bring the juice now. We will take the wine later,” my mother answered.
“Very well, I will be back in a minute.”
She left and came back with one of the maids bearing a tray with two boxes of Ceres, three glasses, and three plates of small cakes.
The maid left us after placing the tray on the centre table. Rama opened the first juice and poured full glasses for everyone. After giving a plate of cakes to each of us, she straightened. “I will leave you alone and check on the food.”
“Where is the other one? Will she not come and meet her co-wife’s family?” Auntie Felicia suddenly asked before drinking some of her juice. I felt some shame at the way she phrased the question.
“The other one?” Rama repeated with a frown.
“She’s asking after the second wife,” my mother clarified in a tone that suggested that she thought Rama was dumb.
“So sorry, Nafisa is indisposed at the moment and cannot join us. Perhaps another time,” Rama responded, not sounding contrite at all.
My mother and aunt exchanged looks. They had seen Nafisa up the stairs earlier.
“I hope our presence doesn’t make her uncomfortable. We just wanted to come and see how the new favourite wife is doing and make sure she’s comfortable and being treated right,” my mother claimed airily, sipping some of her drink.
Rama’s expression didn’t change, but I could feel something different from her. A dark emotion that isn’t usually present around her. But it was gone so quickly that I thought I had imagined it.
“Nhyira is very welcome here. We’re happy to have her with us,” Rama assured them. She sounded so sincere that my family couldn’t hide their surprise. I watched as they exchanged glances again.
“The food is almost ready; let me go and check on it while I leave you to catch up,” Rama said again before leaving us alone.
“That woman is strange,” Aunt Felicia murmured after Rama left.
I looked in the direction Rama had gone. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind, it’s not relevant. Pour your mother and me some more of this box juice while you tell me about what living in such a beautiful house is like.”
For twenty minutes, I told them about my new life, and they watched in awe and excitement as I described the kind of food and drinks I had been having, the many new clothes I had been given and all the important people who visited Mr Anderson when he was home. I talked a little about Rama too, but I was careful not to speak too much about her. They were so distracted by the opulence of the house and the privileges it came with that they forgot to ask about Nafisa, and I was glad. It had taken some time for Nafisa to warm up to me, and I knew from our conversations that she would not like my mother and aunt. Preventing an encounter was for the best. I didn’t fully understand her problem with them, but I didn’t want it to affect the new relationship I was building with her.
Rama escorted the maids to bring the dishes to the dining table and then left us again. They enjoyed the meal, as I knew they would, and after they had washed it down with wine, I gave them a tour of the house. Since I never went up to the last floor, which had Mr Anderson’s quarters, the tour ended on the first floor. They gushed over my room and the bathroom I shared with Rama. I was excited to teach them how everything worked, and after they had experienced a water closet and sink, my mother asked if I thought Mr Anderson would be willing to install some for them at home, as well as louvres and terrazzo flooring. I told her that I would ask on their behalf even though I didn’t know how I was going to broach the topic with my husband. I only spoke when I had to, but this was why I got married: to give my family a better life, so it was my responsibility to ask.
We spent some time together in my room, and they caught me up on some family news. There was nothing but routine activities to share, except for the fact that one of my aunties was pregnant again, and a cousin had found a husband.
“Her husband is not nearly as rich as yours, though, so there’s nothing exciting about that. But I suppose at 24, she was getting too old and had to settle for a mere shop owner. The shop is quite big in the city and he has a car too, but I doubt that man has a house as big as this one,” Auntie Felicia reported.
I didn’t particularly care whether my cousin’s husband was richer or not, but I did not say anything.
“Isn’t my hair pretty?” I finally asked, surprised that neither of them had asked about it so far. They knew how much I loved getting my hair done, and the intricate cornrows Rama had done to my hair were so pretty. She had even taken some small glass beads from Nafisa to weave into my hair.
When they didn’t comment, I continued, “A – Rama made it for me. She has been doing my hair since I arrived.”
I had almost slipped again and called Rama “Auntie Rama”. She had reminded me that morning not to address her as “Auntie” in front of my mom and auntie.
“Your hair looks nice,” my mother finally acknowledged grudgingly. “It’s not as nice as what you’re used to, but it’s not terrible, I guess.”
I thought Rama was a much more skilled hairdresser than my mother and aunt, but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful for all the years they did it for me before I came here, so I didn’t argue. I didn’t understand why my family wanted to find fault with the other wives, but I thought that perhaps it was because they were concerned that Rama and Nafisa were not treating me well. I did my best to reassure them that life has been good.
When they were ready to leave, my mother patted the space on the bed next to her and invited me to come and sit closer. “How have the bedroom activities between you and your husband been?”
