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?”
It took me a while to understand what she meant, and when I did, I was filled with dread. My wedding night seemed so long ago that I had forgotten about it – thankfully. But now that my mother had mentioned it, unwanted memories began to resurface. I pushed the horrible feeling down as much as I could because I knew my mother wouldn’t appreciate my reaction. After all, she had spent quite a bit of time explaining it to me. I hadn’t been able to do any of what she had instructed, but I didn’t want to tell her that or betray my disgust with the whole experience.
“It’s okay,” I responded vaguely when she kept staring at me, waiting for an answer on how the bedroom activities with my husband had been.
“Okay?” my mother repeated, not satisfied with my response.
“Yes,” I replied, looking away.
“When was the last time your husband came to your bed?”
“The night we were married,” I answered quietly.
They exchanged horrified looks.
“Are you telling me that your husband hasn’t been to your bed since your wedding night? He has only had you once?”
“Yes,” I answered in a soft, wobbly voice, trying not to cry.
“My goodness, Nhyira! That’s not good; that’s not good at all,” my mother exclaimed. “What happened that night?”
“It was horrible! It hurt so much and I hated it,” I finally cried out, wiping the tears on my face.
“Oh for God’s sake, what did I tell you about those tears? You’re a married woman; stop acting like a child. I already told you what to expect before the time came. You will get over the way you feel about it.”
“Your mother is right, my dear. That is what all men are interested in. Besides, you have two other women who came before you. If you cannot satisfy him in bed, he might just throw you out! I don’t understand why he hasn’t been coming to your bed, but we must fix that,” my aunt added seriously, patting my back sympathetically.
“He will?” I asked in shock. I had never thought that my bubble could be broken after I was already married. It wasn’t even as much as being married, but I enjoyed living with Rama and Nafisa, and the thought of being sent back home filled me with greater dread for some reason than remembering what had happened the last time Mr Anderson had come to my bed.
“Unfortunately, yes. If he gets bored with you, he might send you packing. So how were you going to ask him to renovate our house when he doesn’t come to your bed?” My mother demanded harshly. “What would be his motivation to do as you ask?”
“I didn’t know that I had to do it in bed,” I answered, feeling sick.
“My dear, there’s a lot you still don’t know, but you will get there. That’s why we’re here to teach you. To secure your place in this house and make it easier to make requests from your husband, you have to make sure he’s attached to your bed.”
The idea made me feel even sicker as I remembered the heavy hands pawing at me and the hot pain I had felt down there at the intrusion. I had forgotten most of it, but the longer my family spoke about it, the more I remembered, and it made me sick.
“I know that it may not be easy at first, but trust me, after the first few times, you may even enjoy it,” Auntie Felicia assured.
“Really?” I asked doubtfully. I couldn’t imagine ever enjoying that horrible invasion, but it was my duty as a wife—one I had been too happy to shirk. This visit was a reminder of why I was in this house. I was chosen early for a reason, and I had to fulfil my part.
The words were difficult to get out, but I swallowed and asked, “What do I do then? He doesn’t come here, and I can’t go to his rooms uninvited.”
My mother smiled, clapping her hands in delight. “We brought something just in case you needed it!”
“What is it?” I asked cautiously, sceptical of her excitement.
“It’s a very useful tonic that will make him more interested in you. Serve him any drink with just a tablespoon of this mixed in, and make sure you’re the one to give it to him. And then invite him into your room. Take these too.” She hands me two more bottles. These ones were pretty with light pink liquid in them. “This one is a shower gel. Bath with it. And this second one is a sweet-scented perfume. Use it after you have bathed. It will make you smell irresistible.”
“Yes, mother,” I replied, trying to sound grateful.
“After he’s done with you and is happy, then you can make the requests. He won’t be able to say no,” my aunt adds.
“Yes, auntie.”
After going over a plan to get my husband into my bed, they left for home so they will be able to catch the 4 p.m. bus back home.
I stayed in my room until nighttime, staring at my reflection in the large mirror. At one moment, a sudden flash of fear ran up my spine when I hallucinated that my reflection was split into many uneven parts, resembling my image through the broken mirror I had shattered at home. But it didn’t last, and before long, I was staring at a whole, perfect image of myself again.
“I am beautiful. I am perfect. I am chosen.”
I didn’t understand why I was doing it, except that it made me feel better, so I repeated it like a mantra, staring at myself in the mirror.
By the time I went down for dinner, I had nearly regained my composure. Still, Rama asked me from across the table if I was fine.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she persisted with a frown even after I assured her that I was fine.
“Yes, Rama. I’m fine,” I answered, needing her to believe me. I was tempted to tell her what my family had told me. She would know if I had to do it, since she had been married to Mr Anderson the longest. However, my aunt had warned me not to share any of that information with the other wives. “It is for your own good,” she had said.
So even though I wanted to share and even ask for advice on how best to approach Mr Anderson, I didn’t.
Rama stared at me for an uncomfortably long time while I tried not to fidget or show my discomfort. She started to say something and then shook her head.
“Okay, my dear, if you say so. But remember that I’m always here for you if you need anything, no matter what. You know that, right? Nafisa and I are there for you.”
That almost made me tear up, but I held it in. I was afraid that if I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I might end up blabbering all the mental turmoil I was going through after the visit from my mom and aunt. Besides, I was a married woman, and married women didn’t cry. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of Rama.
“Yes, I know,” I answered softly.
Rama smiled a little and reached over to pat my hand. In that moment, I caught myself feeling more warmth toward her and Nafisa than my mother and aunt and felt guilty. My family had sacrificed so much for me to be chosen early and live in this beautiful house with Rama and Nafisa, and I was being ungrateful by feeling more safe and loved by them in such a short amount of time.
After dinner, I finally asked the question that I knew I had to ask even though I didn’t want to. My family had put some fear into me, and I was afraid I would be kicked out of the house if I didn’t take action to keep Mr Anderson’s interest. For the first time since I had arrived in my new home, I asked Rama when Mr Anderson was expected to return.
“Why are you asking?” she asked in surprise. I think she knew that I was afraid of our husband.
“My mother wanted me to ask him for something for my family,” I answered. It wasn’t a lie, just not the complete truth.
Rama shook her head and looked away. “He will be home in two days.”
Thursday. I felt my heart drop into my stomach. I had hoped that I would have a bit more time to prepare for the idea of bedroom activities, but I only had a day.
Mr Anderson arrived on Thursday afternoon. After going downstairs to welcome him with Rama, I spent the rest of the afternoon in my bedroom, steeling myself for what was to come. I spent an unhealthy amount of time gazing at myself in the mirror and repeating my mantra. “I am beautiful, I am perfect, I am chosen.”
Strengthened by it and the thought of my family getting the kind of life they deserved, I went for dinner on a mission. I don’t remember what was served because I wanted dinner to be over quickly so that I could do my duty. I had transferred a little of the liquid I was supposed to give Mr Anderson into a much smaller bottle. Luckily for me, he had a set of glasses dedicated to him. I went to the kitchen to help with bringing the dishes out. While the maids sent the first two trays out, I stayed behind and slipped the liquid into his glass, then poured water into it for him when I got to the table. Rama looked confused but didn’t comment. My heart was beating so fast. I let out a soft sigh of relief when he finally picked up the glass halfway through dinner and drained all the water.
Mother, Auntie Felicia, I hope you’re proud of me.
