POTS AND YELLOW CURTAINS

She peered into the kitchen through the crack of space left between the two yellow curtains. Yellow chiffon curtains she personally picked out to match the yellow theme she had been building throughout the house. The kitchen was exactly the way she liked it, neat and organised but for a few bread crumbs on the kitchen counter. She ached to clean the counter and revert the kitchen to its spotless self. If he hadn’t changed the locks she would have been able to. The windows were shut tight, just like both the front and the back doors. She broke the key she had in the front door the last time she visited. She knew Mwape had changed the locks but denial kept her trying until the key broke inside the lock. Then she was served with a restraining order the Monday that followed. The court official was disdainful and threw her judgmental look, “Ms Mulenga Mhango, Mr Mwape Chekwa has been protected by the law, stay away from him otherwise justice will be served and you will be visited by the law.” The official said before she walked away slowly, deliberately shaking her buttocks. If that was what the law looked like then Mwape was probably being visited by the law, it was the only explanation Mulenga had for the hostility.

Justice? What was justice? Mulenga looked at her watch for the third time in the minute before sitting down on the kitchen doorstep. Her imagination was wild and vivid. She used to imagine being Mwape’s wife, bearing him strong sons and beautiful daughters. She pictured the little vegetable garden at his backyard transforming into an orchard. She imagined the years passing by with her beloved but she never, not in a million years imagined being on his doorstep and locked out of a house that he claimed was as much hers as it was his. She rested her head on her palm while she waited, she hated waiting. Waiting gave her too much time to think. Thinking brought memories and feelings. Thinking made her replay events and conversations to try and pin point the part of their relationship where her love had transformed her into a fool. She hated thinking, she preferred actions.

“You are everything; my best friend, lover, girlfriend and everything. You don’t need me to define this relationship by human standards.”

Bingo.

That was it. That was when she became a fool. A wise woman would have known that was nonsense, humans abided by human standards, she wasn’t an alien and neither was he. The explanation was just something smart men say when they want the nectar without plucking the flower.

Mulenga shook her head, hoping to shake off the pain and the shame. Mwape stripped her. Everyone knew she was in a relationship, they just didn’t know with who. Everyone knew she spent nights and a bae’s house. Everyone knew she took selfies in a yellow kitchen and hash tagged #decorforbae. There was no winning this one. Those were her curtains, it was her sweat that made the floor of the apartment gleam and the sofa was bought on hire purchase in her name. How did Mwape learn how to be someone without her? The same relationship that left him a man with a stylish home and clean matching clothes had left her naked.

Some people are like empty wells, they never tire from taking. Mulenga was a martyr for love. He forgot her birthday every year during their seven year relationship. When her mother died he never attended the funeral because he had the flu, he called when he recovered and asked her to visit him. The visit was brief, he prodded her breast while absently listening to her in the hopes that she would give in and let him finally get release. She finally let him and in those moments when he was on top of her he was present, he told her how much he missed, that she was pretty and she felt really good. She knew he hadn’t heard her talk about the pain of losing a mother but she stayed for those moments when he was present, appreciating her body.

Mulenga shook her head again, she had succeeded in shaking off the pain and shame but it was quickly replaced with loss and self-doubt. Mulenga knew women whose men scampered at their every whim. She knew men that adored their women to the point of idolisation. Wasn’t she a woman? Didn’t she deserve to be loved and adored?

Sitting at the doorstep reminded her of how he promised her they would watch the new X-Men together, she sat at the cinema in the same manner for three hours before she called him and he said he was busy. The very next day he forgot his lies and he started telling her about how awesome X-Men is, wasn’t he too busy to watch it?

Mulenga was a martyr for love. She forgave Mwape and loved him.

Baby Girl

She never looked at his screen but it was hard to ignore. They were in his bed and his room was filled with an impenetrable darkness, the brightness of the screen cut through and the words baby girl were impossible to miss. Her heart immediately leaped and started to beat hard and fast as her temper rose. He picked the call and started to talk in the same breathy tone he used on her when they were in bed. The lady asked if he was alone and he said yes. The lady asked him to guess what she was wearing and he did, all while Mulenga trembled in anger right next to him. The room was silent and dark. Mwape couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see her. She grabbed his phone and threw it into the wall. It wasn’t broken and she could hear the lady saying hello. She walked across the room, picked it up and started bashing it against the wall until it started to disintegrate. She barely remembered the rest.

Mwape said she went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife threatening to kill him and then herself.

Mwape said he sustained several cuts to his abdomen while overpowering her.

Mwape said he would have died if the neighbours hadn’t driven him to the hospital.

Mulenga didn’t believe him. He lied often so she couldn’t rely on him to fill up the gaps in her memory.

Mulenga shook her head. Why couldn’t she remember what happened that night. Perhaps Mwape drugged her and stabbed himself just so that he could get rid of her. She heard the gate open and sat up, he was finally home. She didn’t want to talk to him. She just wanted to enter the house and have access to the kitchen and her pots. The pots were yellow, antique collectibles, he could keep everything except them. They were irreplaceable. Mwape had taken her dignity and sanity but she couldn’t let him have her pots.

Mwape walked towards his kitchen door, passively thinking of what to cook for supper. A dark figure was crouched at his doorstep and it startled him. Mulenga was sitting at his door, her eyes were red and she looked directly at him. She analysed the man she once loved, he hadn’t changed a bit except there was fear in his eyes. When had he become afraid of her? Was he a monster or was she?