It Didn’t Work Out

The keys are still where I left them. Everything is quiet here. There is no life, save for nature. The house which was supposed to be filled with laughter is empty. My laughter, our laughter. It reminds me of the past. A past which I wish I could change and relive.

The pains of labour, the echoes of childbirth are still within the walls. Maybe it’s just me imagining crazy things. I do not want to remember anything that happened here, and yet vividly do. Every sound, every noise, every word, every cough. Will it ever go away? I want it to go away.

It started at the entrance of MayShop, the biggest supermarket in town. That is where we first met. He was tall and dark; he still is, I guess. He didn’t have an athlete’s body, but he was still fine.

I had ticked almost every box on my Mr Right list. He smiled a lot. He helped me put my groceries in my car. He had forgotten to tell me his name or to ask for mine. But I still remember what he wore. A pair of cargo pants and a black t-shirt. The shoes don’t really matter, do they?

P.S Marketing Solutions. That’s where I worked. It’s where we met for the second time. I was a marketing executive at that time and he had come to enquire about advertising. He was the regional sales manager for his company. He even drove a branded car. So, that day we exchanged contacts, naturally, for work. After that, one thing led to another. A business meeting led to a drink, a drink to a date, a date to a relationship.

I remember us sitting in his car, the company car. It was more of a joke when he said it. He was the only male child in a family of nine. He wanted to grow his lineage; he didn’t want his family name to die. Whoever he married had to be serious about childbearing; producing sons was a mandate. I never took him seriously and even joked too. In this day and age do people marry for children? Am I a baby making machine? It was a silly joke.

We had a traditional wedding ceremony. He just paid the lobola. The white wedding thing was not for us, he said. A sheer waste of money, he added. I loved him and my parents had received their dues; what was a white wedding worth? What would it change? It was just a day after all, one day. My sister tapped me on the shoulder in the middle of it all and asked, “Are you sure?” I don’t know what she had seen.

The marriage. Long distance. I had to quit my job, much to my boss’s disappointment. This was the sweetest thing I had had in a long time so I did it without any worries. He had enough money to take care of me and the kids, when they came. He always joked saying, “I want six sons. I don’t count daughters even if they come.” I would smile and say, “My womb will not carry more than three.” I had to go back to work at some point. Besides, did we need all those kids?

Pregnancy. My first pregnancy came soon enough. You do not want to keep the in-laws waiting, or they will start gossiping about your infertility, not your husband’s. Five months in, the foetus slipped away. I was hurt; I was heartbroken. I saw his cheeks go down. His smile started to fade. But it took only a short while before I was pregnant again. The joy and relief it brought. I passed five, six, seven months. I was rejoicing and praying. His mother came to stay with us to help me through the final days. According to custom, it’s my mother who was supposed to come. But it’s always good to bond with your new mother, right?

I gave birth. He did not want me to give birth at the hospital with all the doctors and nurses seeing my naked body. So, his mother helped with the delivery. I cannot explain the shame I felt undressing in front of her. I did not focus much on that though because of the pain. I screamed loud enough to wake up the whole neighbourhood. I tore my dress, I yelled, I cried, I cursed, I pushed. Finally, she came. It was a stillbirth. I felt weak.

His mother held the stillborn in her hands. She cried loudly. He came running in. He looked at the baby, then looked at me lying helplessly on the bed, and he left. I did not have the strength to stop him. I died. I resurrected. Tears rolled down. All the pain and effort was in vain.

It did not take long. He did not hide it. There was another woman. She was pregnant. Maybe she was not even the only one. He slept out. He drank until he passed out. We no longer sat on the same dining table. We never got the time to talk about what happened or how I felt. He was busy. I only remembered I was his wife when people addressed me by his last name.

Then the blame came. His family blamed me. He blamed me. My family blamed me. I started blaming myself. It was my fault that my womb was dead. I tried, trust me, I tried, but I couldn’t conceive anymore. I was not woman enough. Slowly I felt useless and worthless. The house, which we had not finished building, made me think of what could have been. The few fully constructed rooms gave me hope sometimes.

His mother left. She went to live with the new wife, or wives. I did not know. I did not want to know. She abandoned me. I felt betrayed. He was no longer giving me enough money. “What do you need it for? You have no children to take care of,” he said. I was jobless. I was a stay-at-home mom without children. I sold some of the furniture. I could not take it anymore. I locked the doors. I left.

But I’m back today. This is the same day I gave birth to the child I never held many years ago. Everything is worse than it was when I left. It seems he never came back or looked for me. No one even cared. There was so much dust on the furniture – the few pieces of furniture. Our picture still hung on the wall. Taken the day he came to pay my bride price. I tore it. There was no more us. There was a tap in the untiled kitchen. I washed dishes there every day. It’s a surprise water is still running after so many years.

I washed my hands. I wasn’t going to come back again, I promised. I was going to see a psychologist. I see my babies every day and every night. The first one who left me at only five months. The second one who was stillborn. They are growing. I came here hoping to find them, hoping to find him. I locked the door and threw the keys away.