Mist

by Dora Okeyo

  I ordered another cup and then called my friend, Joyce. She worked at a Commercial Firm that catered to the elite in the society. It was her way of showing the world that she could do anything she set her mind to. I wanted to tell her about Ken’s death, but her line was busy. I did not want the papers knowing about Ken’s death but it seemed as though my father-in-law wanted everything I didn’t. The man was worse than the stamp of approval placed on visas at airports! As I took more sips of coffee, so did my mind wander far away from Ken.

  A huge part of me felt like he got what he deserved while the other part felt like his children did not deserve to know he died like that. He’d always told me not to trust him. It was something he said with as much ease as he scorned me. How could I not trust the man I love? How could I not feel safe in his embrace? He loved my cooking and the way I constantly refused to hire a house help when it was clear that we needed one. Ken was a rock. He barely broke down, save for one weekend. He’d been gone for three weeks without a word and when he returned he was taking a change of clothes and going to Mombasa. He smelled of perfume and looked as though he had been run over by ten trucks. I reached out to hug him and he stepped past me into the bathroom. I knew it was wrong of me to confront him because he never argued or let me tell him how much his actions hurt me. Ken was always right. He could come home at one, or sleep on the couch and still wake up and kiss me good morning. He would leave money on the kitchen counter or his ATM card with instructions, “get something nice,” and then be gone for a month! I never knew much about Imports and Exports until I married into the Wamina family. All I knew was that we had a port and traders got their goods from there to all over the country. What I never asked was ‘what kind of goods?’ I also learned something about the Wamina family. Do not ask questions.

  For a girl who was brought up to work hard for all she wanted, it felt as though life was putting me to the test. When he got out of the bathroom that day I asked him if he’d been with another woman. Ken looked at me and walked into his closet to pick a change of clothes.

  “How many were they?” I asked.

  “Should I pick a number to please you?”

  “No. You should tell the truth.”

  “Four, I think. So, does that make you happy Rose?”

  “No, but it makes me know where we stand. Thank you Ken.” I remember walking out with nothing but my bag and slippers. I made it out of the estate and into the main road and into a bus to town. I never cried or thought about it, but it suddenly dawned on me that I needed to be far away from him. When I got to town that day, the first thing I did was to book a room in a hotel for four days. Once the receptionist gave me the keys all I did was cry myself to sleep. I had become one of those women who loved their husband even though they were unfaithful. Ken had this ability to choke the life out of me, and I loved him for it- but not that weekend. He called me sixty times in those four days and I never answered him. I switched off my phone on the fourth day and paid for an extra two days at the Hotel. On the sixth day as I was making my way around Nakumatt Lifestyle, I felt someone hold me and knew I’d been found. It was a public place and he knew I would not make a scene, and so I turned and smiled at him. He held onto me for the longest time, but only said, “Never walk out on me again Rose.” Anyone who saw us then would think we were the perfect couple. I wanted him home with me always, but he wanted something else. I was stupid not to have screamed that day, but truth be told, I am glad I was stupid then because it was the only time I ever saw the real man that I married. We went back home and he apologized. He had been in the company of four models but he said he never slept with them. I chose not to believe him. He simply told me “I love you Rose and never compare yourself to any woman who bends because I ask her to. Why do you doubt me so much, Rose? Don’t I take care of you and Leslie? Haven’t I given you a good home, good clothes and constantly provided for you?”

  “I married you Ken, not your wealth! If I wanted money and the luxuries of life I would have left you a long time ago! You can cheat for all I care, but just don’t lie to my face. Do whatever you want but don’t lie to my face! I am not stupid!”

  “I’m sorry Rose. What can I do to make you believe me?”

  “Stop lying!” We went home and Samantha was conceived that day. I had never felt happier or more at ease because my husband was with me. He stayed home for a month and took care of me often making up for lost time. I should have known that he’d not stop, because when I was four months pregnant with Samantha, he suddenly had places to be. I had everything a woman could want but not the one thing I needed the most- and that was to always be in the arms of my husband. He was gone and there were these two adorable children who wanted me to guide them, but I didn’t know how. The children were enrolled in a private school and my salary was not enough to pay a quarter of their fees. I wanted to yell at someone, or better yet go back to the morgue and give Ken a tongue lashing enough to breeze him through hell!

  On the other hand, there was some truth to what had happened. I wanted to be done with him. I had often dreamt of leaving him and starting over with just the kids, but their money kept me grounded. Yes, I married into a rich family and I was not going to walk out. Nancy was in school, my brother was also happy and getting the quality education that our parents had dreamed of but never got the chance to provide. I stayed because if I left, my siblings would not have the chance to live their dreams. Whenever any of my close friends asked about it, I would simply say that I loved my husband.

  Some of them laughed, but deep down I knew that things would fall into place some time. We had our moments but Ken was a good Father to Leslie and Samantha.

  Thomas came home the next day in a new Range Rover Vogue. He opened the doors and his Father stepped out like he’d come to a business meeting. Leslie and Samantha were at school and my sister was serving me some porridge. I watched the man walk into my house and felt as though my judgment day had come. Instead he hugged me and held onto me giving me time to cry.

  I wept.

  As my mind became clear of sorrow, Thomas filled me in on what they had done. They would have Ken buried like I requested. Their mother was not pleased but she knew that life had to go on. He asked me for a list of friends whom I wanted to inform of the date, and Nancy said she would give it to him. They walked into the sitting room leaving me with Mr. Wamina Senior outside. “I do not know how things will be but I know you will get through this my daughter. If you need anything at anytime, call me,” he said.

  “I will and thanks.”

  “I am here because Thomas shared with me something. I don’t know if he was right or not, but he told me you suspect that Ken was murdered.”

  “That’s right.” He looked back at the living room then drew his chair closer to me.

  “Well, you are right. I hate to tell you this but he had called me a day before to say that he was bringing in a new client and wanted time to clear the court case we had with the cargo from Japan. See, we had these computers and TV sets that had to be cleared and the customs department was taking too much time while clearly stealing some of the merchandise, but that night…it was different. Ken was so sure we could get the government to back off, and I wished him luck. If I knew they would do this to him, maybe I would have stopped him. I am sorry my daughter for it’s my greed that got my son killed and no matter how many stones I turn I keep coming up with nothing.”

  “Did Thomas tell you about the land where we found him?”

  “Yes.”

  “They just…God! They killed him! Then they left him there, like he was some dog or garbage! He was my husband! My husband! And they killed him!” We sat in silence after that each one of us doomed to the memories of time spent with Ken.

  Ken was buried on Saturday by noon. I wanted him gone so much so that I did not even shed a tear during the burial. I kept Leslie and Samantha close to me afraid that I would lose them too. His family had great things to say about him. His mother said he
was the best son she had and at this Thomas looked away, as though her words scalded him. I held his hand and felt such warmth in them. His father talked of how much he could always count on Ken and went on to say that he’ll never forget his son. I knew he meant he’d not stop seeking revenge. Thomas could not say much but as he stood before his brother’s casket, his eyes suddenly lit up like Ken and his brows creased reminding me of the man I loved. His eulogy was the most honest and true description of my husband. To Thomas, his brother was like a rock by the river. It was stable but slippery. It was solid but smooth. And most of all, it was the one anyone could step on to get across the raging waters. I wanted to kiss him for that, but how could I? I was looking at the man who promised to love, care and protect me lie in a casket his eyes and mouth shut after having seen the greatest evil. We came back to the city with Thomas on Sunday.

  I remember walking into his outstretched arms and saying, “thank you for being honest about Ken. I’ll never forget that Thomas.”

  “He was my brother after all. So, you are welcome…and I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

  “What is it?”

  “Can I stay around for a few days and then leave, I just want to make sure you are safe and then I’ll go.”

  “You’re making this harder for me Thomas.”

  “I’m sorry; I just want to make sure you are alright.”

  “I am, but having you around will not help.”

  “Why?”

  “Should I give you a mirror Thomas?”

  “No. Its fine, but I will move into the servant’s quarters for a week. Try and understand me, because if it’s not me, my Dad will send someone or worse off come to Nairobi and trust me, that old man is very stubborn!”

  So, it was settled, Thomas would stay and act as my bodyguard and informer to the family once again. I had buried my husband, but his family was insistent on keeping the fog around me and my children. I thought my husband’s dealing were clearing up like mist, but his family wanted me as blind as someone attempting to drive through a fog.

  End

  About the Author.

  Dora lives in Kenya. Share your thoughts on this short story; send her a tweet @herhar.

  Follow her blog for more: http://www.nilichoandika.co.ke/