Hiding in Plain Sight

by Nuruddin Farah

  He offers her a glass of water, but she takes his hand to stop him from leaving. She doesn’t think she can bear being alone, what with this cocktail of troubling ingredients that she is gradually remembering roiling in her—Aar’s death, so much travel and dislocation, this sudden new role, Valerie and her lover hovering with probable malicious intent just outside the frame, and even the children not entirely to be counted on, as surely they will want to see where things stand for them before they throw in their lot with one side or the other. It is not in Bella’s nature to give up at the first obstacle, but she also knows there is no point in forcing children against the grain. Or maybe this is an early indication, if she needs one, that she is not ready to assume the role of mother all of a sudden.

  Dahaba joins them, and Bella taps the mattress on either side of her, indicating that they should sit. “What woke me?” she asks.

  Dahaba says, “Salif and I were arguing, and we raised our voices. We are sorry.”

  “I upset her and she was mad at me,” says Salif.

  Dahaba says, “You see, I’m easily upset.”

  “Were you crying?” says Bella.

  “Yes, she’s a drama queen,” says Salif. “But I admit I had a go at her.”

  Just talking like this about a mundane sibling squabble is calming Bella down. She goes into the bathroom to throw cold water on her face, although this time she does not dare to look at her face in the mirror. She whispers a line from Robert Benchley to herself: “Tell us your phobias and we will tell you what you are afraid of.” She stands with her back to the mirror and feels how fragile she is. In her current mental state, she can’t even tell what she is afraid of. But she has no desire to free herself of her new responsibilities either.

  She flushes the toilet for effect and runs the tap again, washing her face and her hands with cold water once more. And when she comes back to the bed, she discovers that she is once again the adult and they the children.

  Dahaba expresses her unhappiness with her mother for not showing up for dinner, and Salif condemns Valerie’s “unpardonable rudeness,” which he sees as of a piece with her generally undignified attitude toward others. Bella does her best to comfort Dahaba and reasons with Salif, reminding him that Valerie has other worries on her mind. They don’t know the whole story, she reminds him. They just have to wait.

  Bella wonders how much of Valerie’s jerrybuilt maneuverings are in store for her. Shoddy as they are, they can be difficult to dismantle. How can she keep Salif’s and Dahaba’s allegiance and also protect Aar’s honor and interests?

  First thing tomorrow, she’ll confirm her appointment with Gunilla. And with that in mind, she gets out of bed. Dahaba and Salif go back to their rooms, and Bella begins to gather the documents she will need for tomorrow’s meeting with Gunilla—her passport, her Italian ID, her driver’s license, her birth certificate, and the most recent copy she has of Aar’s will. Bella puts all these in a satchel, locks it, and places it under the bed. She pictures Valerie using the upstairs bathroom, making an unsuspected entry into the room and ghosting out with this booty in her possession. It is not beyond Valerie to plan this sort of stunt. In the past, she has helped herself to Aar’s credit card, forging his signature until she got caught. Greed coupled with opportunity can make a thief of the best of us, Bella thinks.

  Her preparations done, she takes an enjoyably long shower and gets under the sheets with a mystery novel by Philip Kerr that she has discovered on Aar’s shelves.

  —

  Bella has been reading for about an hour and, having grown pleasantly sleepy, is just about to turn out the lights when she hears the dull sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs. She throws on her nightgown again and a robe as well. Outside of her bedroom, the hallway is dark, and the children’s doors are closed. She tiptoes down the stairway, but there is no peephole so she calls through the door, “Who is there?”

  And sure enough, Valerie answers. “Bella, it’s us, Padmini and I.”

  Bella turns on the entryway light and opens the door. Valerie walks right past her. “Not bad at all,” she says, taking in the house.

  “We should’ve called,” Padmini says to Bella. Valerie continues to take a measure of the house, as if imagining what it would be like to live in it and hold big parties. She paces back and forth, now staring at the parquet floor, as if she were inspecting it for dirt. She turns to Padmini. “Not bad at all, eh?” she says again.

  Bella almost laughs.

  Padmini says, “We ran into some friends. We only meant to have a drink with them, but somehow . . . Our sincere apologies for disturbing you.”

  Not knowing what else to say, Bella asks, “What would you like to have?”

  Padmini says to Valerie. “What are we having?”

  But before Valerie can answer, they hear a squeal of joy, and Dahaba runs down the stairs, shouting “Mummy!”—a word she somehow stretches to three syllables—and throws herself into Valerie’s arms, just as she had done with Bella at the Kariukis’. She is still dressed, Bella sees.

  “My condolences, my sweet,” says Valerie, softly maternal now. “I am so sorry.”

  Watching as Dahaba wraps her young body around her mother’s middle-aged girth, Bella is touched despite herself.

  Dahaba says, “How many years has it been?”

  Valerie says, “Well, let’s see—how many years?”

  Then they hear Salif’s baritone from the top of the stairs. “When you say you’ll come, you must come,” he says, the man of the house.

  “It’s hard to explain, so we won’t try,” Valerie says. “Anyway, my sincere condolences for your loss. We may not have got on, your father and I, but he was at heart a good man.”

  Salif doesn’t acknowledge her words of sympathy. “And if you don’t come when you say you will, then you must ring to say you’ll be late.”

  Now Bella sees the Aar in Salif, and she can see that Valerie sees it too.

  “Look at you, all grown and full of blame!” cries Valerie, but there is a touch of pride in her voice. She turns to Padmini. “My son. Isn’t he handsome?”

  Salif looks from his mother to Padmini, as if meeting her for the first time—which in a sense he is. He looks her over, taking her measure. “And who is this?” he says.

  Valerie says, “You know Padmini. This is your auntie.”

  “No, but who is she really?” says Salif.

  “She is like a sister to me,” Valerie says.

  Dahaba is standing next to her mother, their flanks touching. She says, “She is lovely, Mummy.”

  “That’s my girl,” Valerie says encouragingly.

  Salif takes his time descending. He hugs his mother briefly then offers his outstretched hand for Padmini to shake with a look that challenges her to do anything but take it. “How would you like me to address you?” he says.

  “Address her as Auntie,” Valerie says.

  “Mum, please, I am talking to her, not to you.”

  “She and I are as close as sisters,” says Valerie.

  “Mummy, you said that before,” says Dahaba.

  “And we are, in addition, business partners.”

  Salif lapses into Somali, addressing his words to Bella, but Dahaba dutifully translates for the benefit of Valerie and Padmini: “That’s cool, I’ve just acquired myself an auntie, how wonderful.”

  Bella can see that Valerie is torn between irritation at her son’s discourteous behavior and admiration for his ability to speak Somali so fluidly—not that she can understand him.

  Dahaba is playing peacemaker. “He doesn’t mean ill.”

  Valerie says, “It’s good that you too speak it.”

  “Our best friends are Somali,” says Dahaba.

  Valerie says, “I hope your Somali friends here do not teach you to use guns and stuff!”

  Bell
a recoils at the stereotype, but Dahaba says only, “Actually, they’re very nice.”

  “What’s this world coming to, knives and guns?” says Valerie. A long, awkward silence ensues. It is Salif who breaks it, surprisingly enough. It’s as if, having made his point, he decides to make amends. He turns on more lights and gestures the guests to the couch. He sits beside Padmini and engages her in conversation, leaning graciously toward her. Valerie relaxes, and she and Padmini exchange a smile, which Bella catches in the net of her wandering gaze.

  Dahaba says, “Mummy, you know Salif is always difficult.”

  “Yes,” says Valerie. “But he is my son and I’ll always love him.”

  Everybody falls silent again. Then Bella offers drinks again. Valerie opts for a gin and tonic, and Padmini asks for a double shot of vodka with ice. Bella locates a tray and a bucket for ice, and brings the gin and vodka and tonic. For herself, she pours only a glass of water, and the children get themselves soda.

  “So, in a word, what have you been up to, Mum?” Salif asks. He sounds as if he is on the attack again. Actually, Bella realizes, he sounds like his mother at dinner last night. “Where have you been all this time, and why haven’t we heard from you? And why are we hearing from you now?”

  Valerie says, “I’ve been in India. You know that.”

  Salif looks from her to Padmini and back again. “I like that phrase, ‘business partners.’ It has an all-inclusive feel to it, rather more accommodating than, say, ‘sexual partners.’ You know what I mean?”

  Valerie’s discomfort is obvious and this makes Bella ill at ease too. She grabs one of her digital cameras, which is on the coffee table. “A photograph of the three of you,” she says, “just the way you are. Salif on one side, Dahaba on the other, Valerie in between.” She looks at Padmini, and hesitates. “Oh, wait. You too.” Padmini flashes her a look of gratitude and joins the tableau.

  Dahaba says, “Like a family for the first time.”

  Valerie says, “My loving children.”

  Salif says nothing, but he allows himself to be photographed.

  Bella brings down more of her cameras and poses everyone in different combinations. They are more relaxed now. Valerie and Padmini want the photos sent to their e-mail and there is a pause while they all get their phones and enter addresses. Dahaba is the most excited of all.

  Only Salif remains cool. “I don’t want them,” he says. Bella upbraids him in Somali, and Dahaba says, “Why must you be a party pooper?”

  Stealing a glance at her wristwatch, Bella sees that it is long past midnight. It will be impossible to get them a taxi back to the hotel, she realizes, unless they have made prior arrangements with the driver who brought them here. Knowing Valerie, this is unlikely. And as reluctant as she is to have them stay overnight, Bella is not about to drive them back to their hotel; it is simply too dangerous.

  Valerie is deep in conversation with Dahaba, who is eagerly telling her about a recent incident at school—a classmate with pimples all over her face had used her soap, and Dahaba has been scared to use it since. But Padmini seems to be reading Bella’s mind.

  “It’s late, Val,” she interrupts.

  Bella looks around with a level gaze, waiting.

  “What’s the plan?” Valerie says.

  Bella pauses a beat before asking, “Did you arrange a taxi to take you back?”

  Padmini says, “I’m afraid we didn’t.”

  “Not to worry,” Bella says, because what else can she say? “I don’t think you can get a taxi at this hour, and it’s too late for me to drive you. But there is a spare bedroom down here, with a shower next to it. You’re welcome to stay.”

  “Are you sure?” Padmini asks.

  Bella says, “There is plenty of space.”

  Dahaba wedges her body between Valerie and Padmini, and takes their hands, delighted with the new situation. “Please stay,” she begs. “Pretty please!”

  Salif watches from nearby, looking amused.

  A discreet nod from Padmini confirms her firm acceptance of the offer. And that settles it all. Dahaba issues a joyous call to order, announcing to the room that Mummy and Auntie Padmini are staying in the spare bedroom for the night.

  Padmini corrects her. “One of us will stay in the spare room, the other here in the living room if Bella gives us some bedding for it.”

  Valerie receives this news with haughty indifference. Bella thinks that maybe in this partnership it is Padmini who organizes all the pedestrian details. Just as Aar did when he and Valerie were together.

  Bella gets bedding and even a spare pair of pajamas for Valerie, who receives them with the insouciance of someone who can’t be bothered. Bella stifles her annoyance—not tonight, she thinks, definitely not tonight.

  They say their good nights. Dahaba is the last to go upstairs to bed.

  10.

  Today Bella does not wake with that lovely open-ended feeling. She wakes with a start and instantly remembers where she is, who is in the house, and what the day ahead holds. She slept fitfully, dimly aware of movement downstairs and up and down the stairs during the night, the sound of the refrigerator opening and water running. Not wanting to intrude, she resisted the urge to go down and see that the food was put away or even to get herself a glass of water. When she slept, she had an exhausting dream in which a man instructed her to sit in one side of an industrial scale while he placed a heap of stones in the other. They repeated the process several times, but somehow no one could tell if the stones were heavier or if she was, or whether the experiment merited the attention they gave it. In the end, she threatened to walk away, no longer caring what might be done to her by way of punishment.

  She is too thirsty to stay in bed any longer, so she goes down to get herself a glass of water, soft-footedly cautious. She holds her breath as her right foot touches the creaky lowest step, anxious lest she disturb Padmini on the sofa bed in the living room. But the sofa bed is empty of Padmini.

  Now she has a new worry: What will Dahaba think when she discovers that their mother and Padmini are more than business partners? Will she find her mother’s “business partner” still so “lovely”? Bella suspects that Salif has a better idea of what is going on. The guest room door is closed, so Bella switches on the kitchen light. She pours herself a glass of water and then notices that there are crumbs all about. Opening the fridge, she sees that someone has helped themselves to a portion of a hamburger, and the uneaten portion is unwrapped and smeared with ketchup, which is also on the refrigerator shelf. Bella uses a wet cloth to wipe off the ketchup and finds the box near the trash bin with a couple of chips in it. She places the uneaten burger in it and returns it to the fridge then, glass of water in hand, calls to one of the security guards at the gate and asks him if they can please get a packet of fresh eggs and sliced bread. She gives him more money than he needs to purchase these two items and then returns to the house more emboldened than before.

  She knows that Aar, unlike most Somalis raised in the urban centers in the south of the country, had no issue with male homosexuality and couldn’t be bothered about lesbianism. As for herself, while the platitude is true—many of her best friends are gay, and some are in openly gay marriages—she acknowledges that maybe she is not quite as advanced in her attitudes as she likes to think. But with her three lovers, she knows that she lives in a house of glass and cannot afford to throw stones at anyone in a similar position. Many Somalis would think there was something wrong with her, would see her as worse than a whore, because no cash exchanged hands.

  Freedoms are a package deal, she thinks, useless unless you value them all. Freedom of expression, freedom of religion, freedom to associate with whom you please—all of these are as important as the right to education, to food, to clean water. In Africa, gay men and women are seldom open about their sexual preferences. In many countries homosexuality is a crime, an
d even where it is not, people talk as if it were alien to the culture of the continent, even though, of course, there are gay people in every society everywhere. In South Africa, the most democratic nation on the continent, vigilantes organize “corrective rape” rampages on known lesbians in the absurd belief that such actions will keep women from desiring relations with anyone besides heterosexual men.

  There must be a premium placed on truth-telling in a household with children, she thinks. Discretion—being economical with the information you share—is fine. But your actions must match your words, and you must not describe your relationships as other than they are. There are no hiding places from the young for liars. Valerie and Padmini might think they are being discreet, pretending to sleep in separate beds and then coupling quietly behind closed doors. But it was Valerie’s decision to cut off contact with Aar and the children for all those years, and it has been Valerie’s decision not to speak openly to her children about the choices she has made: “Sisters” and “business partners,” indeed. If you can’t stand the heat, as they say, get out of the kitchen.

  It doesn’t help that Valerie and Bella have never gotten on, even when Valerie was living with Aar. But Bella doesn’t want the children to get the impression that her disapproval of Valerie has anything to do with Valerie’s being gay. She realizes she has to make this clear. And she must also remind Salif privately that he must show respect for his mother and accept her choices, no matter what he thinks about her behavior.

  Bella reads a bit more to kill time, then showers, the hot jets of water waking every pore in her exhausted body. She rubs lotion all over her skin, combs the kinks out of her hair, and puts on her power suit again. She puts her documents in a special pouch and replaces it in her shoulder bag. At seven, hungry, too anxious to stay in her room alone and needing to collect the eggs and the sliced bread from one of the security guards, Bella goes down and steps out, noticing that the fresh eggs and sliced bread bought from the corner are at the door waiting for her. She will have to remember to give the change he returned as a tip later. Back in the kitchen, she makes breakfast for herself and for anyone else who might turn up.