JULIE
Sandra did not come back that evening; instead, she sent a text saying she had lost track of time and our mother did not want her travelling in the dark; so, she would return the following day. Since she really had not had any time off for herself until then, I was ready to cut her some slack, and replied that that was fine.
However, when she still had not returned by two the following afternoon, I started feeling a lot less accommodating. For starters, Junior had woken up minutes after David left the previous evening, and had stayed awake until close to midnight, by which time I was so worn out, that I had gone straight to bed, leaving the evening’s dishes undone.
There’s nothing I hate more than waking up to a dirty kitchen, unless that is coupled with a hungry baby who by the smell of things, needed both a bath and a diaper change. Junior shrieked indignantly through both; so, by the time those were done, I had a headache.
Sandra finally returned as it approached four, by which time, I was barely holding it together, while she strolled in like she did not have a care in the world, clearly having been to a salon, as she had a different hairdo.
That, and the shopping bags she was carrying, threw me for a loop; I had barely managed to scrape together enough money for her transport and shopping for our mother; so, where had the money for the salon and shopping come from?
“What’s all this?” I stuttered in confusion, indicating her hair and the bags.
“I did my hair; do you like it?” she asked cheerily.
“Where did you get the money for it?” I demanded in response.
“A friend.”
“A male friend?”
“Yes; so?” she pouted challengingly.
“So, any ‘male friend’ giving you money, is first of all too old for you, as no student has money to give away. And secondly, no man gives out money without expecting something in return; so, you shouldn’t be accepting it,” I lectured sternly.
“Isn’t that what David is doing for you?” she answered cattily.
I was so shocked by her nerve, that for a second I thought I must have misheard her, until she went on: “I’m not a child; so, please stop treating me like one.”
She marched off, leaving me staring after her, my mouth hanging open in disbelief.
DAVID
Sandra was back by the time I arrived at the apartment the following evening; I found her playing with Junior on the living room floor, and she smiled up at me as I walked in.
“Hi,” she greeted me softly.
“Hi; welcome back. How was your mother?” I greeted her politely, just as the master bedroom door opened, and Julie joined us.
“Hi honey, I thought I heard your voice; how was work?” she greeted me, while leaning in to plant a quick peck on my cheek.
She smelled fresh, like she had just come out of the shower, but her eyes were tired; “Fine, thanks; how are you? You look tired,” I remarked.
“It was a long day; but it’s better now that you’re here,” she smiled warmly, then turned towards the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
“Yes please,” I nodded gratefully, and then turned my attention to Junior, as she left.
“Thanks for the money; mum was very grateful,” Sandra whispered up at me, once her sister was out of earshot.
I found myself whispering as well: “You’re welcome.”
Then picking up Junior, moved to the other side of the room. We were acting like we had some guilty secret, which was ridiculous as all I had done was send her money for her mother – Julie’s mother – which I had done countless times before.
Of course the one major difference was that this time, I had sent it through her sister – and promised that sister that I wouldn’t tell her. It was ironic that just yesterday I had been privately seething about Julie not being open and honest with me about her mother’s problems, upset that I had heard about them from her sister and not her, and yet today, I was doing the exact same thing, not telling her about her sister’s text or the money I had sent.
I hated the awkward feeling, but did not see a way out of it. Sandra had begged me not to tell Julie, and I did not want to start fresh trouble between the sisters; so, I did nothing, and remained in the uncomfortable position between a rock and a hard place.
DIANE
I could always tell when David had had sex with that whore. Besides the fact that he always made a beeline for the shower when he arrived, what really gave him away was how fast he fell asleep, and how deeply he slept when he did.
I knew he had had sex with her that evening, for within half an hour of going upstairs, he was fast asleep. I, on the other hand, was wide awake. I don’t know what made me pick up David’s phone off the bedside table on his side of the bed – but I did. It was not something I normally did; so, it was probably an action simply born out of my own restlessness and boredom.
His WhatsApp was protected by a fingerprint lock; that was a new development, I thought to myself, and moved on to his ordinary messages instead – and there it was, a mobile money message confirming that he had sent a million shillings to a name and number I did not recognize.
Two new developments in the same time frame, I thought to myself thoughtfully; I did not believe in coincidences; so, there had to be a connection. Who was this Sandra he was sending a million shillings to? Another mistress? Was that why his WhatsApp now had a fingerprint lock? Was it to hide that affair from Julie?
It was the only thing that made sense, and I smiled slowly at the irony of it; David had cheated on me with her, and now from the look of things, he was cheating on her with this Sandra, whoever she was. Karma was a bitch!
And then from my thoughts of vindication and revenge, I moved on to more practical thoughts – how could I use this new information to get rid of Julie? She, after all, remained my main threat and target as she had a child with him; whoever this Sandra was, I was not too concerned by her, certain that I could get rid of her as easily as flicking an insect off my hand.
Picking up my own phone, I took a picture of the mobile money message, and saved the number. Maybe I did not have to fight his relationship with his whore after all; perhaps I could use this new information to get it to self-implode.
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