Unspoken Burden: Connecting the dots.

A chill ran down my spine as I started connecting the dots. Peace had not realized it yet—she truly believed the story she had been telling herself all along. But the timing didn’t add up. The symptoms. The drowsiness. The discharge. The way she casually described it, unaware of what she had just revealed. My mind was in a thousand and one pieces, and for the first time, I feared what lay ahead.

Rita:

“Do you want to eat or drink anything?” I asked Peace. “No, Ma.” She retorted.

I looked around the canteen. Out of its five tables, two were occupied. The one we sat at, and the other, occupied by two young men in branded tee-shirts of one of the new soft loan companies in town, having lunch. We couldn’t make the call there. We needed privacy. I sensed the woman would ask Peace some sensitive questions. 

So, I bought her a bottle of water, and we left. On my way there, I had spotted a locked-up stall down the street. Hopefully, it will still be locked with no one around it. That’s where we are headed.

On our way, I told Peace about the call we were to make. I reassured her it was harmless.

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Connecting the Dots

She answered on the third ring. We exchanged pleasantries, and I introduced Peace to her. The phone was on speaker, so we could both hear her. She started by asking her the same questions I had asked her myself.

Peace was in her fifth month. She had a boyfriend from school. He got her pregnant.

This much she said to me yesterday. I was mad at her, but there was a question begging for an answer in my head: Why didn’t Aunty Mo call to tell me this? Why had she kept quiet for this long? Something was not right. For some reason, this bothered me more than what had happened.

“Okay. Now, I will ask you some questions. I will need you to think clearly before you answer them.” Came the voice from the phone.

Peace’s fingers tightened around the bottle of water I had bought her. She hadn’t opened it

“Do you recall the last time you slept with your boyfriend?”

“Yes, Ma. It was on Wednesday, April 17th. I remember vividly because that was the first time we met at his house instead of his friend’s. His parents were out of town.” 

“After that, did you have a monthly cycle as you would normally?” 

“Yes, Ma?”

I could read certainty from her voice and face.

“Does the woman you live with know when you are on your monthly cycle?”

“Yes. I ask her for money to buy sanitary towels every time.”

Silence. The woman on the phone took her time before asking the next question.

“Before you noticed you were pregnant, was there ever any time you woke up from sleep feeling drowsy and noticed some discharge on your privates?”

Peace hesitated.

“I want you to take your time and think clearly before you answer this.”

“Yes, there was.” She dropped her gaze to her lap, embarrassed by what she had to admit. “I thought I had a wet dream.” 

After a long pause, she added, “One of the girls at school had been raving so much about wet dreams. I thought that was it. The difference with mine was that I felt drowsy and had a nagging headache the whole day. I couldn’t do most of my chores. It was on a Saturday, and my madam let me sleep in.

When she looked up at me, her calm had given way to fear. I felt it too. Another thing I felt was anger. If the thought that had formed in my head was true…

“One last question, my dear.” 

“Do you recall if your madam’s husband was at home then?”

“He travelled the day before.” “It was just my madam and me at home.”

A chill ran down my spine as I connected the dots. I looked at Peace; she had not realised yet. She truly believed the story she had been telling herself all along. I didn’t know if the ignorance was for her good or not. 

My mind was in a thousand and one pieces right now.

The woman’s voice on the other end had gone quiet; processing, I was too.

The timing didn’t add up. The symptoms. The drowsiness. The discharge.

The way Peace had casually described it, unaware of what she had just revealed.

A tap on the shoulder jolted me back to the present. The woman on the phone had been talking to me, but I had drifted. Peace tapped me to get my attention. 

“My sister, she said, her voice steady, “send your girl home with the instruction not to discuss this meeting with anyone. You call me when you get to your shop.”

I nodded at first, then realising it was pointless since she couldn’t see me, I murmured, “Alright.” “Thank you, ma.”

My throat was dry. Sweat broke out in unusual places. I had to comport myself.

I turned to Peace. Uncertainty and fear were still etched on her face. I did the best I could to reassure her. I sent her home with strict instructions. 

When she left, I remained transfixed at the same spot for some time. I could barely lift my legs. My body and my mind were not in sync.

At this point, Offor had to know.

Read the first and last part here:

Unspoken Burden: The Call

Unspoken Burden: Of Trust and Betrayal