When dinner had been cleared, my father finally made eye contact with Mother. “Alright, let’s just get this over with then.”
“Jumoke, could you join us for a few minutes in the living room, please?” Dad called calmly. “We need to have a little chat.”
“Yes, Sir-Madaam,” Jumoke said as she emerged with a slightly bowed head, averting her eyes. She was wringing her hands in front of her, face lined with dread.
When I started to follow them into the living room, my father stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. “Nuh-uh, My Boy. This one’s for the adults. Just run along and get back to those books, okay? Good boy.”
I bristled silently but made the snap judgment not to impose myself and possibly fuck this all up. Not yet. Not unless I had to. Jumoke gave me a pleading look after my parents went in and she lingered for a moment outside.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I mouthed to her. ‘Love you.’
Jumoke mostly shut the door behind her, leaving a sliver open. I watched from the crack outside, my heart slamming inside my chest.
Our housekeeper eased into one of the chairs facing the main couch that my parents settled into. Sitting, Jumoke’s pregnancy became even more obvious, with her little gravid belly protruding out slightly over her thighs, outline even more pronounced against her polo shirt. She looked extremely nervous.
My mother let out an exasperated breath that slid into pointed condescension. “I’m not even sure how to begin, Jumoke. I suppose I’ll just be out with it — are you pregnant? Preg-nan-tuh. Baby in you? Yes?”
Jumoke’s face flushed with shame as she broke eye contact and looked down, a hand instinctively caressing the globe of her belly.
“I preg-nant, yes,” she said in a small voice. “I dey sorry, I only find out three days ago. I thought just get fat, I going to tell you–”
So far, on the script.
“And the father?” Mother pressed. Dad gave a distasteful look at the line of questioning but allowed it.
Jumoke’s eyes travelled down to the diamond ring she was tugging on. Her voice was a quiet tremor as she spoke the lie. “My husbaand, he driver in the town, but when he find out, him no want me no more. Him kon go.”
“I. See.” Mother said with barely restrained disapproval. Zero sympathy. “And…are you keeping it?”
Jumoke’s eyes shot wide with the first hint of maternal anger, the hand on her womb now defensive. Mother had no idea that her own grandchildren were growing inside her maid. “Yes, of course I keep, Madaam!”
“So then naturally you’ll be returning to your village– now that you’re…expecting. You shouldn’t be working.”
“I go work!” Jumoke protested. “I dey sorry for this, but I want work! No one go take me now, I need make money for baybee, for my familee. I dey fine, Madaam! I wan work until time for baby please!”
“You see, she wants to work,” my father finally intervened, finding his voice at long fucking last. “This should be a happy occasion, shouldn’t it, dear? A baby is a blessing. And we think you’ve done wonderful work for us, Jumoke. You’ve taken care of us, so we should take care of you, shouldn’t we?”
My mother was aghast. ” You can’t be serious. I won’t have her walking the house like this. Or going out in her condition. People will talk. It’s shameful.”
“Well, that’s where we disagree, isn’t it?” Dad shook his head. “We have an obligation to do what’s right here, not just for Jumoke, her family, or her baby’s sake, but also to make a good example for Chizi. And what would our Foundation think if the news got out that we dismissed the maid because she was pregnant?”
“Then you’re setting us up for liability!” Mother seethed. “What if she slips? Hmm? Are we on the hook for medical bills? What if it comes early? Maternity leave? Where does it end?”
“My mother worked right up until she went into labor, if you recall,” Dad said flatly, weathering her with unbelievable patience. “That was her choice.”
“Yes! I want work!” Jumoke pleaded. “I no wan trouble, no ask for more money, I go dey very careful.”
“No.” Mother flatly refused, the single syllable spoken like acid from her mouth. “Not in my house. I don’t care, this is too much, it’s beyond the bad. It’s grotesque. I refuse.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad said firmly, “but I need to put my foot down. This is what’s decent and it’s what’s right. And if she can work, Jumoke will continue with us until she needs to have her baby. After that, we’ll find someone to replace her until she can come back. And yes — that’s final.” He held up a hand as Mother was about to scream her opposition, absolutely mortified and enraged. “We’ll discuss it upstairs,” Dad cut her off again.
In the shitty dynamic of their marriage, my father didn’t usually hold his ground. He preferred to be a passive participant and let my mother do what she wanted in order to maintain the peace. While he was on contract overseas, Mom nominally had control of the house — it was her domain. Same with school. But at the end of the day, my father still controlled all our finances, and she knew it.
“Oh, thank you, Sir!” Jumoke breathed with tears in her eyes. “I work hard for you and Madaam, I promise, no trouble! Gott bless you, your kind heart!”
My mother found some semblance of her usual frigid composure but I could see her hands shaking. She clenched them to fists and rose, glaring at Dad with absolute hatred. “Very well,” she said, tight-lipped. “You win for now.” She turned and smiled at Jumoke with an expression utterly devoid of any warmth.
“Congratulations on your child, then. You’ve quite a journey ahead as a single mother, I imagine. Nevertheless, I expect you to maintain the same level of service throughout if you’re to stay with us.” After a moment of numbing silence, Mother clapped jarringly, once, then twice. “You can go back to work now! Yes. Work!”
Teary-eyed, Jumoke got to her feet at the same time my father did. She held her sides and looked like she was trying not to sob. In a rare moment of true sympathy, my father stood up and gave her a comforting hug, which she gratefully allowed. “There, there. She’ll come around. You’re part of the family,” my father said before letting her go, oblivious to just how true and ironic that statement really was.
My mother’s eyes flashed at the gesture before they quickly narrowed to slits. There was something in them that I couldn’t immediately place. Something much, much darker than anything I had seen before. Without another word, she stormed towards the door and I made a hasty exit into the study before I could be discovered.
That cold, thrilling feeling was back, this time laced with both elation and dread. We had won, for now. It has been torture having to eavesdrop outside, though, unable to help while my mother savaged my poor lover. What the fuck was wrong with Mom anyway? I couldn’t believe I had actually come from her hateful loins.
I sat down in the leather-backed office chair in front of our family computer. It has been moved from my parents’ room following my improved grades. Lenovo Legion Tower 7i Gen 8, top of the line. As much as I wanted to go find Jumoke and comfort her, I needed to wait until I was sure my parents weren’t coming back down.
I booted up from the computer. I lost myself in a video game. After ten minutes, I heard my parents’ raised voices from upstairs. I paused the game and turned down the sound so I could try and pick out what they were saying.
“…You think I don’t know what’s going on? Oh, I know! This isn’t the kindness of your heart keeping that whore around! It all makes sense now!” my mother was yelling. The volume grew as Mother’s voice lowered several octaves, guttural and slurring in her horrible accusations.
“YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING HER! YOU! YOU MADE HER PREGNANT!”
“You’re DRUNK!” my father shot back. “YOU’RE A FOOLISH DRUNK, A MADWOMAN. Why don’t you just…take another one of your pills and just sleep it off?!”
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