I looked up from my watch and saw him a few cars away from mine. I paused in panic. Quickly, I told the children to turn around, but it was too late. He waved frantically and briskly caught up with us. I did not have the time!
"How are you?" he asked panting.
"Baban Jamila! Lafiya. How are you?"
"Just call me Idris," he said. "No formalities."
The awkward seconds of eye contact confirmed what I feared. How terrible! I cannot be caught in a scandal right now. I just moved here! I just met Maman Jamila who had been incredibly kind to me. She was the first to welcome me. Not everyone was open to being friends with a single mother, but Maman Jamila invited me to lunch twice and introduced me to her husband.
Maman Jamila often praised me, admiring my commitment to motherhood. Whatever that meant. I was a mess! Sadiya was becoming distant, finding it hard to fit in. Sharrif still missed his old friends and complained consistently. The monotonous ritual of motherhood was getting to me. I did not need extra man-drama.
I must tell her about the flirting. I have to put an end to his boyish dreams. But what if she vilifies me? Hates me? Does not believe me? What if I ruin their marriage? I do not want to justify the stereotype about the desperate divorcee who goes after other people's husband. Besides, I did not have time for a man. I had my children and career to mind.
