Can You Trust Me Again?

4

The aloe vera i planted in the courtyard grew impressively. Maimuna would often pluck and rub on her face each evening. It must be mentioned also, the couple wondered when i was to depart. He spoke on the phone with his mother, and she told them I was going to stay longer to help with their first child. The amazement in their faces caused me to chuckle. That was untrue, for i wanted not my children to suffer my absence as well, although they were married too. They both did not seem to mind it however. They cherished my presence. The wife respected the husband's decision, that I should only help around the house when necessary. It seemed the mother had explained how close our famillies are. 

          The real flowers brought life to the home, I believed. And the real flowers brought a pleasant natural smell, as well as an aesthetic look to the home. The wife would spend a few minutes taking shots of them to post on her blog site. The husband... well, he was a busy man. 

A week later, the wife would vomit at breakfast, so we had to get rid of one of the flowers, which we suspected she despised the smell. The young man was worried. His love for her was evident. She was a naive woman instead, I had to accept and let go of such lovely flowers. 

----

7th May was their anniversary. The ruckus was about Luqman missing the anniversary party—and that he promised he'd be present. Which he did TRY to fulfil, only that—he was late. I tried to make the madame understand, that men are very inclined towards their work-life.

'It's embarrassing for me. My friends had filled the living room, awaiting for his presence' She complained. Well, who invites their friends to an anniversary party? I actually thought it was going to be only the couples—but no. Maimuna invited her friends—which I didn't like at all, and her neighbors as well. A few of them. Just one of them, who happened to be an acquaintance to one of her friends. And then there was silence, then the mocking laugh, the hidden smirks, they were all doing it on purpose, I assumed. They intended to make her feel stupid and forgotten. They planned to turn the tables on her own husband, and deluded her brain into believing she was unimportant to her spouse. And she fell for it!

"I'm sorry baby, please forgive me!" came the apologies, then buying flowers, taking her out on a date for one week straight. Then. Then she cooled off.

Now I was indeed observing their differences. Slowly, day by day. It seemed my madame's son was suffering and smiling. For reasons known only to them, he would sleep downstairs. Perhaps she would sulk, that she was too tired to give him attention, and it would end in an argument. Perhaps he wanted to give her room to sleep well.

I made up my mind to talk to her—to advise her before I depart. My second grandchild was born, and my attention was needed. That same month, Luqman received admission to the UK for his Msc. Exciting, and a joyful news—yet heartbreaking. More especially when she announced to me that her womb had fruit. This meant he would be away until she bore the child. Yet, a wave of happiness had struck Luqman, such that he lied at work he was sick and was bedridden—just so he could take care of her morning sickness, despite I, and one of her friends 'Abidah' were present.

Abidah was—well... I didn't like her very much. I can't say for now, however I can feel it—that she isn't good company. Maimuna liked her very much, however. Abidah was her role model. Abidah this—Abidah that. I held her friend's ideology silly. I understood very well—why Maimuna was acting immaturely. It was due to her friends, who showed her she was the princess, and that everyone had to bow to her. That she deserved more and better, and that people had awful taste—theirs was the best.

I stayed longer. She was now 2 months pregnant, and the embryo was well implanted within her. Early abortion was very much escapable to us if she continued rest and reduced work. My flight was booked, Luqman's as well. He was to process his VISA abroad. Maimuna was to be left amidst her friends and her own family. I came to understand a tough woman her mother remained. She as well thought Maimuna was childishly brained. That she refused to dwell in the realms of reality. I was grateful that at least I wasn't the only one thinking that. But both couple were too much in love to even realise that. He had loved her too much. And she loved him dearly—not that she didn't; however there was something strange yet. It was as if her mind was elsewhere. Divided priorities and intentions? Was that it? I wondered.

The young man's emotional needs were sidelined, I had to take note. She wouldn't give much regards to his emotions, and would cause dramatic complains. One day, he had said, "Maimuna what have I done to you this morning," in the most frustrated weak voice I have ever heard from him. That had given her chills as well. She went silent, and walked away. Later on, I found her silently crying, and had asked what the matter was.

"He thinks I'm a burden now." She said, wiping tears on her puffy cheeks.

"Not at all. It was just a sincere question, my dear," I consoled. "Your hormones are just acting up. Nothing went wrong—really. Don't let all that trouble you."

"He's avoiding me, Omma." Yes. The children, they all call me Omma. "He didn't sleep in the room last night too. I don't know why,"

"I'll find out for you, dear," 

And so I did. Now I was the middle-woman. He was actually avoiding her because he felt she was going to talk to him about the 'Transfer to a different university' or 'Change me a car' talk. Which they already talked about. But strangely, her friends kept on pressuring her to remind him. 

WHAT KIND OF FRIENDS DO THAT?

MAIMUNA WISEN UP FOR GOODNESS SAKE.