hekaya.
“I saw him enter the car and leave. He then headed to a pharmacy at Hurlingham. I had all the time, I waited. He then drove back to the office.
Let’s call him Ben, my former husband. He would leave for work normally, but during lunch hour, he went to her house. Some Alice. She lived along Denis Pritt road. He paid the rent.
After work, he would come home, on time and be a family man.
I was sick and tired of the affair. I had blamed myself enough. I had tried to fix this.
We were in love or so I thought. How could he fool me?
I knew his mother had been asking him to look for a woman who can give him a son. We had 2 girls. But why would he follow her advise? We had been peaceful all along…
This evening, I rented a taxi. No one would be suspicious of a taxi and he wouldn’t give much attention to a taxi as opposed to my car. And especially when I’m the one driving it.
He had said he would be late. I drove the taxi and followed him from work to her house.
I had this new fillet knife that I had just bought. I was going to skin her slowly and just let her feel the pain. I changed my mind.
When Ben left, I left too.
I hired a different cab daily for one month tracking Ben to the flower shop, wine shop, jewelry shop, to her house, to restaurants…
I was dead tired.
When covid had really hit and there was a directive to burry people within 48 hours, I knew it was time. There would never have been a more convenient time than this.
My sister had just picked the kids to stay at hers for a few weeks just to bond with her kids.
I thought of all possible ways but each seemed least painful yet I wanted him to go through pain and feel it! I wanted to hit him with a jembe but what would I do with the blood?
Being a Friday with no work on Saturday, and curfews, we started drinking at home. I wore lingerie and joked about how it would be lovely to make love later and conceive a boy to even out the girls.
He laughed and told me we don’t plan for the kids we want. God gives and he already gave us.
I kept adding him drinks and giving him comfort that he is home abd the kids are away so he can drink himself to stupor, it was okay. When he was so drunk, he dragged himself to bed and blacked out.
I turned him to look at me. He didn’t feel a thing I guess as he was already snoring. I gave it time. To let him sleep properly. Went to the living room and took three proper vodka shots.
I took a sheet, covered his nose and mouth then took a pillow, put it over his nose and sat on him. I was angry. I was crying. I was calling him names and saying everything I had thought about. I was shaking.
He struggled a bit, trying to raise his feet and lifting his hands as if to plead with me then I guess he couldn’t help himself better in his drunkenness. When I was sure sure it was done, I turned him to the side as if he were sleeping.
And we “ slept” till morning.
In the morning I called for help. I said he complained of chest complications a bit and fever and throat issues and every other covid symptom you could think of. But that he said he could sleep the night and we could see a doctor next morning.
The family was so scared and we asked to burry asap lest any of us caught it. No postmortem no nothing.
From dust we come to dust we return. We were all suddened by God’s will. He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die that early, and this monster covid….
You should have seen me play the ooh poor widow card, wailing uncontrollably, and asking God questions.
For a while I felt quite a relief that we both lost him. Me and her.
Lately though, I regret it. I never quite factored in our children. I look at them and I see him. I look at them and wonder what kind of a monster I am.
It didn’t have to go that far, did it? Sometimes I drown in my sorrows. At least he came home, he provided, he spent time with the kids. Now look at me.
Today, I missed him. I did. I wanted him home. I can only see his favorite bike and gear instead. I cannot fight enough with thoughts in my head. I’m tired. “
