When Love Is War.

2

Sarayu woke up to an empty bed and the room awash with sunlight. The first thought that crossed her mind was that she had overslept when she needed to drive the boys to soccer practice. The alarm clock beside her bed told her soccer was over.
She lay there wondering if Tim took them. Jason her eldest already had his learner's permit but he still needed an adult to ride with them. All through her musing the events of last night conveniently skipped her mind and then it hit her. Questions began running through her mind," who was this woman? Can I fight this?" She thought. She doubted if she could fight it because she knew better than anyone that once Tim makes up his mind on a matter he would not be swayed. Stubborn best describes the man she married. She said a quick prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to help her deal with what was ahead.
She got ready for the day ahead, thinking about work and keeping her mind from wandering to her problems. She worked as an editor for a Nigerian publishing house, she also took on independent clients. She mostly worked from home, she was currently turning a really good novel by a local writer into a script.

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As she emerged from the stairs dressed in black cashmere sweat pants and a pale pink cotton t-shirt she was welcomed by the smell of breakfast. She was suddenly very hungry, "Good morning Mrs Sunday" she greeted their ageing housekeeper who was oblivious of her presence at the doorway of the kitchen. "Good morning Mrs Hassan, breakfast is ready, shall I make you a plate or would you like a cup of tea first".
"I'll take that plate, thank you, are the boys back yet", she was suddenly way too hungry to follow her morning ritual of having tea before breakfast.
"Yes, they are".
"Okay, who took them?"
"Mr Hassan, ma but he already left for work and the boys are in their rooms taking a shower".
As she answered she expertly put a plate in front of Sarayu who sat at the breakfast bar filling her glass with orange juice. She dug into her plate of scrambled eggs, sausage and toast, taking sips of orange juice in between. Halfway through her breakfast, Benjamin came bounding through the kitchen door ."Morning Mummy", he said in a sing-song voice. "Good Morning Ben" She answered. Jason walked into the kitchen calmly taking his place at the breakfast bar, " Morning Mum" he mumbled. "Good morning son", she answered wondering what the problem was this time. Jason at seventeen was the brooding teenager who saw life from a pessimistic point of view while Benjamin at twelve still had his rose-coloured glasses on. As their plates were placed before them they both dug in with gusto, Ben making a few comments while Jason ate in silence. She had finished her food and just stared at her boys wondering how they would take the news. "My boys, opposites in looks and character", she thought. Jason was light in complexion with loose curly hair worn in a stylish buzz cut, his complexion and hair texture along with his shy nature were the only things he had in common with his mother. He had his father's stature, and his voice and that brought him great joy. In the eyes of Jason Hassan, his father could do no wrong, and that worried her, surely he would be crushed by the turn of events. Benjamin, on the other hand, was just a copy of his father, his dark complexion shone the same way his fathers did, their smiles were identical, and they had the same happy-go-lucky character yet they could both be very sombre and discerning.
"Mummy are you alright," Ben said successfully putting a stop to her musing.
"I'm fine, why are you asking?"
"Well, Mummy you're fiddling with your pendant". She looks down and she is indeed clutching her late mother's heart-shaped pendant, there he goes again with his observation skills. "Ben I will be fine", she says as she stands up and walks out of the kitchen.
A few minutes later she is settled in her home office which is just an extension of the family room where the boys are playing video games. Things almost seemed normal, like it was just a regular Saturday but then it was not, she was barely holding it together as she struggled to keep her emotions in check and keep working.

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The day went by in a blur, most of it spent at her computer making a rough draft of the script she was working on. She skipped lunch and barely tasted dinner, she just forced it down her throat. It tasted like chaff in her mouth but she was sure it must have been delicious judging from the aroma and the fact that Tim is a very good cook. It was a tradition in their house for Tim to cook Saturday night dinner. Dinner was an awkward affair, the tension between Tim and Sarayu was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The boys could easily sense it and kept quiet all through dinner. After dinner, Tim asked to see her in his study. So here she was sitting across from Tim, his oak desk between them  He had his lawyer face on, he was in his logical and defensive mode. So she pushed her emotions down because she was not about to become the hysterical female here. Tim suddenly cleared his throat and began to speak.
" Late last year the party chairman came to me with a proposal, I would have his backing to represent the party as the presidential aspirant
If this marriage takes place before the primaries".
She kept looking down picking a loose thread on the fabric of her t-shirt. "What was I supposed to say", she thought it seemed like he was waiting for her to say something.
"How was I supposed to say no to that, you know how much this means to me. I've been trying to get my big break in politics for the last ten years. This is a shot at the presidency not like all the other small-time appointments where they'll use you like a puppet, a shot at real influence Sarayu, I can make a difference", he calmly explained.
"Who is she?" She asked looking up at him.
" Zainab Ahmed, her late father was a head of state under the military rule and he was also a vice president before his passing. Her mother is quite influential among the political class".
"Is it a marriage in name only?"
"No, it's an influential family and I want ties with them".
She let out a bitter laugh, "ties, you mean children"
"Yes". She was surprised all over again.
"She was at the party, wasn't she," she asked and then it dawned on her that her mother was the lousy gossip.
"No she wasn't but her mother was, Mrs Amina Ahmed I don't believe you know her" he answered.
"Light skinned, slim, short, a typical description of a Fulani woman"
"Yes, that sounds like her but she's Kanuri", he answered.
Anger swelled inside of her as she realised that she was supposed to hear her. She clenched and unclenched her fist trying to calm herself.
"Is that all??" she said in a cool voice.
"Ihotu(love) say something".
" Don't call me that, you're just like my Dad, he loved me but didn't love me enough".
"Sarayu don't be like that".
"You've made your decision and you expect me to say something, say what? I should speak to a rock? What difference will it make".
"The wedding is in a month, on the first Saturday in March. I'll tell the boys tomorrow".
I silently walked out of the study without a backward glance.