One fine morning

Secretly, he had wanted her gone so he could have the house all to himself. Her five month old pregnancy – which was now beginning to push for notice beneath her dress – had been making her snappy. It was her first and he thought she was carrying it gracefully, aside from the increasing petulance. […]

Secretly, he had wanted her gone so he could have the house all to himself. Her five month old pregnancy – which was now beginning to push for notice beneath her dress – had been making her snappy. It was her first and he thought she was carrying it gracefully, aside from the increasing petulance. After a long week, he needed the few hours of quiet. A storm had wrecked havoc on the transmitter of the new private TV station where he worked and he, being one of the engineers, had had to work overtime to keep the station on air.

Sadiya had kissed him on the cheek and left. She seemed in a good mood that morning but he knew how quickly that could change. He lay back on the couch to watch the morning show and had enjoyed just about fifteen minutes of peace before a soft knock sounded on the door.

Grumbling, he went and peered through the spyhole. It was a woman he had never seen before. She was about Sadiya’s age – mid twenties. He assumed her to be one of Sadiya’s friends.

“Morning,” he said opening the door.

She smiled. She was charming with beady eyes and a little button nose. She was not particularly beautiful, he thought.

“My wife just stepped out, if it’s her you are looking for,” he said.

She stepped forward and he moved aside to avoid her breasts brushing agai nst him. She walked into the room still smiling.

“I came to see you,” she said.

“Oh, all right.” He stood by the open door nervously. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s about the baby,” she said. “Can I sit down?”

She dumped herself on one of the seats before he could say anything. She laughed at the edginess on his face. She was bubbly.

“Ok, what baby?”

She parted her abdomen, smiling proudly.

“Oh, ok. So, you are pregnant,” he said. “Congratulations.”

His nervous grin stuck on his face as he waited for her to say something that would make sense.

“So?” she asked.

“So? You said you are having a baby?”

“We, Sambo, we,” she corrected, still smiling.

“We? You and…I?”

She nodded effusively.

“No, no, no. I’m sure this is a mistake.”

She shook her head.

“Excuse me, who exactly are you?”

She opened her mouth in shock. For the first time since she came, she stopped smiling. “Oh, no, you are not going to try that on me, you slimy bastard.”

“I beg your pardon, who on earth are you?” He, too, was getting angry.

She stood up. “I’m the bitch you’ve been dating for three months…”

“Wow, wow, wow! I think you must be drunk or something. I’ve never seen you in my…”

She was now standing in front of him, blowing her breath into his face. He had recoiled slightly, expecting some kind of violence from her. Her breath smelt of Buttermint.

“Do I smell drunk to you? Don’t you dare insult me, mister!”

“You called me a slimy bastard; that sounds like insult to me,” he fired back.

“So?”

“So, you don’t go about insulting people and not expect the same in return.”

“And you don’t go sleeping around and not expect to get people pregnant,” she said.

“I’ve never seen you before!”

“So, how on earth did I get pregnant for you?”

“Hey, not for me…”

“‘Ooooh! Ooooh! Baby, you smell like strawberry…’” she mimicked. He was stunned. He had uttered such words in the heat of passion, to his wife, surely not to this stranger. “Did I give myself this?” she asked, holding her abdomen.

He rallied his thoughts. “Enough of this prank, woman. Leave my house this minute!”

“Not until you tell me what you are going to do about this…”

“Hell, I don’t know what you are talking about. Just leave…”

“Hell, no!” She turned to the sofa but he had really had enough. He grabbed her arm and flung her towards the door. She fell on the floor. He had no sympathy for her and rushed forward to shove her out. She thrashed around, knocking down the flower vase by the doorpost. He put his arms around her torso to fling her out but she held on to the frame, screaming her head off.

“What on earth is going on here?” Sadiya’s shocked voice momentarily froze the duo. All three stared at each other for a while before the woman broke free of Sambo’s hold and collected her gown about her

Sambo had a hard time explaining to Sadiya what Button Nose wanted and how he had never seen her in his life, how faithful he had been to her, how the entire thing was a complete mistake and how really crazy he thought the strange woman was. The woman stood through his discordant monologue, arms folded over her chest, mouth pouting in indignation.

“He is lying,” she said when he finally stopped, breathless.

He raised his hand to strike her but Sadiya held up hers. She had leaned on the door as he tried to explain, her face deadpan. Now she walked right between him and the woman, who had cowered at his raised hand.

“There is no smoke without fire,” the wife said and eyed him from head to toe. The cynicism he saw in her eyes was the ultimate blow and he cursed his fortune that fine morning.

Sadiya went and sat on a chair and the woman followed suit, crossing her legs and throwing her face to one side in a gesture of contempt. Sadiya paid her no heed but Sambo ground his teeth, wishing he could wring her throat.

When the silence weighed too much, he almost begged his wife to say something.

“Sambo, I’m disappointed in you,” she finally said, throwing down her handbag. She rose and headed for the bedroom. He overcame the jolt of those few words and ran after her.

Inside, she threw down one of her suitcases on the bed and started throwing her things in it. He went to her and held her. She slapped him in the face and stared him down.

“I’ve never seen this woman in my life, can’t you just believe me for God’s sake,” he said dolefully.

She slumped on the bed and started crying. He wanted to touch her and comfort her and assure her that it was all a mix-up. But Button Nose was in the living room with her impossible story. Once more, the thought of strangling the truth out of her appealed to him. Images of his life without his wife for seven months fleeted across his face. He had got used to living with her that he had forgotten what life was like without her, he had got used to even the annoying cravings of a pregnant woman and the whinnying and the sense of guilt of having made her pregnant and seeing her toil with his growing seed in her. He had no idea what to do so he too sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands.

It was at this time that the grandfather clock in the living room chimed noon.

Almost simultaneously, the two women burst into laughter. Sambo raised his head wondering what was going on. Button Nose was laughing so hard she was holding on to the doorpost for support. She had come to the bedroom door when his head had been bowed.

Sadiya’s weeping had somehow transformed into a jerky laughter and she fell to her knees, holding her stomach. When she finally looked up, she saw his bewildered face turning from one woman to the other.

“April fool,” she gasped and broke out in yet another round of wild laughter. Button Nose could no longer stand and collapsed in a heap at the foot of the door.

It took time for the joke to sink in. When it finally did, Sambo crumbled from his knees and collapsed to the floor.

*

It was a joke they laughed over for the next two days. He thought it was cruel but later came to enjoy it because Sadiya had shelved her pregnancy-induced grumpiness and got a real kick out of it. She shared the joke with anyone who visited.

When he asked her about her friend, Button Nose, she said: “She’s not the type I make friends with.”

“Why? She seemed like a nice sort.”

“She does but she is really unscrupulous, I hear. She is a neighbour of my friend, Jamila. That’s how I met her,” she said. “I had to pay her to put up that act. She did well actually.”

“The little imp, she had me shaking in my pants really,” he confessed.

“Don’t worry about her; she won’t be troubling you anymore.”

On the morning of April the 4th – another fine morning, after the months-old blanket of dust sheets have been washed away by the first mild rains, Sambo sat at the table having breakfast when someone knocked on the door.

“Honey, see who’s at the door, please,” he called out to his wife.

“I’m in the bathroom, love,” she called back.

The knock at the door rasped once more, impatient this time. He wolfed down a piece of bread and followed it with a gulp of tea before rushing off to the door. He opened it and smiled. It was Button Nose.

“Oh, you,” he said. But his smile quickly froze. There was a trickle of clotted blood on her lower lip where she had been bruised by a blow. Over her shoulders were two men in black. One was short and plump; his belly was almost bursting through his shirt and sagged over his belt. His face was round and unsmiling. The other was lanky, moustachioed. His trousers would have slipped off his waist but for the belt that clasped it in place. He looked like a wasp forced into baggy trousers. Their bloodshot eyes were laden with interrupted sleep.

“This is the man, officer,” Button Nose said. “This is the man who got me pregnant and beat me up.”

In vain, he searched for signs of humour in their faces. And when the whiff of booze from the men reached him, he knew they were real policemen.

Half dressed, Sadiya rushed to the door. The shock on her face convinced her husband that she too knew nothing of this visit.

“This is another joke, right?” Sambo asked, looking from one face to the other.

The round officer looked him up disdainfully and said: “You think life is a freaking joke?”

***

Abubakar Adam Ibrahim is the author of The Quest for Nina and winner of the 2007 BBC African Performance Playwriting Competition and the Amatu Braide Prize for Prose.