|Image from here|
“Yes,” I’m fiddling with the toaster so I’m barely listening. I wonder what Mona has done again to make another appliance, which had been working perfectly before she touched it, start to malfunction. And when I called her Touch of Death she would complain.
“Are you and mummy getting a divorce?”
My ears perk up and I stop fiddling. I turn to look at Leke. He hitches his glasses up on his nose and blinks back at me, but otherwise he’s perfectly still.
“Ah-ah, Leke. Where did you hear that?”
He swings his leg from the kitchen counter where he is perched, and I remember that Mona hates it when I let him sit there.
“Chuks told me. He said that when you start hearing your parents shouting in their room, then it means they will soon get divorced.”
Leke’s eyes remain on me as he waits for an answer, and I think it tragic that at age eight he doesn’t need me to explain to him what a divorce is. I didn’t know what a divorce was when I was eight. The world has changed, and much of it not for good.
“So when did you hear me and your mummy shouting?”
I know Mona and I have never argued in front of Leke, but still I turn the last few weeks over in my head and cannot come up with one instance when we might have let our guard down enough to raise our voices with him around.
“Yesterday night. I woke up to pee, and I heard mummy…,” I see his eyes narrow behind his glasses. “Daddy, were you beating my mummy?”
Darn. He must have heard us last night. And maybe on other nights before yesterday? Mona had discovered a sex shop a few months back and her excitement had been incredible to watch. Now once a week she would come home with a nondescript grey bag, in which she would tuck the carrier bag from Sex for Sale. She’d found her Nirvana here on earth, and not too far from our house too. Every week there was a different theme, dictated by what she had in her bag.
Mona is very… adventurous. And loud. Last night was the middle of S and M week. She’d turned our bedroom into a dungeon, and we took turns driving each other to the brink of insanity and back. While I’d been able to take my pleasure quietly, Mona has never demonstrated this capacity. Ordinarily I don’t mind; I actually kind of like it, but only when there’s no listening audience. And this time she’d made enough noise to scare our son, whose bedroom was on a different floor! And when I call her Police Siren she will start to vex.
“Leke, relax. Your mummy and I are not getting divorced. We love each other very much. And we love you too,” I ruffle his thick curls as I say this, and he smiles.
“And you did not beat mummy?” his eyes regard me warily.
“Oh no. Your mummy and I were just… playing rough.”
Leke considers this for a moment.
“Me and Chuks play rough sometimes.” He pulls his earlobes in warning, “But Daddy I hope you are not telling a lie o. I’m going to ask Mummy when she comes back.”
I smile to myself, picturing how Mona would keep her face to answer Leke. “You can ask her, Leke. But she’ll probably tell you the same thing.”
“Okay o,” he jumps down from the counter and bounces off in the direction of the living room. I turn back to the toaster just as my phone starts to ring. Siren calling.
“Babes,” her voice is warm, like the honey from two weeks ago. “You won’t believe what just came in at Sex for Sale today.”
“I’m sure I’ll find out.”
“Oh, you will. Next week, I’m going to make you explode. Literally.”
I remember the way she’d licked that warm honey clean off me and sweat breaks out above my upper lip.
“I’ll see you later.”
I rush to speak. “Oh, hey, hey, Mona?”
“Honey, while you’re there, could you get a nice soft piece of fabric. Like a silk scarf maybe?”
There’s a slight pause.
“Ooh, are you getting ideas?” she purrs.
“Um… something just came to me, barely minutes ago.”
“Care to share?”
“No, you’ll see.”
“Okay.” Her voice is excited. Like a little girl’s. “You know how I enjoy planning these things, but it’s good to have you put in your thoughts sometimes. Okay, I’ll see you when I get back.”
The silk scarf might work for S and M week, but I would have to think of an excuse for gagging her after that.