WHERE THE RAIN REFUSE TO FALL
SERIES ONE: THE DOOR I SHOULDN'T HAVE STOOD BEHIND
I stand by the door and eavesdrop.
It’s not something I’m proud of, but right now, I just need to hear… something. Anything that will help me make sense of the shift in the air from the woman who had sounded so gracious over the phone just two weeks ago.
“Maathai,” her voice slices through the silence like a hot blade through palm butter. “What is the meaning of all this?”
I stiffen.
“Why are you being like this?” he asks her. There’s pain in his voice, but he’s still measured, still my Maathai, the one who folds his clothes before losing his temper.
“I’m not being difficult,” she replies. “I’m being truthful.”
“Which is…?”
“You cannot marry her.”
My heart drops.
“No son of mine is ever marrying from that tribe or any other.”
I lean in closer. The words taste like rusted metal in my mouth. “But Mom, why?” Maathai is pleading now. “She’s the one I love.”
Never! Then find someone else to love, because I am not accepting this one. Not today, not tomorrow. There are equally good Kikuyu women, maybe even better!”
I want to stop listening. I do. But the words have tied invisible strings around my limbs. I am frozen, a bystander in my own life.
“She’s the one I like, Mom. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Impossible. I will not accept a Lou as a daughter-in-law!”
Silence. Then a low gasp. I don’t know if it was his or mine.
“You’re being irrational, Mom,” Maathai says, the tremor in his voice now obvious. “You of all people should know better. You’re educated. You’ve travelled. You’ve"
“Me? Irrational?” Her voice hardens. “Call it what you want. I’ve said my own. And see? She hasn’t even married you yet, and she’s already turned you against me, your mother!”
My throat tightens.
“She’s done nothing wrong, Mom,” he says, weaker now. “She deserves a chance.”
“Then it’s her or me,” she says. “Let me know when you’ve made your choice. I have nothing else to say.”
There’s a long pause.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
Then the door opens. Bangs shut.
Bitterly, my chest feels pregnant with all the words I may never get to say. I stroll toward the car we came in. Each step feels like a betrayal of my hope.
Another door bangs behind me.
Footsteps.
He’s coming.
I sit in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the trees across the compound. I stare at their leaves fluttering like they have no idea someone’s world just cracked in two.
He slides into the driver’s seat. His shoulders slumped, and his energy collapsed into itself. The usual light in his eyes is gone. What remains is… fatigue.
“I know you heard everything,” he says.
It’s not a question. But I nod anyway.
“I’m sorry you had to hear all that, Abuto,” he says. “My mother… she’s not a bad person. I promise I’ll sort everything out.”
I nod again. Smile, but the kind of smile that says, I don’t believe you, but I wish I could. He takes my hand and squeezes it.
I don’t squeeze back.
He starts the car, and I look back at the house one more time. Its orange walls glow gently in the evening sun, warm and cruel at once. Who knows? It could be the last time I ever see it.
As we drive off, I let the tears fall freely. They trace the curves of my cheeks like lost children searching for home. I bite my lower lip and whisper to no one in particular.
“Why does it have to be this hard… to love?”
To be continued…