Pelu is screaming again. I am not surprised though I wonder what it is this time around. I reluctantly roll out of bed as I try not to wake Dare. I do not want to hear another sermon; just need to get to my baby. I catch a glance of myself in the hallway mirror as I tiptoe along.
Who is that woman? She does not look good, I think to myself. I stop momentarily, sweep my hair back, dab my eyes, and pat my lower lip then continue down the hallway.
As I get closer to Pelu’s room, the sound fades. I freeze at his door and peek in. He is on his stomach, drifting back to sleep. I go in anyway, pat his hair, kiss him softly, put his cover spread back on, and silently stand and wait for the heart beat that tells me he is still here. There it is.
“Good morning, Titi,” says Dare, as he walks into the kitchen.
What is good about this morning, I wonder, looking up at my husband? “Morning, Dare,” I offer.
“What are we having for breakfast?” he asks, stroking my hair and planting a peck on my forehead.
“Breakfast? At 1 p.m? Common, Dare, it is afternoon already. You slept in, yes, but the world does not stop because you are dead to it. I already had breakfast. Look in the fridge, may be you will find something for yourself. There is left-over dinner from yesterday. I just made a fruit bowl. How about some toast? Just help yourself to whatever you can find,” I reply angrily, returning to the magazine I was reading.
“Someone is grumpy this morning,” Dare says, smiling and sauntering across the kitchen towards the fridge. He grabs the fruit bowl, serves himself a helping and come over to sit with me at the table.
“What is it, Titi?” Dare asks, scooping some fruits into his mouth, a warm smile dancing on his lips.
Dare did not just ask me that question. No, he did not, I think to myself.
“You are asking me what is it, Dare? What is what? What is it that makes me ask to be left alone, to be allowed a moment of silence while I read this book and try not to fall asleep at mid-day? Well I have some questions for you too. What is it that makes you dead to the world less than 10 minutes after you fall asleep? What is it that prevents you from hearing the loud screams that come from Pelu’s bedroom not once, twice, but sometimes four times in one night?
“What fatigue prevents you from hearing your own son when he is in agony and can hardly get any sleep? Why are you oblivious to the several trips I make in the middle of the night in response to the shrieks coming from Pelu’s bedroom? How are you able to sleep through such loud noises as he makes and such rushed trips as I have to make to check that he is ok and tuck him back into bed? What is it, Dare, that prevents you from being a part of all these?”
“Honey, I am sorry,” Dare starts.
There he goes again. Yet another sermon, I think. He always starts with sorry.
He scoops another spoonful of fruit mix into his mouth and simultaneously courtesy towards me in jest, as he continues: “But you know, your majesty, I have to work so hard. I hardly get any break even at lunch time; some of my meetings run into the lunch hour. And you know your darling now; I try to embrace the little sleep I get, so I stay healthy and strong for you.”
Dare is smiling again. He does that all the time.
“Did Pelu have another episode last night? What happened? What did the Dr. say when you took him there yesterday? And what did you do when he woke up last night? Is he ok? Where is he now, in his room? Do you need me to do anything today?
“I have to be at a board meeting at 4 p.m. but I can watch him for a few hours if you need to get some sleep right now. I am sorry, Titi, but tell me what you need done and I will get to it right now. Is the laundry started? Do you need me to do grocery while you sleep? Here, I will get lunch started and you can just go back to bed. And if you would rather be here with me, then just relax while I make lunch, ok?” Dare said, looking at me from across the dining table, his smile now fading into concern and genuine interest in my needs.
“No, Dare. Not ok. Just leave it. I will do everything myself. It is Saturday and you promised to stay home this weekend. Now you are saying you have to be at work at 4 p.m? That is ok then. I don’t need you to do anything for me. I will get lunch started and laundry is already running. Just go back to your beauty sleep while I slave here, night and day, trying to make us all comfortable.
“I will wake you close to the time for your meeting. I never get any help from you in the night. You offer to help during the day; you want to do dishes, laundry, cleaning, fix things, and I appreciate all that but I wish you will help at night as well, especially with Pelu, but somehow, you always sleep through those screams. So no, I do not need your help right now. I can handle this,” I retort, standing up from the chair and storming out of the kitchen in anger.
