Bisila hung her head and exhaled all the air in her lungs. Her face was burning, and her eyes filled with tears. In an instant, she had gone from euphoria to disappointment. She would have to make do with her fantasies. She began walking briskly to the Obsay yard. What did she expect? She was a married woman and he a single man. He had every right to enjoy himself with a woman. He had been with Sade for years. Why would he not keep seeing her? For a few laughs and a couple of nice conversations with a married nurse? Was it not true she also pleasured her husband?
Night fell before Bisila could get home. At the doors to the barracks, several women lit oil lamps that splashed the shadows with flickering tongues of light. She heard some shouts and recognized Iniko’s cries. She quickened her step, her thoughts centered on her baby. When she entered her small house, he was calmer. Mosi smiled at her and handed her over her son. Bisila sat down and cradled him in her arms, whispering words in Bubi to him. Outside, some drums could be heard, and Mosi opened the door. Several neighbors were out on the street with bottles and glasses to liven up the party. There was seldom an afternoon when some short dance was not held at the end of the workday. Any excuse would do: a birthday, a wedding announcement, a pregnancy, a farewell. Lately those meetings led to a political discussion. The Nigerians were worried about the future of Fernando Po, as their work depended on it.
Bisila watched them. Like her, all her neighbors had desires, dreams, and secrets. Ekon came over, raised a glass toward Mosi, who nodded. Lialia, Ekon’s wife, waved to Bisila, then came in and sat down for a while beside her.
“Iniko is very well behaved,” said Lialia in Spanish with a heavy Nigerian accent as she petted the baby’s head with her chubby hand.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. He spends more time with you than with me.”
“I don’t mind. You have a good job. You also look after us.” She leaned toward Bisila. “You look tired . . .”
“Today was a hard day.”
“Here, all the days are hard, Bisila.”
The music of the drums got louder. They went outside. Mosi put his arm around his wife’s shoulders and drew her toward him. Bisila closed her eyes and lost herself in the rhythm of the hollow wood. That day’s beats would repeat their rhythm the following day, rebounding against the small gray-walled cement barracks laid out, one after the other, to house families like hers.
That was the world she belonged to. She was not anybody special. Everyone worked to keep their families going. The Nigerians dreamed of returning home one day, and she and Mosi of having a small house in the city. Meanwhile, they patiently occupied their place in the barracks while the children enjoyed their childish pranks in the dusty street they considered their home, as happy as they would be anywhere else.
She opened her eyes. Beside her, Lialia offered her breast to Iniko, who greedily grabbed hold of it. Lialia had four children, the last one Iniko’s age, and breasts overflowing with milk. Bisila looked at her with affection. Thanks to Ekon’s wife, she had not had to give up her work in the hospital to look after her son, as had every other woman who was now enjoying the party and their men. Mosi leaned down, searching for her lips. Bisila mechanically responded to his kiss while her mind wandered to the room where, probably, Kilian was kissing Sade.
Each in their own place, she thought. Like yesterday, and like each and every other day before. She did not feel jealousy or anxiety or even a deep sadness, rather, the inner certainty that the past and the present would not conquer the future. Time did not exist. A century’s wait would be reduced to a second the moment Kilian was completely hers.
She was a reasonable woman and extremely patient. More than that. She had an unquenchable faith in destiny’s strange designs.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oba told me you have been back for weeks. Since you didn’t come to visit me, I came to you.”
Sade strode into Kilian’s room with determination. She threw a glance around the simple room, went over to the bed, and sat down. The narrow dress tightened even more against her thighs. She crossed her legs and rocked her foot in the air.
“Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Kilian closed the door and leaned against it with his arms folded across his chest.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Sade patted the bed, and her voice took on a syrupy tone. “Come on, sit beside me.”
“I’m fine here, thanks,” Kilian said brusquely.
Sade twisted her lips. She got up and walked toward him. “Relax, Massa.” She stopped just a few centimeters from him, raised a hand, and slid a finger along his strong jaw. “We have to make up for lost time.”
She planted a soft kiss on his lips, which he received coldly. With the tip of her tongue, she began to draw along the outline of Kilian’s mouth, as she had done so many times before.
Kilian closed his eyes and clenched his fists. After such a long time, she knew perfectly well how to excite him. If this continued, he would end up giving in. He had not been with a woman for many months, and Sade was more than tempting. Any other man, including himself in other circumstances, would gladly accept her offer. He would throw her on the bed and absorb all her exuberant heat. But something had changed in him. In his mind and his heart, there was only room for one person. He gently put his hands on Sade’s shoulders and moved her away.
“I’m sorry, Sade. No.”
She scowled. “Why?”
“It’s over.”
“You’ve gotten tired of me.” Sade pursed her lips. After a few seconds, she said, “Now I understand. There’s someone else.”
“No, that’s not it.”
“You’re lying. You’re not like your brother. He likes all girls. If you don’t want to be with me now, it’s because someone, and only one, has stolen your heart. Tell me, do I know her?” Her tone was high-pitched. “What has she got that I haven’t?” She shook her head. “Maybe she’s Spanish . . . Have you made plans for the wedding yet?” She cackled. “When you get tired of her, you’ll come back to me, as they all do.”
Kilian became defensive. “As far as I know, I have shared you with other men. I don’t owe you anything.”
Sade’s chin began to tremble, and her breathing became agitated. “Just because I make my living as I do,” she said through her teeth, “doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. You’re like the rest of them!”
Kilian wiped his brow. Large drops of sweat dissolved in his fingers. He had known for a while that this unfortunate scene would happen. He had thought of offering Sade different excuses, hoping that she, used to dealing with many men, would just accept it. But she was right. Not for one moment had he thought about her feelings. He felt his mouth go dry. He went over to the basin and filled a glass of water. Sade remained close to the door, her head held high. She was beautiful, much more so than Bisila. But she was not Bisila.