ESTHER
“So, how’s motherhood treating you?” Tara asked.
They had finally ordered their mains; seafood linguine for Tara, lamb shank for Esther; and gotten the small talk out of the way. The table was tucked in a cozy corner of the restaurant, where the noise of laughter and clinking cutlery faded just enough to allow for something deeper.
Esther shifted in her seat, the leather squeaking beneath her. Her limbs felt heavy, like her bones had soaked up the weariness of the morning. Still, she was glad to be here, even though her mascara had flaked a little under her eyes and her lipstick had smudged a little. She’d almost cancelled on Tara, she had come this close, especially after her hysterical breakdown at home. But something about this moment, this escape, this opportunity to talk to an adult, felt like oxygen. She’d decided this morning, with shaky resolve, that she was going out whether or not Kunle approved.
But then, Dara had sensed something was different and he’d clung to her with damp fists, whimpering the second she tried to hand him over.
“See? He doesn’t want me,”Kunle had said with a shrug, as if that proved a long-held point.
“He doesn’t want you because you never want him,” she snapped. “You never hold him, Kunle.”
“Well, someone has to bring in the money around here,” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.
Esther had felt heat rise in her throat like acid. “Then let’s switch places. I’ll work. You take care of Dara full-time.”
Kunle backed away, his brows drawn in disbelief, as if she’d hit him physically, “my mother was always at home to take care of us. It was my dad who worked. It was his duty. They both understood their roles.”
“Wake up, Kunle. It’s 2025. Men can be stay at home dads too,” she said. “Besides, this is our family. I don’t care what your parents did back then, we are doing things differently.”
“Fine. Leave him then. Let him cry.” Kunle had raised his arms in surrender. “Fine. Leave him. Let him cry.”
And Esther had.
She’d posted handwritten instructions on the fridge the night before: feeding times, nap routine, favorite lullabies. It had taken all her strength to walk out the door that morning. Dara had burst into tears the second she placed him in the playpen. She’d hovered at the threshold, fingers twitching with the urge to scoop him up. But she didn’t.
“Esther? Esther? Esther!” Kunle’s voice had chased her down the hallway.
She turned once, keys clenched in hand. “He’s your son too,” she said, then shut the door and raced to the car, her heart pounding.
When she was in the car, she drove until she could not see the house behind her, then she pulled over and let the tears come.
Now, with Tara sitting across from her, Esther resisted the urge to check her phone for missed calls or messages from Kunle. The screen was dark, silenced on purpose. She wanted, no, needed, to be present, even if her nerves still buzzed from the morning’s chaos.
The low hum of conversation around them rose and fell like a tide. Clinking cutlery, the faint scent of grilled garlic butter from a nearby table, and the soft jazz playing overhead created a gentle buffer around their small booth. Esther leaned back into the leather banquette, trying to let her body relax into the rhythm of the room.
“Esther?” Tara’s voice brought her back.
“Hmm?” She looked up. “Oh yeah…motherhood is, um… it’s beautiful. I love it.”
“Yeah, same. Beautiful.” Tara stared out the window as she spoke, her eyes following something unseen beyond the passing cars and blurred reflections.
“Er…what surprised you most about becoming a mum?” Esther asked. She knew conversations, like volleyball, worked best when you kept the ball in motion.
“Honestly? I still feel like I’m being surprised everyday,” Tara gave a small laugh and traced a finger along the rim of her water glass.
“Okay, your first surprise then.”
“I think…how much they needed me. That surprised me. Like, I couldn’t just go out on my own anymore. I was responsible for two tiny humans.”
“Hmmm, that was definitely a surprise. For me, it was sleep. Like, I didn’t know how much of life revolved around children’s sleep until I had a child. I have to plan my activities around Dara’s naps.”
“Speaking of activities, are you off content creation duty today?”
Esther hesitated, watching her face. Was Tara teasing? Curious? The tone was hard to place.
“Believe it or not, I am not in the mood to create content today,” she said honestly.
“Oh. I didn’t know it was a mood thing. Isn’t it, like, your work?”
“Listen Tara, if you’re going to judge me, just…”
“No, no, I’m not judging you. I promise. I’m just curious. I’m… trying to get to know you. I don’t know about you, but motherhood is lonelier than I expected. Which is wild, considering how many of us there are.”
Esther blinked. She hadn’t expected that vulnerability. Tara always seemed so… contained.
“I agree,” Esther said. “I thought becoming a mum meant I was going to be… initiated into this elite community. We’d bond over feedings and milestones, cheer each other on. But instead, it’s weirdly isolating.”
“How can you be among other mums and still feel alone? That’s a valid question.”
“I think maybe because we’re all afraid of being judged, we end up lying. Or pretending. Or just… not sharing.”
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Afraid of being judged?”
Esther didn’t even need to think. “Absolutely.”
“But you seem so…”
“Brazen?”
“You seem like you don’t care what others think of you. I mean, it’s something I admire but…”
“Tara, content creation is literally about caring what people think.”
“Yes, but…you seem so secure, so confident and sure of yourself.”
Esther laughed softly, a bitter edge to it. “Thank you, I guess. How about you? Are you afraid of being judged?”
Tara exhaled, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I think my greatest critic is myself. So yes, I’m afraid of being judged by other mums, but especially by myself.”
“Give yourself grace, girl. You had twins. That’s a big deal.”
“Everyone keeps saying that like it’s some sort of achievement. Yes, I had twins but not because I did anything special or different than you or anyone else. I had sex like everyone else, I just happened to be unlucky to have two embryos.”
Esther didn’t respond. She let the silence bloom.
“I’m just…I mean, not unlucky, just…I guess I got double blessings, right?” Tara gave a weak laugh, eyes back on the menu. “Let’s order dessert.”
Esther felt something slip away. It was the closest they’d come to peeling back the layers of their carefully curated selves. She didn’t want to lose it.
She had never thought that Tara considered herself unlucky to have had twins. What kind of mother felt that way?
Ah, and there it was, the judgment they both feared.
“I love my daughters, and I’m grateful for them,” Tara said, still flipping through the dessert menu. “It’s just overwhelming sometimes and I wonder what it would have been like if I had just one baby.”
Esther nodded, feeling bad at her earlier judgment of Tara, “I know how hard it is with one baby, so I can’t imagine what it must be like with two.”
“Double the fun, right?” Tara said, “the bright side is I don’t have to do the whole pregnancy thing again. How about you? How many children are you looking to have?”
It was a soft pivot, and Esther was glad for it.
“Honestly, before now, I wanted three kids. But…I believe I was naive then. Right now, I’m grateful for Dara and I don’t know if I want to have more.”
“Really? One and done?”
“I’m not sure. My husband is…hmmm…let’s just say, this is not the partnership I was hoping for when we first got pregnant. He seems overwhelmed by parenting. How is your husband showing up?”
“Oh, Jem is really great with the girls. Sometimes I think they prefer him to me,” Tara said, with a hollow laugh. “He’s always wanted to be a dad, so it wasn’t hard for him to step into the role.”
“And he’s always been like that? Like, he didn’t need a month or two to settle into the idea of daddying?”
“He wore them their first diapers,” Tara said, “it was the sweetest thing. I cried on the operating table.”
“Hmm, that’s…you’re lucky.”
“How about you? Is your husband coping well with parenting?”
Esther ran her fingers along the seam of her cloth napkin. How much should she share?
She recalled how she’d judged Tara a few moments ago subconsciously. What if Tara did the same to her? But Tara had been vulnerable with her, and Esther realised that if she wanted to get rid of some of the loneliness, she needed to be willing to open up.
“He’s struggling,” she said eventually. “I don’t think he thinks he’s capable and I don’t know how to fix that.”
Tara said nothing for a moment, just nodded.
“I think we have different parenting ideals, you know?” Esther continued. “I think there are so many conversations we skipped when we were dating, so many things we should have talked about that we didn’t and it’s back to bite us in the behind.”
Tara nodded, “I can relate to having different ideals. Jem and I struggle with that too. But, it’s like, how do you know what to expect? I don’t think I thought too much about what kind of dad Jem woul dbe when we first met. I was more interested in the kind of man he was to me.”
“Same here, sis. I wonder now, how do you even know what kind of father someone will be? What signs should I have been keeping an eye out for? Did he even know what kind of father he was going to be? Do you choose the kind of parent you are, or is it already in you? It’s like being a mum too. How do I know I’m going to be a great mum? Is it a choice? Or something you grow into? And isn’t good parenting subjective anyway? Sorry, I’m getting all philosophical on you.”
“No, that’s okay. You’re asking the right questions. It’s given me food for thought, Esther. Thank you.”
“This was nice,” Esther said, glancing at her watch. “Whoa. I can’t believe it’s been over two hours!”
Outside, the afternoon had mellowed into a golden hush. The breeze carried the scent of grilled meat and salt from a nearby kitchen, mingling with the perfume Esther had spritzed on hours ago, faint now, but still clinging to her wrist.
The two women stood facing each other in the parking lot, the silence between them full of something unsaid but not unwelcome.
Just as Tara turned to go, Esther said, too quickly, “Do you mind if I hug you?”
She didn’t know why she asked. She only knew she suddenly couldn’t bear for the moment to end with a wave and a half-smile. Some part of her feared that this wasn’t a beginning, that once they walked away, they’d retreat into their private cocoons, continuing the quiet game of hide-and-seek with their realities.
Tara blinked, surprised. Then she smiled softly and closed the space between them.
Esther wrapped her arms around her, and for a second, they both just breathed. The warmth, the shared weight, the strange comfort of being held not by a partner or child, but by another woman who understood without needing more words.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Esther said, her voice low, hoping the pinch of desperation didn’t betray her.
“You too,” Tara murmured, and when they let go, Esther could feel the imprint of connection lingering on her skin like sunlight.
They stepped apart.