ORE
The day had arrived. If anyone asked Ore, she would deny that she had been anticipating this day, giddy like a school girl on the first day of school. She would swear that she did not buy the new outfit hanging in her wardrobe: a little red number that showed off her legs like Ramsey liked and showed a hint of cleavage. She would pretend that she wasn’t hovering over their housemaid because she wanted everything to be perfect for Terry.
She had even gone to the kitchen and offered to make the chicken curry for tonight’s dinner because she wanted to own something on the menu. Of course, Aisha had looked at her like she was half-crazy before saying “I can do it, ma.” in a dismissive tone.
Sometimes Ore wondered what Aisha thought of her, wondered about the secrets she kept, the things she had seen working for Ramsey all these years. When she first visited Ramsy when they were still dating, she had been surprised at the neatness of his home. It was nothing like the bachelor’s pad she was expecting, even for a rich guy.
“You clean a lot?” she asked Ramsey then.
“I wish,” he’d laughed. “Aisha has been with me for years. She’s responsible for the clean house and my food. You will meet her someday.”
When she eventually met Aisha, it was the day after he proposed and he’d asked Aisha to make dinner for them. She was a tiny woman with a severe-looking face and a nose like a beak. She didn’t look a day over forty, but Ramsey shared that she was in her mid-fifties and had five children of her own.
Ore had had this fantasy that she and Aisha would bond over stories about Ramsey; how many women had he brought to his home? What was he like as a person?
But Aisha didn’t speak often, whether as a matter of habit or because she had been instructed not to, Ore didn’t know.
Sometimes, when they crossed paths in the house, Ore thought she felt Aisha’s judgmental eyes on her, perhaps wondering what made her a wife if she could not cook or clean.
To be honest, there were times she missed the simplicity of her single life. When she could wake up in the morning, decide what she wanted to eat and make it, when she could go to the market whenever she wanted and pick up the items she wanted, feel them in her hands, haggle the price with the seller, and leave with a sense of satisfaction knowing she got a good deal.
Ever since marrying Ramsey, Ore’s grocery shopping was reduced to big stores like Shoprite, while Aisha made the trips to the market armed with an extensive list of what she needed in the kitchen.
It wasn’t like Ore was such a big fan of cooking in the first place, but it would have been nice to know she had a choice. It would have been nice to sit down with her husband to a meal she prepared. Would have been nice to hear a compliment about her cooking.
But oh well, this was the life she had signed up for, a life that seemed exciting at first but had now taken on a sinister meaning. What if Ramsey’s luxury was another way of controlling her, keeping her contained? Ha, contained, like she was some virus.
Today though, she had told Aisha what she wanted on the menu and hadn’t blinked when Aisha said “ma” twice when she told her she wanted smoked salmon.
“Is that going to be a problem?” she asked, trying hard not to laugh at the utter look of confusion on Aisha’s face.
“Erm…”
“There’s a YouTube recipe I can send you. And I bought the salmon the other day so it’s in the freezer.”
“Okay ma, okay.”
Ore wanted an intercontinental menu tonight. Terry wasn’t Nigerian so he would be used to having a variety of foods. There was no point limiting the menu to traditional Nigerian food.
“And minimal pepper in everything tonight, please,” she added.
“Yes, ma.”
That evening, shortly before Ramsey pulled up to the house, Ore closed her eyes and tried to picture Terry’s face. His Facebook message was still stuck in her head, and his voice…oh his adorable British voice.
What was she going to do? How was she going to act around him knowing what he wanted? She had not replied to his message, hadn’t known what to say.
He excited her, she couldn’t lie about that. But what she didn’t know was whether he excited her as a person or because of what he represented – a little naughty secret to be kept from her husband.
Well, she guessed she would find out tonight.
In the shower, she scrubbed herself down slowly, mimicking a dance. She pretended she was an actress starring in a movie, a woman of the world who lived alone and was in control of her life. She hummed a song she didn’t know as the water cascaded down her body and pooled at her feet. So lost was she in the moment that she didn’t hear the door open nor did she sense someone in the bathroom with her, until she felt his breath against the back of her neck.
“Jesus!”
“Not Jesus, just me your husband,” Ramsey’s low voice filled her ears.
“You scared me,” she said.
“Hmmm, you smell so good,” he pressed his knee into her buttocks.
“Babe…”
“We’ve got time. Terry won’t be here for another hour.”
“Yes but…”
“Mmm mmm…no buts. Girl, you drive me crazy.”
It was supposed to be a compliment but why oh why did it feel like a threat? Ore shivered as he pressed his palms into her shoulder.
“Turn the shower off,” he whispered.
She did as he asked.
“Now, look at me.”
Once upon a time, this had been sexy. A man in charge, a man who knew what he wanted. She had loved it then too. But now, three years down the line, she was wary of it. What had once seemed sexy now felt tacky like a low-budget BDSM romcom.
“Babe, I really don’t…” she started.
He grabbed her arm in a rough move and swung her around to face him.
Ore screamed. How far was too far?
“Do you want me to fall and hit my head?” she yelled. “It’s slippery in here, don’t you see?”
He stared at her and she held her breath. Held her ground. Aisha was in the house, he wouldn’t try anything. To be honest, he’d never tried anything. Nothing tangible enough to hold on to, at least.
So why, why did she feel this fear as he towered above her, with a flare in his eyes?
“Babe, I…” she started, unsure what she was about to say.
She was glad he didn’t let her finish before closing the distance between them and covering her lips with his.
This time, Ore didn’t fight it. Her body and mind succumbed as it always did. It could be worse, she thought as his tongue probed her mouth and his fingers, the crevices of her body.
It was over in fifteen minutes and crazy as it was, she’d enjoyed it. With sex, Ramsey was good at listening to, and following her cue most times. He gave nearly as much as he took. Yes, there was the occasional time when he went ahead and took all he wanted without giving anything back. Times when she wondered what he thought of as he slammed himself into her again and again.
He climbed out of the tub as quietly as he had gotten in.
“I’ll take a shower when you’re out,” he said. He couldn’t stand her water temperature so they often took baths separately.
She couldn’t look at him as she nodded. Why did she feel shame? Why did she feel cheap?
**
Terry arrived on time. At exactly 7 pm, the doorbell rang alerting them to his presence.
It was Ramsey who answered the door. He liked being the one who opened the door to his home and he liked Ore coming downstairs after.
It was his kingdom and he wanted to show it all off.
From her spot behind the pillar upstairs, she heard them exchange pleasantries. Her pulse quickened when she heard the low rumble of Terry’s voice.
Quickly she retreated to their bedroom to take one last look at her makeup.
She had gone for a demure look this evening, she didn’t want to seem like she had put in too much work even though she had spent almost half an hour trying to get the eyes right.
What was she doing? Why was she acting like she was going on a date rather than hosting her husband’s investor to dinner at their home?
For a brief second, she wanted to call her mother, to hear her voice and hear her tell her what to do.
Then she remembered. Mummy was gone. She’d been gone for three years now. Gone.
And maybe it was her fault. Maybe if she hadn’t been a selfish little child refusing to see her father’s flaws, maybe her mother would have left for good and had a chance at a happier, healthier and different life.
God, why was she thinking about this now? Why get sentimental about circumstances she had no control over?
It was all Benjy’s fault, she concluded.
He had made her start to think about her childhood, made her begin to question things that she thought she knew.
Snap out of it. She needed to go downstairs and play charming hostess otherwise Ramsey would get antsy and start giving her the eye.
She opened the door and stepped out, took a deep breath, and began to descend the stairs.
The effect of her entrance was exactly what Ramsey wanted.
“And there she is,” he said, looking up from his conversation with Terry. “The most beautiful woman in the world.”
She smiled, playing her part perfectly.
“Oh honey, stop,” she said, reaching out to take the hand he offered.
“Nice to see you again Mrs Daniel-Asabe,” Terry said, holding out a hand. “You look absolutely stunning.”
She let him take her other hand and tried not to blush when he planted a kiss on it.
“Nice to see you again…Terry,” she said. She couldn’t remember his last name and what was the use in pretending formality? “And you can call me Ore.”
“Ah yes, Ore,” he pronounced it well enough for a non-Nigerian. “What did you say it means again?”
His eyes twinkled at her it was mesmerizing. She cleared her throat to cover her nerves.
“Gift. The full name is Oreoluwa, which means gift of God.”
“Ah. She must be a gift to you then, my friend,” Terry spoke to Ramsey but kept his eyes on Ore.
Those eyes…eish.
Ore blinked and looked away.
“That she is,” Ramsey slipped an arm around her waist and leaned over to peck her lips lightly.
To the average onlooker, they were a young handsome couple very much in love. They didn’t see the attraction to Terry that Ore was fighting to hide. Nor did they see the possessive way Ramsey’s arm curled around her waist.
“Well then…my wife organized a splendid dinner. Shall we go take a look?” Ramsey said.
Ore breathed a sigh of relief and wore her hostess smile again.
“Of course,” Terry said.
