ESTHER
Esther: Hi ladies, it’s been a bit quiet in here. How are we doing?
Cleo: Good, nothing much happening over here. You?
Esther: I was at Mums group today. Didn’t see either of you there.
Cleo: Oh. Had so much on my plate, it totally slipped my mind. How did it go?
Esther: The usual. Boring, without any of you there.
Cleo: Aww, sorry, love.
Esther: Tara, sending you hugssss.
Cleo:
Esther: So, how are we feeling about my tea party coming up next week?
Cleo: Oh, wow. I totally forgot! What day is it again?
Esther: Saturday. I actually moved it from this weekend to next weekend.
Cleo: Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetie. I’ll tack it on my calendar now.
Esther: Tara, I would love to see you there. It’ll be a good way to destress, maybe?
Cleo:
Esther: I’ll send the deets across, girlies.
When they were growing up, and even early into their adult years, Esther’s sister Naomi often called her selfish. Most of their fights revolved around Esther’s perceived sense of self. Whereas Esther thought her sister needed to look out for herself more often, rather than being willing to be the sacrificial lamb at every given point. She’d been that way before their mother died, and then, when their mother died, Naomi had settled more into that role of selfless service. She gave up things so her sisters could have them, but then became resentful when nobody acknowledged her sacrifice.
Esther, on the other hand, had always put herself first, and when she became an adult and went to work in the corporate world, that sense of self-preservation had served her well. She had a doggedness that kept her at the top of her game in her workplace; she went after clients and didn’t look back. She had, on two occasions, closed a deal that belonged to a colleague and had gladly received the recognition for her hard work. That was life, she believed. It was either she took it by the balls, or she was left with crumbs, and she hated crumbs.
It was this sense of self-preservation that made her proceed with her tea party plans. She’d heard from Cleo that Tara was back but taking a hiatus from social media, so she knew that it was safe to proceed.
She’d called Tara twice and had received no response, and that had stung. Why was Tara communicating with Cleo, and yet not responding to Esther’s numerous calls and messages?
She’d thought that after their Mother’s Day lunch, they had begun to make their way towards each other. And yet Esther was aware that Tara had let her mask slip that day, and she hadn’t returned the favour; rather, she’d judged her.
Friendships could not thrive successfully if there was an invisible wall. Esther knew a lot about walls. She’d had to put up with many after her mother died. She didn’t want to be dealt such a heavy blow like that in her life ever again.
Again, it was her sense of self-preservation that had kicked in. It was what was keeping her ahead in this marriage. She wasn’t doing all she did because she wanted to be crowned super-mum, no, she was doing her best because that was who she was. She was the woman who wanted to have it all. A family and a thriving career. She was not going to be her mother; she was not going to have to make do with crumbs.
She picked up her phone and texted Tara again.
Hey mama. How are you feeling? Missing you over here, and hope to see you at the tea party on Saturday!
Her thumb hovered after she hit send, her reflection faint in the black screen, jaw tight. The untouched mug of peppermint tea beside her had long gone cold, its sharp scent still cutting through the room.
Friendships had always been hard for Esther, thanks to those walls. Her friends from university had also said she was selfish. She would sit out a friend’s birthday party because she had exams the next day, and when they called her out on it, she would shrug and say her priorities were her priorities.
In the exam hall, she sat in front with her back ramrod straight, ignoring whispered questions for answers from her friends. She had a goal, and her habits matched her goals. She wanted to be the best academically in her set, and she’d always needed to study extra to achieve those goals. It was a promise she’d made to her mother after she was gone.
She’d heard her mother say so many times that she wished she could go back to school to complete her education, but her business was booming and her children needed her. Esther thought her mother was brilliant, and if she’d gone back to school, she would have aced her classes. Her unexpected death had made Esther think, and then she’d promised her mother on one of those nights when grief hit her like a trailer, that she would excel at school on her behalf.
She’d pushed herself everywhere, at school, at work, until it became a constant state of being in her life – this yearning to be more, to be the best, competing with herself even when she didn’t need to. And yet, she didn’t know how to stop.
Marrying Kunle had slowed her down in some ways; love had made her softer, gentler, ready to pause and smell the roses. But it was having Dara that had done a number on her. A part of her wanted to relax, to melt into motherhood, to be still and enjoy stillness, but the other part? That part wanted to keep going, to show the world—herself, really—that she could do it all, have it all. She wasn’t her mother, who had to choose.
It was why she wasn’t backing down from this collaboration offer. Content creation and social media influencing were a new and unpredictable territory for her. There were no deals to close, no clear targets to hit, just people to please, people you had to pretend to like so they would like you (like your posts) and somehow make money off that likeability.
It was hard, especially since Esther knew she wasn’t likable. She wasn’t a girl’s girl like Cleo; she didn’t light up a room when she walked in. If anything, she made people flee.
Did she wish she were more like Cleo? Sometimes, yes. If only it meant she could relax, not feel like she had to be defensive all the time, not feel the invisible weight she had picked up when her mother died that she couldn’t seem to let go of now.
Cleo was carefree and light; that’s what Esther wanted, but it was too late to pretend she was what she wasn’t.
“Babe, Mummy wants to come visit soon.” Kunle’s voice wafted into her thoughts, muffled from down the hall.
Why did it feel like they spent their days in different parts of the house? It was a reasonably sized home, four bedrooms, one downstairs, which was supposed to be their study/office, but had so far been used as storage for the multiple gifts people had gotten off their registry for Dara. Kunle kept promising he would declutter the room, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
The first time they saw the house, Esther had immediately fallen in love with the huge windows and the back deck where she had pictured sitting in summer, sipping margaritas or ice cream. They had been living there for a year, and yet there were parts of the house that still felt strange to her.
The thought of her mother-in-law returning for a visit sent shivers down her spine. She knew that Kunle often basked in his mother’s presence and the warm glow she bathed him in. She didn’t want a regression now that it felt like they were making progress, even if it was baby steps. Kunle was more open to learning to become the father she knew he could be.
She pretended not to hear him. She was doing more and more of that these days, and honestly, it felt like they had boycotted many arguments because of it.
He came in, holding Dara like a football, and Esther smiled. Since Dara had learned to sit, Kunle had become more confident handling him. The other day, he had even volunteered to feed him his cereal, and even though it hadn’t gone as planned, Esther was still grateful for those baby efforts.
Kunle transferred Dara to his other arm, the scent of baby lotion clinging to him. “Did you hear me?” he asked, his tone casual but edged.
Esther’s smile faltered. “I heard.”
She took a sip of her now-cold tea to distract herself, then glanced at the clock hung on the wall.
“And?”
“Dara needs to go down for a nap soon,” she said, desperate to move on from the conversation. “Also, any ideas for my tea party? I’m thinking of themes that are uplifting and you know, spring-y…”
“I know what you’re doing,” Kunle said. “You must think I’m stupid.”
Esther glanced at Dara, who was beginning to squirm in his father’s grasp.
“Can we not, Kunle?” she asked.
“I’m not doing anything. You’re the one pretending you can’t hear me.”
“But I said I heard you.”
“And?”
The silence stretched, broken only by Dara’s gurgle. Esther traced the rim of her mug against her fingertip before meeting Kunle’s eyes. “And I don’t want her here right now.”
His brows shot up. “She’s my mother.”
“And this is our home,” Esther replied, her voice low but firm. “I can’t keep adjusting, cleaning up, walking on eggshells whenever she’s around. Not when we’re barely figuring ourselves out.”
Kunle shifted Dara on his hip, his jaw tightening. “You make it sound like she’s the problem.”
Esther’s chest burned, frustration rising. “She’s not the problem. We are. And if she comes now, we’ll both just keep pretending everything’s fine.”
For once, she didn’t look away.