I am here alone on one of the two pieces of luxurious furniture that decorates my six by nine cubby house. Is it centimeters, meters, or feet? Pardon me for asking but my mathematical skill set is horribly inadequate. Lucky for you, my English is much better, so you get to hear this tale. Anyhow, my two ancient pieces are an iron bed that barely fits my frame; it is bolted to the floor with a mattress that like myself had more than a few bumps and knots. I am considered a diminutive sized woe- man. I am eleven inches below average height, and my frame is lacking meat and voluptuousness. Nevertheless, I did nurse the five children that I had by him. So, my, ‘’scrubbing board chest’’, as he liked to say had some use. Or, as we are on this matter, she was slightly bigger than I was, but she had voluptuary. Her chest seemed to keep her slim upper body floating by means of its buoyance. It was only when WE made love, that I understood why he was enamored by them, though.

 I too felt the need to bury my head in her chest and knead those globs of flesh like Nani used to do with the sada bake, as I sat in her small backyard kitchen, peeling the garlic for roast baigan and tomato choka. My eyes burned when Nani roast that red scorpion pepper on the wood fire. But, hum, if I tell you that sada and baigan with roast pepper it was heaven in hell. Exactly how I felt when my tongue tasted the slight saltiness of her. Nani is dead now, good thing, she would be scandalized by this tale; especially the part about me well, WE making love and I making love. Hands on mouth, please cover the thought. 

‘’Ok, ok, I am coming back to the script. Angel why do you interrupt my moments.’’ 

 My other piece of furniture is a bench, you guessed iron also. There is still enough room on it to hold another individual my size and it is also bolted to the floor. I am staring at my child sized feet, it is my one body part that he adored, reminded him of the ‘’Japanese geishas,’’ he said. Well, in retrospect, I lied he loved my eyes also and my slight ‘’Asian look.’’

 I am hugging myself; my unbounded strands of uncoiled waist length rope fall around me like a cloak. It is the colour of seaworn rope, autumns’ colour, sort of. I am always staring at my feet; the red stains went from bright red to a blackish sort of red. Thank God! They are no longer wettish and slimy, just dry and the red is peeling from my feet like old paint from the wall. God! I hated that wet, slimy feel. It reminded me of the time, in the bathroom, when that mass of number six slithered out of me and dropped on my feet after one of my ‘sound cutarse.’  According to him, ‘’Yuh does make me do it’’ and I deserved it. 

 For the life of me, I never understood why we Trinis liked to think that ‘a sound cutarse’ was the cure it all for every problem. Ma cut yuh ass, Pa cut yuh ass, Uncle, Auntie Nennen, Miss and anybody in between. Those who yuh didn’t tell morning on the road when yuh was going for water at five a.m. before yuh walk back home and then walk to school. And the epitome of woe-manhood is ‘if yuh man ent beat yuh he ent love yuh.’ So, I guess like everybody before him he continued the licks to show love and ensure that ‘yuh ent grow up to be a bandit or ah hoe.’ But wait I am already grown up, right? (Minus the physical un-growing up) Too confusing for me, I will stick with the easy one licks equal love. 

‘’Please, Angel, how do you know my audience do not appreciate my ramblings.’’ 

Off track again, my humble apologies, deep breath, inhale, exhale; it works, so they say. But I do not understand why it did not work for me. Not that I did not try. Lord! I did, I tried, must be those sins.

 ‘’Oh my, could you just stop being so incohesive’’. 

‘’Yes, yes, sorry again, Angel, and audience. Feet, feet, this is where I was.’’

Her feet they were the only part of her that God made ugly. Big and ugly, as if they were for a big man and God was talking to the neighbour when he was attaching them; she was nearby, and he put it on her instead. By the way, she had a pixie like face mahogany brown unlike my corn-coloured hue and her hair was the colour of the pesty blackbirds in the sun. She had a Toni Braxton cut. I guessed; she could have done that; she had enough feminine allure to make up for a little bit of hair. I did not, so I had to keep my tresses. I forgot too, my hair he loved my hair. And Ma would have gotten a heart attack had I done away with my crowning glory. It was the worst sin amongst the many worst sins that I seemed to commit on a daily basis: not listening to yuh husband; being a skeetel(she met me having a chat with the next-door neighbour, mind you he was over the fence, and I was properly dressed by her standards); not minding yuh business (not that Ma seemed to mind her own. How did she know everything about everybody within a twenty-mile radius?); not keeping yuh house clean; letting yuh chirren run wild (I was eight months pregnant, exhausted with three children, none of them older than six). But lucky for me Ma never found out what my ultimate worst sin was…

After my fifth and last child, unknowing to any of them I added sin number whatever, taking birth control. But that did not stop me from getting pregnant with number six. His method of birth control worked better though. I had a very near-death experience with Fifty (that is the nickname I called my daughter), eclampsia. Something was not feeling right, I knew; but they all said it was just my ‘usual sickening complaining way.’ Until I started to beat up like a fish on the shore and had to be rushed for emergency C-section. I was a legend at the hospital, the first case of steam rising from a stomach when it was slashed open and the baby, my third daughter was redder than the blood she came from due to the heat. My body temperature was so high it was boiling my insides, my brain, and the child inside of me.

 ‘‘And all this comess for ah girlchild,’’ he complained.

  Sitting here now, I wonder if it would not have been better if the kindly doctor who saved our lives had been caught in the usual traffic. Two weeks in hospital, I had to stay for a bit because my body was weak, eleven bags of drips in two days my arms were like octopus’s tentacles and blue, black and red. I could not even lift them. I did not hold my daughter until ten days had passed. Really, that was a good thing because I felt a strange detachment to the critter; I did not even want to see her. Sin number million and one I was a bad mother, which mother does not want to hold and cuddle their newborn. But I got over that period with a few pills and some peep- talk from my nurses. Not to mention, a little push from the head matron, she did not want to have to report me to the psych department, so I had to try to pick myself up.

During the next four months I lived between nursing my newborn, tending to my other children and cooking while sitting on a chair. Or the cooking on the chair, the first day that I came home I had to cook. Ma had no time to, ‘’come babysit yuh, I had thirteen chirren and as I push them out, I was back on meh foot, yuh go manage.’’ It was almost impossible to stand in front of the stove with my guts feeling like they were spilling out. Him, he returned to the house most times between nine p.m. and one a.m., ‘‘after all is six mouth I must feed now; unless you want to take your useless self to a work somewhere’’. Point taken.

Fifth month, enough I had to shake the fog that was rapidly covering me. He was in full bloom and even more savvy and vigorous than his usual self. A handsome dougla, tall, broad shouldered, kept his gym body going. Adonis every woman’s dream. 

‘’Yuh was lucky to have him, girls like yuh who wanted to go to school and do all kinds of unwomanly things was lucky to get man like he,’’ Ma caressed me with her words of wisdom. 

It was seven years aback when Auntie Puri showed up on the step with pumpkin vine cousin ‘’Uncle Dan’s son, who now come back from studying Engineering in England and needed a wife.’’  Ma had forgiven Uncle Dan’s indiscretion of marrying a dark-skinned creole. Since ‘’The boy turn out Engineer and was more like we side.’’ 

I was seventeen and dreaming about going to Canada to meet my other girl cousins, whose mother was not cut from the same cloth as Ma. Pa was sympathetic, he almost sent me to Canada, but Ma won the battle that went on for three months and so I became Dan’s son dulahin. Do not be surprised, if you knew Ma you would understand no one won a battle against Ma.

  Month number six, I was looking in the mirror, colour back in my skin, just a faint scar under the bikini line, same face nothing has changed, at least not physically, only the scar and a sight pouch. But he still was not touching me, I was not sure how I felt about that. Ma’s voice rang in my head about being a good wife.

‘’ If yuh man not jumping yuh like a rabbit, yuh better watch out for the next woman that he sure to have. He is ah Engineer remember that woman like them type fuh so’’.

 So, I decided to do something about this imaginary woman. To be honest, I heard him at those hours when he came in whispering like the spirits that walked the streets during those times. Oblivious to my eavesdropping from the bedroom downstairs, where I now resided with the three youngest children. My two oldest were finally’ too old to stick up under mom,’ so they slept in their bedroom upstairs. 

 ‘’I’m home, heading inside. I will pick you up early, I wish I didn’t have to leave amorcita.’’

 I was never asleep, at those moments, I waited to hear his footsteps; I wondered around in my mind about this that and the other; I gazed at my three children. Sometimes, my thoughts about them were more than enough to give someone nightmares. I thought about my life, how it would have been in Canada. I held the picture of Dollie, Asma and Habibah at their graduation ceremony, I even spliced myself in with a blue ink pen between the three musketeers.

 I was not allowed to join that group, not that my cousins did not want me, but Ma never allowed me to run wild with ‘’that band of shame’’ that my aunt was bringing up. She told Nani ‘’That rich white boy with his crazy ideas about not wearing hijab and all the other nonsense he was talking was bad business. But nobody listened to her and ‘’look now shame on the family.’’

 I always suspected though that Ma had a bad case of jealousy for her sister because the ‘rich white boy’ was brought for Ma who was past marriageable age according to tradition, at that time. But he saw my aunt. And Ma was then married to Pa. I loved Pa, but he was twenty years older than Ma and judging from the way we grew up he certainly was not rich like ‘rich white boy.’ Nor did he share ‘white boy’s’ liberal ideas. Although, in defense of Pa at times he did make concessions, but he always ended up losing by Ma.

Month number seven, I was dressed in my red lace baby doll lingerie; the one that Auntie Safiyah sent me as a wedding gift, the one I never wore. I put the kids to sleep a bit early with the help of a little soursop and cough medicine, don’t judge me. And I hoped that he showed up before the Jumbies start to walk the road tonight. I even called him and told him I made his special meal. He sounded surprised but he said he would try to make it home early. Early was about eleven. Tonight, I would try I would try to be a good wife.

‘’ Lord, I would try to change my attitude for the sake of my family, I would try to do what is right, I would try, I would try and try’’.

 I am looking at me in the mirror, I am talking to the good Lord and screwing back my head on right as they say. I present myself at the back door when I heard his familiar footsteps and his soothing voice whispering into the night. This time, I am pretending the sweet words are for me, his wife. He walked past me as if I was Casper. No, as if I were nothing; you would still feel the presence of a ghost and shiver as you passed. 

He did not flinch, and he threw a few words behind his back as he climbed the stairs, ‘’ I am not hungry, put away the food. What circus are you going to?’’.

‘’ My sins I am paying for my sins, yes Angel, I know.’’

Month number eight, ‘’I am getting married’’ that was all he said. He left and later he called,’’ Or, I am bringing her to meet you make yourself and the children presentable like a good wife I know you are a good wife, right. ‘’

Well, he said I was a good wife that was all I had at that point, so I cleaned, cooked, scrubbed the children until they were pink, and we waited for her. 

‘’Call her mommy two,’’ he announced to the children. 

It went well, I welcomed her, he was elated, he was proud, I behaved like a good wife. That morning when he came back, he made love to me; it lasted five minutes and I could feel his disappointment. I felt myself disappearing into the abyss of nothingness. She eventually came to live with us, again I was a good wife I complied. I moved back upstairs she took the bedroom downstairs. 

I roamed the kitchen in the dark hours; while I listened to the sweet sounds of ecstasy coming from the room. One night, the door was left slightly opened I saw, she looked into my eyes from under his embrace, she smiled the kind that you smiled when you are triumphant and feel powerful. But I also detected something else, or I should say it stirred something else in me, don’t ask I had no idea what it was. Well, at least not at that point.

Five months had passed me in the shadows of nothingness, and he is even more happy, I am ‘’An exceptionally good wife’’ now. I have moved up in status. I cook, I clean, my children are striving, my co- wife spends her days waiting for our husband. She does not have to wait until Laga blesse stands at street corners or soucouyants shed their skins. No, he comes home now way before duppies start to walk the road. He has suddenly become aware of the dangers of being outside after dusk. 

She and I had developed an understanding, I guess, if you want to call it that and sometimes her company when she decides to spend some of her waiting time around me is good company. Although, that thing I still could not put my finger on it. I look at her from the side, sometimes we might accidently brush by each other her smooth young skin and goosebumps raise on me. I look at the way her plump lips move when she eats. I look at the way her body flatters the clothes that she wears. I listen to her sing to the children. They are mesmerized by mommy two; she smoothers them with affection but does not want any of her own, ‘’For the love of God not my figure.’’  I think about Marilyn Monroe and Nina Simone or a sea-nymph.

Now, she has even offered me some of her beauty concoctions; I am standing there wondering what exactly to do with them. I have never even shaved my legs or done my eyebrows; except for that one time that my cousins made me do it and Ma ‘’beat the jezebel’’ out of me. The tinkle in her laughter erupts,’’ Let us have a spa day.’’ She, and I are at home alone – The children are with Ma one of those rare days when some family was coming and she had to show off ‘’meh bright  grandchirren,’’ especially the ‘’boy- chirren’’ and more so the one, who coincidently was the perfect male version of her sister- and he is out on a two-day emergency. She invites me to her room, sets up her magic potions and starts telling me all about what this is for, the best way to shave, the pumice stone for feet, this for face. She sheds her clothes as if clothes were a hindrance and I am trying to look everywhere except at her.

‘’Lighten up, it’s not a sin’’ she tinkles again. I could not get comfortable naked with a next human being, who was not my husband. Thinking about it I am not even comfortable with my nakedness in front of him. I am more ashamed now than before and recently I have started to not pine for his amorous attention, anymore. I could hear Ma’s voice calling fire and brimstone down on me from hell, nakedness was never allowed in our house. It was even sinful to be naked in front of your own self. Ma caught me once, when I was younger, examining my under-budding body, moaning at my still almost flat chest and my skinny legs in the mirror. 

‘’ Yuh vain and blasphemous, cover yuhself gul’’ with a swift backhand to my face.

 Anyhow, I could not be unmannerly and refuse the spa day. I went upstairs and changed into shorts and a vest that was quite naked for me. I enjoyed our day of slathering gooey stuff, sticking cucumber wheels on our faces, removing facial hair with wax, and giggling like girls, reminded me of that time with my cousins and I felt free. I could not do the feet, God my squirminess with slimy or soggy stuff on feet just will not go away. And I could not stand looking at her ugly feet that belonged to someone else.

But I was sneaking looks at the way she pampered her body, she anointed her parts like she was painting, paying attention to details, and using fine delicate strokes. Sometimes a pause to look at her craftmanship, and then she continues working on her masterpiece; while she instructs me and at times takes control and corrects my novice’s mishaps. We had a time, but that thing, it was now a pulsing living being beneath my flesh, but I still could not name it.

Of course, he went to her when he came home and again, I listened to the sounds, but this time I was not yearning for his embrace…

Tonight, is a special night, he wants me to be ‘an incredibly good wife now.’ ‘’We are a family; we must do things together.’’ The bed is looking at me I can feel its greedy gaze, he goes to the bed she follows they both strip as if this act of purgatory that we were about to commit was the most saintly and devotional act in the world. I almost puked. 

Remember ‘’You are going to be an incredibly good wife’’. And I dissolved into nothingness. She and I do not touch each other, that of course would be sacrilegious and beneath his manhood he hated ‘zamies and bulliers;’ but it was ok when a man had his two women together. And he did all the touching, poking, and commanding; the hypocrisy of madhood sorry manhood.

Now, he can’t get enough of WE, but I have a terrible secret to tell you. I feel alive, I feel it, this thing raises inside me like the serpent each time I look at him spread her, and I drink in the picture while he looks mesmerized eyes glowing, his heart pumping. He commands me to play with myself while he pumps his male blood into her. I can no longer draw into nothingness, try as I might I can no longer disappear into the abysses of clouds. I know what I want, I have put my fingers on it.

  Now, that I know. The moment has come. Call it woe-man power. I will no longer quell the storm. I do not want to. 

Every now and then there is a disruption that needs his attention at work for a few days. I was growing impatient, tired, and disgusted by his clawing attentions. Good things come to those who wait, right? Heaven has answered my pray, he gets a call out. I did not have to say it, she was the one who suggested another spa retreat. It was a long weekend this time and the children were at his mother’s house. This time I have shed my clothes…

He does not know it but we minus he; we now make love. She no longer needs his thrusting hips. I have Goddess’s lips.

Funny, two wives horning you and not with a man or men with each other. Can you really call that a horn? I do not know what do you think? I feel powerful when I have his/my woman writhing under the power of my fingers playing her, pressing her keys, and getting the best orchestrated sounds from her lips.

‘’ She is mines now Angel, isn’t she?’’ 

He surprises us, today, before the plants in the yard starts to bend under the power of the sun and the children are still at school; we are otherwise engaged and terribly busy. We do not hear his footsteps. He is not pleased to see me kneeling at her supine body, anointing her body with my tongue. Angel is not pleased when he grabs me by my hair, slaps me, cuffs me in my stomach and discards me like a piece of windblown paper on the floor. 

‘’Stay there,’’ Angel snarls, ‘’don’t worry I will take care of this.’’

 I listen to Angel. She, my co-wife scrambles up, tries to leave the room, but he grabs her throws her back on the bed. He then releases his already bulging serpent from the burdens of its zip and rips into her. Angel goes to the kitchen grabs my favourite butcher knife, the one I use on tough meat and plunges it into his back, drags it down from the base of his head, down his torso. He is instantly paralyzed, set like a mantis in prayer forever. She is frozen in time, still spreadeagled on the bed, his useless frame is shoved aside by Angel. Angel hates her anyway and does not hesitate the butcher knife slashes through her stomach,’’ just the stomach’’ Angel declares ‘’a slight cut like yours.’’ I had forgotten about that slight scar on my bikini line. 

‘’Nooo!’’ I scream at Angel, but I am too late.

The red liquid covered me, ‘’stop looking,’’ Angel interrupted as I looked at the picture in front of me. So, I looked down stared at my feet, but they were red and when I tried to walk, they were sluggish, slimy. I screamed.

 ‘’Shh, shh,’’ Angel murmured.

 I did not listen this time. I could not, my feet were wet and slimy. I roared into the sounds of the day and my voice silenced every other sound in the atmosphere. 

  Now, I am here. Angel is still with me, although a bit miffed because I got us into this mess by screaming but I told Angel we are paying for my ultimate sin. 

Angel is snickering, ‘’which one your sins are numerous which one is the ultimate?’’ 

I laugh you are an angel you should know. My feet are getting ugly; I close my eyes. I saw her, as she was that day in the dazzling light streaming through the window, her legs open for me, her Venus mound hot under my breath, I enjoyed it; nobody would ever know my ultimate sin, not even you Angel. I loved her, I thought. I would die with it in my chest and carry its burden to my grave then to the one owner of the heavens, hell, and all in between. I say my evening duas. It is evening, I think, from here I cannot tell, but then does it even matter?

---

Otancia Noel, Trinidadian writer MFA holder from University of The West Indies.