A stranger who belongs

It felt as though someone we would easily regard to as a friend of a friend’s friend had died. Someone we knew but never quite interracted with. For someone like our house help who hardly spoke a word, it was very easy to forget her very existence. We would mourn as quietly as her character is and move on as quickly as we can. Just before this would happen I had to make sure my family was doing OK. If I was not on call with my husband, I was text chatting with him. I do not remember a time I have ever been so happy to have him off work. He was that gasp of fresh air. He survived the full day at home with Pesh and Raine and by surviving I mean forest- like surviving. If he didn’t trip on himself as he did it then it beats sanity off me. The dishes from their lunch were all over the kitchen counter, scrumbling for space amidst those they had used for breakfast. Used baby bottles lay all over the house, and so did Pesh’s sweaters and T-shirts that she kept changing without her father’s notice.
I-Am-A-Stranger
I walked into the house, too exhausted already and placed my bag on the little space I could save on the couch. With quick hellos to everyone, even the sleepy baby Raine, I grabbed the apron and started clearing the dish mountain Justin had built. I placed Pesh’s bathing water to boil as I went along, pulling in all my mutitasking skills together. The dishes were almost done when I noticed a fliker on my phone. Vivianne had not called me by one as I had instructed and I had decided against looking for her. The number calling was strange and disconnected before I could read the whole of it. Someone beeping…; that could only have been one person; the one person who was probably using another phone to let me know she was looking for me. I called back. I always do to get the annoying beeper off my dial zone.

Good cop, bad cop
“Are you home?” it was Vivianne’s faint voice. I responded positively and she went on to ask if Pesh’s dad had changed his mind on her coming back. That pleasantly surprised me. I wore a big smug on my face and felt like a whale that just spotted a fat swimmer’s behind. So she actually wanted to come back! She knew we were all on the verge of kicking her out but she still wanted to come. Funny how one can decide to walk through burning flames. Beats the Jesus out of me! I asked her to come. Justin played bad cop and me, the good one. We planned on our words and even our intro. We practised to Pesh’s confusion and knew how we were meant to react. By the time she walked through the door, we were set at the right spots wearing glum yet serious looks…and when she came, we were prepared to have her pack her bags and leave. At the same time, we were ready to keep her if she stood to herself. We had to be tough; if we were to let her back in. For whatever reason, all Viv did was cry and insist that she was not ready to get married. Pesh sat there wailing with every tear that vivianne let off. She wanted us to stop talking that way to her; she wanted us to stop pointing fingers; she wanted us to speak in a language she would understand well. We didn’t change language but we stopped the argument and let Vivianne back in. However, a challenge rested on our shoulders…this was just a sign to get ready for her final exit.

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