Hiding in Plain Sight

9

Bella wakes with the sun in her eyes. She revels for a moment in the tropical warmth that she always relishes here, the open-ended feeling of the hour. Then the alarm of her iPhone goes off. At first she thinks it is someone else’s, someone with something urgent to attend to. Here, there is no worry that she might oversleep. So what is the hurry? She tries to go back to sleep.

And then she remembers where she is, and why — in the master bedroom of her dead brother’s house, the children in their respective rooms. A line from a poem by Dylan Thomas comes to her, uncalled: “After the first death, there is no other.” Of course, a great deal has happened since her arrival, some of it heartening to her, especially when it comes to her nephew and niece; some a little harrying, particularly when it comes to Valerie and her intentions. She remembers her evening with Padmini and Valerie, and how, ultimately, it disintegrated. Her throat feels tight as she wonders how much of Valerie and Padmini’s life she should share with the children, to whom it will probably be news that there is more to the two women’s partnership than business. She is sure, because he told her more than once, that Aar simply never bothered about telling the children more than they needed to know, especially because there was no way of knowing how they would react if they knew the truth about their mother’s sexuality. He once explained his difficulty dealing with this dilemma, saying, “At times, a child may direct undeserved hate toward the bearer of a message rather than toward the person the content of the message is about.” And because Valerie never communicated directly with Aar or the children, it was erroneously assumed that worrying about what to tell the children about their mother’s sexuality was unnecessary. Now — now it is up to Valerie to deal with it, Bella decides, as she has other matters of grave consequence to worry about. The children are now grown — and they and their mother can sort things out between themselves as articulate adults. Even so, Bella is aware that indiscretions such as last night’s will in no way bring them closer.

She gets out of bed naked and moves about the room soundlessly, as if there were someone else asleep in the room. And now she remembers her dream as well, a dream in which she shared a bed with HandsomeBoy Ngulu and they lay in each other’s embrace, her heart beating furiously, as if it wanted to break out and flee. She walks into the bathroom and stares hard into the mirror, berating herself for having such thoughts so soon after Aar’s passing. What sort of a person is she, giving in to desire when there is so much at stake, when there is a lot to be done?

The sight of her reflection surprises her. Her eyes are swollen and bruised looking, and she wonders if she cried in her sleep. She looks roughed up and sad, off-kilter on a morning when she needs to be efficient and at her faultless best. Despair is not an option. She scolds herself, speaking directly into the mirror, getting closer and closer until she can see a cloud of breath on the mirror’s surface.

She takes a selfie, a habit that dates to long before she had an iPhone. Whenever she was in a fix and unsure of how to proceed, she’d place herself at an angle to a mirror and take a photograph so that she could talk to it. Sometimes she would even tell herself folktales. It’s working, she sees, as she looks at the photo on her iPhone. There’s a little relief in her face, as if she’s starting to have faith in herself again.

—

Bella slips on a robe. In preparation for Valerie’s visit, Bella puts her belongings all around Aar’s room. She doesn’t want there to be any mistake about who’s in charge here. She puts her clothing in the closet and dresser, pushing aside Aar’s to make room and leaving her suitcases on the floor. She opens every drawer in the room, taking a quick inventory of the contents. Some things she buries away from Valerie’s prying eyes; others she locks away in Aar’s study, the key to which the children have given her and she stashes in one of her camera cases.

It strikes her how flat-footed sudden death catches its victims. Hurdo used to say that a woman must always be prepared for life’s surprises — her toenails trimmed, her hands manicured, her underpants clean, nothing left to chance. She may have had an exaggerated sense of preparedness, but Bella has to agree now that perhaps her mother had a point. She sees Aar’s unpreparedness everywhere — in the open documents in his study, in the packed suitcase he didn’t take with him.

It does not take her long to open the larger suitcase. She is pretty certain that he uses variants on her name, nickname, or date of birth as his secret code for almost all locks, bank accounts, and other such things, just as she uses his. Inside, she finds several shirts, jeans, and underwear, along with his extra Mac, a wallet bursting with cash in dollars and several credit cards, and next to it is a printout of an e-mail addressed to Gunilla and signed “With love.” In the letter, he explains that he is going to be in Mogadiscio for three months and asks Gunilla to please prepare all the legal documentation they’ve been discussing and have it initialed and then sent to him for signing before departure. He also requests that she make two copies of his “important documents,” keeping one set and sending the other to him. Bella can’t follow all the particulars — if anything, the state of affairs mirrors a general sense of lack of urgency — a man behaving as if he had all the time in the world and that he will be around for some time. These signs are what his belongings convey. At the same time, the discovery mirrors a sense Bella’s had since Istanbul that he’d been confiding in someone else. That someone else appears to be Gunilla. Bella has come to Nairobi prepared with all the legal documentation that she might need to prove her identity. On top of all this, she has a signed and notarized document attesting to the fact that she, Aar’s sister, is also his one and only executor. But it is Gunilla who has in her possession the items he deposited with the liaison office in Nairobi, and for those, she must await Gunilla’s return. Bella reminds herself to ring the Swede, who is supposed to be returning tonight, first thing tomorrow morning to arrange a meeting.

When Bella questioned Aar during their time in Istanbul if it made sense to sink all his savings in a house of stone in a volatile country like Kenya and not in Mogadiscio, where, even though things were bad, there was the possibility of peace returning and property starting to appreciate again, Aar told her that he no longer thought of Mogadiscio as home. “Home,” he said, “is where my children are, where they live and go to school and love to be. Besides,” he added, after a thoughtful pause, “I am uncomfortable affiliating myself with a country broken into fiefdoms, where there is no room for someone like you or me.”

They were at the Blue Mosque, where they admired the elegance of construction and the colorful tiles and silk carpets. They continued their talk while visiting the nearby Topkapı Palace. Aar said, “I am not comfortable in a Mogadiscio run by a confederacy of clans that are in cahoots with religious renegades. There is a great ache in my heart every time I drive past the cathedral and the oldest mosque, both of which lie in ruins.”

A knock on the door gives Bella a start. Then she calls, “Come in,” and Dahaba walks in, leaving the door ajar. Bella realizes that she is instinctively blocking her niece’s view of the rest of the room, perhaps because she doesn’t want anyone else to know about the broad sweep of her own intentions.

Dahaba asks, “What are you doing?”

“N-nothing!” Bella stammers.

Dahaba walks farther into the room and looks around, as if checking that everything remains as her father left it — except for a half-open drawer, which she now goes to.

“You looking for something?” Bella asks.

“Do you have any tampons, Auntie?” While Bella rummages for some in her travel case, Dahaba says, “What is the word for tampons in Somali?”

Bella chuckles. “I doubt we have a word for it.” Then she remembers how in her youth, when tampons were not yet available in Somalia, women back home had to make use of strips of cotton, which had to be washed several times a day. In the Mogadiscio of the late eighties, they were again difficult to obtain; in those days, pharmacies would run out of all manner of daily necessities.

“Here,” she says, giving Dahaba several.

Dahaba dashes out of the room, and Bella pushes the door gently shut on the pretext that she will be changing. Then she resumes searching the room, albeit with consummate caution. But she doesn’t lock the door, not wanting either Dahaba or Salif to suspect her of foraging among their dad’s things. Bella is certain that even Aar had secrets somewhere, but this is not something the offspring of a beloved parent find easy to believe.

Another knock on the door puts a stop to Bella’s search.

This time it is Salif. “Would you like me to book a table at a restaurant if Mum and Padmini are joining us?” he says through the door.

Bella opens the door, but he is too timid to look at her because she is not yet decently dressed. What a charming, sweet boy, she thinks, as he stares at his fingernails.

“Which would you rather do, go out or bring in takeaway?” she asks. “For me, either is fine.”

“Let’s eat in,” he says. “There is more privacy here.”

“I see your point,” she says.

“And they may be late.”

She wonders if she should mention that their mother was close to an hour late yesterday evening. But all she says is, “Fair enough. The food can wait if they are late, and we can warm it up in the microwave.”

He says, “You know that whatever we decide either Mom or Dahaba will fuss about it. But you know what?”

“What?”

“Fuss or not, they always eat the food you place before them.”

Salif suggests sushi and claims to know where to get the best in Nairobi.

—

After allowing Salif and Dahaba computer and TV time, Bella decides to be a taskmaster for a change. In the sweetest way possible, she reminds them of their mother’s first visit here, and she says that given they haven’t as yet been in touch with the maid and that the corners of the rooms have been gathering dust and fluff wouldn’t it be a good idea for each of them to clean their room? Bella offers she will do her room, two of the four bathrooms, and all the areas that are of common use — today, at least.

They each do their part, Salif playing heavy metal, Dahaba fussing a little and then playing her choice of rock, and Bella saying nothing to either of them. They take a break at about four and shower, readying mentally for Valerie and Padmini’s visit. And since Bella has no idea what either woman would tell either child about her sexuality, Bella decides not to bother, much less worry about the matter.

Dahaba wants to know if she can invite friends home to meet her mother this evening, and Salif is of the view that the best way to welcome a person home is to cook — and maybe they should cook instead of bringing a takeaway. But when neither Bella nor Salif thinks that Dahaba’s suggestion is good, and when neither Bella nor Dahaba is of the opinion that Salif’s idea to cook will fly, Dahaba is the one who sulks briefly, retreats to her room and showers, then reemerges as if nothing has happened.

At six, it is time to pick up the sushi, but Dahaba doesn’t want to go. “What did I tell you?” says Salif. He puts the alarm on downstairs and tells her to stay up in her room while they are out.

She says, “You think I am stupid?”

He promises to get her a Big Mac, just the way she likes it. He turns to Bella. “She has the woman’s thing, I know,” he says.

Bella thinks about how the world has changed. As a young woman growing up in Somalia, she would never have told her brother about her “woman’s thing,” as close as they were.

—

In the car on the way to pick up the food, Bella debates how much of her own suspicions about Valerie she should air to Salif. But they have been gone barely five minutes when Dahaba telephones, asking how soon they will return. “Just stay put,” Bella assures her, “and we’ll be back before you know it.”

Salif says, “Dahaba hates being alone.”

The food court offers an assortment of fast food, but also a variety of international cuisines, mainly non-African: Indian, Chinese, and Japanese. Salif swears by the Japanese place despite the unlikely location. Bella gives him a wad of cash for the sushi and goes to order Dahaba’s Big Mac and some Indian food for good measure.

“I hope she doesn’t change her mind when we bring her what she asked for,” says Salif. “She can be a terrible brat.”

Within the hour, they return, bearing a variety of dishes — far more than they can eat today even if Valerie turns up with half a dozen Padminis.

—

By a quarter past seven there is still no sign of Valerie. The children are hungry, but Bella is happy to see that their banter has lost its sharp edge.

“Here, Chipmunk,” says Salif, offering Dahaba a chip.

“Give it here, you beastly thing,” she says.

They have a taste of the tikka, eating with their fingers, and put the rest of the food in the oven to stay warm and in the fridge to stay cool. Then they go back upstairs — Bella to put Aar’s room in order, Dahaba to continue watching a movie on the Internet, and Salif to learn the result of the Champions League game between Bayern Munich and Arsenal.

At eight-thirty, they reassemble in the kitchen and eat at the table. Salif says that eating at the table makes him miss his dad, who was a wonderful cook and made dinner for them whenever he was in town.

Bella recalls that Valerie can’t cook to save her life, although she is a stern critic of other people’s cooking — the food is always too salty, too spicy, the steak too well done, the rice undercooked. But she refrains from badmouthing Valerie in front of Salif and Dahaba.

Salif offers to wash the dishes, Dahaba to dry them. Salif says to Dahaba, “Since you have a visitor, I don’t mind if you go up to your room. I’ll wash and dry.”

Dahaba, a bit slow, says, “What visitor?”

But Bella sees where he is going with this joke and berates him for not keeping the promise he’d made regarding his treatment of his sister. Where does he get this macho thing, which is nothing like Aar? Helping Salif to grow into a young man who treats women with due respect is going to be work, Bella can see. She puts the leftovers away in plastic containers and says to Salif and Dahaba, “Help yourselves whenever you wish.”

They wish each other good night without referring to the guest who did not show up or call, and they head back to their respective rooms.

—

Bella sits up in a stupor, woozily unsure where she is and whether she is dreaming or awake. She hears a girl loudly weeping and a man’s voice comforting her. She puts on her nightgown and goes out to check. She stands in the doorway of her bedroom, trying to determine where the sounds are coming from and who is making them. She can see that the doors to the two rooms opposite are ajar. She finds the first room empty, but when she taps on the door of the second, the speakers fall silent and she pushes in without waiting to be invited.

Dahaba is sitting on the bed and Salif is sitting on a chair next to her, holding her hand, although he drops it when he sees Bella.

“What time is it?” Dahaba asks.

Bella has no idea; she is barely aware of where on earth she is.

Dahaba says, “Are you alright, Auntie?”

Salif gets to his feet and, as if he were dealing with a child who has awoken from a nightmare, takes her hand and leads her back to her bedroom, where he sits on the edge of the bed. “It is only ten o’clock at night,” he says, looking at the clock. “You’re in Nairobi, and you’re jet-lagged still. You’ve just awoken from a brief sleep. It’s been a long day. So please take it easy and get some rest.”

He offers her a glass of water, but she takes his hand to stop him from leaving. She doesn’t think she can bear being alone, what with this cocktail of troubling ingredients that she is gradually remembering roiling in her — Aar’s death, so much travel and dislocation, this sudden new role, Valerie and her lover hovering with probable malicious intent just outside the frame, and even the children not entirely to be counted on, as surely they will want to see where things stand for them before they throw in their lot with one side or the other. It is not in Bella’s nature to give up at the first obstacle, but she also knows there is no point in forcing children against the grain. Or maybe this is an early indication, if she needs one, that she is not ready to assume the role of mother all of a sudden.

Dahaba joins them, and Bella taps the mattress on either side of her, indicating that they should sit. “What woke me?” she asks.

Dahaba says, “Salif and I were arguing, and we raised our voices. We are sorry.”

“I upset her and she was mad at me,” says Salif.

Dahaba says, “You see, I’m easily upset.”

“Were you crying?” says Bella.

“Yes, she’s a drama queen,” says Salif. “But I admit I had a go at her.”

Just talking like this about a mundane sibling squabble is calming Bella down. She goes into the bathroom to throw cold water on her face, although this time she does not dare to look at her face in the mirror. She whispers a line from Robert Benchley to herself: “Tell us your phobias and we will tell you what you are afraid of.” She stands with her back to the mirror and feels how fragile she is. In her current mental state, she can’t even tell what she is afraid of. But she has no desire to free herself of her new responsibilities either.

She flushes the toilet for effect and runs the tap again, washing her face and her hands with cold water once more. And when she comes back to the bed, she discovers that she is once again the adult and they the children.

Dahaba expresses her unhappiness with her mother for not showing up for dinner, and Salif condemns Valerie’s “unpardonable rudeness,” which he sees as of a piece with her generally undignified attitude toward others. Bella does her best to comfort Dahaba and reasons with Salif, reminding him that Valerie has other worries on her mind. They don’t know the whole story, she reminds him. They just have to wait.

Bella wonders how much of Valerie’s jerrybuilt maneuverings are in store for her. Shoddy as they are, they can be difficult to dismantle. How can she keep Salif’s and Dahaba’s allegiance and also protect Aar’s honor and interests?

First thing tomorrow, she’ll confirm her appointment with Gunilla. And with that in mind, she gets out of bed. Dahaba and Salif go back to their rooms, and Bella begins to gather the documents she will need for tomorrow’s meeting with Gunilla — her passport, her Italian ID, her driver’s license, her birth certificate, and the most recent copy she has of Aar’s will. Bella puts all these in a satchel, locks it, and places it under the bed. She pictures Valerie using the upstairs bathroom, making an unsuspected entry into the room and ghosting out with this booty in her possession. It is not beyond Valerie to plan this sort of stunt. In the past, she has helped herself to Aar’s credit card, forging his signature until she got caught. Greed coupled with opportunity can make a thief of the best of us, Bella thinks.

Her preparations done, she takes an enjoyably long shower and gets under the sheets with a mystery novel by Philip Kerr that she has discovered on Aar’s shelves.

—

Bella has been reading for about an hour and, having grown pleasantly sleepy, is just about to turn out the lights when she hears the dull sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs. She throws on her nightgown again and a robe as well. Outside of her bedroom, the hallway is dark, and the children’s doors are closed. She tiptoes down the stairway, but there is no peephole so she calls through the door, “Who is there?”

And sure enough, Valerie answers. “Bella, it’s us, Padmini and I.”

Bella turns on the entryway light and opens the door. Valerie walks right past her. “Not bad at all,” she says, taking in the house.

“We should’ve called,” Padmini says to Bella. Valerie continues to take a measure of the house, as if imagining what it would be like to live in it and hold big parties. She paces back and forth, now staring at the parquet floor, as if she were inspecting it for dirt. She turns to Padmini. “Not bad at all, eh?” she says again.

Bella almost laughs.

Padmini says, “We ran into some friends. We only meant to have a drink with them, but somehow… Our sincere apologies for disturbing you.”

Not knowing what else to say, Bella asks, “What would you like to have?”

Padmini says to Valerie. “What are we having?”

But before Valerie can answer, they hear a squeal of joy, and Dahaba runs down the stairs, shouting “Mummy!”—a word she somehow stretches to three syllables — and throws herself into Valerie’s arms, just as she had done with Bella at the Kariukis’. She is still dressed, Bella sees.

“My condolences, my sweet,” says Valerie, softly maternal now. “I am so sorry.”

Watching as Dahaba wraps her young body around her mother’s middle-aged girth, Bella is touched despite herself.

Dahaba says, “How many years has it been?”

Valerie says, “Well, let’s see — how many years?”

Then they hear Salif’s baritone from the top of the stairs. “When you say you’ll come, you must come,” he says, the man of the house.

“It’s hard to explain, so we won’t try,” Valerie says. “Anyway, my sincere condolences for your loss. We may not have got on, your father and I, but he was at heart a good man.”

Salif doesn’t acknowledge her words of sympathy. “And if you don’t come when you say you will, then you must ring to say you’ll be late.”

Now Bella sees the Aar in Salif, and she can see that Valerie sees it too.

“Look at you, all grown and full of blame!” cries Valerie, but there is a touch of pride in her voice. She turns to Padmini. “My son. Isn’t he handsome?”

Salif looks from his mother to Padmini, as if meeting her for the first time — which in a sense he is. He looks her over, taking her measure. “And who is this?” he says.

Valerie says, “You know Padmini. This is your auntie.”

“No, but who is she really?” says Salif.

“She is like a sister to me,” Valerie says.

Dahaba is standing next to her mother, their flanks touching. She says, “She is lovely, Mummy.”

“That’s my girl,” Valerie says encouragingly.

Salif takes his time descending. He hugs his mother briefly then offers his outstretched hand for Padmini to shake with a look that challenges her to do anything but take it. “How would you like me to address you?” he says.

“Address her as Auntie,” Valerie says.

“Mum, please, I am talking to her, not to you.”

“She and I are as close as sisters,” says Valerie.

“Mummy, you said that before,” says Dahaba.

“And we are, in addition, business partners.”

Salif lapses into Somali, addressing his words to Bella, but Dahaba dutifully translates for the benefit of Valerie and Padmini: “That’s cool, I’ve just acquired myself an auntie, how wonderful.”

Bella can see that Valerie is torn between irritation at her son’s discourteous behavior and admiration for his ability to speak Somali so fluidly — not that she can understand him.

Dahaba is playing peacemaker. “He doesn’t mean ill.”

Valerie says, “It’s good that you too speak it.”

“Our best friends are Somali,” says Dahaba.

Valerie says, “I hope your Somali friends here do not teach you to use guns and stuff!”

Bella recoils at the stereotype, but Dahaba says only, “Actually, they’re very nice.”

“What’s this world coming to, knives and guns?” says Valerie. A long, awkward silence ensues. It is Salif who breaks it, surprisingly enough. It’s as if, having made his point, he decides to make amends. He turns on more lights and gestures the guests to the couch. He sits beside Padmini and engages her in conversation, leaning graciously toward her. Valerie relaxes, and she and Padmini exchange a smile, which Bella catches in the net of her wandering gaze.

Dahaba says, “Mummy, you know Salif is always difficult.”

“Yes,” says Valerie. “But he is my son and I’ll always love him.”

Everybody falls silent again. Then Bella offers drinks again. Valerie opts for a gin and tonic, and Padmini asks for a double shot of vodka with ice. Bella locates a tray and a bucket for ice, and brings the gin and vodka and tonic. For herself, she pours only a glass of water, and the children get themselves soda.

“So, in a word, what have you been up to, Mum?” Salif asks. He sounds as if he is on the attack again. Actually, Bella realizes, he sounds like his mother at dinner last night. “Where have you been all this time, and why haven’t we heard from you? And why are we hearing from you now?”

Valerie says, “I’ve been in India. You know that.”

Salif looks from her to Padmini and back again. “I like that phrase, ‘business partners.’ It has an all-inclusive feel to it, rather more accommodating than, say, ‘sexual partners.’ You know what I mean?”

Valerie’s discomfort is obvious and this makes Bella ill at ease too. She grabs one of her digital cameras, which is on the coffee table. “A photograph of the three of you,” she says, “just the way you are. Salif on one side, Dahaba on the other, Valerie in between.” She looks at Padmini, and hesitates. “Oh, wait. You too.” Padmini flashes her a look of gratitude and joins the tableau.

Dahaba says, “Like a family for the first time.”

Valerie says, “My loving children.”

Salif says nothing, but he allows himself to be photographed.

Bella brings down more of her cameras and poses everyone in different combinations. They are more relaxed now. Valerie and Padmini want the photos sent to their e-mail and there is a pause while they all get their phones and enter addresses. Dahaba is the most excited of all.

Only Salif remains cool. “I don’t want them,” he says. Bella upbraids him in Somali, and Dahaba says, “Why must you be a party pooper?”

Stealing a glance at her wristwatch, Bella sees that it is long past midnight. It will be impossible to get them a taxi back to the hotel, she realizes, unless they have made prior arrangements with the driver who brought them here. Knowing Valerie, this is unlikely. And as reluctant as she is to have them stay overnight, Bella is not about to drive them back to their hotel; it is simply too dangerous.

Valerie is deep in conversation with Dahaba, who is eagerly telling her about a recent incident at school — a classmate with pimples all over her face had used her soap, and Dahaba has been scared to use it since. But Padmini seems to be reading Bella’s mind.

“It’s late, Val,” she interrupts.

Bella looks around with a level gaze, waiting.

“What’s the plan?” Valerie says.

Bella pauses a beat before asking, “Did you arrange a taxi to take you back?”

Padmini says, “I’m afraid we didn’t.”

“Not to worry,” Bella says, because what else can she say? “I don’t think you can get a taxi at this hour, and it’s too late for me to drive you. But there is a spare bedroom down here, with a shower next to it. You’re welcome to stay.”

“Are you sure?” Padmini asks.

Bella says, “There is plenty of space.”

Dahaba wedges her body between Valerie and Padmini, and takes their hands, delighted with the new situation. “Please stay,” she begs. “Pretty please!”

Salif watches from nearby, looking amused.

A discreet nod from Padmini confirms her firm acceptance of the offer. And that settles it all. Dahaba issues a joyous call to order, announcing to the room that Mummy and Auntie Padmini are staying in the spare bedroom for the night.

Padmini corrects her. “One of us will stay in the spare room, the other here in the living room if Bella gives us some bedding for it.”

Valerie receives this news with haughty indifference. Bella thinks that maybe in this partnership it is Padmini who organizes all the pedestrian details. Just as Aar did when he and Valerie were together.

Bella gets bedding and even a spare pair of pajamas for Valerie, who receives them with the insouciance of someone who can’t be bothered. Bella stifles her annoyance — not tonight, she thinks, definitely not tonight.

They say their good nights. Dahaba is the last to go upstairs to bed.