The first time I met her, my cousin wanted me to meet the woman of his dreams, as he called her, and I was beyond excited. He was old enough that the whole family had been wondering when he was going to bring a woman home, so I was privileged to meet her first before anyone else could, and I bragged about it.

I was not wrong. Franca is a joy to behold. In the beginning, she did too much. Bringing me water, asking what I wanted for lunch, whether I was comfortable. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted her to see me as someone she did not need to impress the way she would an in-law. Thankfully, she warmed up to me and we became friends.

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My cousin is a tall, dark-complexioned man with broad shoulders and a full beard. Everyone had a crush on him growing up. His girlfriends rarely left the scene on their own terms. They came and went, and it was as if he had some kind of hold on them. That is why I understood why Franca was overprotective of him. But I always noticed that their quarrels were mostly about how intrusive he was, like superglue. He always wanted to know where she was, who she was with, whether it was a man or a woman. He wanted to know their history.

One of the first things she opened up to me about, once she was sure of our friendship, was this: “Your brother is abusive. Every small thing makes him angry and he beats me to a pulp.” Then she showed me the scars. I had already noticed them when I first shook her hand, so I knew exactly what she was showing me.

It is one thing to hear women talk about abuse. It is another thing entirely to know your own cousin is the one doing it. So I decided to call him to order.

Fortunately and unfortunately for me, my cousin decided he was going to work on it and move past it. Right before my eyes, he apologised, went down on his knees and begged for forgiveness. We left it at that while I went away.

Unfortunately, around the same time, my cousin went in for a routine medical checkup. It was almost ceremonial for him, proof that he was clean and honest. The results came back positive for HIV. It was a big blow, but none of us were completely shocked. He had been everywhere, with everyone, all at the same time. He was the man women preferred, and we were certain he had gotten it from one of his many women.

That same day, I changed my mind about him entirely and begged Franca to leave him for someone else. He was not going to tell her the truth. He was going to pass it to her deliberately. So I called her immediately. On the phone she promised me, “Oh, I will leave him. I will. I have been thinking about it, so I will.” She said it to put my heart to rest, and I bought it.

Then one evening, I found out that she had gone behind my back and they had sorted things out between them. I screamed when I heard it. What was wrong with her? What kind of hold did they share that she could not let go? Nothing anyone said could deter her. Imagine, relatives from the boy’s own family begging you to leave, and you still stayed. I am certain that was the story he sold to her, that we all hated her. That we were her enemies.

Two months after that, everyone left her to carry the cross alone. I was then informed that she was pregnant for my cousin, and that he was nowhere to be found. I asked her if she knew the full picture. She responded, “Know what?” My cousin had never disclosed his status to her. He had gotten her pregnant and run away when the baby came. What he sent was a widow’s mite. It was not even enough to buy a pack of diapers. The day she delivered, my cousin refused to sign the birth certificate. He said he was not sure he was the father of the child.

Right now, he is out there on the run, spreading it wherever he goes. She is here nursing the child. Thankfully, she did not get infected. Every day has been a constant struggle, but there is no going back. The only way is forward. It hurts terribly that this is happening, but lessons have been learned. The rest is about trying to live without regret.

I Left Him Because He Didn’t Help In The Kitchen

I wonder if she had listened to us, if this would still have been her fate. I wonder if she still thinks we were her enemies. I do not know what kind of love she had for my cousin, and somewhere in me, I hope she no longer has it.

—Mimi

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