Short Story
Taming Oscar
By Lawrence Kadzitche
Whenever Oscar put on the very dark grey suit, it spelled bad news. He had the same height and build like my favourite actor Keanu Reeves. Though black but with his beard, the suit made him look like the famous John Wick actor. I sometimes wondered whether it was not this uncanny resemblance to the actor that made me get attracted to him when I first met him some seven years ago.
Ever since I had told him that the suit made him look like the great movie star, he always donned it when he knew he would go on a drinking spree after knocking off from work. He correctly guessed that the sharp suit drew girls to him the way a bright flower attracts butterflies.
Pushing the thought aside, I went to stand behind him and put my hands on his shoulders. “Please try to come home early during the days my sister will be staying with us.”
He stopped tying his necktie and glanced at me over his shoulder. “And what will I be doing if I come back home early?”
I wasn’t surprised by the question. Oscar had stopped coming home early soon after our first child was born. The earliest he would be home was 7 pm but he sometimes came home as late as midnight. Particularly when he wore the accursed dark grey suit. He maintained that the home was for the wife and children.
“A man has to go out. That’s where you get to know people who matter,” he always claimed. “Big business deals are always struck over a drink and later sealed in offices.”
At first I had tried to argue but soon realised the futility of doing so. It only drove him away, adding that he was also going out to seek peace and quiet that lacked in the house.
“What about the female perfume that reeks off you when you come back from the clubs?”
“Do I’ve to explain the obvious? It’s a fact that men dance with barmaids in the clubs and that’s where the perfume comes from,” he had laughed off my concern. “It’s just for entertainment and nothing else.”
I understood what he meant. We had led a pretty hectic life when we were dating. Clubbing had been part of that life. We had been regular faces in top clubs like Chez Ntemba and Culture Club. While I had grown out of it after we were married, Oscar seemed to engage even an extra gear.
I was a woman who knew her place in the home. So I sealed her mouth, suffering silently. I would wait for him until he returned, giving him a hot meal and pretending everything was alright.
But with my sister in the house, I knew it would be a different matter. “You know how Rita is. She’ll make it a big issue if you come home late.”
“I married you and not that hippo,” he said carelessly, resuming tying his tie. Oscar and Rita had mutual dislike like a cat and a dog. On one hand, he did not like Rita because she was always meddling in our family affairs and Rita did not like him because of his drunkness on the other. “How I run my family is not her concern.”
I went to the bedroom window and opened it, letting the cold morning air still my nerves. “She’ll be with us only for three days. Three days only. Can’t you come home early only for the three days?”
He finished tying his tie and smoothed his collar. Then he got into his jacket.
“No,” he said with finality
I shrugged with indifference. What would really change? It would just be a matter of putting up with my sister’s insinuations.
My sister, a sassy fat woman of thirty, arrived late in the afternoon, bouncing with energy as usual. Time flew as she kept talking. At seven, the question I dreaded most was tabled. “Where’s the weasel?”
That is the name she had given Oscar. She didn’t even try to hide that she considered him a sneaky and sly person who was not good for me. Whenever I defended him, she would liken me to Make Sikono of the popular Tikuferanji soap opera who believes the black lies Manganya keeps feeding her.
“He’ll be coming home late. He said he would be working late at the office,” I lied.
Rita laughed. “And you really believe that, mai a Sikono?”
That really hurt and I hoped that Oscar would come early to prove Rita wrong. But my hope was misplaced. He came at midnight drunk as a skunk. The following day he came at two in the morning.
“Why do you put up with Oscar’s stinking behaviour?” Rita asked suddenly after dinner.
I was alarmed. “What behaviour?”
“Oscar doesn’t come home late because he is working late. He spends his time in bars not only drinking but also with prostitutes…”
“Rita!”
“You don’t use perfume; whose perfume fills the house when he staggers in sozzled like an idiot?”
I was silent. “You’re right. He spends his evenings in bars. He says there’s nothing for him to do here.”
“He could talk with you. Play with the children. Watch TV.”
“He also says he discusses business…”
Rita broke in roughly. “What type of business can be discussed in the state of drunkenness he gets himself into?”
I did not have a response for that.
“This state of affairs cannot be allowed to continue,” Rita said passionately. “You’ve to do something.”
“What can I do?” I wailed. “If I challenge him, he’ll say I’m a nagging wife and come home even much more late.”
Rita was thoughtful for a moment then she jumped up excitedly. “If I thought you could listen to my advice, I would say dump this fool right away. Out there, a beautiful girl like you would be snapped like hot cakes.” She paused and looked at her body. “Look at me, fat like a sausage but every day I have to chase away men salivating at me like dogs on heat…”
I laughed. “For once, be serious, sister…”
She calmed and sat down beside me. “I’ve a plan, Rose. Listen…”
Two weeks after Rita’s departure, I returned home at 8 pm. I found Oscar’s already home.
“Oh, you should’ve told me you’ll be coming home early,” I said gaily throwing my hand bag on a sofa. “I’d have come home earlier.”
Oscar looked at me as if he had never seen me before. I was in a red dress that looked as if it had been poured over my body, my twin towers standing upright in the push-up bra, my booty majestically threatening to tear the dress, my braids cascading to the shoulders. My shoes were matching high heels. It was years since I had worn clothes like these. I had trimmed my eyebrows and fitted artificial eye lashes. My fitted fingernails, painted red, were as long as an eagle’s claws.
“Where…where were you?” he asked hoarsely.
“Jolene has hired me to help her in her restaurant,” I explained pleasantly. “We’ll be knocking off at 8 or 9 pm.”
Oscar was aghast. “That late?”
“Of course I was worried about the knocking off time but then I remembered you always come home late,” I replied easily. “It’ll be a better way of spending time while waiting for your return, honey.”
He was so shocked that he could only stare at me as if he had gone dumb. I kissed him on the cheek and waltzed towards the bedroom as if I was on catwalk. I could feel his eyes following me until I closed the bedroom door.
I started my work. I would dress with the utmost elegance in styles that would turn heads. Those heads included Oscar’s. I always maintained a look that was both professional and sexy. I pushed my looks to the next level so that Oscar could not help it but be filled with jealousy.
For the first few weeks, Oscar made sure he came home only after I had already returned from the restaurant. He would find me on the phone talking with my friends or reading books while sipping coffee and would show no sign that I was concerned by his late arrival. Oscar would stare suspiciously at me like a dog trying to establish the grounds for his suspicion.
Then he started coming early. I would come back jovially at 8pm and make his dinner. I would even stay up after he had gone to bed, reading books about my work.
Saturday was my day off. I was surprised when Oscar did not go out. He was watching Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner on the TV with the children. It was my children’s favourite cartoon. Like Wile, my son liked to call himself a ‘genius by trade’. On the other hand, my daughter rooted for the Road Runner.
I made some tea and brought it to him. I eased myself beside him on the sofa. We drank while chatting, laughing together at some funny parts of the cartoon. Then we had dinner and the children went to bed.
“Honey, please forgive me,” he said while helping me remove the dishes on the table.
I looked at him uncomprehendingly.
“I was wrong. I should’ve been spending the evenings with you and the children,” he said.
I didn’t say anything. But he poured it all out like a leaky pail. “I didn’t know what I was missing, spending all my free time with drunken friends-people who only cared about the money I could folk out. But sitting here, all alone, waiting for you, made me realise what you were going through when I was out.”
We embraced each other. There was no need to say anything. It was clear Oscar would now be spending his free time with the family.
Rita had been right. “Make it look as if it is of no consequence whether he comes home late or not. It will start him thinking!”
Indeed it had!
End
