Did I tell you that my common-law wife is pregnant? And did I tell you that things have been crazy around the house since all this began? Well, it keeps being so, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to handle this for the next seven months. Right now, I’m at my wit’s end.

The other day, I walk into the house to find her sitting on the sofa, sobbing uncontrollably. I rush to her.

“Hey, dear, what’s the matter?”

She gives me a look that could melt butter. “I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you. You know that.”

“Of course, you do. But it’s only words. You do everything to make me sad.”

In my head, thoughts are swirling. What did I do now? Nothing comes to mind.

“What are you talking about?” I ask. “I’ve done nothing but be—”

“You hide my stuff. I can’t find my favourite bowl.”

A favourite bowl? We live in a one-room flat. It’s got to be here somewhere. But she’s right. It’s not in the kitchen drawers, where she puts dishes after washing them. And there are more dishes missing. Plates, cups, spoons… None where they usually should be.

“I don’t understand,” I confess.

“Why would you move the dishes?” she cries. “What have I ever done to you but love you, Makini? I’m about to bring your child into the world. Why, Makini, why?”

No matter how much I try to claim my innocence, Sophia doesn’t want to hear any of it. And who could blame her? Kitchen stuff is missing in a house with occupied by only two people. Then I remember something. Inspector Tembo, our boss and Sophia’s father, usually comes over to visit, and he’s suffering from some form of memory loss. We suspect it could be dementia but he won’t get it checked, so we don’t know for sure. But he’s done some weird stuff.

Like the other day, when he accused us of stealing his uniform to keep him from coming to work. We tried to ease his fears by telling him no one had stolen his uniform. That he was actually wearing the same uniform he thought was stolen. That only pacified him for a few minutes before he forgot it all over again and began with the accusations.

“Has your father been here?” I ask Sophia.

She shoots me another disgusted look. “Oh, now you want to blame it on my father? How cruel can you be?”

“I’m only trying to go through all the possibilities, honey. And you know how he’s been this past one year.”

“I can’t believe this.” She storms out of the house. “I want to be alone for a while.”

I follow her out, where some children are playing football in the compound just outside our house. One of them holds the makeshift football and stares at Sophia. Then he points at her and says, “Jayden, there’s the lady I was telling you about.”

“Is she the one who pinched you?” the boy called Jayden asks.

“No. She’s the one my mother was talking about. The one she said swallowed a baby.”

Jayden doesn’t look too convinced. “A whole baby? Her stomach doesn’t even look big. It should be big, shouldn’t it?”

The other boy shrugs. “I don’t know. My mother said she has a baby in her stomach. How would that be if she didn’t swallow it?”

Sophia, who had listened to the entire conversation in horror, rushes back into the house, crying some more. “Oh my God! Everyone is talking about me now?”

“It’s okay, honey,” I say. “Don’t mind them. Let me get you something cold to drink.”

I open our small fridge and there they are. She washed dishes and arranged them neatly inside the fridge.