“That bald woman shouldn’t let herself be seen when we have company!”
I heard my brother Godfrey shouting before I even reached the front door.
I had been away in Canada for four years. A temporary shutdown at the metalworking plant in Calgary had given us several unexpected weeks off, and instead of telling anyone, I bought the first affordable flight home. I wanted to surprise my wife. I imagined Phedra running through the doorway when she saw me. I imagined my mother complaining that I had given her no time to cook. I imagined Godfrey asking what Canadian whiskey I had brought him. What I found instead was my wife on her knees behind the house, gathering pieces of a broken plate with her bare hands.
Her head was shaved. Her arms looked half their old size. A bucket of filthy water sat beside her, and when she tried to stand, her legs shook so violently she dropped back onto one knee.
