It’s All in the Head

Marita twisted her handkerchief between her sweaty palms. The piece of cloth, wrinkled and wet kept her from tapping her feet on the floor. She breathed quietly, eyes fixed on floor only listening to the sound of the papers flipping on the doctor’s desk. As much as she did not want to be here, she was glad that Mrs. Kay was in the doctor’s room with her. She wouldn’t know how to interpret what the doctor would say on her own. Mrs. Kay said her headaches must be because she was pregnant. Even though Marita’s husband was in the army and she hadn’t seen him in close to a year, Marita thought she was right. She gave her urine sample in shame to the nurse who was pleased to see that it was clear and not smelly. “You must drink a lot of water, right?” Marita simply smiled because she didn’t know what that had to do with the pregnancy. She thought about what this would mean. Would Mrs. Kay let her continue working for her if she did have a baby? The house rules were clear from the start: Laziness is the key to your exit door. Marita was planning how to convince her that she would never slack in her duties even if the pregnancy would be confirmed. She knew herself. Had she not packed lorries in the market when she carried the twins, and worked until she put to bed. This would certainly be no different, yet she couldn’t understand why this felt strange. She had brushed it off and forced her body to work. For the past few months, she had managed to conceal her symptoms perfectly until Mr. Kay came back from one of his long business trips unannounced and found her lying on the kitchen floor, touching her head in misery.

“Martha!” she heard Mrs. Kay’s voice in the midst of her thoughts, “Did you hear what the doctor said?”

Marita looked frightened, partly because she was still getting used to this new name that was easier for Mrs. Kay to pronounce and partly because the doctor was now smiling at her, when she was expecting bad news.

“He says you are not pregnant,” Mrs. Kay said in a brisk tone, irate that her suspicion was wrong.

Marita nodded and said thank you without looking at the doctor’s face.

“Your blood pressure was just a bit high, that’s all, most of your blood tests are normal for your age,” the doctor said. “Tell me, do you work long hours?”

She tightened the grip on her handkerchief again.

“No,” she made sure Mrs. Kay saw her shaking her head. “Normal hours only,”

“Mmh, what about on your days off? Are you resting or picking up shifts in other houses?”

“No doctor, I only work for Mrs. Kay,” she left out the part that there were no days off. She lived in the servants’ quarters and only got off hours.

“Okay then. Did the tablet I gave you to stop the headache work?”

“Yes… yes doctor it did,” she lied. It was not in her nature to ask for more no matter the circumstances.

The doctor, who looked young enough to be her son, nodded and lowered his head to write in her file. She hoped he wouldn’t have to come close to her, to ask her to do some funny tests like clap her hands or smile showing her teeth like the way they asked her father to do when they took him to the hospital because he couldn’t feel his legs; legs he had stood and walked on for the past seventy years.  

“Well, I would advise you to take it easy with the chores and get some more rest when you can,”

He turned his head to the right to face Mrs. Kay, lowering his voice as if offering a prayer to her, “Mrs. Kay, it was good that you brought her to the hospital. Let’s try and see how to help her with the chores and encourage her to take care of her health,”

Marita’s face coiled in disbelief as instant deep-seated anger brewed inside her for the doctor. How could he say this to Mrs. Kay? She would not be pleased. Was he trying to make her lose her job? It was her hands and feet that were working, and as far as she was concerned, she had enough strength to clean all the houses in the suburban estate. This was a waste of time, coming to an expensive hospital where the bright white lights burned her eyes and the sheets were whiter than her own teeth. She wanted to leave immediately.

The doctor scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Marita, “Please get these tablets. Take them every morning for one month as you check your blood pressure every week at the clinic near you. I would like to see you again in three weeks,”

The door was still open when they got back to the residence. They had left in a hurry because Mr. Kay wanted to make sure they went to the hospital before he left for his trip. He knew his wife would brush it off if he didn’t insist on it. Marita never wanted to be the centre of their tension but the event had spiraled out of her control.

As they entered the house in silence, Mrs. Kay walked into the kitchen, still on her heels and wavy wig. Strange, Marita thought. She usually took them off by default once she came back from work and Marita would receive them like a wardrobe handle, only visible again when she called for her. She emerged a few moments later with the mop and bucket in her hand, marching straight towards the rooms.

Marita let out a native cry. She rushed to her side.

“Madam Kay, please give me back the mop, I will wipe everything now,” her knees dropped to the floor as she used her body as a human shield to barricade her path. Mrs. Kay tapped lightly on the bucket, weakly trying to resist the woman bundled around her legs. In her normal self, she would have pushed Marita away, but this was actually her retribution.  

“No Martha, the doctor said I shouldn’t stress you at all. I feel… responsible for causing you this stress. I also don’t want John to say I wasn’t taking care of you while he was away,”

Marita shook her head as she tightly held onto the long stick.

“I have no stress Madam, I feel like a young woman again. Please let me do my job,”

“Okay then, Mrs. Kay let go of the bucket, “only if you are sure about it,”

Marita shot up and raced to fetch water to clean the seven-bedroom mansion. She hid behind the kitchen door until she heard Mrs. Kay going up the stairs.

There was no pride in poverty, there were no terms set by a beggar. She recalled how she got this job weeping at the gate three years ago when Mr. Kay found her. She would protect it with her life.

As she swamped the floor with the wet mop, she thought to herself, headaches come and go. Its normal. A headache was what she said she had when her husband would come home drunk and wanted more than a cooked meal, the excuse her twins conjured when they wanted to stay home instead of going to school. It was Mr. Kay’s exit plan to end an argument when he was upset with his wife. So she couldn’t understand why a headache would cause her eyes to cast a black curtain, make her collapse on the floor and have an ambulance rush her to the hospital, barely able to move her right side.

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