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       Midnight train-Sauti sol

4.//I most certainly do not care about you enough to poison you

Simi.

"Mum," Simi started. "Mama," she persisted when her mother seemed to be ignoring her.

"Yes Simi," she answered irritably. "What do you want?"

"Where do babies come from," Simi's mother looked at her. Stared at her four year old really hard.

She was growing every day, physically, emotionally, and even psychologically. She had always found ways to answer Simi's questions. With her, it was always a barrage of answers and questions. Some expected, some unexpected. An answer usually always sparked a curiosity deep within her and she would do anything to satisfy it.

Craving knowledge had always been her best trait, and curiosity had come as an added advantage, and she always soaked it up like the water in the middle of the Sahara when it was provided.

"They come from the hospital," she answered.

"Do they grow in hospitals?" Simi mused loudly.

That was the hardest question you would ever ask an African parent. They always found it hard to talk about sex.

"Well," she started. "Where do you think they come from?"

"They grow in a ladies stomach,"

"No hunny, babies don't grow in the stomach. They grow in a special place inside the stomach called a uterus," she corrected. "See when a man and a woman come together, they each give something to create, a child. The man gives seed and the woman gives an egg, which is then planted in the woman's tummy, that's how babies grow."

"An egg, like a chicken?"

"But you don't have a man."

"And why can't it be planted in the man's tummy?"

An endless barrage of questions.

                                        ***

"I told you to come and see me when you were due to go home yesterday," Madam Sarah started the minute Simi stepped on her floors. "You did not."

"You were out shopping," she shrugged carelessly. "So I went home, I didn't want to give a chance for the last bus to leave and lose the only mode of transportation I had, that would have left  me stranded, and you wouldn't have been generous enough to give me a lift, would you?"

"You follow my orders in this house like I said yesterday, I pay you to follow orders, not to think!" Sarah barked in her face. "I could have you fired for that."

"But you aren't?" Simi knew she hadn't done anything that would warrant being fired, that would allow for wrongful termination of contract and the last thing this rich people wanted was a lawsuit. "Are you?"

"My study," she turned and walked away, only stopping when she realized Simi wasn't following her. "Now!"

Shuffling on her feet, Simi followed her boss to her study. This was the life she had always wanted. Ordering people around, and they in turn doing what she wanted.

She couldn't help but admire how the office looked, it had been kind of a sanctuary for the family, private. Only Kathrine had had the privilege of entering it, and then, it was only to clean and she was out afterward. Plush maroon velvety cushions were thrown on the leather sofas in the room, strategically placed to face the large French garden windows that let in a lot of natural light. A few family pictures scattered on the wall behind them. Sarah had seated herself behind the desk, a glass of whiskey in her hand. She wanted to take a seat herself, but she had pushed the missus enough, and that might have been the last straw.

"Want some?" she asked offering her a half-filled glass. "You can take a seat you know, I could have fired you for much less, especially today."

"It's eight in the morning, and you're already drinking," she observed trying to delay taking the glass from her hand, she wouldn't put it past her to poison her.

"It's five o'clock somewhere else, or eight or ten, who cares?" She shrugged noncomittally, her eyes still gesturing at the outstretched hand, glass in hand. Simi tentatively took it.

"Thanks."

"You can take a sip," she encouraged. "I'm not going to poison you," what was with her and putting stuff she was thinking into words, could she read minds?

"Honestly, I don't know you, and I most certainly do not care about you enough to poison you," she added for extra measure.

"Why am I here ma'am?" she raised a questioning eyebrow, had Sarah been keen enough and looked into her eyes, she would have seen the curiosity swimming in them.

"I want you to spy on someone for me."

"Why? What am I going to get out of it," the things she wanted to ask her madam for. Clearly, it was important to her, and she was desperate, desperate enough to ask the help from the help. She could get a lot out of it.

"Money. A lot of money," she countered. Sarah knew Simi had always wanted money, more money than she could use and she also knew if money was the bait she was going to take it. She had watched her keenly, taking note on how she preciously brushed the fur on her designer coats, or how she took a careful seat on the sofas, a wistful look in her eyes, or how her eyes glittered when they fell upon her jewelry case. She was just right for what she wanted. "Also you come from the slums, and, that's where my subject is."

"Who?" That question held a lot of possibilities, maybe dangerous possibilities but if it would get her the life she wanted, she was willing to take that road.

"Are you going to take it," Sarah challenged cackling evilly, pulling the ice bucket towards her and adding whiskey to her glass. "I'm not going to tell you until you agree and put myself on the spot. It could be dangerous for me."

"And it wouldn't be dangerous for me," she countered narrowing her eyes. Trying to gauge her reactions, to see if she would lie to her, she knew that her life meant little to her madam, but she wanted to be sure she at least knew the consequences before she decided to face them.

"You're scared," she observed calmly, but Simi took it as a belittlement, and she hated that.

"No, I'm not." She angrily clenched her fists, her mouth pressing into a thin line. "I just want to know my enemies. There's a difference."

"Well, what's your decision?"

 "How much?"

 "Five hundred thousand,"

"A million."

"Now now, don't be greedy, you do know there are other people out there who would take the job for less? Seven hundred,"

"Why don't you go and get those people, then pay them less. Eight fifty, that's my final offer."

"Yeah okay, so you taking it," Sarah voiced making her realize she hadn't made her decision yet.

"I'll think about it," she stood up pushing the bottle of whiskey toward her madam. "But the rates remain the same, and I'll take five hundred up front if ever I agree."

Simi had never been indecisive about anything in her life than she was that day, her mind wasn't at work, but it wasn't in her head either. That was a lot of money, she could buy a piece of land somewhere, build a small little house for herself, she could invest the rest and it would, in turn, guarantee a regeneration of much more income. The possibilities were endless. That was her gateway from the slums. That money could make all her dreams come true, but why wasn't she just taking it? What was stopping her? Wasn't that what she always wanted? Money.

The product of her thoughts had been two broken glasses, and a bruised knee from where she ran into a cabinet, but still the thoughts refused to leave her head. Kathrine had shouted at her to concentrate more times than she could care to count but her mind always seemed to run back to one place. More than one time she had caught Sarah observing her as if waiting in the shadows for her decision.

Sure the money was good motivation, but there was something else. Something oddly thrilling about spying on someone. Something oddly satiating to know the secrets of her mistress. Who did she want to spy on and what were their connections, did she deal in something illegal, or was she having an affair, maybe?

The more she thought about it, the more unanswered questions cropped up, and the more she knew she could have enough leverage against Sarah. Oh, how wonderful it would be to gloat and hold it against her.

"Hey, Simi," she looked around to find Lorna gesticulating wildly at her face. "I've been calling you for some time now, you okay?"

"Never been better. What makes you think I am going to talk to you about my problems though, that is if I had any in the first place?"

"I thought we established that I am your friend yesterday?"

"I thought I cleared that we are not friends," she mimicked, watching Lornas eyes fill with unshed tears and that somehow shifted her demeanor, and softened her heart, a little bit. "Okay, then, stop crying, we can be friends then, you cool."

"Sure," the tears dried up so fast, she could have sworn they weren't even there in the first place. Honestly, she had just agreed because she didn't know how to deal with crying people, or just crying in general. "So now that we are friends, can you tell me why you are zoned out since morning?"

"That's none of..." Lorna gave her a look that shut her up. "Look, I know we are friends and all but that doesn't mean I'm going to pour out my heart and soul to you."

"I understand, you can always tell me when you're ready." She put her hands on top of Simis, a gesture meant to be comforting, but she took offense and slightly flinched. She didn't want friends, she worked better alone, she was used to it, and if this clown thought she was her friend, she was hugely mistaken.

"I will," she patted her hands, taking the chance to get them away from her, after all, everyone had a choice to make. "As you said, when I'm ready,"

Our exchange rates are a dollar for one hundred Kenyan shillings. That makes eight hundred and fifty thousand, eight thousand five hundred dollars.

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