LIZZIE'S WORLD: Difficult decision

Mariam, Jo and I are sitting in Fatma’s living room. The girls are listening to her tell the story of Steve’s cheating, and the subsequent child he has fathered with Louise, my colleague. I sit back and watch as Jo and Mariam go from shocked to flabbergasted, their mouths hanging open in utter surprise. At one point, Jo turns to me.

“You mean you had no idea at all that your colleague and friend – who used to be your personal assistant – was pregnant with your best friend’s boyfriend’s child!?” Now that she puts it that way, it sounds quite incredulous that I would not know how much in the centre of this I was.

“And you…” she turns to Fatma, “never once figured it out, considering you know Louise too?”

“Louise and I never met outside Liz’s office,” Fatma sighs. “I didn’t even know she knew Steve – how was I supposed to know they had met and they were having a raging affair?”

“I think the key question is… Steve would have known where Louise worked, and with whom, wouldn’t he?” I ask.

“I asked him about that. He says they never really discussed it. Louise was exceptionally private about some things,” Fatma chips in.

Mariam butts in, looking angry: “…except for the one thing she should have been private with, which was her vagi-,”

“Mariam!” I yelp before she finishes her sentence. “Let’s not go there. What’s done is done. The question is, where will you go from here?” I turn to Fatma.

“Well,” she says, looking resolute, “Steve and I have decided to stay together and work through this.”

There is a collective gasp around the room as the three of us digest the bombshell she has just dropped.

“But you can’t!”

“After all the drama he has put you through …”

“Are you going to just let him get away with it?”

“Ladies, ladies,” Fatma interjects, “I know it will be difficult for you to understand my decision.”

“Heh!” Mariam scoffs. “How do you know he won’t do it again with some other woman?”

“I have his word.”

“But he lied to you the last time he promised he would be faithful,” Jo points out. Fatma nods in acknowledgment.

“Look, I can’t explain it all to you right now,” she says, “but I have my reasons for staying. Trust me, it has not been an easy decision. But I feel I have decided what is right for my family.”

“Your daughter is going to grow up watching you being treated like trash, and she will think that’s the way relationships are supposed to go,” Jo says.

“Can you stop making so much sense, Jo?” I smirk.

But even as I make my joke, I note the pained look on Fatma’s face. “Look,” I turn to her, “we will support you. I just want to put this out there that this is the worst decision you have ever made. But it is your life, not ours, and we can’t force you to change your mind if you don’t want to.”

“Where I grew up, marriage was for better or for worse,” Fatma says. “Our mothers stayed with our fathers even when they were making babies with many mistresses out there!”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Mariam says. “There has to be a point where you say, enough is enough. Enough of being lied to so regularly and so predictably.”

Fatma shakes her head. “That’s why some of you can’t keep a man to save your lives. You don’t understand commitment.”

Mariam nearly spits out her wine in horror at the insult that has just been leveled at her. “Is it commitment or foolishness, though?”

“Enough fighting,” Jo says. “We’re here to listen to Fatma.”

“What do you want me to do?” Fatma wails. A lone tear trickles down her cheek. “I can’t go back into the dating scene. It’s not like there are any better men out there. They are all lying scumbags. Better I stay with the devil I know. And my daughter loves him so much. He’s so good with her!”

“I understand all that,” I say. “But you also have to think about yourself. How are you going to be a good mother if this man is constantly stressing you out?”

“He’s said he won’t do it again and I believe him,” Fatma says. Mariam rolls her eyes. Jo chews on her lip thoughtfully. I walk over, sit down beside Fatma, who is dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a piece of tissue, and rub her back gently. “It’ll be OK. We’ll figure it out,” I say. And we all sit in pensive silence, wondering how this tragic Steve-Fatma story will work out in the end.