Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s short story, “On Monday of Last Week,” presents a somber image of power struggles between an anxious husband, Neil, his largely absent wife, Tracy, and their emotionally vulnerable babysitter, Kamara. In Kamara’s long adjustment to American life, she falls victim to her sexual and unpredictable employer’s manipulation, and must grapple with the consequences.
The sexual tension between Tracy and Kamara is clear throughout nearly the entirety of the piece. To begin the story, Kamara fantasizes about Tracy massaging her body “with those paint-stained fingers” (74). This is in homage to when they met, when “Tracy appeared, curvy in leggings and a tight sweater,” sporting the same “paint-stained fingers” (79). From that moment, Kamara wished to alter her physical appearance by losing weight and wearing elegant makeup, to appeal to Tracy (79-80). Tracy later compliments Kamara’s teeth and caresses her chin (87), adding a strong sensual dimension to their otherwise work-based relationship. Tracy then asks Kamara to strip—her voice becoming a soft, nearly orgasmic whisper: “Would you take your clothes off for me?” (89). Later on, Tracy tells a nervous-but-enthusiastic Kamara, “You will take your clothes off for me,” but immediately dismisses her because of imperfect timing (92). Throughout their relationship, Tracy invites Kamara to engage with her sexually, using her voice and physical gestures to make clear that such an escapade would serve much more than just her own artwork. And yet, when Kamara makes herself vulnerable and agrees to pursue this with her employer, Tracy inexplicably dismisses her and leaves.
Many of these moments are intermingled with conversations with and mentions of Tracy’s husband, Neil, and Kamara’s husband, Tobechi. Whereas Tobechi is depicted as having lost his passions and excitement for life and love throughout the previous six years (84-5), Neil’s most accentuated trait is his nervousness: He frequently worries about feeding his son as healthfully as possible (75), while ensuring that his son is happy and undergoing healthy development (81). Indeed, when compared to Tracy, who doesn’t concern herself much with such problems, he pursues the brunt of the emotional labor in crafting a healthy family. Perhaps, because of this imbalance, he often relies upon Kamara to listen to his “worries” and “anxiety-driven instructions,” and to provide him with “pitying affection” (79). (This is unfair to Kamara, and I by no means wish to justify it, only to provide some context.) And yet, as a result, he is largely ambivalent, if not “indulgent” (94), toward Tracy’s flirtatious conversations: He may just be too nervous about Josh’s welfare to notice. His support provides the perfect groundwork for Tracy to seize control of her relationship with Kamara.
Thus, with Tracy and Kamara’s ongoing flirtatious and sensual history, there is an implicit understanding between the two that, aside from the clearly extra-marital nature of their relationship, they will remain exclusive. This point-of-view is taken from Kamara’s first-person perspective, as she doesn’t even once contemplate pursuing another woman sexually. And yet, even the geography of their relationship dictates that dramatic irony will inevitably be problematic: Because Tracy controls the basement—her artistic space, and the only place in which they can become intimate—she controls their relationship. Kamara cannot control any of this, since she has no autonomy over any location within the house to make that possible. Their relationship, therefore, exists on Tracy’s terms. Thus, when Maren enters—the woman whom, ironically and predictably, Neil invites over, just like Kamara—Tracy treats her identically to Kamara, leveraging the same flirting techniques and covert sexual invitations (94). This betrays Kamara, who averts her gaze from the exchange (94). Indeed, by the end, the nature of their relationship prohibits Kamara from even maintaining the autonomy to voice her frustration at Tracy’s behavior. The only reason that the relationship ends silently is because Tracy is the only one who can speak, and she has already moved onto another target. Meanwhile, Kamara is left helpless, startled, and dejected.
In the end, this is a story of manipulation, of a woman who, unsatisfied by her marriage, seeks out other women as sexual targets, by flooding them with positive attention and sexual invitations, before speedily rejecting those courageous enough to open up. While seemingly appealing to romantic notions of exploring the female body and lesbian sexuality through art, she manipulated and rejects the very women whom she attempts to woo.
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