I haven’t been going into work for the past week. Mrs Msomi has had to self-isolate as she is showing symptoms of Covid-19. She stays in the cottage that we work in so she can protect the kids and the other helpers who are in the house. This Covid-19 thing is scary. Nobody knows where it’s coming from and nobody understands where it’s going. 

Mthunzi has been worried about his kids. Mbali has just taken a turn for the worst. She doesn’t sleep at home anymore. She does as she pleases – not only disrespecting her parents’ orders, but also disrespecting the president who has told us to not travel as and when we please. I think she is acting out and she is upset about the divorce. I feel terrible, and to an extent, responsible for all of this. I never asked Mthunzi to divorce Sindi. The plan was to wait until Siya is old enough to understand. Why has that changed? I knew it was bad when Mthunzi found Mbali at some guy’s house. She was drunk and high. When Mthunzi asked her why she is behaving the way that she was behaving, she said she’s stressed from being Siya’s parent now that he and Sindi are buried in their issues and have not realised that their kids still need them. It hurt Mthunzi a lot. No parent wants to see their children this hurt. 

I told him that he can move back home. I won’t be mad at him. His kids need him. But for whatever reason, he is of the belief that I need him more. He wakes up every morning and goes to his house. He spends the day there, working and spending time with his kids. Then he comes back here every evening to spend time with me. He seems to be dividing himself quite well. 

This has given me a chance to take a more serious step towards my business and my brand. I used to buy weave bundles a lot. I would wait for them to be on special then buy them. My plan was to make wigs and sell them. That business is quite lucrative. I have three boxes full of weave bundles and another four boxes full of equipment to make wigs. I started making wigs during this week that I have been off. The first few wigs I made are not so great, but they were a good warm up session. Now that I am getting the hang of it, I am within. I am making short wigs, long wigs, curly wigs and full straight wigs. 

I have also started designing an online website that I will also use as an online store to sell my wigs. There is a guy here in the township who can build people’s websites. I am working with him virtually to build a good brand and website for my business. He told me that I need to have a social media presence as well because that is where I am most likely going to find customers then bring them to my website. “It is business social media accounts”, he keeps telling me. 

I listened. 

“Mohavi”, that’s the name of my website and social media handles. At the moment, I sell hair on my website then I also have fitness challenges for people to use to work out at home. I haven’t launched it as yet because I am still recording the videos and trying to edit them well. I haven’t had the chance to talk to Mthunzi about what I am busy with because he leaves early in the morning, already in a hurry to make it to his place on time for his early morning meetings. Then he comes back just before the curfew. When he arrives in the evening, he either has to proceed with more meetings or he is only in the mood for sex or he is extremely tired. I will tell him eventually because I know that he will not be happy if everything launches and he just bumps into my stuff online. 

I am watching my DVD collections on my DVD player and 65inch screen that Mthunzi bought. Yes, I still have a portable DVD player. What am I supposed to do with all the DVDs I bought? I love all those movies. So, I am having a movie day while I sew some wigs. 

I get a call from Mthunzi. 

“Hey”, I answer. 

“Hey baby. You good?” Him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Wena?” I ask. 

“Siya is not well. He has his mother’s symptoms. We also had to rush Puseletso and Sonto to hospital in the morning when I arrived”, he tells me. 

I know I should ask him how they are all dealing with this and how he is coping. But now, my own skin feels cold and my mind is clearly playing tricks on me because I suddenly feel like I have these symptoms. Mthunzi has been traveling from here to his house everyday. What if he also gave me this thing? Yho! Modimo waka!

“Love?” He searches for me on the phone. 

“I’m here, love”, my voice seems stuck in a spittle. 

“Are you okay? How’s Mbali?” I show some care while dealing with my own paranoia. 

“Babe, I’m worried. Honestly. There are no beds in hospitals. I have tried to call in favours to get Siya a bed. No one can do anything for me. Baby, it’s bad.” He explains. 

“Baby, what can I do to help?” I ask because obviously I cannot be a bitch. I might have to put my life on a line. But Siya cannot die. If Siya dies, Mthunziwill go through what I went through when I lost Mohavi and I would never wish that kind of pain on my worst enemy.

“I have a doctor coming to do a house call. It’s the same doctor that has been helping Sindi. He will treat him from home.” He says. 

“Baby, I really think you should be there for the kids right now. With both Puseletso and Sonto in hospital, they need you. Sindi is also not in a good state to look after them.” I say. Yes, when I talk to him, I call Mrs Msomi Sindi. 

“Yeah. I’m going to miss you though.” He says.

“I’m going to miss you too, love. But Siya takes preference right now”, I say. 

“Thank you for understanding. I love you, baby”, him. 

“I love you too.” Me.

“Don’t be a stranger. We will chat every minute we can”, he says.

“I won’t, baby. Keep me posted okay?” Me.

“I will, baby”, him. 

“And love…” 

“Yes baby?” 

“Please check up on Mfundo. Make sure that he is okay too”, I have no idea where that came from, but I just had to say it. 

He is quiet for a while. 

“You are incredible, you know that?” Him. 

“Let me know how he is, okay?” Me. 

“I love you, Koena”, him. 

“I love you, Mthunzi”, me. 

We say our goodbyes and hang up. 

A few minutes after hanging up with him, I get a call from a random number. 

“Hello?” I answer.

“Good afternoon. I am looking for Miss Koena Zelda Letsoalo”, a white man with a very strong accent says. 

“This is she”, I respond. 

“That is terrific. Miss Letsoalo, you are speaking to Marnus Laubscher. I am Thabiso Dipale’s attorney”, he says. 

“Okay”, I say. I am actually curious.

“Miss Letsoalo, Mr Dipale left eighty percent of his estate to his son, Mohavi Letsoalo. I understand that you are Mohavi’s mother because he strictly stated that we liaise with you”, he says.

“I’m sorry Mr Laubscher, I am slightly confused. Why are we talking about Thabiso’s estate?” Me. 

“Oh dear”, he says.

“Excuse me?” 

“Miss Letsoalo, Mr Dipale passed away from the Covid-19 virus”, he says. 

What? When? I wasn’t expecting anyone to tell me or anything, but is this how I really had to find out? 

“I’m really sorry, Miss Letsoalo. I understand the two of you never married? But it must still be difficult because you had a son together.” He says. 

I am still quiet. I am not hurt or anything, but I am deeply disturbed. 

“Miss Letsoalo?” The man. 

“I’m here Mr Laubscher, apologies. I’m sad to let you know that our son passed away as well. Thabiso and I buried him already. Clearly, he didn’t have time to update his estate.” I say. 

“Well Miss Letsoalo, he has strict instructions. In the event that Mohavi is to pass on, Mr Dipale stressed that you still receive the money as you did raise him alone all these years.” He says. 

“I don’t need to be compensated for raising my son”, I defensively say. 

“I understand ma’am. The money is still yours”, he says.

I hang up. 

What the hell?

I spent the rest of the afternoon sewing wigs. It is now 9pm. I decide to call Mthunzi. His phone is on voice-mail. I send him a whatsapp text:

“I thought I’d check in on you before I head to bed. Your phone is off. I suppose you do have a lot on your plate. You are in my thoughts. I love you.” 

I then sleep. The bed feels so big without him. 

…

It is 2am when I hear a noise by my gate. I check my phone and see some missed calls from Mthunzi. It is late so I cannot call him back. Whoever is at the gate is fighting with my gate. I jump out of bed and slightly look out of the window. There is a car at the gate. My phone rings, it is Mthunzi.

“Baby”, me.

“I’m at the gate. Please open for me”, he says. 

“Okay”, me.

I wear a gown and slippers then make my way to the gate. I put a padlock there because I thought he wasn’t coming back. I unlock the padlock and remove it from the gate then my gate slides open. I suppose he pressed the remote from inside the car. He drives in then closes the gate. I lock it. 

He climbs out of the car. He is an absolute mess. He throws himself on me and wails in my arms. I just comfort him. I take his car keys from him as he heads into the house. I take out his wallet and phone from the car then lock it. I head into the house. He is on the floor, crying on my tile. I think I already know what’s going on. I know this pain. I am a parent who has lost a child too.

“Siya?” I enquire. 

He cries.

“M-Mba-Mbali! She wasn’t even sick. She just died”, he says. 

My tears stream down my face. But I have to be strong for him. I just have to be. I sit next to him on the floor and we just cry together. 

…

Mrs Msomi asked me to be with Mr Msomi today as we bury Mbali. She and Siya cannot be there because they are ill and isolated. At the funeral, it is literally just me, Mthunzi, Mthunzi’s boss Mr Ramaru and his wife. I know Mrs Ramaru. She is friends with Mrs Msomi. So I keep my distance from Mthunzi. This is not the time to launch our relationship. There are about three friends of Mbali’s from school. It is a small funeral, but it is very sad. I have never seen Mthunzi this way. He is torn apart. 

A young man who is the spitting image of Mthunzi walks up to where we are sitting at the cemetery. He gives his father a handshake. Mthunzi seems surprised to see him. The young man is distraught. Mthunzi stands up and embraces him. They embrace each other for quite a moment then they both break down. I wish I could do something, but Mrs Ramaru is obviously here to keep an eye on Mr Msomi. I don’t want to give her a reason to throw Mrs Msomi’s scent on me on the journey of finding Mthunzi’s mistress. 

Mthunzi and this young man make their way, together, to throw soil into the whole where Mbali’s coffin has now descended to. Everything is wrapped. Her body and the box. Only Mthunzi could go in to make sure it was the right body. The undertakers are fully suited up in PPE gear. 

When Mthunzi and the young man are done, we all leave the cemetery. 

I made it back home using a taxi. I left all the clothes I wore to the funeral outside the house and entered my house. I sanitized the clothes from inside the house then burnt them. I shower and get comfortable. I am now going through my phone to see my pictures with Mbali. I cannot imagine what Mrs Msomi is going through. Perhaps I should phone her. 

I dial her number. She answers after a few rings. 

“Zelda”

“Hi Mrs Msomi. I just wanted to check in on you”, I say. 

“Who said I needed you to check in on me?” Her. 

“Mrs Msomi, what you are going through is not easy. I know. I just wanted you to know that if you need to talk or you need anything at all, you can call me.” I say.

“Thanks Zelda. I do need help with keeping things afloat on our tender”, she says. 

“Okay”, me. 

“I’ll email you details”, she says.

“Are you up to it, Mrs Msomi?” Me.

“I’m going crazy, Zelda. I need something else going for me outside of this illness, the death of my child and being taken to the CCMA now that Puseletso has passed away because of Covid-19”, she says. 

“I’m sorry. What?” Me. 

“Yeah, she’s dead. Now her family wants me to compensate and support them until Kingdom come because their breadwinner got this illness while she was on duty”, she says. 

What is this Covid-19? 

“I’ll wait for your email, Mrs Msomi. I’m here for you. Whatever you need”, I say.

“Thanks, Zelda”, she says. 

Thabiso’s lawyer has been calling me non-stop as well. I really don’t want Thabiso’s money. I really don’t. 

Mthunzi walks into the house dressed differently as well. His funeral clothes are wherever they are. He is followed in by the young man from the cemetery and some bags. 

Mthunzi kisses me. I embrace him. 

“Baby, this is Mfundo, my son. I was hoping he could stay here while he is in Gauteng. I am keeping him away from contracting this illness and away from some politics at home”, he says. 

“You don’t have to explain, babe. Mfundo, you are most welcome. I can show you to the room you’ll be using”, I say.

“Ngiyabonga sisi”, he says. 

“Mfundo, phambili kokuthi uyegumbini lakho, I need to tell you ukuthi this is Koena. She is someone very special in my life. I’d appreciate it if you treated her with respect and nawe uziphathe kahle ngokuhlala kwakho lana“, Mthunzisays.

“Ngiyezwa baba”, Mfundo says. 

He then follows me to Mohavi’s room which will now become his room, I suppose. 

“Feel at home, okay?” Me. 

“Ngiyabonga sis’Koena”, Mfundo says. 

I make my way back to the kitchen. I find Mthunzi sitting on the kitchen bar stool, drinking whiskey. I lay my hand on his back. This makes him emotional. I stand between his legs and I hug him. He hugs me back. He cries. I cry with him. I see Mfundo looking at us. He seems emotional too.