Exams have crept up on us like a thief in the night. The year has been one hell of a ride. Zee and I are doing great and are even having sex without condoms now. Don’t worry, I am on contraceptives. We have been very faithful to our studies and it has paid off very well because our semester marks are beautifully high. He likes school. He is a bit of a nerd and he will not even admit to it. He’s a great guy. 

I have also been applying for internships and graduate programmes. I am not trying to live off Zithulele for a living. He has not discouraged me one bit, so I am very happy with that. I have been invited to a few interviews and honestly, I am just waiting on offer letters now. 

My parents fixed things. My mom made it no secret that papa is her boo and she is not leaving her marriage anytime soon. Pitiful. My dad and I are not on speaking terms. I heard he kicked Atisang out because he is gay. We know Ati is gay, he is very open about it. It is just that my dad will get drunk then swear at him about being gay with all he has. Ati has been staying with Reitumetsi and Suzi, though my mom is planning on bringing him back home this weekend. 

I am cooking dinner at Zee’s house when he walks in with some girl who looks like she has been baptized by life. She is amazed by his house and he is holding her bags. They stand in front of me in the kitchen. I am waiting for him to say something and he is waiting for me to say something. The girl just seems lost. 

“What huh – ” I try to begin, but I cannot really find the words to ask what I want to ask. 

“My name is Lindiwe”, she says and extends her hand to shake mine. 

“I am Letlali”, I say, accepting her hand. 

“Baby, Lindiwe is from Soweto, where I am from. We were neighbours.” Zee explains. 

“We lost our virginities to each other, actually. We have always had a special place for each other in each other’s hearts”, she says. 

“Why are you here?” I ask her before she carries on ranting as if she did not hear her sex buddy call me baby. 

She is silent. Her facial expression tells me that she is beginning to realise that we are not friends. 

“Baby, Lindiwe got into a bit of trouble. She needs my help and I cannot exactly turn my back on her.” Zee explains. 

“So you brought her here? You couldn’t put her up in a hotel?” I ask. I am actually irritated. 

“Hotel? Thule and I- 

“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my boyfriend. You’ve only been here for three seconds and you’ve already forgotten your place!” I snap at her. The audacity. 

“My place?” Her. 

“Lindiwe please, let me handle this.” Zee says. 

“Well then handle it and stop taking your time.” Lindiwe snaps back.

I chortle in disbelief. 

“Lindiwe, please wait in the TV room while I talk to Tlali”, Zee. 

“She can wait outside”, me.

Both Zee and Lindiwe look at me like I’ve lost my mind. 

“I need to decide whether she is welcome here or not. So you need to explain to me why this is the best place for her to be as opposed to a hotel. I’d like to be thorough when selecting my guests in this house”, I say. Yes honey. I’m the one in charge around here. 

“Heh! Thule! You left Ndofaya ukuthi uzodonswa ngempumulo by some model c girl who speaks English from her nose? You can do better bhuti wami and mina, I’m not going anywhere. Where’s my room? I’ll take my own bags there.” Lindiwe says then barges into the house, pulling her bag behind her. 

“I see a room right here next to the stairs. I’ll take it”, she yells. Then she slams the door shut. 

I shake my head. 

“Seriously dude?” I begin.

“Babe, she just needed a place to crash. I couldn’t chase her away.” He says. 

“A woman you once slept with will be sleeping in a room downstairs from where we will be sleeping?” Me.

“Then we better be loud tonight so she knows that you fuck me the best, huh?” He says, being very sly. 

I accidently chuckle. 

He receives that as a sign that I’m realizing that I’m being silly and jealous for no reason. The dick will make you crazy sometimes. I guess I have got nothing to worry about. He hugs me then kisses me. 

“The Mohale twins will come pick her up first thing tomorrow morning. Her job interview is at the royal house. She is going to be a domestic worker there. What she doesn’t know is that I’ve already arranged with the twins that she just gets the job. She needs it. Plus, she and her family helped my siblings and I escape when the community wanted us dead. I cannot chase someone like that away, baby”, he says. 

“Fine, as a way of apologizing, I’ll ask my mom to look after her well. But she needs to respect me around here. Your dick is mine now”, I say. 

“You are the fucken best”, he says then kisses me. 

Indeed the twins came in the morning and took Lindiwe. There was commotion between the twins and Zithulele when she had to leave and Zithulele has been sour ever since. Something tells me that this girl is not going to the royal house to just scrub some toilets. Perhaps I should go visit my mom and see how Lindiwe is settling in. I think I’ll find out better that way. 

Zithulele is leaving the house without even saying goodbye. 

I get ready and order a taxi service to take me to the royal house. The taxi arrives in less than twenty minutes. I get to the royal house within an hour and make my way to my mom’s rondel. 

“Letlali?” The queen bumps into me outside as I’m still walking to mama. 

“Mofomahadi, dumela“, I greet her. 

“Please, call me Kea.” She says.

I smile. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks me. 

“Everything is fine. I just came to check up on mama”, I say. 

“On the same day that Lindiwe arrives here? I hear you didn’t want her at Zithulele’s house. You came to make sure that your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend is really in Tholoana Kingdom to do what your boyfriend told you she is here to do, right?” She says that like she isn’t here to be a domestic worker. 

“Mofomahadi, she is here to clean your house. Right?” Now, I am fishing and hoping that she will catch my bait. 

“Go home, Tlali. Go to school, get your degree and come work for the government. You don’t want to start this. Trust me, once you are waist deep, there is no way to get out. Zithulele is good to you. He treats you right and he makes sure that you are happy and taken care of. Accept that and live in your bubble. Because if you pop that bubble, life as you know it will be over.” She says. 

We are now looking at each other. Then, Zithulele walks out of the royal house carrying Lindiwe over his shoulder. He does not see me. The Mohale twins jump into the backseat of the black Vito that Zithulele went into with Lindiwe. 

“Would you like to go and say hello to your boyfriend? Or would you rather just go back to school and study?” The queen says to me. 

I am so Confused.

“Letlali, mama wahao is busy. This is a place of work for her. You will see her over the weekend. I will get one of our drivers to take you home.” Mofomahadi says this then goes into the house. I just stand there. I am feeling numb and confused.

Zithulele didn’t show up for the exam today. I don’t know why. I don’t understand how. He was studying with me all night last night. 

After I wrote the paper, I ran to the lecturer’s office and told him that Zithulele isn’t feeling well and hasn’t been well all week. He was quite chilled about it and just told me to apply for a concession for him. I did just that. As I pay for it, my phone rings. It’s a number I’ve never seen before. 

“Hello”, I answer my phone.

“Baby, it’s me”, Zithulele.

“Where are you? You missed an exam.” I freak out. 

“Baby, I’m locked up. I’m at the Tholoana Prison.” He says. 

I’m instantly spooked out. 

“Why?” I ask him. 

“Drunken driving”, he says.

“Zithulele!” I’m so flabbergasted. 

“Look babe, I made a deal with someone to make the docket disappear. I need you to come pick me up. I’ll explain everything when I see you. Take the car and come with it to get me out of here.” He says. 

“I don’t have a license”, I remind him. 

“Yeah, but I’ve been teaching you how to drive. You’ll be fine. You won’t get arrested. The worst that can happen to you is that you’ll get a ticket for driving without a license. Please come through, babe”, he asks. 

I did as I was told and now I am waiting for him to walk out of the doors. I was told to wait outside. He finally walks out after thirty minutes. He looks drunk. He reeks of alcohol. He doesn’t even touch me. We just walk to the car and he jumps into the driver’s seat. I get into the passenger seat. He takes off and heads to the postgraduate res. Why isn’t he taking me to his place to explain? 

He drops me off at my place, doesn’t even come in and drives off. 

Wow. 

…

I pack my bags now because it is end of term. I have 48 hours to vacate the place. My luggage amounts to two bags and a handbag. I go and submit my room key and the warden comes to assess the room, ensuring that the place is clean, nothing is broken and nothing is stolen. 

When she is done, she offers to drive me to the taxis. I tell her that I need to stop somewhere first. I need to let Zithulele know that I’m leaving and that I applied for him to write his exam. The warden says she will drop me off there. 

I get to Zithulele’s place and knock. Nothing happens. I open the door and it’s not locked. I walk in. I put my bags in the kitchen and search the house for him. I have seen this before. My mind goes into instant mode where I grab a knife and find something to stand on so I can cut the rope. He falls to the ground and I see his body give out a bit of movement. I wasn’t too late. I kneel down next to him and finally, I cry. He also starts to cry. He just lies there and cries. Just like I did with my brother, I help him up and take him to his room. I get him into his shower and practically clean him. I dry him up, lotion him and put him in bed with a plastic cup filled with water next to his bedside table. 

He sleeps. 

I start in the other room and start cleaning. I pick up used condoms. I guess he cheated on me last night. I flush them down the second toilet and clean the room, thoroughly. I’m not allowed in the study, so I don’t go in there. I clean the passage that leads downstairs and mop the staircase as well. 

When I get downstairs, I pick up the bottles, food on the floor, snacks and all. I clean the guest bedroom downstairs which also looks used. I also find used condoms here. What the hell was going on in here between the last time we studied and when he got arrested? When I am done in the guest room, I go back into the kitchen. I wash the dishes and pots that were used. I put my bags in the TV room. I mop all floors. It smells good and looks good. I like it. I clean the patio and braai area as well. 

It is now 7pm when I finish. I cook something quick – pasta. When I am done, I go check up on Zithulele. He is awake, watching TV in his room. 

I stand at the door. He turns down the volume of the TV. 

“I cleaned the house and cooked you dinner. I’m heading home now”, I say. 

He looks at me and says nothing. 

“I got you a concession so that you could write your exam and finish this year”, I say. 

He is still looking at me. 

“I wish you all the best. Shup Zithulele”, me. 

I leave and he does not even stop me.

…

I got myself a private taxi that took me home. I arrived just before 10pm. My brother and father were already asleep when I arrived, so I headed straight to my room. I did not get a chance to unpack, I just got into bed and cried. I don’t know when I fell asleep. 

I wake up in the morning and find my dad and Atisang already eating breakfast. As to when they started getting along again, I don’t know. 

“Good morning”, I greet them. 

“Morning. We didn’t hear you come in last night”, Atisang says to me. 

“Yeah, it was quite late when I came in. I got held up at school”, I say. 

“Who brought you here? There are no taxis at that time. Did your boyfriend bring you?” My dad.

I don’t say anything. I’m not ready to talk about him. 

They let me be. They are running late and Reitumetsi is not around with his car anymore, so they have to go and catch the staff bus to the mines. 

After they leave, I prepare water for myself and get myself bathed up and clean. While the water boils on the prima stove, I clean the house and make sure everything is in place. I plan to do absolutely nothing today. 

I bath, dress up and chill in the TV room. Man, I cannot wait to get electricity for us. I could be watching TV right now. I think about Zithulele. What is he not telling me? 

I dial his number, but I cannot press the green call button.

“Hey”, I hear a voice and almost jump out of my seat. 

It is him. I can’t believe it, but it is him. I run to him because I’m so excited to see him. I land in his arms and he holds me. 

“What the hell dude?” me. 

“I wanted to say thank you for cleaning up my place. Even my domestic worker doesn’t clean that good”, he says. 

I giggle. Well, he is coming back to being his obnoxious self. 

“Would you like some juice? Please, have a seat”, me. 

He sits, but holds my hand to sit next to him. I guess I have to face the music now – the reality that things may be over between us. 

“You cheated on me, didn’t you?” Me.

He nods his head. 

I release a tear from my eyes.

“We were drinking. There were women. We were taking drugs. Then we- 

“I don’t want the details.” I say. 

He is quiet. 

“You promised me that you wouldn’t do this to me”, I say. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Him. 

I just sob. 

“And then you try to kill yourself?” Me. 

He is silent. He takes a deep breath.

“A few years ago, I brought my fiancé home. It was two weeks before I was going to pay lobola for her and my parents wanted to meet her. She was pregnant and we were going to be happy. We were so happy. Nothing could go wrong between us. But my parents, you see, they were loathed by the community. They sold drugs and those drugs killed a lot of the children in that community. There were also rumours that my mother sold young boys and girls to human trafficking. That Saturday, the community had decided that it was time for the Khuzwayos to die. My siblings and I were in the backyard. The community surrounded my home and set it alight. My siblings and I ran for our lives. We ran like little bitches. We thought my fiancé was right behind us. I was so scared, I didn’t even check for her. We knew we would never see our parents again, but as for her…”

He is crying now. He is falling apart. I am holding his hand. 

“I had to go to her parents and tell them that she had died with my child growing inside of her. She, my parents and my child were burnt alive by the community. We had to run. We had eight bags of money and bank cards that our father gave to us – that is what we ran away with. That’s what we used to settle up here in Tholoana Kingdom. We couldn’t forget, but everyone was able to move on. I thought about my fiancé every day. I couldn’t even bury her. I’ve tried to get help, but sometimes it gets too much and I just want to tap out of life. But you came into life… it’s like my ancestors brought you to me. When I’m with you, I realise that it’s okay to love again and that there is happiness after disappointment. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you had to see me trying to take my life and I’m sorry I betrayed you.” He says. 

We are both crying now. 

I stand up and make my way to the bedroom. He gets himself a glass of water in the kitchen. It is hot here. If we had a fridge, he would be having fridge water. 

I bring the pregnancy test out and put it in front of him by putting it on the sink. 

He looks at me. 

“My period is late. I’ve been scared to take it because if it’s positive, I don’t know what we are going to do. You don’t seem to want to be with me anymore.” I say. 

“Why would you say that?” Him. 

“What do you think is going to happen now that you have cheated on me?” I ask him. 

“Baby, surely we can work through this. I really am sorry. Baby, it will never happen again.” He says. 

“I don’t know, Zee. Why would you do this to me? What happened between the last time I saw you after studying and when you got arrested? Don’t lie to me, I cleaned your house and I saw all the used condoms,” Me. 

“A group of us had sex with her at the same time. She was drunk so she was not in a position to consent to that. But we were all drunk. So -” 

He stops when he sees me shake my head. 

“I’m sorry”, him. 

“Who’s her?” I ask him.

“Lindiwe”, he says.

I honestly don’t know what to say. 

“At least come back with me and you can take this pregnancy test. If it’s positive, we will go see a doctor and- 

“I wanted to stay last night. You let me go.” I interrupt him. “It was 8pm and you left me to go in the dark. Now you think I cannot take a pregnancy test without you?” 

He is quiet. 

“Please don’t dump me.” He says. 

“You are the one who dumped me the minute your penis entered another vagina. Please leave”, me.

He nods his head and leaves.

…

I am sitting here for this damn exam and at this point, I’m writing for Moringa. I owe it to her to pass. She pulled me through this year and if she were not in my life, I wouldn’t finish this year. I’m destined to be a criminal whether I like it or not. I don’t see a point to this. I really don’t. 

Just a few days ago, I was locked up. My club was raided and some person had planted shit in there and tipped off the cops. I know that it wasn’t anyone in the church because none of us are that sloppy. Besides, after they traded Lindiwe into sex slavery and I let them, they wouldn’t test me like this. Nothing is more dangerous than a man who has nothing to lose. I knew the raid at the club and my arrest were a set up and the first thing I suspected was the people behind the truck that we robbed four months ago. If these people did any research on us, they will know that my clubs are the face of the church. My clubs are the legal face of the church. So, my clubs got hit and I spent a night in prison. 

That evening, I lay in a single cell and I was not granted my one phone call. I already knew that this had nothing to do with me actually doing anything illegal. I knew that someone was going to come into my cell and talk to me – maybe even beat me up. Indeed, someone did come in that night. It’s a man who calls himself Kabilla. He asked me about his diamonds. I did not utter a word. He tortured me in that cell and I did not say a word. He even arranged for a man to come and possibly rape my anus. That man is dead now. The moment he touched me, I knew I had to murder him. It was the sound of him losing his life that had police officials coming to my cell to see what was happening. One of the officials that came is part of the church. He pulled me out of that cell, put me in an interrogation room and after an hour, he told me to leave and that my docket is up in flames. 

I phoned Moringa to come and fetch me. I couldn’t really tell her what happened because I’d need to explain how I got here. For her own safety, it’s better she didn’t know. I thought I’d say that I was caught driving drunk – which is what I initially told her over the phone when she questioned me about my arrest, then I got to my place and found the place completely vandalized. I was so grateful that I dropped Moringa off at her place first because I had no idea how I was going to explain the vandalism of my place. But because she is who she is, she came in and found the place that way and me trying to end my life. 

Honestly, I just wanted it to end. I don’t want to be a criminal, but it seems as if I was chosen to do it and I’m so good at it. I don’t want this for my life. I don’t want to be a criminal. I want to be a man who makes an honest living. I want to be a husband and a father who doesn’t worry about when the time will come when it is last time I see my wife and kids. I am not built to live on thrill. I’m good at it, but I don’t want it. That’s why you’ll never see me trying to get too close to the Mohales. I don’t just go to their places on weekends and try get in their circle. I don’t attend their stuff if it has nothing to do with me. I’m their employee, yes, but I have no intention to climb up the church ranks. If there were a way to get expelled from the church, I’d try my best to get expelled. So when I was in the cell and I got a glimpse of what my life was about to be – especially now that we have an actual international enemy who calls himself Kabilla, I just wanted to check out instantly. 

But Moringa had to find me. She just had to save me. She just had to clean up my place after that and just be a fucken miracle in my life. In that moment, I knew that I still had a reason to live. That reason is Moringa. Even if it means that I live just for her, that’s reason enough for me. I went to her home and I had to admit to something I didn’t do to protect her from what I really do for a living and she broke up with me just after telling me that she could be pregnant. 

At this point, I don’t even know what to do. I can only take it one day at a time and give her the space that she needs to deal with me being in her life and her possibly having a child with me. The last time a woman had to deal with having a child by me, she died. I know that I cannot take that experience and put it on Moringa, but I cannot help myself. Maybe I need to start seeing someone and just talk about that day. I need to just talk about that day because if I’m going to have a child with Moringa, I cannot bring that child and it’s mother into a space in my life that refuses to heal. 

I finish the damn paper and leave the exam room. Instead of making my way to my car, I go to the school psychologist. She has an open door policy and no one ever sees her, so I just walk into her office. She is so excited to see me I actually feel like leaving now. If I’m her first experience at her job, then I’m not interested. 

“Hello”, she greets me. 

I look at her. She can see that I’m contemplating leaving. 

“Please come in and have a seat. Please.” 

I walk in and sit on her couch. This couch smells like dogs. 

Ai!

This was a bad idea. 

“My name is Tarryn. Please tell me what your name is.” 

“My name is Richard.” I say. 

I don’t want this dog-lover googling me after this. She doesn’t look like she has anything more to do with her time.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Richard. Please tell me what brings you here, today.” 

“My girlfriend is pregnant with my child. But she and I are having some problems at the moment and I need to get over a trauma that happened in my life to prepare for this new life I’m about to have with my girlfriend and my child.” I say. 

“Wow! That was quite a lot to take in. So let’s maybe start with the trauma that you want to get over. Take me through that trauma, please.” She says. 

“Can I just sit on a chair, please?” I ask because the smell of dogs on this couch is getting on my last nerve. 

“Sure”, she says. 

I get up and move to a chair. It’s uncomfortable, but it will do for now. 

“Some years ago, I had a pregnant girlfriend and she died… in a car accident that she and I were both in. She died with my child. Now that I’m with another pregnant girlfriend, I fear that I might lose her and this child. With the problems that we are having at the moment, I feel like I’m already losing her.” I say. 

She nods her head and takes some notes. 

“Have you ever spoken to your current girlfriend about this trauma?” 

“Not in detail. But she knows.” 

“Why didn’t you go into detail?” 

“I didn’t think it’s important.” 

“It’s not important for who? You or her?” 

“Her.” 

She nods her head then makes a note. Then she says, “It is a trauma that happened to you and it is clearly affecting your relationship at this point. That means that it is now affecting her. Do you think that you’ve made your relationship easier by withholding things that you don’t believe are important to her?” 

I don’t like this question. I don’t like it because there is a lot that I’m withholding from Moringa. 

“I do plan to open up to her. I want her to be my wife and she is quite a curious woman. I know she will require me to tell her a lot of things and I plan to come clean.”

“Do you view opening up about your feelings as coming clean?” 

Yerrr…

I rub my hands together now. 

“What does it mean to you that she will be your wife?” 

“She will be my partner – my family.” 

“And what does that mean to you?”

“She will be my safe space.” 

“And what’s a safe space to you?” 

“Her.” 

She looks at me. 

I cannot start talking about the church. She better not make me do it.

“I’m going to give you some homework to do and in our next session –

I’m not coming back here. 

“I want you to write a letter to your deceased child – the one who passed away with your girlfriend. I want you to tell that child about its mother and I want you to tell the baby about the girlfriend who you want to make your wife. Ask the baby questions. Tell him or her what you feel and what your fears are and what it is that you lost with him or her in that accident. When you are done, I want you to put it away until your instinct tells you what to do next with that letter.” 

Had I known that I’d be in grade one all over again, I wouldn’t have come here. 

I walk to my car and as I get inside my car, I find pope and bishop already sitting in my car. They broke into my car. Goodness! 

“You seeing shrinks now?” I should’ve known. 

“Moringa could be pregnant and I had past issues that I had to deal with. It wasn’t anything connected to the church.”

“We know. We bugged that session. You or that shrink would be dead by now if you had said anything”, pope tells me. 

So much for privacy. 

“We found Kabilla.” 

I nod my head. 

“He’s already been punished for what he did to you in the cell. We are just keeping him alive now to understand the extent of the operation he is part of and how we can prepare ourselves for an ambush.” 

Again, I nod my head. 

“Now that you are done with this school thing, we want you more involved in the work of the church. We are taking you with us to Miami next week. We are all spending Christmas there without family, unfortunately. Something big is coming and we want you to be part of it.” 

I just hope that Moringa will be upset with me until Christmas because if she wants us to do some cute family shit, I’m in shit. The last thing I wanted was to get a promotion. I just…

…

To my son, Ukuthula Khuzwayo. 

After I lost you and your mother, I didn’t quite know how to commemorate the fact that you existed even though you never came into this world. Forensics came and found bones of your grandparents and your mother, but not yours because you were still a foetus – that’s what they called you. From that day, your grave was built in my heart. Your remembrance tombstone was erected in my memory and I thought about you all the time. 

As the years went by, I did think about you less. I felt bad about it because I didn’t want to forget that you are my first child even though I cannot label you as my first born. It took me a long time to understand that thinking about you less didn’t necessarily mean that I was forgetting about you, I was just moving on with my life. And this was important for me because every time I held on to you, your mother or that day, I become so angry at your mother. I become angry that she didn’t run with us and save you. I become angry that her instinct was shock and not to run – not to be a mother and put your life first and before her fear. I know it’s unfair, truly, I do. But it is how I feel. 

When I met Letlali, it became even more imperative for me to move on because I started wishing that she were your mother. I started having thoughts that if you were being carried by her, you would have lived and you would be doing homework next to me right now as I perhaps write this letter to your deceased grandparents about the choices they made, telling your grandmother that the legacy she should have left me should have been the complete opposite of the crime life I was breastfed.

I’ve moved on now and Letlali tells me that she’s pregnant. I keep wondering if you are coming back to me through her. I’m wondering if it’s you that I will meet and hold in my arms. Or is it your sibling? I’m scared of the child coming into the world through Letlali. I’m terrified. I don’t know if I’m going to get parenting right. I don’t know if I’ll mess up the child on the way. But what I do know is that I’m with the perfect partner to do this with. I wouldn’t choose any other woman over Letlali. I can only promise that I will do my best as a father in loving memory of you. 

Your father, 

Zithulele Khuzwayo