After The Tears

by Faure, Michelle;

  “Gogo!” screamed Busi, feeling panic rising up inside her. She tugged at her grandmother, pulling her back up onto her pillows. “Gogo!” she cried again, bending over her, and looking anxiously into her face. Her grandmothers’ eyes were closed and her breath was shallow. “Gogo! No!” shouted Busi in panic. “Don’t leave me!”

  Busi rushed around the shack, wildly searching for her cell phone. Suddenly she could not remember where she had put it. At last she found it on the floor by her bed and began to fumble with the keys, her hands shaking. It was hard to see the numbers and she realised that tears were blurring her vision.

  With a sigh of relief Busi suddenly remembered, very clearly, what had happened the last time she had visited the clinic. The clinic sister had taken her firmly by the arm and looked into her face and said, “Put this number into your cell phone. It’s the emergency number for an ambulance in your area.”

  Busi had nodded vaguely, but the sister had waited while Busi punched the number into her phone.

  The clinic sister had patted her arm, and smiled. “For a girl in your situation, it’s important,” she had said. “You never know when you might need it.”

  Busi held her breath as she searched her directory for the number, found it and dialled it.

  “Come quickly,” she almost shouted into her phone as she heard a voice answer. “Please! Come quickly.”

  * * *

  The paramedic turned from where he stood, tending to her grandmother on her bed. “Your grandmother has had a heart attack. I’m very sorry.”

  Busi lifted her damp face from where she had hidden it behind her hands.

  A neighbour, awakened by the arrival of the ambulance, stood with her arm around Busi’s shoulder, sipping a cup of tea. She had made for Busi, but Busi hadn’t taken a drop.

  “Is she going to be all right?” asked Busi softly, watching the other paramedic wheeling a stretcher in through the rickety front door.

  “She is old,” said the paramedic, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “but she is stable now. She must come with us. The hospital is the best place for her now.”

  Busi nodded her head slowly. “Yes,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. She noticed that another neighbour had begun gathering up her grandmother’s possessions. Without a word they were putting together items of clothing – a hairbrush, a jar of cream, her slippers.

  Busi watched her grandmother being moved from her bed to the stretcher.

  “I will go with her,” said the neighbour softly into Busi’s ear. “It’s best if you stay here for now. There is nothing more that you can do now. Try to get some sleep.”

  Busi nodded vaguely. And then they were gone. The night sky was tinged red by the light of the departing ambulance, and the cold wind bit into her flesh through her winter nightgown.

  Another neighbour led Busi back inside. “Sleep now, Busi. There is nothing more to be done except to pray.” As she left through the shack door, she looked over her shoulder. “Lock the door well, my girl,” she said. “Now you are on your own.”

  Chapter 10

  Busi lay in bed in the dark, frightened by the emptiness and silence around her. Usually she would hear her granny’s soft snoring. She reached for her cell phone and sent an SMS to her mother. “Gogo has had a heart attack. You must come quickly, Mama. You must!”

  Busi pressed SEND and then lay back heavily against the pillows. She imagined her mother, somewhere in Jozi, being woken by the sound of her buzzing phone. As she lay, she gently stroked her belly with one hand. She could feel no movement. The baby must be asleep, she thought.

  Busi stared for a long while at her cell phone, willing an answer from her mother. None came. She fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Busi woke up with a jolt. Her heart skipped a beat. It was a beep from her cell phone that had woken her.

  “Mama!” Busi studied the text message on the phone before her:

  I will be there soon my daughter.

  Stay strong! Do not lose hope!

  Busi read the message over and over before replying:

  But I am not strong Mama. You

  must come. You must come.

  Now.

  No reply came then.

  As daylight filtered through the gaps in the shack walls, Busi stood up and slowly washed herself. She tidied the whole house, stripped her grandmother’s bed and washed all her linen. Then she went outside to hang up the sheets, which smacked and tugged in the wind as she pegged them on the line.

  She was still outside when a message finally arrived. All it said was:

  I will come

  Mrs Mathabane, the neighbour who had travelled with her grandmother in the ambulance, came back later that morning.

  “Your gogo is comfortable,” she said. But then, clicking her tongue, she added as she walked out, “Your poor grandmother. It’s you who have caused this. It’s all been too much trouble for her to deal with. Too much.”

  Busi looked down at the floor and bit her lower lip. Shaking her head, Mrs Mathabane walked away, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  Busi sat slumped in a chair all morning. Sometime in the afternoon her friends came to the door and knocked softly. Busi did not move.

  “Hey, Busi!” came Lettie’s voice through the door, “Open up. We heard about your granny. Hey, Busi! Open up and let us in.”

  Still Busi did not move.

  “Hey, Busi!” This time it was Ntombi’s voice. “Let us in. We are all here. We brought you something.”

  Busi ignored her, resting her head on the back of the armchair and closing her eyes.

  “Hey, Busi!” Busi recognised Asanda’s voice. “We’re getting hungry and cold out here. Let us in. We’re not going away until you do.”

  There was silence for a moment, then Asanda added, “And if we all catch cold, it will be your fault.”

  Busi heard a faint giggle from someone.

  “Come on,” said Lettie. “We’re freezing out here.”

  With a sigh Busi stood up from the chair and moved towards the door.

  “OK,” she said, her voice heavy, “I’m coming.”

  Busi opened the door and her three friends all tumbled in. She hadn’t wanted to open up, but suddenly her home seemed lighter, brighter as they all spun around her, hugging her and all talking at once. Despite herself, Busi couldn’t help smiling a little.

  “A cake!” said Lettie, producing a white box from under her arm. “We brought a cake.”

  “Shame your gogo is so sick,” said Lettie with a frown. “We wanted her to have some.”

  “Are you alone here?” asked Ntombi. “Is your mother not back yet?”

  “She’s coming tomorrow,” said Busi, lying. She did not want their sympathy.

  Ntombi opened the box to show her the squares of chocolatey, creamy cake inside.

  “You forgot my birthday,” said Ntombi, pretending to be cross, and then, laughing, “but we didn’t forget you!”

  Asanda boiled the kettle and made tea, and the others sat down on chairs and on Busi’s granny’s unmade bed. Busi listened as they chattered on, telling her all about who had been getting up to what at school.

  “You hear Asanda’s in love?” joked Lettie. Asanda smiled and looked at the floor.

  “Wow, Asanda not fighting back and denying the story? It must be true,” said Busi, trying hard not to seem down.

  “It’s true, all right,” said Ntombi. “You will have to meet him.”

  Busi tried to look interested. But it was a huge effort. There was only one thing now she really wanted to know.

  “How’s Unathi?”

  The girls looked at each other. “Fine,” Ntombi and Lettie said at once.

  “I haven’t seen him for a while. He used to bring me school notes. But since
I’m not writing the exams this year I haven’t seen him since that night.” She took a deep breath. “Is he going out with Asisipho?”

  The girls looked at each other. “I think it’s more the case that Asisipho went out with him for a little bit,” said Asanda, and the others laughed.

  “What do you mean?” asked Busi, her heart beating faster.

  “Poor Asisipho really likes Unathi,” said Asanda. “And they did date a few weekends. But it’s over now. I don’t think Unathi’s heart was really in it.”

  “I think Unathi’s heart was broken by somebody else,” said Lettie, looking at Busi. “Someone who rushed away before he played his set at that party, and since then has been avoiding him.”

  “Oh, Lettie,” said Busi. “Do you really think that he’s still interested in me?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” said Lettie. “You haven’t been very nice to him, have you?”

  “Can I put a piece of cake here for your granny?” asked Ntombi quickly – kind Ntombi, changing the subject.

  “We need to go,” said Lettie. “We need to go and do that revision for Geography tomorrow.”

  And with a flurry they left, and Busi was alone again.

  She sat wondering about Unathi. Now he would only be thinking of exams, no doubt, exams that would be his passport to a whole new life next year, very different from Busi’s. All of her friends – they were like birds ready to fly, ready to soar into the sky and taste freedom at last. All except Busi.

  “I can’t do it, Mom,” Busi said into the empty silence of the shack. I can’t keep going. Why don’t you come?”

  The baby kicked her hard and she winced, holding her stomach.

  Chapter 11

  Parks arrived at home to see a stranger with a red cap leaving the house.

  “Who was that?” he asked Thandi.

  She was sitting in the lounge, her handbag next to her, her purse open.

  “No one you know. By the way, Parks, Busi is alone. Her granny’s in hospital. It’s a good time to get her – she will need help now. She will agree to give up the baby.”

  “How do you know?” Then it dawned on Parks. “You have got yourself a spy, haven’t you? You are paying someone to spy on Busi for you.”

  “Spying, what spying?” said Thandi. “I’m just helping out someone who doesn’t have much money, that’s all. And if they want to tell me some neighbourhood gossip, all the better.” She frowned. “Let’s hope the granny dies. Then she will have to give us the baby.”

  Parks went to the drinks cabinet. “Well, we are not killing off her granny.”

  “Of course not!” said Thandi. “Would I ever think of such a thing?”

  Knowing you, I wouldn’t be surprised, thought Parks. He sipped his whisky.

  “I’ve got more baby things, Parks. Beautiful things. We are going to be so happy. You’ll see,” said Thandi, hugging a cushion to her chest.

  Parks saw the cuddly blankets, soft toys and babygros stacked on the table. He sighed. He had hoped that Thandi would get over this, but now it had become a dangerous obsession. For his own safety and peace of mind he would have to get hold of that damn baby.

  Thandi stood up, took his whisky glass from him and put it down. “Come. We are paying Busi a visit.”

  * * *

  Busi woke with a jolt. Someone was banging on the door. Sleepily Busi stumbled to open it, thinking that one of her friends had probably forgotten something.

  “What have you left …?” she mumbled as she opened it.

  But it was not her friends. Before she had a chance to slam the door shut, Parks and his large wife had pushed her back into the shack.

  “Get out!” shouted Busi as she stumbled backwards. Parks’s strong hand steadied her.

  “You have no right ...” she said loudly, turning to face them. “I’ll call the police … I’ll ...”

  “Quiet now,” said Parks gently, touching her softly on the cheek. “We’re not going to harm you.”

  “Just listen!” said Parks’s wife.

  Busi turned away from them, covering her ears with her hands.

  “No,” she said, “I won’t listen to you!”

  “Be quiet!” Busi heard Parks say to his wife, “Let me do the talking!”

  His wife opened her mouth to say something, looked at Busi, then closed it again. She nodded at Parks.

  Busi felt Parks moving closer to her. She felt him putting his arm around her shoulders.

  “We heard about your grandmother,” he said, leaning down and speaking so softly that Busi could feel his breath close to her ear. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  Oh, Parks, she thought, I loved you so much. He was so close to her that she could smell the familiar scent of his aftershave. A part of her wanted him to envelop her in his arms.

  “Everything is going to be OK,” she heard him say. “Let me take care of everything. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of the baby. My baby. Give it to us. Give it to me. We will be able to give it everything it could want in life. Everything. When the baby is born you must give it to us. We will give it a wonderful life. We have money, and no children of our own. We can do it. You must let us.”

  Busi’s eyes flew open, and she pulled away. Then she turned to face him, her fists clenched at her sides, her eyes flashing. “‘My baby’!” she said, her voice rising. “Did you say ‘my baby’?” Busi’s heart was beating furiously in her chest. She rushed to the door of the shack and flung it wide. “Get out!” she screamed, waving her hands wildly. “Get out of my house! Get out of my life! I will never …”

  Busi paused to catch her breath. Her mind was in turmoil. Parks was staring at her, open-mouthed. His wife was behind him, pushing him forward. Busi was aware that she was shouting loudly, and that she had picked up a frying pan from the stove and was waving it in their direction. Suddenly she felt the baby kick fiercely, and she clutched at her stomach with her other hand.

  “Calm down!” said Parks, “Our baby …” and he moved towards her.

  “It’s my baby!” shrieked Busi, aware that she was frightening Parks. “My baby! Not yours! Now go! Go! Go now!”

  Parks’s wife came towards her.

  “Leave it …” Parks said to his wife, hustling her to the door. “This is not the right time.”

  Parks’s wife looked at Busi, who was still waving the frying pan as if she was about to bring it down on them.

  “You will regret this,” Thandi said quietly. “Has anyone told you what it is really like, having a baby? Clearly not. They can cry all night; they can drive you crazy. And you are just a girl. What makes you think you will cope? Listen. That baby belongs to us, just as much as it belongs to you. We will know when the baby is born and we will be there waiting. And you, my girl, you will give it to us.”

  And then they were gone.

  Chapter 12

  It was early morning, still dark, when Busi stirred in her sleep. In those moments before she was properly awake, she forgot that her gogo was not soundly sleeping in the bed on the other side of her curtain. She forgot that it was a weekday, and that she had not been to school for some time. She forgot about Parks, and she forgot about his wife. In those few precious seconds she even forgot about the baby inside her, almost ready to be born.

  But then, as the roof creaked, and the metal walls of the shack shuddered, Busi opened her eyes and remembered everything. She lay still and alone beneath her blankets. She knew that there was no longer any milk or tea or coffee. She knew that there was only one cupful of mealie-meal left, and a dry crust of bread.

  Busi sighed and rolled over. Maybe I will lie here for just a little longer, she thought to herself, closing her eyes and willing herself back into a deep sleep. She drifted off and dreamt of her childhood, when she was still happy and innocent, living with her mother, father
and Gogo.

  In the dream she was helping her mother with chores in the house. She was just old enough to boil the kettle by herself and she had made her mother a cup of tea. Her mother had forgotten to drink it. Not wanting it to go to waste, Busi picked up the mug and carried it to her mother in the yard, where she was hanging washing. But she tripped on a stone, spilling tea all over the clean sheets on the line. “Oh dear,” she was saying to herself in her dream, “Everything is wet, Mama. Everything.”

  Busi sat up. The dream was over, but the dampness remained. Confused, she pulled back the sheets and blankets. She looked down at herself in alarm, jumping out of her bed and feeling the bottom sheet with her hand. Her wet pyjamas clung to her legs. Her sheet was wet to the touch.

  Busi’s hand moved up to her mouth. “It can’t be,” she said aloud, racking her brain to remember everything the clinic sister had said to her. She looked up at the shelf next to her bed and rummaged through the books, pushing aside her school books to find the booklets and pamphlets she had been given at the clinic.

  Finding a small booklet called You and your baby, she sat down again on her wet bed and paged through it quickly. At last she found the relevant section: “When your waters break it means that your baby will soon be born. You must immediately get help because your baby is no longer protected in the womb, and it must be born, by whichever means possible.”

  Busi sat still for a moment. She felt stunned as she read the final line over and over: “… and it must be born, by whichever means possible.”

  Suddenly she sprang into action. She needed to get to hospital urgently. Now! She grabbed her phone. She didn’t know what exam was being written, but surely one of her friends would be able to help her. She would have to send a PLEASE CALL ME – she had no airtime. But her phone screen was blank. Of course. She hadn’t been able to charge it.

  “Oh no,” she groaned. Should she go around to Lettie’s house close by? But what if Lettie wasn’t there? No. She must get straight to hospital. She dressed herself as quickly as she could, pulling on loose clothing, and noting that her “waters” seemed to have stopped flowing.