It Takes Two

by Haden, Ross;

  “I’m going out,” Lusi said, pushing past Thabi as she bent down to pack away the pots under the new stove.

  “Where are you going?” Mrs Malebane called. “When will you be back?”

  Lusi ignored her.

  Through the window Thabi saw her sister saunter down the path to the gate, hips swinging. A teenage boy was waiting for her and when she reached him he pulled her into a passionate kiss.

  “Who’s that boy she’s with?” she asked her mother.

  “Eish, that’s Vuyo Cwayi. He’s a bad boy. He’s always hanging around with a new girl. A few months ago he made Mrs Samdyala’s daughter pregnant. And now he’s after Lusi. I’ve told her to keep away from him, but she doesn’t listen.”

  “Eish, Mama,” Thabi said, finally sitting down on the sofa and making herself comfortable. “What are you going to do about her?” She flicked the remote to the cooking channel. “Look here, Mama – here’s the programme about the cakes and desserts. This is what I’m studying at my cookery school.”

  The chef on the screen was making a wedding cake. It had three tiers, and he was piping silver icing around the sides, to link up the icing roses and lilies he’d arranged on the top. Thabi thought it was beautiful. “I can’t wait to get back to school on Wednesday,” she said. “This semester we’ll be learning to work with fondant icing. It’s so much better than being a waitress, I tell you, Mama.”

  Her mother wasn’t listening. She was still watching Lusi flirting in the street with Vuyo. “Thabi,” she said at last, “I want you to take Lusi back to Cape Town with you. She’s going to get into trouble here. Her only chance is to get away, and to go to a good school and get the best education she can.”

  Thabi sat bolt upright. “Yintoni? Take Lusi back with me?” Her heart sank. Her little cottage in Mowbray was only big enough for her and her two best friends, Motso and Sim. They’d only been living there for four months, and so far it was going superbly. To spoil it now by bringing her rude, badly behaved teenage sister home with her? Are you serious, Mama? She thought.

  She looked at her mother’s face. She had never seen her looking so worried. “Mama …” she began. She paused. How could she say no, after all her mother had done for her? “Fine,” she said, trying not to sigh. “I’ll take her back with me.”

  ~•~

  It was late Monday evening when Thabi at last drove into Cape Town. She was exhausted – thirteen hours of driving, and thirteen hours of whining by her younger sister. Thabi gritted her teeth as they drove into her road.

  “Is this where you live?” Lusi said, peering out of the window at the road of Victorian cottages. “Sheesh, I thought your house would be bigger than this. This is a tiny little house – and look, it’s joined up to the house next door. Why doesn’t it stand by itself? Mr Xaba’s house back home is much bigger than this one.”

  Thabi was tempted to turn the car around and drive all the way back to Cofimvaba, but instead she said brightly, “Well, it’s your home now, so you’d better come inside and meet my friends, Sim and Motso.”

  A pot of stew was bubbling on the stove. Motso had picked some flowers and put them in a vase on the kitchen table. Thabi’s heart lifted as she came inside, and Motso and Sim greeted them warmly. Home at last. There was no place like it.

  Lusi didn’t think so.

  “You’re sharing with me,” Thabi said, showing her sister into her bedroom. Sim followed with Lusi’s suitcase.

  “I’m not sharing,” Lusi said with a scowl. “I have my own room at home.”

  “Well, we don’t have a spare room here,” Thabi said, trying to keep her cool. “We only have three bedrooms.”

  Lusi dropped her bag on the bed and marched out the door. “What’s in here?” she said, opening a door. “Oh, it’s someone’s bedroom. It’s yours, right, Sim?”

  Sim nodded. Lusi had already opened the next door down the passage. “And this is Motso’s room? Look how big it is. And she’s got a double bed. Why can’t she and Sim share?”

  “Lusi!” snapped Thabi. “Don’t be so rude.”

  “No, please,” Motso said, taking Thabi’s arm. “She’s right. Sim and I can share. He can move his stuff into my room. He sleeps here most of the time anyway.”

  Thabi was so grateful for her easy-going friend. “Are you OK with that, Sim?”

  Sim grinned. “No problem. I’ll start moving my stuff.”

  “Sim, you’re bringing my case – right!” Lusi demanded, pointing her finger at Sim.

  He clenched his jaw. “If you say ‘please’,” he snapped. “I’m not your servant.”

  Thabi grabbed her sister’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t be so rude. And say ‘thank you’.”

  “Thanks.” Lusi shrugged and rolled her eyes.

  “I’m sorry about Lusi,” Thabi said to Motso and Sim when her sister was soaking in the bath. Supper had already started, but Lusi was in no hurry to get out of the bath. “She didn’t used to be so rude. I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

  Motso shrugged. “Teenage girls. Horrible.”

  “Let’s hope she settles down soon, or I’ll send her back to my mother,” Thabi said, helping herself to more stew.

  Motso passed her the rice. “It’s a big change for her – from Cofimvaba to Cape Town. She’s probably just feeling overwhelmed.”

  “She’ll make new friends once she gets to school,” Sim said, clearing the dirty dishes from the table. “What school are you going to apply to?”

  “I’ll try the good government schools around here first,” Thabi said. “They’re cheaper than the private schools. There must be a girls’ school nearby with space for her.”

  “A single-sex school?” said Motso, raising her eyebrows.

  Thabi lowered her voice. “Mama says she’s boy mad. They’re all she thinks about. Her school marks have been terrible this year. It will have to be a girls-only school.”

  “You must be mad!” a voice interrupted her. She looked up. Her sister was standing in the doorway wearing nothing but her bath towel. Thabi looked quickly at Sim. “For God’s sake, Lusi, put some clothes on. You can’t walk around like that.”

  “Fine,” said Lusi, storming off into her room. “But I’m not going to a girls-only school, so you may as well get used to it.”

  ~•~

  The next morning Thabi began the search for a school for her sister. All the local schools were full.

  “I’m sorry,” the secretary of the nearest co-ed high school said when she phoned her. “It’s April already. We’ve been full since January. Maybe if you put her name down now there will be a place for her next year. But for now she’s number thirty-five on the waiting list.”

  Thabi sighed as she put the phone down. Her sister was still asleep, without a care in the world. She’d left all her dirty clothes on the bathroom floor last night. Thabi was sure she hadn’t been so selfish and rude when she was fifteen.

  She might have to send her to the good school that Sim’s sisters attended, but that was in Khayelitsha. She’d have to travel so far every day to get there, and God knows what Lusi would get up to in a taxi. She was boy mad. The last thing Thabi needed was to have to phone her mother and tell her that her fifteen-year-old sister was pregnant. She was going to have to try the local private schools. There was one just down the road – St Matthew’s School. She had often looked through the fence as she walked past. It had grand old buildings, tennis courts, a swimming pool, and the parents drove big, fancy cars. She’d definitely get the best education there, and a really good start in life.

  She looked up the number and dialled. “Yes, you’re in luck,” the receptionist said. “We have one place open in Grade 9. One of our families has just emigrated. Would you like to come in for an interview?”

  “Can you give me an idea of the fees?” she asked.

  �
�Certainly. Grade 9 is R4800.”

  “Wow! That’s … well …” at first Thabi was shocked by the amount until she remembered the money she had been left, “I guess … that’s not too bad, for a term,” she added.

  Then she heard the receptionist continue: “We prefer a debit-order system, or you can pay the full R57 000 in a lump sum and receive a five per cent discount.”

  OMG – that was R4800 a month, not a term. It was more than she used to earn each month at the coffee shop. She swallowed hard.

  “Would you like to set up an appointment? The headmaster can see you at 2.15.”

  What could she do? If the only choice was a private school or sending her to the school that was far away, she’d be better off at St Matthew’s. It was close by and she could walk home after school. Or Thabi could always fetch her to make sure she came straight home. But the money! “Ye …” She cleared her throat. “Yes, please.”

  Bringing Lusi to live with her was turning out to be an expensive exercise. She had spent so much money helping out her mother that she had to be careful now, or what remained would all slip between her fingers. She’d have to tighten her belt, and spend less. Much less.

  Lusi was smiling for once when Thabi woke her up with the good news. “Hey, that’s awesome, Sisi. A private school. Wait till my friends hear about it.” She hurried off to the bathroom to take yet another bath.

  It was three-thirty when they’d finally finished seeing the headmaster and had been shown around the school. Lusi’s eyes were shining. “This school is awesome,” she said, giving Thabi a hug.

  Thabi was busy reading the list of requirements – uniforms, tennis rackets, school bags, textbooks. Her heart sank. It was all so expensive.

  “We have a second-hand shop upstairs,” the receptionist said. “It’s open right now, if you’d like to see what uniforms you can find there.”

  Lusi tugged her arm. “I’m not wearing second-hand clothes to school. People will think we’re poor.”

  “But, Lusi, do you know what this is costing me?”

  “So? You’re rich now. Ma told me you’re a millionaire. Don’t be so mean with your money.”

  Thabi felt awful as they went to the car. She was spending too much, she knew it. She just couldn’t say no to the people she loved.

  ~•~

  It was three months later. Lusi had settled down at her new school. Thabi’s baking course was going well. She brought home samples of her cakes and pastries every day, and everyone was seeing it in their waistlines.

  “Eish,” Motso said one morning as they were finishing off Thabi’s croissants for breakfast. “I’m going to have to go on a diet.”

  “Me too,” said Thabi, pulling her shirt over her tummy. Her phone rang, and she picked it up.

  “Good morning, Miss Malebane. This is Deborah Jinks, the counsellor at St Matthew’s School.”

  “Oh my word,” exclaimed Thabi, jumping up. “Is everything all right?” She imagined her sister being expelled, or lying drowned at the bottom of the swimming pool.

  Mrs Jinks didn’t answer her. Instead she said, “I’d like to set up an appointment to chat with you about Lusi. Could you possibly pop in today some time? Perhaps after lunch? One-thirty? ”

  “Of course,” Thabi said. “I’ll be there.”

  “What was that about?” Motso asked, finishing the last mouthful of croissant.

  “The school. They want to see me. Do you think Lusi’s in trouble?”

  Motso shrugged. “I wouldn’t be surprised. She’s not exactly Little Miss Sunshine. If she leaves her school desk anything like her bedroom I can see why they’d be cross with her.”

  “I know. She’s so messy. We weren’t like that when we were teenagers, were we?”

  Motso laughed. “I’m sure we were. And I fought with my mom the whole time. But have you noticed how Lusi and Sim are always arguing?”

  “That’s only because he stands up to her,” Thabi said. “She’s not used to having a man telling her what to do. Maybe it’s her schoolwork. It’s quite an adjustment moving from an Eastern Cape school to a private school in Cape Town,” Thabi said. “Maybe she just needs some extra lessons.”

  “More expenses for you,” Motso said, washing her plate. “Anyway, I must go. I’m meeting Karabo and Sipho before work. They want to show me the baby parrots in the pet shop.”

  Thabi’s heart was racing as she drove through the school gates that afternoon. What was this about? If Lusi was as rude to the teachers as she was at home she would definitely be in trouble. What if she was expelled? What was Thabi going to do about finding a new school for Lusi? She might have to go home to Cofimvaba until the end of the year, and then her mother would be upset.

  A few minutes later she knocked on the door of the counsellor’s office. “Come inside,” Mrs Jinks said.

  Thabi barely had time to register the serious look on the counsellor’s face before she saw Lusi sitting on the sofa in the office. Her eyes were red from crying. “What is it?” she said, her heart jumping into her mouth. “Have you been expelled? Please tell me you haven’t been expelled, Lusi. What will Mama say?”

  “Won’t you have a seat, Miss Malebane.” Mrs Jinks pointed to the comfortable armchair by the fireplace.

  Thabi sat on the edge of the chair looking from Mrs Jinks to Lusi and back again.

  Mrs Jinks put up a sign on the door: ‘Counselling in progress. Do not disturb.’ She closed the door and sat down opposite Thabi.

  “Please,” Thabi begged, “what is going on?”

  “Why don’t you tell your sister, Lusi?” Mrs Jinks said.

  Tears flooded down Lusi’s cheeks. She shook her head.

  “I will then,” Mrs Jinks said, passing her a tissue. “Miss Malebane, during netball practice last week the sports coach noticed that Lusi seemed to have trouble jumping. She’s been feeling ill a lot lately, and has had to leave class several times to lie down.”

  “Oh my God, Lusi,” Thabi gasped. “Are you ill? Is it serious?” What if it is cancer, she thought. How will I tell Ma? And I haven’t got her on my medical aid yet …

  Her mind was racing off, trying to make a plan, when Mrs Jinks said, “She’s not ill. I’m afraid she’s pregnant.”

  ~•~

  “How could you be so stupid!” Thabi felt like smacking her sister. “Pregnant! You’re only fifteen, for God’s sake. What are you even doing having sex? Who’s the father? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go out on the weekends. I should have made you stay at home where you’d be safe.”

  Lusi stared at her with red eyes. “I’m sorry, Sisi,” she muttered. “It was an accident.”

  “What is Mama going to say?” Thabi yelled. She imagined her mother’s disappointment. She remembered all the months of her sister’s tantrums and rudeness and demands. Her laziness at home, the money she wanted every weekend to go to the mall with her friends, the way she used Thabi’s mascara and borrowed her clothes without asking – it all came bubbling up and boiled over.

  “You are a naughty, spoiled, lazy, disgusting little slut, and after all the money I’ve spent on you, this is how you pay back Mama and me. I’m ashamed of you, Lusi. Bitterly ashamed.”

  And like Thabi always did when she was angry, she burst into tears. It made her even crosser. “You’re going to have to go back to the Eastern Cape and have the baby there. You’ve ruined your life, you stupid, stupid child. And what about that poor baby? What kind of mother are you going to be when you can’t even put your dirty dishes in the sink, or hang up your wet towel?”

  Mrs Jinks passed Thabi the box of tissues. “I know it’s a terrible shock to you,” she said.

  Lusi got up and paced the floor. “Please don’t send me home, Sisi. Please. The school says I can stay. Tell her, Mrs Jinks. Please tell her what the headmaster said …”

  Now
that she knew about the pregnancy Thabi could see that Lusi had not just put on a few kilos from too many cakes. Her shirt was tight across her chest, the button on her skirt had stopped fitting, and she’d closed it with a safety pin. It made her even crosser. After all the money she’d spent just three months ago on new uniforms for her. And now she was going to have to buy her new ones in a bigger size.

  “I can’t believe it!” she groaned. “Who is the father? Do you even know? I’m going to find him and tear a strip off him. Is it that naughty boy, Mzi, who’s always phoning you? I told you he’s too old to be hanging around with you and your friends. You can’t stay in Cape Town, Lusi. You must go home to Mama. You’re too much for me to handle. You’re out of control. I thought I could help you be a better person, and have a better life, but I can’t. I’ve failed. I’m going to phone Ma now and tell her.”

  Lusi grabbed her arm. “Please, Thabi. Please don’t tell her yet. I’m sorry.”

  “I have to. She needs to know.” She began to dial her mother’s number.

  Lusi paced the floor. “You can’t tell her. She’s going to be furious with me.”

  “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell her what you’ve done.”

  Lusi narrowed her eyes. She leaned over and looked Thabi in the eyes. “You can’t tell her because” – she swallowed hard – “because the father is Sim.”

  Thabi thought she was going to faint. “Sim? Sim who lives with us? Motso’s Sim?”

  Lusi nodded. “Yes. Sim. One night when you and Motso were out. It was just us at home. He … He …” She covered her face with her hands. “He told me not to struggle. He made me promise not to tell anyone … he … he raped me.” And she burst into tears.

  ~•~

  Thabi froze. Rape. Her friend Sim had raped her little sister?

  “How? When? Why didn’t you tell me?” The words were rushing inside her ears. She stood up and the blood drained from her head.

  Mrs Jinks grabbed her as everything began to go black. “Sit down, dear. Put your head between your knees.”

  Through the dizziness Thabi heard her sister saying, “Mrs Jinks, Ma’am, can I go? I’ve got to get to Afrikaans – we’re doing a test and I mustn’t be late.”