It Takes Two

by Haden, Ross;

  I hear Sihle’s faraway voice in that moment, clear like the night sky. “Nonyaniso, only death will tear us apart, I promise you. I’ll never break your heart.”

  “What’s wrong, Noni? Why are you crying?” Auntie worriedly asks.

  “I thought that partying would help me forget him. But it has only made me miss him even more.”

  The SMS from Sihle comes just past midnight. I can picture him lying on his bed, texting me.

  Take care and know

  I’ll never give up on us.

  I think of my mother working in the vegetable garden. I think of my friends back in the village – how we used to sit and chat about boys together down by the river.

  I remember the day of the rape. I went with Sihle to town, where he bought me new kit – a checked mini-skirt, black Sissy Boy top and Reebok sandals.

  That evening at home I cooked early and packed the dishes away. In the late afternoon I went to Nosiviwe’s place to check on the party she was having. Then I went to Sihle’s place just to wait for the evening to come. All I could talk about to Sihle was Nosiviwe’s party. Sihle was trying to study for some summer course he was doing. Eventually he just turned to me and said, laughing, “Go back to the party.”

  “Not without you.”

  “Go, have some fun.”

  That’s what he said. If only I had stayed with him and been safe in his arms and hadn’t run up the hill back to Nosiviwe’s party. If only …

  ~•~

  Once upon a time something happened to me. It was the sweetest thing that ever could be. It was the day I met you ,Sihle. But nothing lasts forever and life goes on I say to myself, throwing dice on what I and Sihle had: I gamble with my future.

  I hear my ringtone. It is one that the girls chose for me in the village; they knew that Sihle loved it. It reminds me of those afternoons when Sihle and I used to sit under the tall tree just outside my house. We would chat about our future plans, music, and a little less about school. We would just relax until it got late. Tata Ludwe would usually pass by us. “Pawu! Onomokhwe bazimamele – You’re just chilling here,” he would tell Sihle, who was his nephew. Sihle and I would eventually part to go to our different homes.

  My ringtone was words from a song by Westlife:

  If tomorrow never comes

  Would she know how much I love her?

  If tomorrow never comes …

  This time, when the ringtone sings to me, I answer immediately.

  “Hello, Princess. How are you doing?”

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  “Don’t you recognise me? It’s Sandile. How come Miss SA doesn’t know her roll-on?”

  “Roll-on! I am good thanks. Wena, you?” I reply.

  “Good. Jonga, look, tonight I am taking you out.”

  “Oh really?” I say, realising I am flirting with this boy. I can’t sit with my tears, at home every night.

  At six-thirty, Auntie comes home. “You look beautiful. Uyaphi na?” she asks, seeing my outfit.

  “On a date.”

  “Wow. Do I know him?”

  “No! Not yet,” I reply, laughing. Just then a car drives up outside. “That has to be him. I have to go. Bye,” I say, kissing my aunt on the cheek as I run out to meet Sandile.

  He takes me to Century City.

  “Wow! This place is beautiful, and so big. I’ve never seen such a big mall as this one. You could get lost in here,” I say, amazed.

  “This is one of the biggest malls in the country.”

  “Can we please window shop before anything else?” I ask, curious to explore the mall.

  “Your wish is my command,” he laughs.

  As we go up the escalators I tell him, “In the village we used to go to the nearby town, which only had a few stores. We don’t have everything, like here in Cape Town. Our towns in the Eastern Cape are like ghost towns.”

  “Tell me about your village,” he says, as we sit down at KFC in the mall.

  But I can’t. How can I tell him? I am trying to forget. Luckily, just then, the waitress brings our food. She explains to him what is on the tray and saves me from having to talk.

  “Will the lovely couple have anything to drink?” Is that how people see us already, I think. As a couple?

  “I’ll have a cream soda.” The waitress shows me a thumbs up and nods.

  “I’ll have the same,” Sandile says.

  Quickly, I ask Sandile about himself, so that I don’t have to talk about me. He tells me that he is from a wealthy family. He talks on and on. I stop listening at some point and just nod. This doesn’t feel real. My real feelings are buried deep down. However, part of me enjoys Sandile’s attention. He is being a true gentleman. I smile at him. Then I notice the time.

  “We have to go now,” I say to him. Then “Tjo! Azisentle ezalokhwe, Wow! Those dresses are beautiful,” as we walk past a particular shop window.

  “What size are you?” Sandile asks as we walk out of the mall. I know he will be back to buy the dress.

  I direct him back to my aunt’s house. When he stops the car he says, “I got lost now, but will I know the way in years to come?”

  “I’m not sure. You tell me,” I laugh, and let him kiss me. But I stop him when he wants more.

  “Not yet,” I laugh. “Don’t be in such a hurry. Don’t call me – I’ll call you.” Sandy is right about young guys – he lets me call the shots just as I want to.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  When I go inside Auntie calls me into the kitchen, where she is waiting up. “How was your date?” she asks.

  I answer a bit shyly, “It was great, Auntie. Thanks for asking.”

  Auntie then says, “I am pleased for you, but there are rules. No coming home after nine-thirty at night, no drinking, no wild parties,” she winks. “I remember how I used to party when I was your age,” my aunt teases. “But, it was safer those days,” she adds.

  “Thank you for caring.” Auntie and Malume are already helping me with fees for college. I hug her.

  Then my aunt’s face changes. I feel nervous. Her expression has become suddenly serious. “Noni, there is something you should know …”

  My heart skips a beat.

  “The date for your brother’s trial has been set.” My aunt hugs me again.

  “It’s OK, Auntie,” I tell her. “I am coping.” But we are feeling the same thing. I know it. We are anxious about my brother, Sabelo, behind bars. We are waiting for his trial. We are waiting.

  There is something else I am waiting for. I have skipped my period the last two months …

  ~•~

  That’s how it is. I can’t look into my heart for fear of what I will find there. I live pretending that nothing has happened. I continue to ignore the fact that my period still hasn’t come – by going out with the girls and dating Sandile. Accepting his gift of the dress I saw at Century City. And, most of the time, I can forget that my brother’s rape trial is coming up in a few months. I am trying so hard to forget my other life.

  “Friday means freedom, girl,” Sandy laughs. It’s the end of the college term. We are in the student centre watching the boys playing at a pool table. The centre is full. Everyone is busy. I feel so light now that I have made it through a whole term. We are waiting for Nosie who is ordering drinks for us at the bar.

  “Freedom – what’s that supposed to mean?” I laugh.

  “The girls’ night out.”

  “No! I’m not going anywhere tonight, chommie.”

  She responds: “Tonight Ntando and Mafikizolo are performing at the Italian.”

  “Are you serious, chommie?” I ask, curious.

  “Why would I lie to you?” she replies.

  At home late that afternoon, as I put on my dress for the night out, I realise I have put on weight. It is
a squeeze. I can’t ignore the fact that my period still hasn’t come for much longer. But I have also been eating too much. My auntie has been feeding me up with her plentiful, delicious food since I got here. Perhaps I am just getting fat? I hope with all my heart it is that.

  Eish, if I am pregnant it will mean something I can’t even start to think about. Can God please work miracles for me not to be pregnant? I pray, as I zip up the dress. I know that on Monday I just have to go to the clinic and find out. For now I will go out and try not to think about it.

  I send Sandile an SMS:

  Italian arnd 7 pm

  He doesn’t reply. But when we get to the Italian I see his car.

  “Baphi ooZia, Nosie and Zen bona chommie, where are they?” I ask Sandy as she goes inside.

  “You know them, nje. They are already inside …”

  “Go ahead. I’ll follow you shortly,” I tell her.

  I’m just outside stnding by ur car.

  Cum out plz. Bring me sumthing 2drnk

  Sandile comes out with two carry packs and a nip of J&B whiskey.

  He kisses me as he puts the drinks on the bonnet of his car. “Here sthandwa sam, my love.”

  “Thanks, babe.”

  We stand in front of his car and drink. We kiss and Sandile says, “Baby, can I take you home with me tonight?”

  “Later. I want to dance right now. Who is the DJ?”

  “Only Max.”

  When I get inside Sandy is swinging her hips on the dance floor as the house music is playing.

  “Come over here,” she shouts.

  “You seem drunk already. Where did you drink?” Zia asks.

  I am feeling a bit sick now. My legs don’t feel steady.

  “Calm down, girls. I got it from my boyfriend.”

  “So, it’s official. He’s your boyfriend … your Ben 10,” Sandy says.

  “Yes! Why not?”

  Nosie asks, “What is it that you drank?”

  “A nip of J&B and Strong Bow ciders,” I say.

  “No wonder it took you so long,” Sandy says.

  I dance on the floor and lose track of time. When I go to get water at the bar I see Sandy talking to Sandile. She is blushing, flirting with him. I look at her differently then. A wave of nausea takes over and I run to the toilets where I vomit. Sandile comes to find me.

  “Let’s go,” I tell him.

  But Sandy is there, pulling me towards the door. “You are going with me, Nonyaniso, not him,” she says firmly. “I promised your aunt. You are getting drunk.”

  “I will see that Noni gets home safely,” says Sandile. It is the first time I have seen another side of Sandy. She glares at us as we leave. She is just as drunk, if not more, than I am.

  Sandy is jealous and she watches us angrily as we walk out of the tavern.

  We have sex in Sandile’s car. I feel nothing. No, not nothing – I feel loss. I miss Sihle’s touch. When I am back in my bed I wrap my arms around myself like Sihle used to do.

  As if he feels me in the dark, an SMS arrives:

  I love and miss u. Sweet

  dreams and take care.

  That night in my dreams I find myself back in the village.

  “Go back to the party and have some fun,” Sihle says, stroking my cheek.

  “Not without you.”

  “Go on. I have to study. I have an exam.”

  “OK, but I will be back soon,” I promise.

  “Take a bottle from the fridge.”

  I grab a bottle of Smirnoff and run out into the dark. I can hear the music from up the hill. I can hear my girlfriends shouting and giggling. I run up to join them. I push on the door. Somebody pulls it open from the inside. It is Sabelo …”

  Then I wake up screaming. My aunt soothes me back to sleep.

  ~•~

  I am pregnant. No doubt about that. The clinic sister has the results. The clinic smells of medicine. It is stuffy. I am nauseous. The floor is dirty, and the chairs are filled with women with big tummies. I am stressed, and angry at the sister, who is smiling.

  “You don’t seem happy at all,” the sister says, looking at me. If she only knew why, I think she wouldn’t be smiling. How can I be happy?

  “There are other options,” she says quietly. “You can put the baby up for adoption. It is too late for an abortion.”

  “You talk as if you know how I got into this situation,” I say quickly.

  “It doesn’t matter now. All you have to do is to decide. You won’t change the fact that you are pregnant.”

  I walk out of the clinic in a daze.

  On the way back home I can’t see through my tears. I am angry and sad and confused and embarrassed. What will I tell my aunt and uncle? What will they say when they hear that I am pregnant? They have been understanding, but when they hear this, I am not sure if they will be any more.

  A car hoots as it swerves to avoid me. I realise I am walking in the middle of the road. A man shouts. “Sibhanxa, idiot. What is wrong with you, girl? Are you mad?”

  Peep! Peep! Peep! The driver of a taxi hoots and shouts, “Hey, you bitch! Are you fuckin’ crazy? You were lucky I didn’t hit you.”

  Part of me wishes he had.

  A pedestrian asks, “Girl, what’s going on with you?”

  “I’m not a girl …” I begin, then give up. You don’t know what I’m going through, I think. They all have no idea.

  I should go home but I can’t. So I go to the Italian House, in distress.

  As I turn the corner into the street I see a couple walking down it, away from me. She has her head on his shoulder. Their backs are to me. She is laughing. He holds her hand. It’s Sandy and Sandile.

  I stand and stare. I think of the other night, how she flirted with him. I think of him SMSing while he was with me, and now I am sure he was SMSing her. I go into the bar to order a drink, using the money my uncle had given me for transport to varsity. I shouldn’t be drinking, but I want to numb these feelings.

  “Barman, can I get a J&B?”

  “We are not yet open. Can’t you read on the door?”

  I plead, “Please tog, just one shot.” I hand over the money. “I’m drinking my own money, not a man’s money here.” Tears are pricking my eyes.

  He mumbles, walking away, “Tjo, women are complicated, just like cars.”

  “Don’t you dare talk nonsense!” The anger is rising in me.

  When I leave the tavern I have found the courage to do what I know I have to do.

  I was raped. I will lose Sihle. Now I’m pregnant. I have nothing to live for.

  There is nobody at home. I take a pen and paper to write a letter.

  Dear Uncle and Auntie

  I have found out that I am pregnant – a child of a rape. I will lose the man I love most and the career I am working towards … Even Sandy has betrayed me … There is nothing left to live for. Find it in your hearts to forgive me.

  With lots of love,

  Nonyaniso

  It is the only way out. I go straight to the garage, looking for my uncle’s ladder. I find it. I look for a rope. Underneath my uncle’s Bantam bakkie I find one. I take it straight to my room. It doesn’t take me long to set everything up. I attach the rope to the outside door handle, sling it over the other side. The noose is made. I stand on a stool. My head is in the noose. Then I kick the stool away from under me.

  ~•~

  I am back in the village running up the hill with the bottle of booze. I hear Nosiviwe’s voice as I open the door. Sabelo is trying to push me out of the house. Why?

  “Hey, chommie …” Nosiviwe runs up to me, excited. “Chommie chommie yam. You brought my favourite bottle.” We hug and then the lights go out. We run screaming and giggling. Is this a game? To the bedroom where the light is on. Then that
light goes out. We are in the pitch dark. It isn’t a game any more …

  I open my eyes. I am lying on a bed. But there are noises of cars outside. I am not in the village. My eyes are blurred. I see stars then light then dark again. And then I hear a familiar voice. My aunt’s. I feel wet. I have wet myself. I see the rope lying on the floor, and the stool knocked over. But I am alive.

  “The ambulance is coming. Just keep breathing, my sweetie,” she takes my hand. “Thank God I found you in time.”

  Later, much later, in the hospital, my uncle stands at the foot of the bed. “Doctor Smith, will she be fine? What about the child?”

  “The baby is fine and she will make a quick recovery, I am sure of that. If you hadn’t come …” then he stops.

  “When will you discharge her, Doctor?” Auntie asks.

  “Tomorrow afternoon. I want to monitor the baby until then …”

  I don’t remember much of what happens in the hospital. Nurses. Drips. Sounds of crying patients in pain. I cry on the inside.

  When I am back at home, my aunt says. “You scared me mntanam, my child. Never do what you did again. You must tell me if something is wrong. We didn’t even know you were pregnant. ”

  “I’m sorry, Auntie.”

  Nosie comes to see me. “That bitch Sandy. I am so sorry Noni …” she says, taking my hand. “She will soon find out just what a playa Sandile is. You deserve far better than him.” She takes the picture of Sihle and stares at it. “Tell me about him,” she says.

  But I can’t. “Everything is a mess, Nosie. I feel like the world has turned against me. What have I done to be punished like this?”

  Uncle says, “We love you, Nonyaniso, and we will support you. Never ever try to kill yourself again, Makhesa.”

  Sandy sends an SMS:

  Please find it in ur

  heart 2forgiv me chommie.”

  Maybe one day I will see her again. But not right now.

  Auntie tells me, “Forgiveness is the greatest weapon we can use to rebuild the broken bridges.”