Life After Death

by Brian Ndingindwayo

  On one such break of day the two lovebirds lay whispering softly.

  ‘I must not crowd you,’ he said.

  It was greying outside and they both hadn’t slept a wink all night, wanting to feel every living moment together and wanting to catch up.

  ‘You haven’t dropped Sue.’

  It was the slip of a tongue itching to dispense with something. Lingering feelings of the uncomfortable kind always had that kind of effect. She would have loved not put a fly in the ointment, but there it was. She had said it! The Sue thing needed to be dealt with.

  His eyes rolled around. He was startled by the question. ‘She’s bothering you, isn’t she?’

  Natasha couldn’t immediately work out what his reaction meant

  ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,’ she said apologetically, although she was dying to know. ‘I’ didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘Don’t be nervous about it,’ Sipeyiye said.

  But the atmosphere was tense already.

  ‘I was wondering about how to talk about this without losing your…,’

  His quavering voice trailed off.

  ‘... without losing your affection,’ he managed to say.

  She nodded and bit her lower lip.

  ‘It was unkind of me that when you needed me the most I couldn’t stand with you. But Sue is gone now.’

  She looked out through the window, avoiding his gaze. ‘I don’t mean to compete with anybody. You didn’t break up because of me, did you?’

  ‘No. That happened before I got in touch with you.’

  She was suddenly curious. ‘Why?’ she asked

  ‘She wanted an HIV test report.’

  He shrugged.

  She was still wondering how Sipeyiye took the message on being HIV positive.

  So much had happened. His first instinct was to disbelieve. He had put the blame on her. He had separated himself from her.

  Then came the news of this woman, Manata’s mother, who died of AIDS. Sipeyiye had lived with the virus for thirteen years!

  There was no one to blame. That might have been possible, perhaps if he had been careless.

  ‘I’m sorry about that,’ she whispered after a while.

  ‘You’ll forget it?’

  Gently, Sipeyiye positioned himself atop her and Natasha could feel the warmth of his breath in her face. She tensed.

  ‘Yes’ she whispered again.

  ‘Promise?’

  She made a face. ‘I promise.’

  ‘Because you see,’ and their gazes fused together. ‘I want to marry you.’

  ‘Yep, I want chocolates, coffee…but you guys don’t believe me when I say I’m in pain. You think I’m faking it. Can you just do me two favours? One, I’ll come to Khumalo when I’m fit enough. Two: come off my top.’

  Sipeyiye laughed. ‘You naught boy,’ Natasha laughed along with him.

  He left at the earliest signs of sunrise. It was time for Natasha to sleep, but she couldn’t. He was still on her mind. Just as there was still a lingering smell of him on her body. Today had been the turning point in her life. Today she had given him the gift of love. She day-dreamt again, reading the message from Manata again.

  There was so much that happened while Natasha was in the hospital. Sipeyiye would talk on how beautiful Manata sang. He explained just how well the boy did ‘Please, Take it Away Lord’. After a week he announced that he had bought him a grand piano and he was doing just fine on it.

  Sipeyiye wanted the boy to have some academic education. He was determined to do something about that, especially after the failed first attempt. It wasn’t long before he announced as well that Manata was having two tutors, one in English and another in Mathematics.

  ‘Let’s concentrate on his strength. That boy will do well in music.’

  It was Sipeyiye making the decisions now, reflected Natasha. She didn’t have much say.

  One afternoon, he came with a request to move her furniture out from her flat.

  ‘Could we make it to Khumalo when you’re out?’ There was still a little nervousness in his voice.

  But there wasn’t a thing to fear. All she wanted to do now was to be with him and Manata.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  The next day, she was discharged, minus the crutches.

  Chapter 62

  A bird whipped the air defining a parabola in its path. It flew around the double- storey building and landed on the branch at a tree so near to Natasha. It was a dove, much to Natasha’s delight. The thin twig sagged as the dove stood there flapping its wings up and down. The bird could feel her presence, but couldn’t immediately make her out.

  She held her breath, not wanting to frighten it away. Perched on the rails of the porch, she could visibly make out its tiny chest heaving up and down. It cooed, rapidly turning about, torn between staying and fleeing.

  The door cracked open. Now, that it was certain there was a human being around, it spread its wings and flew away. Sipeyiye came behind her. They both watched it as it gained altitude. It was soon an almost invisible little dot and finally became invisible as it rose higher and higher.

  ‘How did it come so near?’ he asked

  ‘I don’t know.’

  She shrugged.

  His face was still puffy from sleep. His breath was stale. Dressed in his martial arts suit, his front buttons unbuttoned; there was a fine dust of hair on his bare chest. She shrugged again.

  Dusk had come and the sun was an orange ball on the horizon. A few crisp clouds were dotted around the sun as well as around the whole greying sky. Natasha shook slightly as a gust of wind swept past them, but they stood there in silence enjoying everything around them.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said to him after a while. He squinted at the sun and stifled a yawn.

  It was fast becoming a habit of theirs to sleep again immediately after breakfast at weekends. On this Sunday, the three of them, Manata included, drifted back to bed immediately after breakfast. They had their lunch. Occasionally, one of them would pop into the kitchen for a drink. Natasha was the first to wake up, but Manata was still in bed even then.

  The peals of the piano announced that Manata was awake. Slow, uneven beats. The rhythm building up… And then a sudden halt, at the time you wished it continue.

  ‘He’s awake,’ Sipeyiye muttered.

  ‘Yes, he is.’ She wrapped her hands around him and hobbled down. He staggered forward a little, absent-mindedly.

  ‘You want me to fall?’ she cried into his face.

  ‘Sorry.’

  They drifted into the house, Natasha ahead and Sipeyiye trailing behind.

  Manata was still fidgeting with the piano. The volume was high. The tempo too! The sound wafted into the clear air, again and again, loud and proud.

  Sipeyiye swung the fridge open as they passed the kitchen. He settled for an apple, which he gratefully crunched.

  Manata was hunched at his favourite property, fingers tapping the keyboard expertly. He was still concentrating furiously so that he couldn’t immediately see them as they entered.

  ‘Good morning,’ hailed Sipeyiye, sprawling himself on the couch.

  ‘Oh, you’re here.’ Manata looked at them over his shoulder.

  ‘Let’s not disturb you. Go ahead.’

  ‘You care to join me?’

  ‘Me? I won’t do that.’ swore Natasha. ‘Of all the things, that’s what I’m worst at.

  ‘No, I won’t. I won’t.’

  ‘I’m trying to add new voices. Not that you’ll do it again, but I want to have a feel of it.’

  ‘If you insist, I’ll leave,’ Natasha said and headed for the door.

  Sipeyiye pretended to have not heard.

  But Manata lunged out of his chair in pursuit. He tugged at her hand, dragging her back. ‘Just try it, you’ll love it,’ he pleaded.

  ‘All right, if you insist. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m awful bad; I mean
bad as in bad.’

  ‘We’ll get started straightaway.’ He sat down in his chair. He began to sing the melody and encouraged Natasha to join in.

  Please, take it away

  Take it away completely

  Give me love to show everybody,

  That’ll never feel it again.

  He did it, gesturing with his hand encouragingly.

  Natasha picked it on the way, cursed at the sound of her voice. She nearly gave up, but Manata was watching her lips. She managed to thrive to the end of the hymn.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘But I think we also need a male voice here. The hoarse stuff, isn’t it?’

  Sipeyiye peeked at them out of the corner of his eye. He had thought he had escaped. Natasha giggled.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ll do it.’ He threw the newspaper away and stretched out. Sipeyiye and Natasha stood one each on either side of Manata, getting the words and the tune again.

  They started afresh. Natasha couldn’t help noticing that Sipeyiye was better than her.

  ‘We’ll do it with the instrument now.’

  Manata searched their faces. His face glowered with success.

  The piano again. Manata hunched forward, punching the keys expertly. A rapid succession of beats that failed to make music. Another attempt: going slowly at first but stepping up the tempo as he got the rhythm right. He nodded his approval and swung a hand in rhythm to the beat of the hymn.

  Then he picked on the song, the ‘please’ drawn out and vibrating for them to join, which they did. Natasha was momentarily bewildered at how great their combined effect could be. Manata led with his thin but sweet and innocent voice. When the two adults joined in the harmony was something admirable given that it was practically spontaneous with hardly any rehearsal to speak of. It was in the end quite a rich rendition.

  They finished it the first time, and Manata searched their faces for comments. ‘How did it go?’ he asked

  ‘We’ll do it again.’ Sipeyiye volunteered

  So once again, they did it with the piano showing the way. It sounded like it had been spiced up now. The melody was hauntingly familiar now and it was just like having heard the song some other place and suddenly hearing it again. And to Natasha, that’s exactly what the experience was doing. They had all come along difficult paths. It had been necessary for each to lead a separate life. Yet all they had wanted was each other and being a family.

  They were lost in glory of the song and in their togetherness. Each time they sang the verses the soothing melody brought new meaning to them. Natasha wondered what Sipeyiye and Manata were thinking. They sang the song again. The sense of accomplishment was unmistakable and real.

  Carried along by the uplifting rhythm they nodded, smiled and sang along, happy and contented in each other’s company. They held each other’s gazes. They swayed. And their wild, wild imagination wandered to worlds unknown.

  About the Author

  Brian Ndingindwayo was born in Chipinge, Zimbabwe. He did his studies in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe where he spent most of his time reading books. He writes books and computer programmes and visits charity organizations around the country whenever he can. Life After Death is his first book.