Bhekokwakhe

chapter 11

KENOSI

I just got back from work and the house is dead silent. Kwakhe is not here. Nothing is boiling in the stoves. Good, I told him to stop preparing dinner. He can only make breakfast and his hand is gifted when it comes to preparing food. Everything he prepares is mouth-watering. I didn’t even bother to go upstairs to change. I just dropped my bag on the longue and took all the stuff I brought with me to the backroom. I know Kagiso would probably come home late.

Once I’m at his doorstep, I knock.

“Ngena” (Come in)- he shouts on the other side. Granting me an invitation to step inside. I push the door open.

His daughter is busy crawling on the floor. Touching anything that meets her pair of hands. He is topless, my eyes roam on his slabs but stop on a tattoo plastered on his V-shaped torso.

It is Langalibalele’s face and her name underneath. She was still young on that tattoo. I stare at it for a while. When he feels my glance pouring on his skin he grabs his shirt, clearing his throat. “Why would you get a tattoo of her face?” I ask, curiously. I’m not against the idea of that but what about his children after this one?

“It has always been something that I wanted to do, when I get my seed” he blushes lazily.

“What about the rest? Wouldn’t it be unfair on them?” Curiosity is holding me by my tits.

“Well, I’m done with kids. I only wanted one child” he coaxes.

“Ohh,” I say, trying to sound less awkward.

“It’s beautiful, how much did it cost you? I always wanted one” I say, my desire to get a tattoo is now evoked.

He laughs softly, Gosh his laughter. So melodic “Actually, I did it myself” that left my eyes dropped on the floor.

“What, do you have materials with you?”

He shook his head ‘No’ “An old friend lent me his equipment” he informs.

“Ohh-“ I nod vigorously.

I slowly plop the plastics I was carrying on the bed. The bed is neatly folded and I sit down on the floor. Next to Langa, she crawls to me showing her toothless smile.
Wow! She has gotten used to me so quickly. I snuggle her chubby body on mine, closing my eyes. Allowing her scent to breeze through my nostrils.

-

“Kenosi, what is this?” His tone makes me shoot my eyes open.

“What, is what?” I ask, still pecking Langa’s cheeks.

“Why did you buy all this baby stuff?” You could sense anger in his tone.

I laugh, “Relax, will you. They are not yours. They belong to Langa,” I mutter looking at the pair of eyes staring back at mine.

“Right baby?” I ask, baby Langa making silly faces and that melodic laugh evokes, spreading love across the room.

“You don’t have the right to buy stuff for my daughter Kenosi, she is not a charity case” he tone was rough. I stop making silly faces to glance at him.

“Please sit down,” I plead, making a space next to me on the floor. He does, after a long time.

“I bought those things for Langa because I wanted to. Not because I pity you or anything. I love kids with all my heart, especially girls. It has always been my dream to have my own mini-me one day but life has other plans for me. Please don’t deny me the opportunity to know what it feels like raising a daughter” I concede.

He looks at me for a little while. I avoid his stare by laying my attention on Langa.

“I’m sorry the problem is that I have never had someone to offer help before besides my uncle. After his death no one has ever been there for me. It just feels surreal for someone to offer a hand” his confession shutters my heart.

Everyone deserves a lifting hand every now and then – hence they say ‘Two hands are stronger than one’

“Well, I’m here now. Please give me the opportunity to love Langalibalele, finally I can pronounce her name” I giggle.

All this time he is looking at me. My petite hand lands on his muscular hand. “Please, don’t deny me the opportunity to help you raise her like the universe denied me the opportunity to raise my own kids”

His stare got darker due to my confession.

“What happened? You were once pregnant?” He asks, invested in this matter deeper than I was.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I say, dismissing the conversation, removing my hand from his.

“Ohh,” he says, disappointed.

Silence creeps in. Langalibalele was now falling asleep in my hands.

“Thanks” he says, breaking the mute that has knocked upon us.

I just nod. His hand slowly surrounded my petite frame. “You are the best, don’t ever doubt that” he gives me a cup filled with the best words, sniffing my hair.

I snuggle Langalibalele close to my chest and allow my head to rest on his shoulder.
The world comes to halt, my problems disappear in this little bubble. My heart gets Goosebumps. Butterflies summon each other in my stomach, to start dancing. For a second I forget about the boundary between us. My marital status jumps outside the window

-

KAGISO

After what transpired between me and Ntombikayise. I called my therapist to book an appointment. After stopping attending many moons ago. That was a wake up call, that I need to change and stop being a rotten potato. I can’t go around attacking people.

I know that my sex drive is not really impressing. I try to find different women hoping for different results, but everything still turns out to be a hot mess. I was diagnosed with bipolar at an early age. When I met Kenosi; I wasn’t happy with the arrangement and I loathed her for agreeing to everything our parents were subjecting us to without giving a fight.

There I devoted myself to making her life a living hell. But after today, I’m ready to take a journey of revolution.

Now I’m slaving in the kitchen.

Today I want to make amends with my wife and start on a clean slate. I could cancel the Braai because humiliating my mansevent is not worth it. I don’t even know my employee’s name. But worry not; I will give him a day off and a little parcel to buy something for his daughter in that case he won’t be around or ask him to stay in his backroom till the Braai ends.

I check my wrist watch; seven O’clock on the dot and she is still not yet home. I have been here around two, trying to calculate ways on how to be a better me. My hands sneak in my pocket, trying to call her.

“Where could she be?”

I ask myself, clicking ‘call’ on her number. Music starts blaring in the lounge. I follow the sound. Her bag is on the couch. Where the hell could she be?

I drop the call, my mind jogs to the room outside. “Dammit” I curse rushing there.