“Mrs Malope, please come in,” I say, standing aside to let the impeccably dressed woman in. She has her burgundy hair extension loosely pinned at the back of her head to reveal her cream suit. She’s dressed formally, just like in the picture I saw on Blessing’s computer. She’s wearing incredibly high-heeled stilettos. I would break every bone in my body if I ever wore those anywhere.

She smiles warmly at me, but I sense her apprehension. “Please sit,” I say, indicating the couch with my good arm.

“What happened to your arm?” she asks me.

“I was shot,” I smile ruefully. Her eyes widen as I sit adjacent to her. “It sounds worse than it actually is,” I say, playing it down for her benefit.

“Did it happen when you were…you know…?” Mrs Malope is really nervous. I smile at her. “I read everything about Lifa…” she continues.

I nod. “Yes, one of the guys shot me, but he only got my arm. How did you know they were talking about him?”

“I have friends in the right places,” she says smugly, her eyes shining with mirth. “They keep an eye out for him and make sure he’s safe.”

Suddenly, the morning we were shot at the Motel comes to mind. The car that was chasing us suddenly skidded off the road. Blessing and I thought it was an accident but now…

“You have him watched?” I say, unable to hide the hint of hope in my voice. She gauges my expression before she nods. “There was a day when some people shot at us at a Motel…”

Her smile grows and I know she knows what I’m talking about. “My people were there…” she whispers.

I knew it was weird how the car had just rolled off the road. “They only intervene in immediate danger without being seen,” she explains. “They were also disguised as SAI agents the night you were shot.”

I scowl. Why would she ask about my arm if she already knew the answer?

“I’m sorry,” she says apologetically. “I just had to test the waters. I needed to see how open I could be with you.”

I nod with understanding.

“So how are you able to make it all happen?” I ask. She’d have to be powerful to infiltrate the SAI.

“Ever heard of Grace Incorporated?” she asks, sipping her cup of rooibos tea.

My eyes widen in incredulity.

“I am Grace,” she says with a smirk.

Blessing’s mother is a mischievous, shrewd, but elegant old woman. I like her already. Grace Incorporated is one of the biggest telecommunications company in the country. I am sitting in front of a multi-millionaire. It’s no wonder that she can pin point our location and tail Blessing.

“So if you knew where Bless… I mean, Lifa, was all this time, how come you didn’t…”

Her nervousness settles in again. Her mischievous smile disappears. I note that she’s mercurial, just like Blessing. Like mother, like son.

“I haven’t been a great mother to my son,” she tells me. “I left him when he was little, with his father.”

“If I may ask, why?”

“His father was a cop. He was often at work, and I was left at home to raise Lifa alone. I was young, and I hadn’t achieved any of my goals yet. Lifa’s father loved his job, and he was very good at it, but he wasn’t earning much,” she says with her lopsided lip.

“We struggled financially, Themba and I,” she continues. “We started fighting frequently, whenever he was home. The poorer we got, the more we fought, and the longer he stayed away from home. Lifa started acting up too. He sensed the toxicity in the house. He fought at school and wouldn’t listen to a word I said to him. I didn’t blame him, you know.”

Grace looks lost in thought, as if she’s right back in that house, angry and alone with a little boy.

“How old was Lifa then?” I ask.

“He was seven,” she smiles fondly. “His father won a Cop of the Year Award that year. Lifa was so proud. He told his father that he too wanted to be a cop, just like him. Themba told him he had to improve his grades, respect his Mom and stop fighting at school if he wanted to be a cop. Oh, the transformation in my son after that was palpable.” Tears spill from Grace’s big, round eyes.

“I, on the other hand, was on a downwards spiral,” Grace tells me. “One day, Themba came home after three days of being away. We fought a vicious fight.” She winces at the memory. “Later that night, I found a patch of cocaine in his bullet proof vest. He must have forgotten to take it out. I sniffed it in our bathroom while our son slept in the next room. I remember the feeling after that: I felt nothing but liberation. Nothing worried me, nothing hurt me, and it was as if I had no responsibilities. The morning after was the exact opposite. I was back to square one, and that’s how I got hooked on drugs.”

“I started selling small things from the house to sponsor my habit. I neglected my son more and more, but worse than that, I lost myself. By the time Themba found out, I was in far too deep. We were strangers to each other and, eventually, the day came when I left and never went back.”

By now, I’m sitting beside Grace, rubbing my hand on her back while she relives her painful past.

“I saw Lifa two years later,” she continues. “He was coming back from school. His uniform was shabby and wrinkly. He told me he hated me, and that he didn’t have a mother anymore, especially a drug addicted one. His words pierced through my drunken state. I heard him loud and clear. I have never felt any pain like that. My world stopped. I checked into rehab and started my life again and, as they say, the rest is history.”

We’re both sobbing on the couch. I don’t know who to feel sorrier for. A little boy who had a drug-addicted mother, or a busy cop for a father. Lifa closed down emotionally way before he became a cop. He spoke fondly of his father, but his father didn’t see the turmoil inside him. Lifa gives credit to his Dad, because he was around and he was a well-decorated cop until the day he died, but he must have felt resentment towards his father too.

He can’t carry this animosity in his heart for the rest of his life. It’s hurting him more than he’s willing to admit, and it causes him to push people away because he’s afraid. I know he’s going to be livid at me, but I have to do this for him. It’s for his own good.

***

Tell us what you think: How would you have felt in Blessing’s shoes? Do you think the relationship between Blessing and his mother can be repaired?