After leaving the house, I drive down to Missy’s house. It’s half past one o’clock, so I head for the intercom again, and this time I get a response.
“Who is this?” Missy asks.
“Delivery,” I respond. I am carrying a box to conceal my face, so she opens the gate. I know she would not have opened it if I had been honest with her.
When I get to the door, I ring the bell and wait while scanning my surroundings. She has changed colour of the house from white to sky blue, and the basketball court is now a soccer pitch. After a while, Missy opens up the door, and when she is startled by my face, she tries closing it again, but I block it using my leg.
“Please, Missy,” I say, pushing the door open.
“What do you want?” Missy asks, shaken.
“Let me in,” I say, and she moves to the side. As soon as I walk in, I realise that the house possesses new furniture. “I see you’ve renovated,” I say, looking around.
“I’m guessing you didn’t come here to see whether or not I’ve renovated,” Missy says.
“Where’s my daughter?” I ask.
“At day-care,” she responds.
“Baby, I’m back. We can fix this, fix us,” I say.
“You’re so naïve,” Missy says, then laughs humourlessly.
“I never stopped loving you, Missy,” I beg, but when I try to hold her hand, she backs away, shooting her hands up. That is when I notice the huge, sparkling diamond ring on her finger. “No,” I say, stepping back.
“What’s wrong with you?” Missy asks, confused.
“No. It’s true. You’re engaged,” I say.
“Amy is a much better woman than you could ever be, Thandekile … I mean, Silindile,” Missy responds, putting her hands on her waist.
“No, you love me,” I protest.
“Amy and Amanda will be here any minute now, so leave, will you?” Missy says.
“Amanda is my daughter, Missy,” I shout.
“The daughter that doesn’t even know you,” Missy lashes out.
“Because you never told her about me,” I yell.
“What did you want me to say? That momma is in prison? Huh? Cause she tried to scam me?” Missy shouts.
“I won’t let you play happy families with my child,” I say.
“She doesn’t even know you. We were better off without you,” Missy responds, then her cell-phone rings. “Leave, will you? My daughter will be here any minute, and I don’t want her exposed to jailbirds,” she says.
“Jailbirds?” I repeat.
“You heard me. Leave, and don’t ever come here again,” Missy shouts.
“As long as you have my daughter, I’ll always be in your hair. And again …” I say, then I walk closer to her, I grab her shoulders, and smash our lips together. We kiss, and her hands immediately go to my hair. She loses herself in the kiss, but regains herself and pushes me after a few minutes.
“Leave! At once!” Missy says, wiping her lips, but I smirk in response and walk out.
Tell us: Do you think Missy is right to deny Silindile access to her daughter?