Mum had lost all hope of finding a job. She was still grieving. So, we lived on my grandmother’s pension. She gave us a tongue lashing most of the time, complaining that we were ungrateful, and that we wasted things. I barely ate, cutting down on food because I was unhappy with my weight.

With all of these problems, I tried to look for jobs here and there, but my Mum didn’t approve. She said that I was too young to support my family. But I thought to myself: if I don’t do it, then who will? My Mum wasn’t in work mode, and I knew that Aunty would rather drown than work. However, I followed my Mum’s wishes and stopped looking for part time jobs.

One day, on my way home from church, I saw the BMW again. This time, the driver was standing outside. I tried my level best to not look at him, but his smile was just majestic. As I got closer, he greeted me. “Good afternoon ma’am,” he said, “could I have a word with you?”

Once again, his use of the word “ma’am” gave me the creeps. I mean, who said “ma’am” in this area? There was something about this man that I couldn’t put my finger on. We had a very nice conversation. Apparently, Mr BMW’s name was Lesego. He was a businessman, and he was from Botswana. He was a really nice guy. We quickly became buddies. It felt as if our souls connected.

One day, when we were on a picnic together, he asked me about myself. I felt that I could trust him, so I decided to tell him my boring story. I told him everything about my family, varsity and my Dad’s death. He was very supportive. He said all the right words. He was even willing to help me out with my fees. It turned out that Mr BMW was loaded. His family had left him a “truck load” for his inheritance (his words, not mine).

Life with Lesego was like a fairy-tale. He took me out of the hellhole that I called home. We would have long talks at night when he called, and he was always taking me out. One day, after a picnic, he dropped me off at my gate, and guess who saw us? My aunt. You should have seen the look on her face. She looked as if she was about to kill someone. She gave me an evil stare when I walked into the house. To make matters worse, Lesego blew me a kiss. I just blushed and went inside. I found the dishes waiting for me, as always, so I started washing them.

Mum came in from fetching the kids and my aunt came in after them. Mum suddenly asked me to leave the dishes and sit down. I did as she asked.

“Charlotte,” she said, “do you have a sugar daddy?”

Wow, I thought to myself, how blunt! I didn’t even know how old Lesego was. He looked pretty young.

“Mum,” I said, “Lesego is my friend from varsity, and he’s gay!”

“She is lying, wena Joyce,” said my aunt, addressing my Mum by her first name. “I saw them with my own two eyes!”

My Mum asked me the same question again. I didn’t change my statement: I continued to insist that Lesego was gay. I convinced her after a few quarrels. She believed me, and I went and finished up the dishes with a smirk on my face, which deeply annoyed my aunt. That night, when Lesego called, I told him about what had happened. He laughed so hard when I told him about the gay issue. He was handsome enough to pass off as gay. We even agreed to see each other less to avoid any suspicion.

*****

My friendship with Lesego was blooming. We would talk about everything, and when I say “everything” I actually mean me. We never talked about him. He was secretive and very private. It always bothered me, because I felt I didn’t know much about him. The only things I knew about Lesego was that he was a businessman, had inherited lots of money from his parents and was an only child. I didn’t know where he stayed, or what his business was. He would change the subject whenever I tried to ask him about these things.

I was on a mission to find out what he was hiding. One day, he took me shopping and said to me: “You can pick anything you like.” I was on cloud nine. We were at a designer store in Sandton. This was unbelievable for me, because I had never worn designer clothes in my life. After shopping, we went for dinner at a fancy restaurant. He ordered for me, because I couldn’t make up my mind. We ate, and then he took me home before it got too late.

He parked at the corner of my street, to avoid running into my aunt. I felt that this was my chance to ask him how old he was. I cleared my throat nervously and said: “Umm, Lesego, how old are you?”

It suddenly became quiet in the car. He turned to me slowly and asked, “Why do you want to know, Charlotte? Do I embarrass you?” He was mad now, and it was creeping me out. He had become a different person and it was scary. I opened the car bonnet and found his ID book. He grabbed it from me before I could open it. We had a mini fight when I tried to snatch it again. Finally, I managed to get it from him and I opened it.

***

Tell us what you think: How old do you think Lesego is? Why do you think he doesn’t want to reveal his age to Charlotte? What else do you think he’s hiding?