Walking back home was the furthest thing from my mind less than an hour ago, and now it’s the only thing I want to think of. The cold air pushes against my jeans, and doesn’t manage to make its way through my jacket. Less than an hour ago, I was standing in front of man who sold drugs to that monster. That monster’s drug addiction sold my body.

I was standing in front of the man who created that monster. I was standing in front of a man whose choices in life pushed me onto the streets. I was standing in front of the cause of my unfortunate fate. I knew there had to be a flaw – just like the hotel room… just like the specimen sitting on the opposite end.

*****

Finally the door of my house comes in sight. I catch a snippet of day… “Who cares” of the ‘Mr and Mrs Ndube fight saga’, right before I can open the door and slam it shut behind me. My eyeballs are drowning in tears, pain flows through my veins, and I try my best to fill my lungs with air.

Women of strength; yet I’ve never felt so weak, so out of control. Anger and frustration take over my body; banging the walls, pulling the curtains, smashing everything I can get my hands on.

I collapse in pieces amongst the mess I had just created. Looking in front of me, I recognise the old scrap book which my mother and I made when I was younger. How beautiful, confident, ambitious and strong she was. I find my first grade report card, and an old note attached to it from her.

Dearest Bititi

Lots of love, Mom

i hold the note to my heart and lie amidst the mess on the floor. I am unaware of what tomorrow holds. I am in waiting.

*****

My sleep breaks. As I lay here on the floor where I drifted off last night, Tendai is the first thing that floods my mind. I realise I left the money Tendai paid me at his house when I stormed off in the heat of the moment. I need to do something about my no-money situation.

Getting ready for the day, I slip on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. I remember seeing a sign outside Melvin’s Auto not long ago for a worker needed. I leave the house and start my 45 minute walk to the Melvin’s workshop.

*****

“Hi, can I help you?” a man in an overall asks me.

“Good morning. My name is Bititi. I saw the sign outside and was wondering if you were still in need of a worker,” I say in a polite voice.

“Okay, I’m Melvin, the owner of this workshop. I’m just looking for an assistant to work on the cars with me, and also to sit at the reception desk and do the books,” he replies.

“Sir, I would really like this job,” I say eagerly.

“This job is more of a man’s job,” he responds in a regretful tone.

“Sir, in my life, I have been through more than what most women will ever go through in theirs. I’m just asking for what every person deserves – a chance.”

*****

Two months later, and I’m sitting behind the reception counter covered in grease from head to toe. And yet it’s the most content I’ve ever felt since my dearest mother’s passing. Working for Melvin is the best thing that could have happened to me. He and his wife know my story, and they are paying for me to get my matric. I believe my dearest mother could have been right… I am destined for greatness.

“Bititi, go home now it’s getting late,” says Melvin.

“Let me help you pack up the equipment before I go,” I plead.

“No you’ll be too tired to study when you get home, go now,” he demands softly.

Walking back home on this sunny Thursday afternoon, I recognise that black convertible I had last seen more than two months ago. Out materialises, what I once thought was God’s gift to women.

“Bititi,” he says, anxiously, hinting that there’s more to come.

“Ten…” I start, before being cut off.

“Shhh, it’s my turn to talk. I have done a lot of wrong in my life, we both have. You have no idea why I sold drugs, nor do you know how hard my life was, but even so, you are not to be blamed. I am. When you opened up to me and told me about your past, I realised how drugs messed up your life, and I just couldn’t bring myself to confess about my line of work. So I lied to you. I was ashamed of my past. I know that right now you might hate me, but I just want you to know that I have started cleaning up my life. Bititi, I am head over heels in love with you. Please give me a chance.”

Every person deserves a chance – these were the words I spoke to Melvin that day I needed a job. As I look to Tendai, I see a man who needs a chance to turn over a new leaf. He may not be God’s gift to women, but he is God’s gift to me. I reach my hands out to him; he takes them in his and presses it against his heart. I am no longer in waiting.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? Why? Why not?