“Lethuk’thula?” I asked, sitting down.
He sipped his coffee. His small hands were wrapped around the coffee mug.
“Granny is dead,” he said, a few tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Wow! When? How? Why didn’t you guys tell me?” I asked.
“Three months ago. One day she got so sick that she just slept and never woke up. I’ve been staying alone for the past two months,” he told me.
“Why did you come here? How did you find me?” I asked.
I know I sound cruel right now, but I have no motherly bone in me, not even one. They say every girl dreams of getting married and having kids, not me. This life I’m living is good enough.
“I found your address in Granny’s secret drawer,” he confessed.
I nodded slowly. “How old are you, again?” I asked, trying hard to remember his birthday. I mean, he looked old enough to cook, bath and take care of himself.
“Seven,” he said, with a smile, showing his two front teeth missing.
“You’re grown up,” I said. I know I should’ve stood up and hugged him the minute he started crying, but I couldn’t bring myself to. “Are you hungry?” I found myself asking him.
He nodded.
“Would you like a peanut butter and jam sandwich?” I asked him. I had liked it as a child.
He shook his head. “I’m allergic to peanuts,” he told me.
I frowned. “Cheese and some polony then?” I asked.
He nodded. I almost smiled at him.
As I watched him eat, I saw myself in him. He chewed slowly and silently as if scared.
“Are you in school yet?” I asked him.
“Grade 1,” he replied.
“So, you’ll stay here?” I asked him.
He looked at me.
OK, I was stupid to ask that. “We have to find a school for you,” I said.
He smiled and continued eating. Thing is, I last saw him when he was three months old.
I took his bag. “You’ll sleep in this room,” I said, as I walked into the spare bedroom. It had no bed, no wardrobe, nothing. I didn’t like or entertain guests. “I have to go get you a bed.” I threw decent clothes on myself. “Don’t go anywhere,” I said, running out.
As I drove my brand-new bakkie, I started crying. I couldn’t handle this. I couldn’t raise a whole child. His father was some warden; I’d gotten pregnant while in prison. I never told anyone except the father. He promised to pay me R3500 every month for the rest of my life, and include his son in his will. If I ever spoke of this, he’d have lost his job and his family. He was a good guy, so I protected him. We were still in contact. What if I dropped Lethuk’thula at his doorstep? Then he’d have no choice but to take him in. After all, a boy-child needs his father, more than his mother, right? My life was good just a few minutes ago, and now I had a huge burden to carry. I wanted no child. I wanted to grow old alone, drinking alcohol and smoking my cigarettes, and maybe dating young boys. I laughed at that thought.
***
Tell us: Do you think Zinzi’s attitude will change towards Lethuk’thula?