Monday morning, while Ntsiki dresses for school, Themba sends a flood of WhatsApp messages. She’d had her phone switched off all day Sunday, stayed indoors, and hoped Themba wouldn’t have the guts to come looking for her.

I’ll speak to him today sometime, she decides, before making a quick call.

* * * * *

From a distance. Ntsiki notices Taylor’s mother dropping her off at school. She lengthens her stride, half running, and reaches Taylor before she steps through the gate.

“You’re back!” She grabs hold of Taylor. “I’m so happy to see you! How you feeling?”

Taylor laughs and coughs at the same time. “You’re killing me.”

“Askies, chomma.” Ntsiki lets go of Taylor and straightens her collar. “Hey, you sound great, no longer like a bullfrog.”

“Just a bit noisy, like a hadeda?”

“Ntsiki, we need to talk.” Themba’s voice drowns out their giggles.

Ntsiki glances his way. “Not now, Themba.”

“Now, Ntsiki! I need that info now.”

Taylor’s eyes flit between them.

Clicking her tongue, Ntsiki prods Themba against the chest. “Let’s go. Be right back, Tay.”

They walk a short distance away from the school before Ntsiki speaks.

“So, what–”

“You’ve been ignoring me. Promise me. Promise me you won’t tell.”

“I’ll do better than that.” Ntsiki takes a folded page from her shirt pocket and places it in Themba’s hand. “This is my aunt’s number – I spoke to her this morn–”

Themba looks down at his hand, crumples the paper into ball and drops it. “Why the hell would I wanna talk to your aunt?”

Ntsiki looks around before answering. “She’s HIV positive too.” She bends down and picks up the crushed note. “And she runs a support group.”

“I don’t need a woman’s help. A woman is the reason I’ve got this shit.”

“And she got it from a man – the husband she trusted.”

Themba raises his eyebrows, then shrugs. “Just promise me, Ntsiki.”

“I won’t tell anyone, but you have to deal with it. You have to tell the girls you slept with – they need to know. And my aunt can help you.” She takes his hand, puts the paper in it and folds his fingers over it. “Promise me you’ll call her.”

Themba jams his hands into his trouser pockets. “Ja, ja.” He turns his back on Ntsiki and walks away, his head bent down, shoulders hunched.

“What was that about?” Taylor asks, when Ntsiki returns.

“Ag, you know … just Themba being Themba.”

The rest of the week, Ntsiki doesn’t see a sign of Themba – not at school nor at home. Over the weekend she notices unusual activity at his house – sheep wandering in the yard, huge pots stacked up against the wall, cars dropping off people – like they were preparing for a big family celebration. But no Themba in sight.

Tjo, he hasn’t been on WhatsApp since Tuesday when he sent me that strange message.

Ima decide

I will not creep

I will not beg

I will not hide

From this mistake

Cya when I cya

He hadn’t responded to her reply.

* * * * *

“Mama …”

Mrs Nkala looks up from the book she’s reading. “What is it, Ntsiki?”

Ntsiki looks out the lounge window. “Over there, Mama. What’s going on? Is someone getting married or something?”

Mrs Nkala takes her time closing her book and places it on the coffee table. She pats the sofa beside her. “Come sit here, I have to tell you something.”

Ntsiki skips over and plonks herself down next to her mother.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, mntwana wam.” She places an arm around Ntsiki’s shoulders. “It’s not easy. It’s never easy.”

“Hayi, mama, en nou?” Ntsiki peers into her mother’s eyes, where a pool of tears form. “What’s wrong, Mama? You’re scaring me.”

“First answer me this question … and be honest.” Mrs Nkala cups Ntsiki’s face in her hands. “Did you sleep with him, Ntsiki. Did you sleep with Themba?”

Ntsiki blinks, a fiery heat rising over her cheeks. “Hayi, Mama. It didn’t go that far.”

Mrs Nkala grabs Ntsiki into a fierce hug. “Thank you, God! I’m sorry, my baby. I’m so sorry.” The tears spill over Mrs Nkala’s cheeks. “Themba …” She swallows hard. “He … he’s no longer with us.”

“Where is he, Mama?” Ntsiki searches her mother’s eyes. “Please … tell me. What’s going on? Uphi na uThemba?”

Mrs Nkala takes Ntsiki’s hands in hers and squeezes them. “He wrote a letter to his family and some girls explaining why.” Mrs Nkala shakes her head. “He’s with the ancestors.”

***

Tell us: Did you expect this twist in the story plot? What do you think of it?