The key was gone! Awethu tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He couldn’t find anything in the room, not single wire hanger, or a forgotten hair grip, to try to jimmy the lock. Not that he’d ever successfully jimmied a lock in his life.

How did I not notice them taking the key? was his first thought. His second: They’re just scared. They’ll open the door soon.

But time ticked on, and the door remained locked.

He examined the windows, but both were secured with high quality burglar bars. No matter how much he pulled, pushed and kicked, he could not get a single bar to bend, let along rip them off.

How is this my life? he wondered.

He flopped back onto the bed, and tried to think. But his brain wouldn’t focus. Everything was a confused jumble: his dream, his parents, all his feelings, including being locked in the room.

Night rolled in, but he didn’t bother to turn on a light. He blinked in the darkness, his mind whirling away, as the sound of the sea grew louder. A breeze blew by, despite the windows being closed. “Awethu, come home.”

“I’m locked in the room,” he said.

The words echoed around, before the breeze caught them, whisking them out to sea.

Another hour passed, and this time a wind roared in, slamming itself against the lock.

Click.

The door popped open.

Without thinking, Awethu rose to his feet. He walked out of the room, down the hall, and through the front door. Not a single person in the house noticed. He took the path to the beach. The stars were out, and a crescent moon hung in the sky. It was a clear night. Cool, but not chilly.

In the distance, closer to the restaurants, he could hear people laughing, the clink of glass on glass, as people enjoyed their evening. But as he reached the beach, not a single soul lurked at the end where he stood. He glanced around, checking for a cousin, or maybe an amorous couple, hiding in the bushes. But all was quiet.

“Awethu, come.” This time, the voice seemed to be coming from the sea.

He got closer to the water, rolling in and out along the shore, and it occasionally licked his toes. As he peered ahead, he could make out five sets of eyes, gleaming in the night. A dark, shadowy arm rose out of the water. It was thick and long. Tata?

“You can always come back,” a voice said from the sea. “You can live in both worlds.”

What if they’re lying, a voice in his head asked.

My parents lied for 16 years, replied another voice in his head.

Step by step, he walked into the water. He went out until he was waist deep.

“Come, come!” a little voice cried out. A tiny hand waved.

Phili, he thought.

“Dive!” called another.

Mbali, he thought.

“Please! I’m so sorry I let you go,” said a third.

Cwebile.

“We’ve always loved you,” said a fourth.

Mama.

“Son!”

Tata.

He dived.

 ***

Tell us: Do you think Awethu has made the right choice? How will he feel if it turns out his birth family lied, too?