Lonwabo leaves his mother in the kitchen and goes to his room.

Grace stares into space, trying to make sense of it all – she never wanted to ever think of Peter again, let alone speak about him. Now memories of him begin to haunt her, and she can’t stop thinking about him.

She goes to her bedroom, climbs on her bed and reaches on top of her cupboard, under some boxes, for an old suitcase that is covered in dust. She hasn’t touched it in a long time. She pulls it and it drops on the floor with a hard thud. Dust fills the air; she coughs and waves her hand across the front of her face.

It takes a minute or two before she can open the case. Its mechanism used to be so familiar, now the memory is gone. Eventually she fiddles her way to getting its latches to spring open. Inside the case is a mess. Everything is old – there are some of her mom’s scarves, those she used to wear to special occasions; her father’s hats and ties. She then spots her target: a photo album.

She takes it out, hesitant to open it, but something inside her says she must. Her hands shake a little when flipping the first page.

There he is: Peter, when he was still young, in his school uniform. An exact replica of how his son Lonwabo looks today.

They look so alike, she thinks to herself, unable now to hold back her tears. They run down her face like they are being chased. But there is also a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth and when she flips over another page and there is a photograph of the both of them holding hands. She remembers that day. A photographer in the valley was walking past and asked to take a photograph of them and they agreed. He asked them to frolic a bit so that the pictures wouldn’t be drab. She looks at one where he was lifting her and she was frightened, thinking she was going to fall. Her mind is full of thoughts of the good times she had with Peter.

But she closes the album, sadness comes knocking and she is reminded of the bad times. All along the relationship had been idyllic when they were young and living in the valley, when they both had nothing and their lives were simple. But Peter moved to the city, Johannesburg, to find work and to study. He must have met many beautiful ladies because when he came back home he had suddenly developed some kind of attitude and Grace was no longer good enough for him.

She weeps, thinking bitterly. Everything was so perfect, but Johannesburg got between us and got to his head. He no longer loved me but loved Johannesburg more. He suddenly had other expectations from me that I could not deliver or live up to. He was horrid and started beating me up. I can’t believe he beat me up when I was pregnant too – and then the audacity to bring another woman into our lives!

She quickly snaps out of the painful thoughts. That was a long time ago.

Now looking forward – how does she help her son? Maybe it’s time she introduced Lonwabo to Jomo, the new man in her life. Jomo is responsible and besides he also has children, she thinks. Surely he will understand? She reaches for her phone tucked into her bra and dials Jomo’s number.

“Molo tata.”

“Molo Mama, unjani wena? (Greetings mother, how are you?)” he asks excitedly.

“I’m doing OK, thanks. Tata, I just wanted to ask if you can come to my house tomorrow night and have dinner with me and … and my son,” she asks nervously.

“Of course, of course, Mama. I would love to come,” he responds warmly.

“OK then, thank you my love. I will see you then. Goodbye.”

Grace’s heart fills with gratitude for this kind new man of hers. She feels as though she has accomplished something big in her life. Maybe, just maybe, this could be what her son needs. She packs away everything – everything except a photograph of Lonwabo’s father – and puts the case back.

She goes to Lonwabo’s bedroom and places the photograph next to him while he is sleeping.

***

Tell us what you think: Does a boy need his biological father, or can another man be a role model and guide?