“Do you know what time you came home from school?” my father asked when he entered my bedroom. He was angry. “Have you ever come home from school after three?”

I had waited all afternoon in my room for him to come and tell me this. It was early evening and I knew I was in deep trouble. How could I ever start to explain that I was with Thobekile under the coral tree after school – just the two of us? My father would have killed me before I could even say ‘Thobekile’.

He started to shout at me and my mother chipped in, adding her own words of anger. After a while their voices became background noise as my mind drifted. I wondered how it was possible that I had spent such a long time with Thobekile. It felt like it passed in a few minutes, not even ten minutes, under the tree. Maybe when a boy utters emotional words with soft lips, you lose track of time.

Everything that happened under the coral tree replayed in my mind. My parents’ raised voices sounded like a radio in the background as I thought about myself and Thobekile under that tree.

I had never answered Thobekile when he had asked whether I loved him. I had not said ‘yes’ or ‘no’. But I had found other ways to show him my answer as he continued talking, comparing me to every beautiful thing in the world. His lips invited me to come closer. In a blink of an eye I was kissing him.

Thinking of kissing with Thobekile shut out all other thoughts. I didn’t hear a word my parents were saying. At that moment I vowed that I would never be kissed by anyone else.

Before I had left Thobekile to come home we had already found nicknames for each other. Thobekile named me his ‘Nono’, and I said he was my ‘Bhibhi’. I had met my soul mate, I thought, with my stomach full of butterflies.

I was brought back to earth with a crash when awful words from my father pierced my daydream. He uttered these words: “She must control herself. This child should show self-control the way we taught her – even more so now that she will be the wife of a Bishop’s son.”

The Bishop’s visit to my home was to arrange a wedding? I couldn’t believe it. I was shocked, and angry.

My father’s words choked me; I could not breathe. How could he allow me to get married to a stranger? A stranger whom I would never love the way I already loved Thobekile? The tears rolled down my cheeks.

I wiped them away, knowing that they would do no good. Trying to convince my father that I shouldn’t marry the Bishop’s son could be disastrous. No-one could stand up to him at home. My mother and I did whatever he wanted us to do, any time he liked, because he was the head of the house. My heart was bleeding.

I had to share my pain with someone. And I wanted that person to be Thobekile.

When we went to bed my mother asked me to lock the doors and the outside gate, as she was already in her nightgown. That was my chance! I did as she said but I left the padlock on the front gate closed but not locked.

In the middle of the night, when I was sure they were asleep, I climbed through my window and walked quickly and quietly until I was through the gate and out onto the street. I left the gate unlocked.

I didn’t like walking at night, especially when it was so dark. But I went without fear because I imagined myself in Thobekile’s arms. I felt that there was no other way for me to get rid of this pain other than him holding me tight.

My first night with Thobekile was not the way I thought it would be. It was far better. It was magical. I wanted to move back in time so the sun never rose. Unfortunately, time did not stop; it ran on as if wanting to separate us. I woke up at four o’clock in the morning and had to rush so as not to be caught at Thobekile’s place, or on the street.

What I knew was that in a rural area everybody knows each other and news travels fast. My parents would be shamed in the community if I was seen coming out of Thobekile’s home early in the morning.

I walked in the shadows.

Luckily when I arrived at home my mother and father were still asleep, and the gate still closed, but not locked, the way I left it. I didn’t waste any time climbing back through the window and into bed.

***

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