I corner my cousin, Refilwe, at the Wimpy. “Come on, Refs. Tell me about Abigail’s other boyfriends. I bet you know all about them.”
Refilwe looks at me, suspicious, reluctant, between mouthfuls of hamburger – which I have paid for. Yes, I admit: I’m trying to buy information.
“Well, there was Thobo,” she says.
“Thobo! When? When was she with Thobo?” I demand. Yes, I need some spark of hope here. Is there a chance on earth that this Thobo could be the father? That he was around at the same time as me?
“Don’t know, Lex. Some time last year. He got arrested for shoplifting or something. But what does he matter? She’s with you now, right. You’re the one she loves. You’re her baby-daddy.”
Refilwe asks if I’ll buy her a Coke to go with her hamburger. I nod. I’m not finished with my interrogation yet.
“So – do you remember when he got arrested? Like, the exact date?”
Refilwe sips at her Coke. Slowly. “Um … definitely way before her birthday. Way before the party. That’s why I promised to bring you. To cheer her up.”
The spark of hope splutters and dies. The diamond dust beneath the coal mountain turns out to be shattered glass.
“Hey! Where are you going, Lex? I haven’t had dessert. I was hoping for some sticky toffee pudding.”
But I am walking away, and I keep walking.
Meanwhile, at home, my mama is still going on about weddings.
“Have you and Abigail set a date, Lekoko? We need to get the ball rolling. Her due-date is late July. Should we ask Pastor John to officiate? I’m sure he will, even though you two have broken the rules. I’m sure he will forgive. Oh, and I’ll ask Sister Kesetse to bring her choir …”
“Mama!” I whine like a little kid being sent to bed early. I just want her to stop.
She doesn’t. She’s still busy organising, arranging. She’s a headmistress, remember.
“And don’t you worry about college, Lekoko. I’m sure your father will help so we can support you and Abigail and the baby until you complete. And you can all live here with me. Nothing must jeopardise your studies.”
“Dad? Have you told Dad?”
Mama shakes her head. Not yet. But Sunday after church, she’s invited my father and Lindiwe to lunch, so we can discuss together.
And then Abigail phones.
“Hi, Daddy Lexie,” she says – so loud that I’m sure my mama can hear. “Refilwe and I are just choosing boy names. So I’m going to read out the list. And you tell me which one you like best.”
I scream into the phone. “Fuck off! Just fuck off!”
My mama stares at me in shock. Never, never in my whole life have I sworn in front of her. Not even when I was a confused, mixed-up, fifteen-year-old. I won’t even let BK swear anywhere near her.
*****
BK and I head out together. Its Friday night and we slope off to Vusi’s Five Star, which – if you live round here you’ll know – is the worst, dirtiest, most low-life shebeen in the area.
BK is in a state too. More baby-mama-drama. She wants more money for maintenance. She’s already talking to a lawyer. She won’t let him see the twins until he comes up with the extra bucks.
Long story short: six hours later, we both stagger home drunk. Both bleeding. I’m not quite sure why. But I vaguely remember some fight happening at the Five Star. BK started it I think, making jokes that the other patrons didn’t find funny.
I have never come home drunk before. Never, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury. And I have never screamed at my mother before either. Not even in the worst days of my teenage years.
But here I am, at her bedroom doorway in the early hours of the morning, yelling: “I’m not marrying her, Mama. I refuse! I won’t, no matter what you say. Do you hear me?”
Yes, I have been turned into a monster.
***
Tell us: Lex’s mother believes marrying Abigail is the right thing for Lex to do. Do you agree?