And eight years later, at the age of 26, I am still wondering that same thing, but now the questions are deeper. Now I wonder if it was ever real and whether he still thinks about me.

I have never been able to forget. Throughout the years I have had sex with other men, but no experience comes close to the time I spent with Moses.

Over the years I have dreamt about Moses, vivid dreams, some even involving Moses’s late mother. One in particular stood out, in which his mother told me that one day Moses would marry me.

“Wishful thinking, Gcina,” is what I say to myself then, and I explain away the dreams by telling myself that I have them because I think about him so much.

I am now a highly qualified social worker. After Matric I went to university and studied Social Work, then later I did my Honours in Psychology. I have a job working for the government.

I still live with my mother. Having bought a house in Glendale we moved from the informal settlement, leaving the shack that had been our source of shelter for so long.

My mother is very proud of me, but also worried. She wants me to find a husband and start a family of my own but I am just not interested. After Moses I have tried to move on but all that happens is that I hop from one boyfriend to the next. No other connection is solid enough for me.

But, unknown to my mother, I have something else haunting me, something from the past that is frequently on my mind: an abortion. It is a secret, kept from both our parents.

Just before I started varsity I had found out I was pregnant. Moses was about to leave the country on a scholarship to Bath University in England, to study Medicine.

“Gcina, my love, if you choose to keep it, I will stay and take care of you, I’ll work and–” began Moses.

“You can’t do that. I need to study, I need to think about my future. You have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you cannot let go of. I’m not keeping the baby!” I interrupted him.

Moses was torn. He couldn’t think of losing our baby but his brother agreed with me and persuaded him that his whole life was at stake if he didn’t study and stayed to look after a child. He lent Moses money to ensure a safe procedure.

Moses gave me the money. “I’m sorry … I cannot come with you, I just can’t. So, if you still want to … kill our baby, here’s the money.”

“What? Moses we’re in this together. If I ‘still want to kill our baby’? How dare you Moses?”

“We were in it together. But I guess you and my brother know better. You guys just have it figured out.”

“It’s best for everyone!”

“Then why do I feel like this?” he lamented.

Moses didn’t want me to have an abortion. The more he thought about it – yes it made sense – but his heart still could not surrender to his mind.

I took the money and went ahead with the abortion. Safe and quick. But things were never the same again between us, after that. January ended and in mid-February I started varsity.

Moses was only leaving later in June, so we saw each other on weekends when I came back from res, and some weekends I wouldn’t. To pass the time Moses assisted his father with his work.

As a couple we tried to be intimate a few times after that. We used protection of course. But something had broken between us.

“Moses, do you still love me,” I had one day asked him.

“Yes, Gcina and I think I always will. I’m sorry for how hard I’ve been on you. Just give me some time.”

I cried. Moses was cold; he was not the same.

June came and Moses was leaving. I accompanied him to the airport. Moses’ brother and father were also there but they left so Moses and I could have some time together.

“I love you Moses. I know things are not the same between us … but I still love you. You’re my King.”

“I love you too. You’re my Queen. I’ve been unfair, I’m sorry.

We hugged and cried.

“I’ll be back.”

“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

* * * * *

But the distance made it worse. Eventually the calls and texts became fewer and fewer until one day when Moses finally returned one of my calls he said, “You’re all the way over there, and I’m here. And I’m gonna be here for the next seven or eight years.”

“Seven or eight years? I thought you were going to come back for Christmas every year.”

“It’s going to be too expensive for my dad, so … Gcina look … I feel like I’m going to do something stupid.”

“Well if that’s how you feel, if that’s what you are thinking, then you’ve already done it. Who is she?” I said.

Moses didn’t answer. All he said was, “I have to go.”

I was torn. The emotional pain was excruciating.

In the years since I wondered whether it was all because Moses was angry at me for not keeping the baby. I confided in Lelo.

“He was a child, we both were. We were just stupid children doing adult things, and not even taking precautions. Can you believe it Lelo, Gcina Nxumalo the Head Girl was having unprotected sex with Moses Mashale, the Head Boy. She wasn’t even on the pill.”

“Gcina you must forgive yourself,” said Nombulelo.

Lelo and I are still close friends. Nombulelo’s life is going just as she had wanted: she started working in retail straight after high school and now she is the manager of a fashion outlet. She is married to Ernest Dlanga, a plumber with his own small company and they have two lovely sons, aged seven and four. They live in Orchards, just two suburbs away from Glendale.

“Have you tried looking him up on Facebook?” asks Lelo.

“No! And what do I say after I find him? Dear Moses, after all these years I’m so pathetic and unhappy without you. Come save me?” I snap.

“You need closure sisi,” says Lelo.

“Doesn’t he Lelo? That’s what hurts me, that it seems like I’m the weak one. Doesn’t he miss me? Doesn’t he want to see me? Why doesn’t he search for me on Facebook?”

I am getting teary. Lelo leans in to hug me.

“I’m the one that had the abortion you know. The baby was inside me. What does he have to be angry about?” Now I am crying. “I did it for him! He was ready to just drop his entire life. Okay … I did it for me too. My mother would have died from shock, and how was I going to cope with school? I would have had to drop out. Gosh this happened eight years ago Lelo. Why am I still in so much pain?” I bawl on Lelo’s shoulder, a very comforting shoulder to cry on.

Lelo helps me wipe my tears. “Some social worker I am. I’m an emotional wreck myself.”

“One day it will heal, but I still think you should try to trace him,” says Lelo.

***

Tell us what you think: Why has Gcina been unable to get over her teenage relationship with Moses? Was the abortion the right thing to do at the time?