That night he slept alone and the bed had never felt colder. He kept his phone on the pillow next to him, hoping that Siya would return his 35 unanswered calls or any of his 28 text messages.
This was the first time they had had a fight. Sure, they had disagreements but nothing warranting one person leaving the other alone. This was a blow-up, and he didn’t know what to do to fix it. Anda was right; how could he expect a woman who grew up with everything to suddenly give it up and live with little?
He wondered where she was, if she’d gone back home. He prayed that she hadn’t, because her father would definitely never let her come back to him. No, she wasn’t at her home, otherwise the minister would’ve been here already to kick him out of the flat that he had bought for his daughter when she left for university, all six years ago.
He eventually drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, still hoping that Siya would come back, or at least call.
Monday morning Malusi was woken up by his phone, and his heart jumped with joy. But it wasn’t her; it was his mother. Even though he didn’t feel like talking to her, he answered.
“Hello Mabhuti,” his mother greeted, using her pet name for him. “Usalele?”
“No Mama, I just woke up.”
“Yhu, how do you sleep in this heat? Shouldn’t you be going to work? Are you taking time off to organise the wedding? Eeehh, I was telling uMamJwarha that you’re getting married …”
He so wanted to tell her that he wasn’t, alright, that his world had fallen apart, that there might not be a wedding. But a man doesn’t cry, so he listened to her stories and pretended to be happy. His mother was excited. She said her stokvel was already planning which gifts to buy for the big day to welcome umakoti as is the custom.
“I told them not to buy fong-kong from China Town because umakoti is the daughter of the minister,” she boasted.
Oh how his heart ached at the mention of Siyamthanda, and how his lack money seemed to be the cause for her leaving him.
“Mamela, can you please come look at the geyser? It’s acting up and I don’t know what’s wrong,”
“But Mama, why don’t you just call uTshawe to look at it? Andazinto nge-geyser mna. I know nothing.”
“Oh hayi wethu, that drunkard? Yiza wena qha.”
She hung up.
Again Malusi wanted to cry. Why couldn’t he just say no? As quickly as the thought entered his mind, guilt followed. If he didn’t look out for his mother, then who would? He’d take a sick day and go home to Gugulethu, and maybe when he returned Siyamthanda would be home.
***
Tell us: Do you think Siya will return? Why/Why not?