Anele

I called Sandiswa and she tells me she’s at the park. She didn’t sound right and I hope Buhle’s OK. He’s a sickly child. Coach says it happens a lot in the first months. He gave me a pep talk the other day. I understand now why he’s hardest on me. I’m one of his best and rugby is my ticket to the great life, out of the ghetto.

We have a game this coming Saturday and I’m nervous. I’ve been fucking up and I worry I’m gonna be benched. I can’t afford to miss the game. The scouts from the WPRU will be there.

I get to the park and I see Sandiswa sitting on the swings. She’s got her head bowed down. She must be crying. She’s been crying a lot lately. It must be hell for her.

*****

Sandiswa

Anele is coming towards me across the park. He’s holding a teddy bear. This is a sight.

“Hey beautiful,” he greets me in his most charming voice. I remember why I fell for him.

“Hey superstar,” I greet back as I get up. We hug. He smells great.

“You’ve been crying. Everything OK?”

I can hear he’s really concerned. “Ja, just Mama being Mama,” I brush it off – I can’t worry him with my family feuds. He’s got enough to deal with.

“Are you ready for the big game on Saturday?” I ask him as he sits down on the swing next to me.

“Sjoe, I’m nervous. Will you come to watch? I’m gonna score a try in Buhle’s honour.” He turns and looks at me. The hope in his eyes is killing me.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. I can’t leave Buhle.” I don’t tell him that the doctors told me that the baby should be indoors. His lungs are still fragile.

“You’re starting school again in two weeks. Are you ready?” The question takes me by surprise. I’ve been avoiding talking about school. I shrug and don’t answer.

“Don’t worry about it Sandi. They can’t kill you. Remember, you’re doing this for our little man,” he tries to comfort me. He looks grown up, sounds grown up.

“I’ll be tormented and ridiculed. I might as well just hide in the toilets the rest of the year.” He gets up and he gives me a hug.

“Don’t sweat it kiddo, it will take time. All you gotta do is remember that you’re there to conquer. Now chin up, for tomorrow we also conquer.”

I hold on to him a bit tighter. I’m glad he’s here. He’s been my rock since I walked into the school gates four years ago. A girl from the township; a nobody. Now he’s the father of my child, my best friend. The conversation turns light and he walks us home.

*****

Anele

I get home and take shower. I need to rest. Three days and it’s the big game.

My phone rings and it’s Christy. I ignore it; I don’t feel like talking. She’s been nagging about how I’m neglecting her. She knows I have a child but she won’t stop. This super stardom really has its drawbacks.

*****

Sandiswa

My baby’s temperature just spiked. I’m so scared and I can’t keep him quiet. I feel so helpless. Dad is driving us to the emergency room. Litha is next me and we’re trying to keep Buhle calm. My mother keeps asking me where Anele is. That’s all she’s been doing in the front seat since we drove out of the house.

“Where is he? His baby is sick and he’s out chasing skirts!” she yells. “He’s useless!”

“Khaw’thule Nobantu, just be quiet!” says my dad, coming to my rescue. I’ve never been so grateful. I pick up my phone and call Anele again. It goes straight to voicemail. I know he’s playing. Calling him is pointless. I send him a text, the fifth one:

Buhle’s temp spiked. We’re @ Groote Schuur emergency room

I hit ‘send’ and hope he gets it in time.

*****

Anele

“Great game boys! We have them chasing our shadows. Now let’s go back and finish them! Masiza, great play son. Now let’s get out there and conquer!”

The coach continues his motivational speech. We’re 42-25 ahead. Half time is over now. I take out my phone to text Sandi. I see her missed calls and her messages. Fuck! This can’t happen, not now. What the fuck am I to do?

*****

I get to the hospital out of breath. I’m still in my kit and I rush into the emergency room. I’m about to ask the receptionist where they are when I see Sandiswa’s dad through the glass doors of the waiting area. His back is turned to me and he’s holding his precious daughter. She’s sobbing in his arms. I rush to them.

“How is he? I came as soon as I saw your messages,” I say when I stumble through the doors.

“His temperature dropped. He’s gonna be OK,” she says between sobs. She throws herself in my arms.

“And the game?” she asks when she realises I’m still in my kit.

“Shhh, my son needs me. There’ll be other games. I’ll deal with the coach later,” I say as I hold her tighter.

The End

***

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