“How did it go?”

Granny was waiting for Naledi and she ambushed her as soon as she got in. No chance to just escape to her room, lie on her bed, and think of how to get out of this mess, and whether she could rely on Quinton. He wasn’t the boss. He didn’t make the decisions, after all. That lady in the green suit was The Boss. She was clearly the one with all the power, and if she were Quinton, she wouldn’t want to knock on that woman’s door to ask her anything.

“Is my favourite grand-daughter going to be the first to graduate from a university and make us all proud?”

“I’m your only grand-daughter,” Naledi corrected Gogo, bending over to kiss her. “The others are great-grandchildren, remember.”

“You’re my only and favourite grand-daughter,” Gogo laughed and squeezed Naledi’s hand. “So, how did it go?”

“It went just fine,” she lied. She didn’t want Gogo or her mom to know yet. She didn’t want them to stress. Gogo would overreact, and then her mom would too. At the moment, her own stress was enough to try to cope with. No, she had to hold it together, keep it to herself, until the next day when she saw Quinton again, and he sorted it out.

She tried to calm herself down. It was probably a problem with the computer, he had said. But what if it wasn’t?

“Let me look at you,” granny said, and studied her face. Naledi knew that if she looked Gogo in the eye the old woman would know something was wrong, so she tried to change the subject.

“Where are Lebo and Ditshego?” she asked. Gogo looked after Naledi’s brother’s kids when they came back from crèche.

“They went to the park to play. They were driving me crazy,” she said, laughing.

They were growing up. Lebo would be starting school the next week and then it would just be Gogo and Ditshego at home.

“Are you going to answer your phone?” Gogo said, looking at her, obviously surprised she hadn’t heard it. “Your phone – someone is trying to get hold of you.”

Naledi pulled her phone out just as a ping signalled a WhatsApp message.

R u regsted?

It was Gift again. Naledi was not in the mood right now, but she knew Gift wouldn’t let it go. So she responded, reluctantly.

No ☹.

! Y not?

She hesitated, not sure what the answer was. She actually didn’t know why. The messages pinged in:

Well?
Does it have smthn 2 do with hoty?
U der?
Nana???

“I warned you about those boys,” said Gogo, looking disapproving. “Always sending you messages. It’s a curse being so pretty, I tell you. They won’t leave you alone. They never left me alone, until I caught your grandfather’s eye. We were the best looking couple…”

Naledi finally texted back:

Will tell u latr. Busy wit supper now.

“It wasn’t a boy, Gogo, just Gift,” she explained.

Naledi started on supper, and with granny absorbed in her back-to-back soapies, she had her thoughts to herself.

Tomorrow she would return to campus and find out if Quinton had new information. She told herself to breathe. She couldn’t do anything about the situation now. Worrying wasn’t going to help. But she couldn’t help it. The more she told herself to stop worrying, the more anxious she became.

It was dark when Naledi’s brother, Tshepo, came home, with both his kids swinging at either side of him. He must have stopped to play with them in the park. Ditshego was giggling so hard she was about to get hiccups. Naledi smiled at the thought of how she was named. Her parents hadn’t yet decided on a name, even after she was born. Granny had finally named her, claiming the baby laughed at her.

“How was school, Nana?” Tshepo asked. “Did you come right?”

Naledi knew he would ask.

“It was good; just a few things I need to sort out tomorrow,” she responded, giving him a look. He wasn’t meant to ask again, at least not in front of granny. They didn’t like worrying her about things. She was old and fragile, and they wanted her to be happy.

“Cool. What’s for eats?” Tshepo changed the subject as he opened the fridge and poured himself some cool drink.

“I want some too, Papa,” Lebo said, walking in the kitchen with Ditshego a step behind. Naledi and her brother shared a knowing look. They knew Lebo didn’t want any, it was for Ditshego. The little ones knew they weren’t allowed any sweet things before supper, but sometimes exceptions were made for the bigger boy.

“Sure Lebza, a tiny bit. But you must drink it here and not take it to the lounge,” their father answered. The kids looked at each other. Ditshego shook her head. Now they had to come up with a new trick. But Naledi took pity on them.

“Didi, would you like some cool drink too?” she asked, and Ditshego came out from behind her brother and nodded, with a huge grin on her face. It lifted Naledi’s heart briefly.

When Naledi’s mom arrived home from work, they all ate supper sitting in the lounge, watching Generations. The kids sat on the floor, so they didn’t spill on the couches. Awkward – there was a moment of passion about to start between Nolwazi and Mazwi, and Tshepo loudly cleared his throat. The kids took the hint and quickly turned their backs to the TV. That was enough to get granny giggling and started on her favourite topic.

“Oh, how he reminds me of your grandfather,” she said. “He had the same look in his eyes when we first met.”

Naledi giggled too. It was good to listen to Gogo and forget her problems for a short while. She and Tshepo gave each other knowing looks; even the kids now knew the story of granny’s romance by heart.

The perfect romance. How grandpa wooed granny, going so far as to pitch up at her family homestead and do chores, fix up the garden, herd the cattle. How he made himself so indispensable to her dad that Papa himself nominated him as a good candidate to marry when she was old enough. Granny could go on forever with her love story.

After Muvhango they went to bed and Naledi washed the dishes. Then Tshepo walked outside for a smoke, signalling to Naledi that she must follow him. She knew he wanted to know the truth about school. She dried her hands and went.

“So, what’s the story?”

“They can’t find my NSFAS details on the system,” she said looking up at the sky. She knew Tshepo wouldn’t comment until she was done, and she wasn’t done. “And in that case I need to pay registration fee before I can be registered. And then hope to recover my data on the system.”

Tshepo was quiet for a moment. He was thinking. He was always thinking; he was never rash with his decisions. Even when granny and his mom said he should marry the mother of his children. But he wanted time to think about it. He wanted to give her time to find someone else who would provide better for her than he could. But then it was too late, the accident took her. And so there was nothing more to think about.

“How much is registration?” he finally asked.

Even as she told him, she knew there was little chance he could have the money before the end of registration. He got paid weekly but that wouldn’t be enough. She didn’t want him getting into debt; he had two small kids to worry about.

“I’ve been thinking,” she started with her lie, “that maybe I need a break from school. I want to work this year and save. That way I can pay for myself and I won’t owe any loans or anything.” She waited for Tshepo to answer.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she lied again, “it is.” She knew that he knew that she was lying. He shrugged and went inside, left her standing alone with an aching heart.

Why had she said that? Hadn’t Quinton said he could help? But she had a feeling it wasn’t just a computer error.

***

Tell us what you think: Is it right for Tshepo to try and raise the money for his sister, or stay out of debt for the sake of his own kids?