I had spent days worrying about him. It was Friday and the last time I had seen him was the previous Saturday. I knew he could have been killed whilst doing what he was famous for in the township. He had been promising me that he would stop but he had not managed to get out so far.

“Baby, I’ll quit just for you. This is the last time,” he said that Saturday as we sat holding hands in his room. I always spent time with him there. I couldn’t bring him home. My mom was a policewoman. How could I possibly introduce them?

It was the one sadness I had. I wanted her to meet him, more than anything. That Saturday I wept, begging him to change his life.

“I don’t want to lose you, Mongezi. Please don’t go, please…” I begged. But he knew how to soften me up. He told me a silly joke that made me laugh and wiped away my tears.

“You see, I’d kill my father’s bull for you, my love. Just be patient with me. I will be out of this life soon.”

“You know you could be a comedian. You have it in you. You could even be a famous artist. Your paintings are good. I want you to be part of my family. But I can’t, not until…”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, Pheli, s’thandwa sam. Whatever. I just need to do this one last job.”

He had a sweet tongue and was funny. I didn’t understand what people feared about him, what made them tremble when he entered a place. I loved him so much, more than words could describe. I would sneak out of home to meet with him whenever I could. When I pass Matric, I would tell myself, I can move out of home and we can live together. When he has a decent job I can even take him home to meet my mom.

I had met Mongezi through a guy I knew on our street called Thabz. That first time we met, six months ago, I knew I loved him. He was new in our neighbourhood. Nobody seemed to know much about him, but he had connected with Thabz and his crew.

It had been seven days and not a word. Mongezi usually SMSed me every day to tell my how sexy I was, how he loved me, to tell me a joke. I needed to know where he was, so I sought out his friends.

I found Thabz down by the spaza.

“Yho Pheli Joe, andimazi lomjita uyephi. I don’t know where the dude went,” he said, shaking his head.

“Kwenzekentoni that day, Thabz? What went wrong?”

“Eish mfethu, long story maan. Long story.”

“Thetha. I have time.”

“Eish, can’t you speak to someone else about this?”

“No, I can’t,” I told him and waited. I was so nervous because I knew Mongezi had never disappeared for this long after a robbery. He would always come back after a day or two, he never disappeared for more than three days. And he would always call or text me.

“We entered this house. There was no one home,” Thabz started to tell me, all the while looking up and down the street. “It’s a white man’s house with loads of cash. Sifikile right, sangena ngeback door. We had planned everything. We came in and took everything. When we were getting the last lot we saw the cops. We got in the car and took off, but they followed. We managed to lose them. On our way back, umjita uthi, ‘let’s take another route coz the cops are behind us.’ And we did. We got out and ran into the streets elokshini. That’s where we lost each other. We don’t know whether they got him or he was shot in the cross fire, andazi mfethu.”

“Haibo Thabile, why didn’t you go back there? Why did you just leave him like that? Why didn’t you tell me before? You know where I live.”

“Ja, and your mom’s a cop.”

I looked away. What would my mom say if she knew I was even talking to the likes of Thabz?

“Uyayazi naye ijoni lifela empini. He knows a soldier dies in the war. Going back there with the cops still roaming around would have put us in the shit.”

“I want you to take me there,” I said.

“Not yet, Joe. Maybe after a week or so. For now, I want to lie low.”

“Please Thabz… please…” I begged.

“Haai, mfethu. Not yet.”

“What if he got injured?”

“He knows what to do. Mongs is a dude, don’t make him a sissy.”

“He’s also a human being, Thabz. Humans get injured and die. He’s not immortal.”

“Pheli, mfethu, I have to go. It’s a pity Mongs isn’t here. That dude is clever and good and we need to plan the next job. It’s another white dude, big house full of expensive top of the range goods. If we can pull it off we won’t have to work again. Hey, maybe you can help us out on it? You know, knock on the door, a sexy young girl lost, get into the house, look around. It would make Mongezi proud.”

“That’s all you care about? Mxm! Thanks for nothing, Thabile.”

There was no way I was going to do any job with them. Mongezi would never agree to such a thing. The only thing I cared about was finding him.

“Hade, mfethu.”

I was boiling with anger. Angry at Thabile and all his crew. I was angrier at Mongezi. Why did he have to live this life? I had begged him not to do the job, but he smooth-talked me instead. I wished I didn’t care as much as I did about him, I wished I didn’t love him as much as I did. I didn’t deserve this, I started to think. I regretted not listening to other people who warned me about him. I remembered my friends’ words.

“He’s not as sweet as he seems to be, Pheli. You are way too young to be with a thug.”

“He’s not a thug,” I would argue back.

“What is he then? Tell me, what do you call what he does?”

I had kept dead quiet. My friends were right, I knew. But how do you take your mind off someone you love with all your heart? How do you stop thinking about someone who has stolen your heart?

“Chommie, I say play far away from the guy. Unless you want to be a widow at such a young age.”

“That guy is trouble. Yes, he’s a good looking guy and knows how to dress up. The guy sure has good taste in clothes but what he does is still wrong. It’s cruel.”

I was tired of hearing bad things about him. No-one had anything good to say about him. People didn’t like him, but people didn’t know the Mongezi I knew. I found his eyes warm and sexy but others saw danger in the very same eyes. His touch made me feel so happy and excited me. People said I was blinded. He made me laugh and feel so happy but terrified others.

I could just imagine what people were saying about him. I felt so overwhelmed with tears as I thought that he could be dead and how people would only be at his funeral just to make sure he was indeed dead – not to celebrate his life and to mourn his passing.

“Pheli! Phelisa!” my mom knocked on my bedroom door, which I had locked for privacy after my conversation with Thabile. I knew if I saw Thabz again he would put more pressure on me to help them in their next job.

“Ma,” I replied weakly, feeling so down and drained.

“Ubusy?”

“Not ncam, mama.”

“Vula, ke, open up.”

I unlocked the door then climbed back into my bed. She slowly opened the door then hesitantly entered my colourful bedroom. Pink and purple, my favourite colours. On the walls, all neatly stuck up, were some of my certificates of achievement. Yet more were framed, hanging in the dining room. Glittering pink curtains hung in the window – Mongezi had given me a set on my birthday four months ago. I just loved them.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Ma.”

“So your eyes are red and swollen because of nothing?”

“Kind of…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, Ma.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m not ready to.”

“Ok then. Do you want some ice cream and a box of tissues and a sad movie? I’ll join you and we can both cry our sorrows away, if you want.”

“Maybe some other time.”

As soon as my mother had gone out after a hug and a squeeze, I went through every message that Mongezi had ever sent me. I cried. I knew he loved me. He was so protective of me and seeing me crying broke his heart more than it did mine. I was looking for some clue. Where might the shooting have taken place? What could have happened to him?

***

What do you think: Could Mongezi have died during the shooting? What’s your opinion of his friend Thabile?