The next day Nzwaki was troubled. Joe had come home late last night, reeking of booze. Nzwaki knew his unacceptable behaviour could only be work-related. Why else would he drink and stress so much? She needed to talk to him; make him see that she was on his side. And hope not to get her head bitten off in the process.

Nora was yet again not at school and Nzwaki wanted to go and see her at home. It wasn’t healthy for her not to have visitors, keep herself locked up. During break she called Nora and found out she’d be heading home soon from the clinic in the next village.

Nzwaki was outside her classroom when she made the call and there were four girls standing a few steps away. The girls started giggling, one looking directly at Nzwaki. She wondered what they were talking about. Obviously asking right out wouldn’t get her the information she wanted. So she pretended to be texting and listened in to their conversation.

“She probably doesn’t even know how to do it anymore, she’s so old,” Asanda said. “I, however, know all the tricks to keep a man happy. And that’s just what I’m doing…”

“And it’s paying off!” her friend said. “I love the phone he gave you.”

Nzwaki told herself it was nothing more than girl talk about boys. But would a schoolboy afford such an expensive phone? Asanda was in Nzwaki’s class – the kind of girl who bragged about everything.

The girls roared with laughter but when they saw Nzwaki watching their girlish behaviour and smiling at them in the remembrance of youth, they quickly moved from their spot.

The bell rang. Nzwaki needed the bathroom before she resumed her duties – she was getting the Grade 11s for LO, not something she particularly enjoyed. You would think the teens would enjoy open debate about life. But they always seemed to cause Nzwaki more stress than she needed. No, she wouldn’t discuss relationships with them this lesson as she had planned; she would simply do whatever was in the prescribed book for the day.

Surprisingly the kids were well behaved and the class was a breeze. Until she got the SMS. It was only a few minutes before the bell rang and the kids were writing so Nzwaki attended to it. She kept pressing and pressing on her new Samsung Galaxy until she got frustrated. It was a touch screen so everything should’ve been easy. But the damn thing was new and sensitive and had a mind of its own. The class noticed, started laughing and teasing.

Somebody shouted out, “That phone should’ve been mine. I would know what to do with it,” and the class erupted in boos and some oohs.

It was Asanda. One of the boys shouted, “Have a little respect, you gold digger,” but then the bell rang before Nzwaki heard what Asanda’s come-back was. The girl had a hot tongue on her and spoke anyhow to people. It was strange to think this was the same girl who was Nzwaki’s little star when she started high school. What had changed over the years?

Nzwaki walked out of the school and headed for Nora’s house. When she got there Nora was making sandwiches and Nzwaki hungrily realised she hadn’t eaten since morning.

“How was the clinic? Did you get the medication?” Nzwaki asked, taking a bite out of her jam and butter sandwich.

“Yazi Ma,” Nora began, “Tsolongo doesn’t seem to have the same problem with supply like we do.”

“How so?”

“Well, their stock is fine and they get their medication on time every month. Which makes me wonder if there is a problem just with the ARV supply here,” Nora said. “They said I could come back for one more month’s supply but then I need to go back and try again at our local clinic.”

“I’ll speak to Joe, Nora, and see if I can find out why there is a shortage at this clinic. He’s the one who signs off on orders,” Nzwaki said, looking at her plate resting on her thighs. “But I don’t know what good that will do. He hardly speaks to me these days,” she said, the last sentence tailing off low and soft. She was hurting.

“Ma, you can talk to me you know,” Nora offered.

Young people – they found it easy to talk about almost everything. Nzwaki’s generation didn’t talk about these things. What happened in your marriage was between you and your husband and no-one else. The women tell you so when you get married and are advised on how to keep a home. But Nzwaki desperately needed to talk. Something was wrong, odd, about Joe.

“He comes home and doesn’t even stay anymore. Half the time he goes out and I sleep without knowing where he is or when he’ll be back. Do you know how stressful that is for a wife, always worrying that something might have happened to her husband?” The plate was still in her lap but she was now poking the bread mindlessly, her appetite gone.

“Have you spoken to him about this? You know, told him how you feel?” Nora said, feeling a bit out of her depth.

Nzwaki shook her head. But her response wasn’t a ‘no’. It was acknowledgement of defeat. She had countless times tried talking to Joe and had only been shouted at when she did. She was lost; she had no more ideas.

“He won’t pick up his phone when I call, but it’s always in his hand,” Nzwaki said after a while. “I don’t know why he bought this for me. I can’t even use it,” she said, taking the phone out of her bag and putting it on the table. She wanted to see if Joe had maybe called, or SMSed, to find out where she was.

She wanted to know that he still cared.

“Wow, that’s nice, Ma. It’s the latest phone on the market,” Nora said, hoping the conversation would stray away from matters she knew nothing about.

“The kids in my class would agree with you. This girl, Asanda, even said she should’ve gotten the phone because she’d know what to do with it,” Nzwaki chuckled.

“I’d bet,” Nora said, getting up quickly to clear the dishes. But not quick enough for Nzwaki to miss the tone of her voice. Nora was uncomfortable. Was it something Nzwaki had said? Was Nora keeping something from her?

“She can be trouble sometimes, that girl. Always getting cheeky with me lately,” Nzwaki said, turning to look at Nora in the kitchen. Nora stood in front of the sink and took a deep breath. That was all the sign Nzwaki needed. Nora was keeping something a secret. And it had to do with this Asanda girl.

“You know, apparently she’s dating older men. And she tells everyone about the things they buy her,” said Nzwaki, hoping for a response.

“Ma, there have been rumours,” Nora suddenly blurted out. Nzwaki gave her a look that said, ‘Go on’. “About … your husband.” Then again, silence. Nzwaki felt her heart race; she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear this. “But it’s none of my business and they are just rumours,” Nora said quickly, her voice clipped with embarrassment.

Alright. If this young woman was going to share what was clearly weighing heavily on her, she would need some assurance.

“It’s alright, Nora. It’s best that I heard it from a friend than some kids at school over lunch gossip,” Nzwaki said, thinking of the girls giggling and looking at her. But that was surely just a coincidence; they could not have been talking about her.

“He’s seeing someone, a younger woman – in fact a … a girl.”

There. It was out. Now Nzwaki knew what she had suspected and feared all this time.

She said her goodbyes and thanked Nora for trusting her and for being a friend. She assured Nora she would be fine, even though she felt like crying. She walked home alone, needing to think and process this news.

As she walked the deserted dirt road to her house her mind was foggy with questions. Why? How could Joe cheat? Wasn’t she enough for him anymore? And when, when had Joe started cheating? When did their marriage fall apart?

And then, as though she had summoned him with her thoughts, she saw him.

Nzwaki knew Joe’s car well enough. It was the only Mazda 323 in the village that still ran. But why was it parked in the bushes off this road? She wanted to get closer and see for herself what was going on. She wanted to see if he was with a girl.

She stopped – there was Joe, getting out and walking to the boot, opening it and taking something out. Nzwaki was too far away to make out what it was, plus the light was fading as the sun was going down. Then a man climbed out of the passenger side and followed Joe. He examined the package and handed something over, which made Joe smile that smile that Nzwaki once found irresistible. The man started walking away and Joe climbed back into his car and drove off in the opposite direction from home.

Whatever was going on was something big. Nzwaki needed to know what kind of packages got her husband to smile like a smitten sixteen-year-old. She was going to find out.

***

Tell us what you think: Was Nora right to tell Nzwaki about the rumours? Would you tell a friend their girl/boyfriend is cheating?