Up, past the blue flashing light and up, beyond the round yellow moon, Sipho could see the face of his mother. She was smiling at him. He could see the love in her eyes as she looked at him. It was the same look he had seen in her eyes from some of his very first memories. In his heart, he was smiling back at her. From deep within his spirit he called her name. The paramedic, bending over him, did not hear a sound.

Pumela broke up with Jarrod mid-way into her eleventh year of school. Jarrod had matriculated the year before and he left the town to go and seek his fortune in the city. She was not really sorry to see him go. He had begun to bore her. Even riding fast, clinging to his back, as they sped along the highway on his motorbike, did not interest her much anymore.

Her father had never approved of him.

“Why do you spend time with that loser?” he had asked her numerous times. “He will never amount to anything in life. That much is obvious.”

“Not everyone has the same ideas about what is important in life as you, Dad,” she had answered.

Pumela noticed this time she saw him, that her father had changed his car again. Cars did not interest her, but the change of car was obvious. His previous car had been white, and this one was black. And sporty.

Pumela knew that her father no doubt had a new woman to go with the new car. The woman would also be a newer model. Younger. Her father always had a new woman.

Her mother never said much, but Pumela knew what was going on. She knew the battles that her mother had had in the maintenance court with her father. She had overheard some of the conversations.

“But Mandla, Pumela is older now, and everything she needs is more expensive. And anyway, the school has told me that you are behind on the school fees again. I just cannot make ends meet. The maintenance was meant to have been increased years ago.”

Pumela had overheard her mother on the phone just a couple of days before the new car, with the new woman, had appeared. Her mother had been silent on her end of the line for a long time, and Pumela could just imagine her father’s side of the conversation. Finally, she heard her mother’s soft voice again.

“This is not right Mandla. She works hard and so do I. What you are doing is not right.”

And then, Pumela guessed, her father had probably put the phone down, because she heard her mother sigh deeply.

“Dear God help me,” she had said softly. Pumela’s mother was not a fighter, not like Pumela.

“Don’t speak to me like that, my girl!” was her father’s angry response to Pumela, most of the time.

“I will speak to you any way I like! At least, I inherited my rudeness from you! Live with it!” she would retort.

Pumela was doing well in Grade 11, and without Jarrod, she moved back to the crowd of girls at break, although she was always only on the fringe.

“Hey Pumela,” Sipho said to her quietly one break time. “You haven’t bought anything from me for a long time. You got another supplier?”

“No, not at all Sipho,” Pumela said seriously. “Weed wasn’t working for me anymore, and I have given it up. I suggest you do the same. We won’t be at school forever you know. I need to prepare for the next step as best as I can.”

Sipho nodded. He had been having a feeling lately that maybe his luck was beginning to run out. The problem was money. Without the weed, he didn’t have any.

Pumela was looking at him in that way she had, and he was unable to look away.

“Get a normal job Sipho. I heard that Game is hiring staff for Saturdays and Sundays. If you get the job I’ll pay for you at Rumours on Friday night. My treat,” Pumela said and smiled. “It’s time for us to grow up, my old friend.”

Sipho stopped at Game on his way home. The salary was not good. He could make at least ten times the amount, per month, selling weed. But he was offered the job, and took it.

“They must have liked my face,” he said to Pumela outside the school gates the next morning.

Later that day the police arrived at the school with dogs and conducted a drug search. They sniffed out his bag, but nothing was found, not a leaf nor a pip. But the scent must have been embedded somehow, because the dogs were very persistent. However, without any evidence, Sipho was in the clear.

“I just knew something was about to happen here. I am your guardian angel,” said Pumela at break, as she looked at him flirtatiously, from behind a stray braid or two. “I’ve always had a feeling about you anyway Sipho. See you outside Rumours on Friday?”

Sipho dressed as best he could on Friday night. He got there early and just shook his head when he was approached by people looking to buy weed. He was keeping his word to Pumela.

When she arrived, Pumela looked as beautiful as ever. Her tight dress showed off her curves, and her long braids were loose and hanging down her back. Sipho stepped forward and put his arm around her shoulders. He felt her tremble.

“Are you cold?” he asked, ready to slip off his cardigan and give it to her.

“No,” she said, but she snuggled closer into his shoulder, and linked her arms around his slim waist.

Inside the club, Pumela insisted on paying for their drinks. “I promised, remember, and my Dad has been generous lately. He paid some cash into my account.”

Pumela raised her shot glass and downed her tequila quickly. She grimaced, then looked at Sipho and smiled, “Let’s party!” she said.

Sipho and Pumela danced together all night, pausing only to go out onto the balcony to breathe in some fresh air. He held her against him, and in the corner, where it was dark, they kissed for the first time. Pumela clung to him, her lips lingering against his. Both of them found that once they started kissing, it was hard to stop.

It was Pumela who eventually pulled away.

“I want to dance,” she whispered into his ear. “There will be time for everything else later.”

***

Tell us what you think: How has Pumela’s father influenced her life? Do Pumela and Sipho have a chance to be happy with each other?