Thandiwe



As I gazed into Mam’ Mavis’s eyes, I couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance between us. Her eyes, lips, and nails mirrored mine. We sat together, flipping through the photo album, as she showed me pictures of when she first held me in her arms.

Mam’ Mavis filled me with a sense of belonging and acceptance, eradicating any shame I might have felt as the product of a traumatic incident. Instead, she showered me with unconditional love and support. “Stop being nervous,” she gently admonished, shaking her head.

But how could I not be nervous? Tonight, I have a date with Bongani, I have been a bundle of nerves all day, obsessing over my hair and what to wear. It felt strangely delightful to fret about something as light-hearted as a date.

A knock on the door interrupted our preparations. I glanced at Mam’ Mavis, and she gave me a thumbs-up before hurrying to answer it on my behalf.

Bongani walked in, looking dashing in his powder blue suit, exuding a sense of formality. He handed Mam’ Mavis a bouquet of flowers and presented me with a box of chocolates. “You look beautiful,” he complimented, kissing me on the cheek.

“Thank you,” I replied, handing the chocolates to Mam’ Mavis to hold. Bongani gently nudged me forward, and together we stepped out into the night, a breath of fresh air I didn’t even know I needed.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t have much money, so I made something special at my place,” Bongani confessed as we walked.

When we arrived, I gasped in awe. The entire place was aglow with the soft light of countless candles, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. “I tried,” Bongani said, his smile shy yet proud. He led me to a table and pulled out a chair for me. “I hope you don’t mind that I cooked instead of ordering takeout.”

“This makes it even more precious,” I replied, genuinely touched. I watched as his face beamed with pride as he unveiled the dishes he had prepared.

As we savored the meal and engaged in delightful conversation, Bongani shared his feelings. “I really like you, Thandiwe,” he confessed.

Looking up at him, I mustered the courage to express my own uncertainty. “I like you too, Bongani, but I don’t know how to love.”

He reached out and held my hand, his touch reassuring. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”