Unscripted love Chapter 73 - A - Mzansi Stories

Thursday, July 14


Unscripted love Chapter 73 - A


#73 A
Love Me
It was a rainy Monday morning. The clouds were thick and heavy, no chance of sun at all. I’d always despised that type of weather. Though my skin burned the minute I was blessed with any ultraviolet beams, I’d always enjoyed the warmth and comfort sunshine offered. My favourites were those crisp winter days with no clouds in the sky. They offered the benefit of the sun without the damage.
I padded along Malibongwe Avenue, excited to be meeting up with Solomon whom I hadn’t heard from in two days. I hated the gaping silence between my last call and my last text that never received a response even though it warranted one from him. I didn’t even know why I was lying to my friends and family about a fictional character called Nkosi to get their scent off Solomon when he clearly didn’t care enough to text or call back.

I abhorred this whole phase of Solomon being too busy for me, and my desperate need for him. I was like a silent frantic drowning child ignored by the lifeguard intently working on his tan. I was jammed between the rock of not wanting to be a bother, keeping my needs bottled up, hidden in a cave so far from daylight, so that I could remain a cool “lady”, and the hard place where I was shackled to my hankering for his touch, the warm, breathy caress of his whispers on my neck.
I detested my mind that thought of Evangelist Solomon even when I knew that I really shouldn’t. My body was at war with itself, yearning for things it knew were forbidden. I hated myself for watching my sister and two other women bare their souls to the nation on an episode that was supposed to educate young women like myself to make better choices when it comes to life and love. Yet there I was, an A student from one of the leading schools in South Africa, the daughter of a respected Pastor and a mother who ticked all the boxes of the Proverbs 31 woman, pining for the affections of a man who was in love with my sister. There I was trying to be her understudy and hoping that, that would make him love me because deep within I still hoped that I would get married to the guy who took my virginity.
I didn’t want to fantasize about the eloquent evangelist as soon as my head hit the pillow, but I did. I didn’t want to feel my heart beat faster whenever I eventually heard his voice, but I did. I didn’t want to feel anything for him, but I did. He was the last thing I needed but the one thing I wanted.
I was soaked by the time I entered the corner shop, packed as usual with the early morning crowd. I shook my head like a poodle, trying desperately to get the raindrops out and save at least some of my hairdo when I heard a snicker in front of me.
I raised my head, ready to scold whoever dared to make fun of me but the culprit beat me to it. “Maybe next time you should try an umbrella,” Solomon suggested.
Solomon was actually kind of cute, though in no way what I would describe as outright gorgeous. Maybe a couple of inches taller than myself, bald head and his face was covered with stubble, which he must have found cool but I thought of as scruffy.
His sensual lips were curved up in this half teasing, half flirtatious smile but what was most unique about him was his eyes. They pulled me into a mysterious world I wanted to explore. At 35 he did not fall under the category of datable guys. My father would never allow me to date anyone who was so mature. According to him, all older men wanted was sex, though he failed to realise that this was also on the minds of most fifteen year olds.

I was tempted to put him in his place for mocking me but I elected not to. “Hello to you too, sir.”
He laughed, exposing little dimples. “Sir? That’s what I call your father. Do I look that old to you?”
“Ancient,” I claimed gravely.
He considered me with amusement. “I consider myself young at heart so I am looking forward to hearing what you have planned for our date. It’s always interesting to know what the young ones get up to for fun.”
I felt flattered that he even seemed interested in a young girl like me. After all, there were so many older women that pinned for him at church. “Well, I have a couple of ideas but you’ll just have to wait and see.” I flinched when I felt another monstrous cramp that felt like a thousand babies were slicing my intestines with blunt knives.
“Are you okay?” Solomon asked and pulled me to a quiet corner.
“Stomach cramps.” I said dismissively. I didn’t want to gross him out with menstrual cycle talk but I was having the worst period of my life complete with constant deliberating pain no matter what home remedy or medication I took to numb it. It had been close to 48 hours since it started and I’d been leaking like an open tap to a point whereby I woke up in a pool of blood that morning. I prayed for my period as proof of an empty womb and it came with a vengeance.
Despite spending the previous day with my mother pumping me with pain medication and rubbing my stomach with a warm cloth I was in excruciating pain to the point of feeling like I was going to pass out if the agony didn’t let up. Large masses of blood clots the size of marbles were expelled intermediately throughout the day. I developed a fever that shot through the roof out of nowhere, and my heart started beating too fast. The increasing pain in my abdomen had me lying on my bed, hardly able to move or speak.
“Are you having period pains?” Solomon asked and I nodded my response.
“So you’re not pregnant then.” He said in a whisper.
“I guess not.” I wrapped my arms around my abdomen to ease the pain. He gave me four tablets and bottled water. “This is pain medication I take from time to time, maybe it will help.” He told me.
I thanked him for being considerate and ingested the pills.
“I don’t think you should go to school today, you can’t even stand up straight.” He observed.
“I have a test so I have to go.” I let out in-between cramps.
“You look so pretty in your school uniform. I hope you tell all those boys that make moves on you at school that you are taken.” His gaze was intense with eyes that had turned two shades darker.
He actually got me to blush. “How was the all night prayer last night?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the blush that stained my cheeks.
“Powerful. Nothing gives me greater joy than spending time in the presence of God.” His eyes didn’t falter from my face, sending shivers down my spine. “Saw your parents there, I am guessing they are back together?”
I started to twitch from the sharp pain in my lower abdomen. “No.” I squeezed out. “Mom sleeps in Sister Thando’s room and she doesn’t talk to my dad. We are all not speaking to him at the moment because he told Forgiveness things he shouldn’t have.”
“Thando is not speaking to her dad.” Solomon threw that out as more of a statement than a question and it didn’t sit well with me that he chose to pick Sister Thando out when I’d clearly stated that we were all not talking to my father. I was annoyed and no longer interested in whatever else he had to say.
“Well, I have to get to school. I would actually prefer it if we met after school, leaving the house earlier will raise suspicions.” I turned towards the counter to get vetkoeks.
“Wait baby,” he said, grabbing my wrist then letting go just as quickly so people wouldn’t notice. “I really think you should take the day off. Go home and rest.” A small smile curled his lips and gave him little dimples in his cheeks. He looked adorably boyish.
I was stunned by his persistence. He made me feel special, like he really cared about my wellbeing. I wanted to skip school but there was the small problem of my mom being home all day. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. My mother would never allow me to skip school just because I am on my period. Plus I have a test.”
He shrugged. “Your parents don’t need to know.”
I wasn’t at all impressed that he expected me to go behind my parent’s back. “My teachers love my father. Trust me, he will know if I skip school. If it doesn’t get better I will go to the hospital with my mother.”
“No.” He barked. He tried a different angle. “I mean, no.” He said in a hushed tone. “You can’t go to the hospital for period pains. I can drive by the pharmacy to get you pain medication and we can hang out at my place for the day.”
I never had anyone who had been so eager to see to it that I was pain free and comfortable and I was absolutely smitten. “Okay. But I have to be home by four.”
He seemed thrilled. “We can’t be seen leaving together so I’ll leave first and I’ll wait for you at our usual spot. Leave the shop after fifteen minutes.”
I watched how he strolled away, my heart beating in my throat. There was no doubt in my mind, with the amount of butterflies fighting through the pain to fly in my stomach, that I had a total crush on him. I bought a scone and wolfed it down. My stomach revolted in response and I tasted bile.
I leaped forward, my hand clutched over my mouth to keep the vomit in until I was able to reach the toilet. I stumbled into the bathroom, bent over and clutching my abdomen. My stomach heaved over and over again and when I was finally finished, my cheek came to rest against the cold cement floor. My whole body was shaking from pain and disgust while I calmed my ragged breath.
“Ngabe konke kuhamba kahle ntokazi? [Is everything okay in there?]” Came the store owner’s concerned voice from the doorway.
I looked up at the door, still dizzy. “Yes.” I croaked with incredible hoarseness. My throat was on fire, the foul taste in my mouth making me sick again.

There was a thunderstorm through the bathroom window that reminded me of my grandmother. She always made us cover all the mirrors and everything white in the house with cloths whenever there was a thunderstorm and sit in the passage to ‘listen to God speak.’ I’d always found this belief ridiculous but I needed God to speak to me at that point.
I didn’t think to pray for relief as I wasn't thinking clear thoughts, the pain took over all my senses. My vision blurred as I picked myself up and my body sat slumped on the toilet for what seemed like hours. I wanted to scream for help, but my voice was barely a whisper. I grabbed my phone and let out a defeated cry when I realised I didn’t have airtime.
Solomon called and I begged him to call my mother or the ambulance. Something was amiss and I had to get to the hospital. I’d had periods for five years, this one was different. The pain was comparable to child birth – or at least what I imagined it would feel like after watching birth videos in biology.
“Call my mother…. Please.” I cried out over the phone.
“I cannot call your mother. You are having an abortion Futhi.” Solomon informed me.
“What are you talking about?”
“The pills I gave you aren’t morning after pills, the are abortion pills. I needed to give you the other four after 48 hours, that’s why I insisted that we meet today. You were supposed to take them vaginally but I suppose they work the same way if you drink the pills.”
My eyes went wide like saucers. “Usangene? [Are you out of your mind?]”
“Baby, you are eighteen, still in school. I did this for you.” He regarded me calmly.
Shocked, I bunched up my skirt and pulled down my panties as if a baby was suddenly going to appear. I sat and stared, speechless, thoughtless. Surely this was God’s way of punishing me for my sins. I felt another wet glob fall out of me and into the toilet.
“You may not understand it now but you will thank me for making this decision for you one day.” Solomon claimed.
I shoved my phone in my bag and grabbed a fresh sanitary towel. I swallowed my feelings and told myself that all I needed to do was get home.
I knew that unprotected sex leads to pregnancy. I also knew that sex before marriage was forbidden. Despite that knowledge I allowed whatever I had with that Herod to happen. I knew it was wrong and destructive, but being with him made me feel less depressed about the sudden turn my life had taken. I thought of him as my painkiller. I was so ashamed of myself and if I got another chance I would have made different choices.
I stumbled home feeling empty, sad and guilty for a sin I committed unintentionally. I’d never once taken for granted that I was a woman in a relatively free country who had the ability to make an important decision about her own body. This was my decision to make, not his. I would have kept the baby, after all I’d been taught that there’s nothing more important than to reproduce and get married as a woman. All other achievements were secondary to being a mother and a wife.
I was at my lowest point ever, crying for a baby that never was, with no way to get him or her back. Death was just so final. I was tired. Tired of living, tired of trying, tired of feeling like I wanted help, but help didn't want me. In Isaiah 54 verse 17 God promised me that no weapon formed against me would prosper but it did. My cross was simply too heavy for me to carry.
In my haze of grief I gathered all the pills I could get my hands on and drank every last one of them. I asked God for forgiveness and mercy, that my name would be scribbled in the book of life. I closed my eyes, wanting to sleep forever. My mother singing be still and know that I am God in Sister Thando’s room was the last thing I heard before sinking into total darkness.

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