Most times, people hold on to people even when it hurts--For the simple reason that they think it will it will hurt more should they let go.
Enhle finally got up from the floor and wiped her red and flushed cheeks. Her skin was beginning to feel dry, exclaiming the fact that she hadn't moisturized. The evening breeze also sent shudders that travelled through her body hairs. She dumped her whole weight on the bed and pressed onto the edge hoping to draw some strength from there.
"Pull yourself together Mbalenhle. Changing men because they cheat is no different to jumping from a pan and into a fire", the words her late mother used to say to her each time she went home crying resounded in her head.
"Doesn't he take care of you? Isn't he there for the kids? What are you wearing? What's that monstrosity you drive? Do you think he would be doing all this for you if he didn't love you? His only job is to provide. Indoda ngeke ihlale umini wonke ibukana nawe emehlweni. Kodwa into emqoka ukuthi ibuya kubani mase lishonile ilanga. Are you not the one he comes home to everyday?"(Your man will never be able to sit all day looking looking at you in your eyes. What's important is who he comes to when the day ends), they went on, and on, and on. She raised her face and it met the full body mirror which contrasted poorly against the paint since they were both white.
"You're a big girl now Enhle, a wife. A home is not a tuck shop. Kuyimanje ngisahleli no baba wakho ngoba azanka ngam'vumela omunye umfazi ukuthi a dlalele phez'kwe khanda lami. Yenza ngok'fanayo ukhombise ukuthi uzalwa uban habe"(I've never allowed another woman to play on the top of my head. Do likewise and be your mother's daughter), the voice again. It was louder and insistent this time. The phone ringing plunged her out of the deep, dreadful waters of her mind.
She stood up and searched through the messy sheets to find it. Her heart sank into her stomach. She felt the coldness of it against her intestines when she realized how much strength she needed to put up pretense for this call. Strength she did not have.
"Daddy", she lowly forced the word out her larynx and out through her teeth.
"Mbali ka baba. Kunjani nono?", her father adoringly said. He sure took his time to finish a single sentence. Old age had taken it's toll on his vocal cords.
"Ngiyaphila bab'... baba!", her facade was falling through the cracks of her words but she managed to yank it up with enthusiasm. So she thought. She forgot one thing.
"What's wrong?", he took on a firm tone and relinquished the old and easily relaxed one. She took a deep breathe and let it slowly. What she had forgotten was, nobody knew her like her father. Nobody knew her like the man whose lap used to be every day seat.
"Nothing I'm just tired. It's been a long day and it's gonna be a long night. Plus the ceremony tomorrow. I need some rest", she lied through her teeth.
"Sure nono?", his voice was full of comforting adoration that insisted on teasing her tears, but she wasn't about to cry. The old woman in her head would yank her eyes out from the inside. She nodded to agree.
"Nono?"
"Yes I'm sure daddy. I'm just tired I keep dozing off"
"You should get some rest then. I don't want you collapsing in front of people tomorrow", she nodded again, forgetting that she wasn't on a video call.
"Babà?", she called out quickly before he could cut the call.
"Yes nono?"
She rummaged for the correct wording in her head.
"I'm reading this other book here..."
"Uh-huh?"
"It... it says, something along the lines of... true love can withstand any storm. Do you agree with this statement?", she asked and puckered her face because she was feeling silly. Her father took moment before he could reply.
"What's the name of the book?", he questioned and panicking sirens went berserk in her head. She had to think fast.
"Love and war?", the shadow of Tamar Braxton that's been hiding somewhere between the folds of her memory came to her rescue.
"Well, I don't know anything about love my child. I have sinned against those I claimed to love at some point or the other if not more than twice. It's not as straightforward as mathematics. Love is a conforming science mntwanam. It takes the shape of your heart and your mental form. Only you know how you need to be loved", he states his thought and his daughter silently wells up in tears. She swallowed the slimy lump that was blocking her throat.
"And... how do I know for sure if I'm not being loved correctly?"
"I said it's a science. I did not say it's mathematics. There's no straight answer to that because a lot has to be considered when two different people are involved. How-EVER, if it doesn't feel right, then it probably isn't", he says and silence travels the line.
"Okay. I'll read with an open mind. Thanks daddy"
"You're welcome. And hey, tell that boy I'm going to crush his nxts with pliers when I see him", he commanded and a quick laugh escaped her lips.
"Daddy!"
"Enjoy your book", he intentionally draped the word 'book' in sarcasm. Enhle continued to laugh when they cut the call.
