After Love – Chapter 7 – The Trouble With Faith

For The Previous Chapter of After Love, “What Should Have Been” – Click Here

It’s been three years since I was last here.

Everything looks the same. The sand, the sun. I remember the day we laid Oarabile to rest. I was amazed to see so many people there to celebrate a life that was short lived. He could hardly form sentences yet everyone had so much to say about him and what he meant to them. It felt so fake.

The condolences and smiles, many didn’t want us together as a couple and losing Oarabile was the cement they were happy never dried.

Even though Namisa and I had dated for years, this was the first time our families were really in the same place. We never paid damages for him, scheduling the negotiations was always a problem and so that was the first time our uncle’s met.

He went from being our beacon of hope to someone we mention in memories. His death took everything from me. Her family and mine parted ways, my friends and family distanced themselves from me. Kyle, Tsebo and Nhlanhla didn’t know what to say to me. Then again who was I to judge, I hardly had much to say. I spent most of the day comforting Namisa and doing small talk on her behalf. Now here I was on my own, staring at your tombstone, trying to find words and wondering if you even understood the role I was meant to play in your life.

“Hey OB… It’s me… Your dad. We used to play together. It saddens me to think you are nothing more than a box in the ground, a body that has probably decayed. I don’t know if you heard but you have a little sister now.”

They say the dead should not communicate with the living but I took the whistle of the wind as a sign that he was listening. Maybe he was and maybe I was just that desperate for him to exist somewhere other than my mind. In her healing she gave away all the things we bought Oarabile, so I didn’t have anything to remember him by other than his baby pictures.

I was left with his baby pictures and a deep dislike for Winnie the Pooh. I used to love the cartoon but seeing Winnie on his tombstone made the sight of the teddy bear unbearable.

I was also the one left with all the questions. ‘How did he die?’, ‘Was he ill?’, ‘How is Namisa taking it’, ‘When will you be ready to have another child?’. Namisa got time off school, time off from the world. She had three weeks to rest, and just shut off everything. Her communication was limited to myself and her immediate family. I on the other hand was thrown into the world.

I still had to attend lectures, be social, I had to still be happy for everyone. My mother was falling apart, my cousins were hurt and I had to be there for them all. I had to keep their world together and pretend mine wasn’t falling breaking apart. A man is strong, so the death of my son shouldn’t not have phased me. After all a woman has a natural clock and a man can have a child anytime. A lot of people felt I should have leaned on Namisa but whenever I tried to open up to her, she would burst into tears because I would just bring the pain back for her, so I would put my emotions on hold so that I could comfort her. In the end I realized that their ‘lean on her’ was just their way of saying I should be there for her because this is harder for women than it is for men because they are more connected to he child.

Putting Namisa first, the questions and being forced back into society with no support; I don’t know how I made it through and managed to retain some part of my sanity.

Namisa and society aside, it wasn’t that the questions weren’t valid, it was just that I didn’t have answers myself. She couldn’t tell me what happened. She said something about being at a family friend’s place, that he was fine when she last checked on him and that when she checked again he wasn’t breathing. Some people said maybe her ‘cousin’ rolled over and suffocated him, others suggested he was poisoned and others said it was just God’s will. With all the confusion, an autopsy seemed insensitive. I asked Namisa for one and she asked if I blamed her or her cousin for what happened, that I suspected them of foul play. She brought Oratilwe to me because she didn’t want to leave her with anyone who wasn’t immediate family, I guess a part of her blamed her cousin too.

No one taught me how to parent. They all expected me to just understand. My mother, Namisa’s parents, none of them shared their experience or raising a child or what they learnt. They just felt I should know, maybe because I was once a child. They forgot that they were once children and when I needed guidance, I needed more than “you are a father now”.

Adults think that is enough, in that statement I should understand all my responsibilities and making the right decisions should come naturally. No one said I would be affected more than just financially, more than just my time management would need to change. No one said he would own all of my being or that having a child meant gaining the risk that losing them could crush your soul beyond repair. Everything became about them even things that are not related. No one said you could find yourself at a gravesite talking to yourself.

“I blame God for taking you. Not every couple who wants to, can conceive. He is in control. He lets rapists and murders get to old age but you were a soul without sin and you left us before your first birthday.” I spoke but no wind this time. I wasn’t sure if you disagreed with my sentiments or our heavenly Father silenced your lips.

I think the worst part of it all was that I was the one left without faith. They say God doesn’t choose favourites but Namisa healed faster than I did and she said it was because of Him. Three years later and I am still stuck in the mind of a man who refuses to accept that the first person he ever buried was his son.

“I blame GOD”. I cried. “I blame you. I am mad at her for not seeing I was in pain, I am mad at my family for demanding that I be okay but I am mad at you most. I was a good son to you but you took mine from me. I blame you for letting me love him, I blame you for letting him breathe and I blame you for taking him from me without giving me a chance to say goodbye.”

Some would call it blasphemy, I wonder if it makes me a sinner for questioning His choices or more of a believer because like any son, I can admit I feel betrayed by my Father?

My Father took everything from me. My friends didn’t know what to say or how to relate. I was the first to have a child, I was the first to lose a child. They were still processing the former, how would they now comfort me through the latter?

My relationship with my mother suffered. I remember the look on her face when I told her Namisa was pregnant. She was angry, she said things she could never take back and things I am yet to forgive. She had all that anger over something that didn’t last that long.

“I know she misses you too.”, I said with a smile on my face. “She hasn’t asked to see Ora, she wants to wait until she is sure Ora is mine. She doesn’t want another grandchild taken away from her.” I hoped knowing that he couldn’t be replaced would make him smile, that the fact that my mother and I still missed him would give him some sort of comfort and maybe he would forgive us for never visiting.

“I passed by the way. Your father is almost CA. I work at this great accounting firm in the Vaal. I wrote my last exam and I am waiting for my results. I believe I made it. I only saw you on weekends, so I have no choice but to have made it right.

I told you I was mad at God, I am mad at my family and my friends but Oarabile, I am also mad at you. You took away the love of my life. I am sure she told you that we don’t talk much anymore. We didn’t until she told me about your sister. She was in the hospital and she needed blood and… I’m sure she told you all about it. She told me she visits you every chance she gets.”

Namisa was always stronger than me. She hid Oratilwe from me but maybe it’s because I wasn’t as strong as she needed me to be. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I ran to another for comfort and gave them more than I was allowed to give. Vuyo had been my best friend for so long that it made sense to talk to her. We shared everything. She was comfortable enough to tell me when she was on her period and needed me to get her pads and she was the first I told when I found out Namisa was pregnant. I don’t know who took advantage of whom, was it I who was mourning my son or her who had just fought with her partner. We both needed comfort, we just found it in the wrong way. We agreed never to speak about it and the next time we spoke, she and her ex-boyfriend were pregnant and expecting their first child. I was hurt that she hid that she was pregnant from me and I couldn’t think up any reason I told myself that she was still giving me time to recover from losing Oarabile. Maybe she was just protecting Oratilwe from having a weak father in her life. A father who still held on, a father who couldn’t forgive his creator.

I stood there in silence for a few minutes. The sun was setting and I still had so much to say but words would not leave my lips and my heart was just as silent. Being there felt like both an accomplishment and a moment of disappointment. This was the first time I was here but it took me so long to get here. I knew I couldn’t stand there forever and wallow in my thoughts, I still had to drive to Vuyo’s place. She and I hadn’t really spoken since the night Loni moved in and she said she was worried about me, so I said I would pay her a visit before I went home after seeing Oarabile. She didn’t really give me much of a choice. She said she knew I would be a wreck after going to the cemetery and so I promised I would see her before driving home.

God gives and God takes. Losing him taught me that God does things and doesn’t give reasons, I learnt to feel God is unfair and chooses tests for His children based on how well He thinks they will cope. Despite the anger and my feelings, in all this, my biggest struggle was with myself because I still held on to Him. I stopped praying, I stopped spreading His word and going to church was a thing of the past but I knew He was still there, just watching me suffer. Whether He was rooting for me to recover or not, I just knew He was watching with the son He took from me next to him.

God broke me, took all I have and even though I didn’t believe in His love anymore, I still believed in him. I suppose that is the trouble with faith. Some take misfortune as a sign of God’s non-existence but I took it as a sign that He doesn’t love me.

The Trouble With Faith – PDF

Jade Novelist ©️ 2018

After Love – Chapter 3 – This Isn’t Awkward

For The Previous Chapter of After Love, “My Name Is…” – Click Here

And so it began, the ‘Your son got our daughter pregnant’.

Followed by ‘Your daughter hid the child from our son’.

Which led to ‘Your son broke our daughters heart, she was just protecting herself’ and ending off in ‘Well, if she knew what protection was we wouldn’t be here, would we?’.

My mother could never hold her tongue and now we were at war. However the biggest battle she faced today was in her heart, the person she saw as her daughter hid her grandchild from her. Her words expressed her anger, they expressed her sorrow but they couldn’t express the betrayal she felt.

I looked at Namisa, looking back at me, wondering what was going through her mind. Did she feel the guilt I felt? Our families used to get along. Our mothers used to be best friends but now they attend different mass services to avoid one another at church. Before her father passed, he was like a father to me and losing our son broke his heart. Even though Namisa and I had dated for six years, we first met in primary school, so he knew me from childhood and even helped me fill out university application forms. He was sad that his children grew up too soon but happy that we went against our instincts to abort and came clean.

Namisa’s mother, MaKhuzwayo was happy her only child was giving her a grandchild and my mother was more worried about Namisa than she was me. Even though I was her son, she shared Namisa’s fears, that a man’s life moves on after a child but a woman has to adjust. As a single mother, I couldn’t blame her. My father died when I was two years old, one of his mistresses had a jealous boyfriend who would kill for what was his. So my mother had to learn to parent on her own and although she tried to find love with other men after him, it was Namisa’s father who filled the role of a father in my life.

Jabulani Khuzwayo said he would always be there to hold the family together but he joined his grandson a few weeks later and that is when our worlds started to fall apart. Our break up forced everyone to pick a side.

Today, the family he held together was tearing at the seams. The Khuzwayo’s sat on one side of the table and the Motaung’s on the other. It had been two weeks since I found out about Oratilwe and five days since she got discharged from the hospital.

In between the screams and shouts I recalled the conversation with Namisa. “Angelo, I didn’t mean to hide this from you and I’m not sure if you believe me but Oratilwe is your daughter. She is our daughter”. She put her hands on my shoulder as she said those words. We stood over her incubator, the sight of all the tubes broke my heart. The doctors said she would be okay but still I feared I was days away from attending another funeral. I was going through my wardrobe in my mind, looking for a black suit and wondering who I would invite to say goodbye to someone we didn’t even know existed 24 hours ago.

I always felt we messed up the first time. I had just turned 20 and in three months Namisa and I would be the same age again. I don’t know what made it worse, that we had just started university when Namisa got pregnant with our son or how we fought to spend time with him. We recorded everything; Oarabile’s birth, his smile and his cry. We praised him when he crawled and our parents made sure he lacked nothing. It takes a village to raise a child and we were a happy village.

Despite the fact that Namisa and I tried to keep the relationship going for a year after his death, I hadn’t spoken to the other half of my village since his funeral and now here we were sitting face to face to discuss how I abandoned their daughter. In their eyes I got her pregnant, she lost a child and my life moved on.

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Ummm… Are we allowed to do that?… Can I go to the bathroom?”. His question broke my concentration and silenced the room.

Namisa laughed, “Yeah, sure Kyle. I’ll show you the way”. She was grateful for the silence. They were discussing how our lives would proceed but we were expected to just sit and listen to whatever decision they made. She got up and led Kyle to the bathroom.

Malume Ntando was not impressed with Kyle, “What is that white boy doing here?”, he asked. As Bab’Khuzwayo’s younger brother, he was the new head of the family. “He should not be here. In fact, what are the women and children doing here? This is a matter for the men.”

My uncles, Tsebo and Nhlanhla agreed with him or at least for a moment they did until their eyes met my mother’s gaze. “This is not a matter for men, it is a family matter involving our children”.  Nokukhanya Jasmine Motaung was a woman many would rather avoid than deal with, her sharp tongue and quick mind made her a dangerous opponent.

“But Khanya, this is not in our culture.”, Lungelo spoke calmly in support of his older brother, “Women are not normally part of this, let alone the children”.

“But hiding children is part of your culture, right?”. My mother responded with no hesitation.

The room went quiet again.

MaKhuzwayo stood up and called to her friend, “Jasmine”.

My mother looked at her, “Yes, Nomthandazo.”

“Come. Let’s go to the living room. I want to show you this new dress I bought yesterday morning when we got here”. She held out her hand, uncertain if my mother would take it. MaKhuzwayo was the total opposite of my mother. She preferred to avoid conflict and always tried to calm the situation down. I was surprised when I saw her in the room when we arrived and I thought she would excuse herself after greetings had been exchanged but a big part of me felt she stayed because she missed her friend, her sister. They stood staring awkwardly at one under until he walked back into the room.

“So what did I miss? Is it going to be a goat or cow?”, Kyle always had bad timing but today his timing was at its worst.

My uncle Tsebo burst into laughter and Nhlanhla put his hand on his forehead. Malume Ntando clicked his tongue, he was annoyed and his words only echoed his mood. “What are you doing here? What do you want here?”.

“Well. I’m dating this girl and I want to marry her, so I’m trying to understand as much about your culture as possible.” He knew he put his foot in it, after the last word his face cringed. I admit even I was a little offended, we were meeting to discuss my daughters future and Kyle had his own agenda. I needed moral support and he was using us as guinea pigs.

Malume Ntando stood to say something but my mother rushed in, grabbing MaKhuzwayo’s hand and then Kyle’s. “Noma… Friend… That dress. I would love to see it. Come on Kyle, maybe you’ll find something for Jessica.”. She led the way laughing.

Namisa stood up and walked towards me, “Angelo, can I talk to you?”, she whispered. I had nothing to say. I tried to justify her in my mind and always fell short of feeling like I deserved this. I stood up and started to make my way to the front door with Namisa shortly behind. As I reached for the door handle, I heard Malume Ntando shout out, “Don’t make a third one”. Her face turned red, she always found him embarrassing. If he wasn’t drinking, he was busy chasing a new skirt.

I stood on the patio and stared at the street. This was the second time I had been to her family home. It had lost everything that made it feel welcoming.

“So what’s her name?”, she asked.

“What are you talking about?”, I knew playing dumb wouldn’t work but what right did she have to information about my life?

“I know you.”, she said. “Since we exchanged numbers I can see your Whatsapp statuses, I know how you post when you are in love. So what’s her name?”.

“Lonwabo. Her name is Lonwabo”.

She smiled, “Lonwabo, that is a beautiful name. Have you told her about us?”

“Us?”. I asked surprised.

“I mean Oratilwe and I. Not… Ummm… I am talking about Oratilwe and I”. Her words came out almost like a stutter. “Angelo, I know no words will ever excuse what I did but I was figuring things out.”

‘Figuring things out’, would I be able to accept that? Was that reason enough? I lost 2 years of my daughter’s life and her reason was that she was figuring things out. “Well, have you figured them out now?”, I asked.

She shook her head and I let out a sigh.

She moved closer, “I am happy that you could find love again. I have been thinking what you said that day at the restaurant. I didn’t know that I was hurting you. I really thought everything was okay. I hope you will forgive me some day”.

Her lips were moving and she said the things I waited a long time to hear but there was no emotion in it. It sounded like she was saying what she thought I wanted to hear and if she couldn’t be honest, one of us had to lay it all on the table. “Namisa, I want to unlearn all the bad habits loving you taught me. You made me feel small for wanting to have a career, every opportunity I had to be greater, you feared it was an excuse for me to leave you behind. Our relationship was toxic and I learnt to be comfortable in that.”

“Toxic???”, she exclaimed. “No, not toxic, we had our issues but we weren’t toxic. I made you happy. You were happy. I did the best I could, so I deserved a man who would keep his promises.”

“And I deserved to be in my daughter’s life but I guess we don’t always get what we deserve do we now Namisa?”. I was annoyed. I was so annoyed. Here I was telling her that we had so much to work through and all she cared about was what she deserved. She was the victim again.

“We played pretend, I acted like the things you did didn’t hurt. When I spoke and you didn’t listen or when you apologized and your ‘I’m sorry’ carried more weight than mine. I would need to beg you for forgiveness and you’d question my love for you if I didn’t forgive you immediately. You had to…”

“That’s not true”, she interrupted, “We were fine. After he died, we were fine. We still laughed together, we still spoke”.

I shook my head, “I made jokes because the awkward silence was too much for me. I had to make conversation, if I didn’t call or text you wouldn’t make an effort and then you would be upset and say that I got too busy for you. You were mourning our son. I was mourning our relationship. I couldn’t deal with you noticing me anymore. I wanted to be seen. Talking to someone who doesn’t listen is the same as being invisible. Our relationship was toxic. You acknowledged that I was using words but they never reached your heart. You only remember the painful words. You could always tell me how I made you feel but could never acknowledge how you made me feel. You stopped being the person I was in love with.”

“I can change”. She moved closer and put her hand on mine, “I can change. I can do better. Don’t we owe it to Ora to do better”. I couldn’t believe it. She was using our daughter. I moved away. Being near her was making me sick.

I felt the phone in my pocket start to vibrate. I looked at her and she understand she needed to give me some space. “Hey Loni… Yeah… We will be spending another night in Durban. My mother wants to go visit her sister. So you only need to fetch me at the airport tomorrow. Okay… Bye… I love… you”. I don’t know what made the call more awkward. This was the first time that I had ever said I love someone else in front of the mother of my child who I once thought was the love of my life but this was also the first time I had ever told Loni I love her.

Namisa and I just sat outside quiet, occasionally looking at one another with nothing to say. Just silence. 15 minutes of silence until Kyle came to get us, it was lunch time and he was excited to try African food. We went in and said grace, we knew this was a short break before the conflict would start again. At least this time, we would argue over Ora’s future on full stomachs. Namisa went to sit in her corner and I sat in mine. If we had anything more to say to one another, it would remain unsaid for today, we were parents again, we had bigger priorities.

This Isn’t Awkward – PDF

Jade Novelist ©️ 2018

After Love – Chapter 2 – My Name Is…

For The Previous Chapter of After Love, “Hello Again” – Click Here

One tick. 38 messages and one tick for each. My messages weren’t going through. Her phone was still on voicemail.

I knew she hadn’t blocked me, I tried calling her from work. I used my office number and a colleague’s phone but still got “… the number you have dialled, is not available”. How could she send me that text and then switch off her phone, was this all a game to her? She couldn’t resist, she just had to find new ways to make life hell.

I spent all day staring at my phone, waiting for her to respond, to reach out to me. I had questions and she had the answers, or at least I hoped she did. Could Oratilwe be my daughter? Why did she hide her from me? Why would she tell me about her now? Why was Oratilwe in hospital? Was I losing another child?

Three cups of coffee and deadlines made me jumpier than I needed to be. My manager wasn’t my biggest fan, so that meant I couldn’t get out of meetings and asking for a personal day would be a mission on its own. How would I start the conversation, “Oh Hi Xolile, I’m not feeling well, so could I have the afternoon off?… Why, you ask?… Well just yesterday I found out that I might have left my ex-girlfriend pregnant 2 years ago and my maybe daughter might be in hospital, so I need the afternoon off so I can go hospital to hospital trying to find them”.

I had to make it work, make nice and sit through meetings. Fridays were the worst; progress meetings, finalisation of client reports and debates over next week’s planner. As per usual I got the worst assignments.

“Pssst. Pssst”, he whispered trying to get my attention.

I looked over to him, shook my head and mouthed, “What is it Kyle?”

He was as uninterested in Xolile’s presentation as I was. He stood up and moved closer, squeezing his chair between mine and Sam’s.

“You seem distracted bro, excited about tonight?? What’s it now? Date number four?”, he said with a naughty grin and holding out his hand for a fist bump. “Tonight’s the night right?”

I shrugged my shoulders because sex was the last thing on my mind. Actually, a lot had escaped my mind. In all the drama I forgot I had a date with Lonwabo tonight.

“What time are you picking her up?”, he asked.

“Around 8”, I responded looking at my watch, “She knows we have deadlines today and she understands that I have to work late”.

“I really like this girl man, she’s smart and you two look good together, almost as good as Jessica and I do”, he said sarcastically.

Kyle and Jessica met at the company a year ago and have been in love ever since. They are known as ‘Top Deck’ at the office. One would think it was because of their different ethnic backgrounds but I think it’s mainly because they are always on top of one another. In the office they try behave themselves with random shouts of ‘My Venda Queen’ or ‘My Shinning Prince’ but in private, things can get a little awkward. As the token third wheel, I experienced it first-hand multiple times until they felt that they needed to spend more nights in than they needed nights out with the shut-in.

Kyle felt I needed to move on and Jessica felt I was deserving of love. First we tried Tinder. It was okay and just as superficial as I expected, I met a lady named Toni, and she was a doctor. Great conversationalist but too focused on her checklist. She knew everything she wanted in a man but on the second date it was clear she didn’t know herself. Almost every sentence ended with “my mother said that’s what makes a good man” or “I’ve seen how my friends were treated”. She wanted what seemed to meet the definition of perfect but I wondered if she ever asked herself if it would be perfect for her. I asked her if she ever saw herself married to me and her response bordered on that of one who has given up. She said men feared her achievements, that they found her intimidating and that she found me interesting because of my career and that I probably won’t be scared off easily. I understood what she was saying but I wasn’t prepared to spend the rest of my life trying to love who someone needed me to constantly prove to her that she was enough. I wanted love, not a second full time job.

Jessica tried setting me up on a blind date with her friend. Kelly was great, the life of the party but it seemed like she never wanted to leave the party. She was a socialite, always politically correct and ready to charm her way into everyone’s heart. I met her just before the year end Christmas party 4 months ago, so asking her to be my date made sense. She made people feel comfortable, she networked and never failed to mention she was a qualified psychologist. It was a date but my date spent more time talking me up to the room than she did talking to me. She used what she found on Google to make me sound amazing. Had I had political aspirations, then I would have asked to marry me right there and then. She was great but not great for me, I needed someone who wasn’t so good at making things look good but rather someone who wanted to notice me. I had done enough fake smiles with Namisa, sat in rooms filled with loved ones and boasted praises for one another while in the back of our minds we knew we still had to finish the fight we were having in the car.

I had given up on the pursuit but I promised them I would give it three attempts before I locked myself back in my apartment. I had never tried speed dating but it was one of the things on my bucket list, so I had to give it a try. It went quickly, almost like a school cafeteria lunch line and the women formed part of the stationary. The men took turns moving from seat to seat with only 10 minutes to make a connection. The 1st six ladies I met were either too shy or too hyped, it was clear they were either forced to do this or were on the lookout for new sex partners.

It felt like I was wasting time, I could have been binge watching The Blacklist or catching up on work but here I was making pointless small talk about the weather. I was fed up and wanted to leave, I got up and walked to the door and there she was. The last to arrive. She said she was caught up at a parent-teacher meeting but Jessica the romantic, says it was destiny.

“Hello, my name is Lonwabo Zwane, but my friends call me Loni. Am I too late?”. Her smile caught my attention and her eyes told me she was a truthful soul, I wanted to tell her the truth but I knew if I did, she might end up with someone else. There was something about her, something I needed to have. “Hi Loni, I’m Angelo… Angelo Blake. The event is almost done but I wasn’t successful in matching up with anyone and you just arrived. Maybe you’ll let me take you on a date? Give this guy who struck out a chance to redeem himself?”.

She blushed at my attempt at humour and agreed to go out with me. It was late, so options weren’t many and the closest eatery was McDonalds. She didn’t seem to mind though. We had both previously been in long term relationships, so starting afresh was challenging for us. Namisa and I were on and off for six years, she and her ex were together for four years, after admitting that we didn’t know what was considered appropriate first date conversation, we just went with the flow. We spoke at length, debates on the country’s education system, jokes about where we thought we would be in life and I threw in a few compliments every time she smiled at me.

She was a primary school teacher. Her love for children was emphasised by the way her eyes would light up when she spoke of her students.  “Enough about me, you know I teach grade 2 and grade 3 students. What about you? What do you do?”, she asked in her gentle voice.

“I’m an accountant. Trainee accountant. I just finished my third year at Pukke and I’m doing my BCom Honours through UNISA while working at King & Associates. I work at the Vaal branch”. The words came out and I felt so stupid. All she wanted to know was what I did for a living and I basically gave her my CV. Despite the nerves I was glad Kyle made me do it, in the 8 years I’d known him this was the best idea he had ever had.

In hindsight though, it feels like I started our relationship with a lie. I wonder if I would answer differently now. When asked if I had any kids, ‘No’ was my immediate response but now technically I am nothing but an absent father. Loni was a week away from moving in with me and the thought of telling her about Oratilwe never crossed my mind. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was unsure if Ora was mine or if I was fearful of how she would react to it.

When she first asked if I had any children, I remember saying no and seeing the disappointment on her face. At first I thought it was because a lot of men my age have at least one child, so maybe she thought I was impotent. In time she confessed she hoped I had one, so I wouldn’t expect it from her. She got ill a few years ago and had to undergo an operation that required the removal of her womb.

I had to figure out what I would say to her. I don’t think she would believe me if I told her I had a secret daughter I knew nothing about and I wonder how she would take that I met another woman a week before she was supposed to move in, she would probably think that I was having cold feet.

I looked up at the clock and it was 7PM. I had to leave or I would be late for my date. Kyle offered to finish off the Vanessa Costa report for me, so if I left immediately I would just make it for my date. As I was packing, Jessica came rushing in, “Hey Angelo, your ex-girlfriend is on the phone. She says it’s urgent”.

“Ex-girlfriend?”, I looked at her confused. No one but Loni and my mother had my office phone number. Then I remembered in one of my 38 messages, I included my office number just in case Namisa wanted to call again. I ran to pick up the phone. “Hello, Namisa is that you?”.

“Hey Angelo, I’m sorry I disappeared last night. I’m still at the hospital and my battery died. My grandmother brought me a charger a few minutes ago. I didn’t want you to find out this way but yes, Ora is your daughter… Ummm… We are at Life Groenkloof hospital, in Pretoria. Would you please come? I think seeing you would make her feel better and it would also give me a chance to explain everything”. She spoke clearly but I could hear the fear in her voice, it was shaky. The accident must have been worse than I thought.

The words “Ora is your daughter” kept ringing in my head. I had a daughter and she was in hospital. I had to see my daughter, I knew Loni was important but right now Ora needed me. I couldn’t tell her the truth, I wouldn’t know where to begin because I myself had more questions than answers, so I texted her and told her I was working late, that Xolile needed me to stay longer. Kyle and Jessica agreed to cover for me, I couldn’t tell them what was going on but they knew I wouldn’t lie to Loni if it wasn’t important.

As I got into the car and made my way to the hospital, I could feel the tears roll down my face. I was scared. I was praying. I didn’t even know of her existence until 24 hours ago, so I wasn’t ready to lose another child.

My Name Is… – PDF

Jade Novelist ©️ 2018