CHAPTER 13: It surely cant be the end, can it?
‘No Pastor, I don’t believe it was God’s perfect plan. My father was abusive, he used to hit us with anything, not caring where his strikes landed. Mainini took perhaps more blows than mum and I. See, she always wanted to defend us but…’ I sigh, looking down.
‘She got a head concussion, we did not realize until after her death. One day she just woke complaining of a headache, in a few hours she was gone. My father killed mainini. No one has ever been able to say this openly, but it is the truth! We all went with the story that she must have fallen and hurt her head, we all lied. Deep down we know, he killed her! Pastor Ben my family…they hurt people, we hurt people. That’s all we know to do. How can three people cause so much damage to everything that crosses their path?’
I’m sobbing, gulping for air, heaving.
‘There there, Mai Tembo Moyo, stop crying. It is alright. We all come from families that are not perfect, we all were broken. We only find true healing in our Lord. You need to ask God for that Mai Tembo Moyo.’
I blow my nose, and wait for the wave of pain that feels like an iron hand squeezing my heart to pass.
‘I owe Dylan an apology, he doesn’t deserve this. I blame myself, his not coming to church anymore, it’s my fault. It is!’
I start crying again, unable to control the flood of tears and emotion that’s threatening to drown me. Pastor offers me more tissue. For what seems like hours I cry, Pastor Ben doesn’t say much, only breaking the silence with encouragements to ‘cry it out’. I am worried about the time.
Thinking of going home to face Dylan however is not appealing. After I am all cried out, Pastor and I talk a bit more, agreeing that I needed therapy. We also discuss about marriage counseling, Pastor Ben is to bring that up to Dee. He prays for me and sends me on my way.
I head for my parents’ place, I would rather deal with them than with Dylan at this stage.
When I get there, it’s late enough that my mother is sleeping, dad is in the lounge, watching soccer. I can see it on his face that he is wondering what I’m doing there, he does not ask. I offer the truth to him anyway.
‘Dylan found out I had 2 abortions today, I can’t face him.’
His face contorts, he looks agonized. He does not however offer any consolation, not from lack of want, we just have never had that type of freedom between us.
His next words are ,’What has he said? Do you want me to speak with him?’
I shout ‘No dad!’, perhaps a bit too loudly, ‘Let’s allow him to cool down, we will talk this through.’
I try to sound brave, inside I am screaming, I want to die.
‘Ummm’, Dad says, shaking his head and standing to go to their bedroom. After a few minutes, I hear a sharp cry from the room. It’s my mother.
‘Mhaiwe kani! My child, uhhhh God! What have you done!’
She comes out, adjusting her zambia. Her crying is more important she decides, leaving it loosely tied. It suspiciously hangs on her hips, ready to fall should she make a false move. I brace myself as she moves closer. She throws herself on the couch, the zambia comes undone, she ignores it.
‘Tanya! Yuhwiiii! Where will I hide, what will I say! Nhai Tanya. What have you done!’ She punctuates her lament with a shrill. I do not respond, too aware that any form of response will be fuel to this fire, too weak to respond.
‘I’m hurting, Baba Tanya, do something. So must our daughter return home? I will not have it Baba Tanya, no! Where will I hide, who will I tell. Divorce at such a young age? Nhai mhaiwe kani!’
In the true fashion of African mothers, she has both hands on the back of her head. The bottom half of her body remains uncovered except for her underwear, I absently wonder if she can’t feel too much movement of air to signal her nakedness.
My father sounds annoyed when he speaks up,’Mai Tanya, that’s enough. Who says anything about divorce? The children just have a misunderstanding, now if you act like someone has died , what will Tanya do?’
This only serves to fuel my mother’s theatrics, she starts rolling on the couch, wailing and shouting. ‘Don’t comfort me, don’t comfort me Baba Tanya, I said you’re lying!’
I try to hold my own for as long as I can, but my mother is hard to ignore. I go to where she is, she extends her arms , I fall into them and we cry in that position until I fall asleep.
I wake up at 5am, my mother tries to lecture me about how to approach Dylan but I manage to excuse myself by half past 5. I hope I get home after 6 so that I find Dylan gone to work. I need the day to gather my nerves and thoughts for a talk with him.
When I switch on my phone I notice Chido had tried to call, I make a mental note to return her call during the day.
I get home, Dylan’s car is not in the garage, this relaxes me a bit. I get inside and head for the bedroom so that I can change and leave for work. I pass by the dresser and I make a double take, there’s a white sheet of paper folded into 2. It is strategically placed near my makeup so that I don’t miss it.
My heart feels like it’s been set on fire as I lift and open it. It is Dylan’s handwriting. I start reading the letter.
‘I’ve never known that I could hurt as much as I do now, you’ve broken me in places I never knew could break. I can’t say this to you looking into your face. I hope you’re sitting down for what I’m about to let you know.’ I fold the paper, terrified to go on.
I sit down slowly, take a deep breath and continue reading….
