Chapter 1 The call
I was ironing Thabo's shirts when my phone rang.
9:14 pm.
Thabo was snoring on the couch. He had come home at 7pm, ate his pap and chicken, said he was tired from work, and fell asleep like a baby. Just like every day for 25 years.
The number on my phone was not saved.
I almost didn't answer. I thought it was one of those scammers.
"Hello?"
"Good evening. Is this Mma Dikeledi?"
A woman's voice. Young. Calm. Like a nurse.
"Yes. Who is this?"
"My name is Zanele. Sorry to call you so late. I am married to your husband."
I laughed.
I laughed so loud that Thabo snored louder and turned to the other side.
"My sister, you have the wrong number. My husband is here. He is sleeping."
"He is sleeping?" the woman said. "Is he wearing the blue pyjamas with the little soccer balls?"
My blood stopped.
How did she know? I had bought those pyjamas last week at Pep.
"He told me he bought them himself," she continued. "He said you... I mean his ex-wife... died."
My hand started shaking. The iron was burning the shirt. I could smell it.
"Who are you?" I whispered.
"I am his wife. We got married in 2011. In Soweto. We have a son. He is 14. His name is Thabo Junior. After his father."
I looked at my husband. My Thabo. The father of my two children. The man I married at 27. The man who taught Sunday school.
Thabo.
I put the phone on speaker. I walked to the couch. I kicked his leg.
"Thabo! Wake up!"
He opened his eyes. "Heh? What is it, Dikeledi?"
I looked at him. "Who is Zanele?"
He did not even blink. He said, "Which Zanele?"
That answer. That stupid, stupid answer.
Which Zanele?
The woman on the phone laughed. "Ask him about Lerato too."
"Lerato? Who is Lerato?" I shouted.
Thabo sat up so fast he fell off the couch. His eyes were wide. He looked at my phone. He looked at me. He looked at the door like he wanted to run.
"Dikeledi, give me the phone. This is not what you think. These women are lying."
On the phone, Zanele said, "We are not lying. Lerato called me last week. She said she has been married to him for 5 years. She has a baby. Thabo told her you died in a car crash."
I looked at my husband. My husband who was supposed to be dead according to his other wife.
Thabo started sweating. Even in winter.
"Dikeledi, please. Let me explain."
I took his blue pyjamas with the soccer balls and threw them at him.
"Explain. But not to me. We are all meeting tomorrow. You, me, Zanele, and Lerato. At 10am. At the Union Buildings. Under the big statue."
"Why there?" he said, his voice shaking.
"So that when I kill you, Madiba can see I had a good reason."
I hung up.
Thabo was crying. Real tears.
But I was not crying. Not yet.
I was opening my WhatsApp. I was saving a new number. Zanele - Wife Number 2.
And then I typed:
"Lerato? It is Dikeledi. Wife Number 1. Can we talk?"
