PHENYO

I lie awake, gazing at the cherry pine ceiling in this soft bed, these sheets smell brand new. I smile from ear to ear, thinking about the perfect life I have with my long time boyfriend, Basil Maleka. I cannot believe that we have been together for this long. I take a deep breath, as I turn to the side and gaze at him. He looks peaceful in his sleep. As I wake up to kiss him the way I do every morning, his mouth feels cold and dry. I look at him again, realise that he is not even responding to my kisses as he normally does.

The sun is up. Oh, I just love the spring season, the trees give birth to the most beautiful fruits, and the earth becomes green with healthy grass and plants. Basil seems unresponsive as I steal a look at him in his sleep, one last time before I get up.

I step off the bed wearing my silky white lingerie, grab his sky blue shirt from the couch, and slip into it. I go to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee, hoping it will wake him up.

I walk to the kitchen counter and get the coffee machine ready. As I turn to face the sink, I notice the main door is slightly ajar. It is unlike Basil to leave the door unlocked. He is so precise and careful about everything. I quickly walk to the bedroom in a hurry to wake him up. I need him to come and see this, by now, my brain is awake and I am more conscious of my surroundings.

As I walk towards my bedroom, my eyes rivet to the floor, I notice dry muddy footprints, leading up to there that I did not notice before. My pulse increases, causing me to wonder if somebody may have come after Basil, last night. Anxiety and worry encompass my body as it begins to dawn on me, that someone might have invaded my home. I open my bedroom door with intentions that I would have to wake him up and my mobile phone begins to ring, completely distracting me from what I was actually in the bedroom for. I try my hardest to ignore my ringing cell phone but the persistent caller makes it hard for me to. I walk up towards my bedside table, reach for the phone and answer it.

“Hello,” I greet with a clear voice.

“Good Morning my love, how did you sleep,” greets the man on the phone.

Why does this man have the same voice as Basil? I am perplexed—I remove the phone from my ear and check the caller’s identity. My blood runs cold as shock fills my body. Basil’s name appears on my phone screen.

“Who…who is this,” I stutter in response, to the man on the other end of the receiver.

The man laughs. I am more confused, he sounds like Basil. I cautiously turn to stare at my bed pillows, afraid of what I might see. The man is still laying in the same position as I left him there earlier. I draw in a deep breath and nervously shake my head.

“Hello, are you there?” The man on the phone enquires.

“Yes…yes I’m still here,” I reply nonchalantly, pretending that all is just fine.

“Are you okay?” The man enquires. No, I am not.

I remain silent, whilst trying to figure out what could have happened last night but my tears are uncontrollable and my thoughts are a blur. I am emotional and confused.

“Pen are you alright?” He asks, concerned as I begin to sob.

I remain silent without uttering a single word. He senses that I am crying hence his concern as to whether I am alright.

“Ok, listen...I want to apologise for not coming home for the past two days, I have been hectically busy at work.”

I am speechless. The more he speaks the more I gaze at the man on my bed. If the man on the phone is Basil, who is this man on my bed?

“Babe I am concerned. Let me come over, we will talk, then I will leave when I’m sure that you’re ok.”

“No, please don’t come, I’m ok…I’m not upset,” I hear myself saying. I am now lying without hesitation. “I understand that your work is important,” I add. Another excuse. What is becoming of me?

I move towards the bed where my “Basil” is laying and my body begins to tremor as I spot a pool of blood dripping from his right hand, which is hanging loose all the way to the white frill covering the base of my bed, dripping onto the laminated wooden floor. My hands begin to tremble.

“Baby, baby, let me call you back,” I say, not giving him a chance to respond, and then hang up abruptly. I am panicking. My eyes widen in fear as I gaze at the man on my bed and begin crying hysterically—I hear myself mumble things like, “Basil wake up, I need you to wake up.” I unfold my bed sheets, flabbergasted and terrified by what I see—I gasp. I page my bed sheets open, wanting to assess what is before me.

“He has been shot,” I utter in shock—watching the man bleed from over eight bullet wounds on his body and one on his knee.

“So this is how people look when they are shot and why does he look like Basil?” I whisper in shock.

I collapse on the floor with tears in my eyes, as I sit leaning against the bed, not even aware that the shirt I am wearing, is touching the pool of blood.

“Ding-Dong!” My doorbell rings. Panic takes over my body as I slowly lose my mind in my bedroom. I close the bedroom door softly and lock myself in.

“Hello, anybody home?” A woman shouts from my kitchen.

“Damn!” It’s Zenzi, my friend and neighbour…Uggh! She can be so nosy. These are the joys of living in a townhouse—everyone knows everyone’s business.

As I step out of the bedroom and head to the kitchen, I already find her drinking the coffee I had made for Basil. I look at her and smile as she licks the sugar on the mouth of the mug. She does not see me as I am looking at her from the stairs. She is wearing her favourite yellow dress, a white cardigan and matching black slippers. She has her long hair tied on the side of her head. Her favourite hairstyle.

“Uggm,” I clear my throat before greeting her with a smile.

She turns and delightedly smiles at me. She is such a lovely person.

“What’s new girl friend,” she asks.

I look at her as if she did not say a word. Do I tell her my dilemma, or do I keep my secret to myself? My mind ponders on these thoughts as I stare at her.

“Are you alright…you look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” she says, moving towards me like a concerned mom. She can be very nosy.

I smile and nod at her, wondering how I would begin telling her that there is a dead person in my bed. I cannot do this, I have to act as normal as possible. I walk over to the kitchen table and stand next to it. She is eyeing me out suspiciously with her huge investigative eyes, as if she is able to see inside my soul. I look away and try not to give her any reason to doubt me.

“You have blood on your back side,” she casually mentions, pointing at me as if I am a murderer.

Is my guilt that obvious? Can she really see through me? I am embarrassed.

I have to tell her, there is no way I can hide this from her. I take a deep breath, as I courageously stand up to face her. I feel my body shaking, as my tummy is rumbles like crazy. It is unnerving to look her in the eye when she stares at me like that.

“Zenzi, I have something to tell you…I don’t know how it happened…I’m still perplexed by it.”

Zenzi laughs at me as if I stood up and cracked a joke. She walks towards me and softly caresses my shoulder.

“It happens to most women…don’t worry about it,” she reassures.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” I stutter, looking so embarrassed at her.

“It’s ok…let me leave you to freshen up, I will come and see you later,” she says, gulping down what is left of the coffee and leaving Basil’s cup on the table.

Zenzi leaves. Paranoia takes over as I walk to the kitchen door to check if she is gone. She must have hurried home. I shut the kitchen door, turn the key in order to lock it, then hurry off to my living room to look through the window. I need to ensure her whereabouts. There she is, entering her home. Now what do I do with this dead man inside my bed? I have to get rid of him but how do I do that?

I walk to my bedroom, stand by the doorway and stare at the man laying still in my bed…he is still dripping blood. I open my wardrobe, withdraw my black leathered pumps, and place them on my feet. I spot a short yellow frilled dress similar to the one Zenzi was wearing earlier and I slip into it. I run to the bathroom and scratch around for my latex gloves inside my toiletry basket. I fit them on and fold three extra pairs of gloves, placing them inside my bra, in between my bosoms.

I run back to the bedroom and stare at the man again pensively. I cannot make sense of right and wrong, a part of me wants to call the police, but a huge part of me keeps repeating the words “Trust me you don’t want to go to jail.”

“There’s no way I’m going to jail….no way, no how,” I conclude proudly, exiting the bedroom. I shuffle towards the stairs hurrying to the kitchen drawers to look for a huge steak knife, forgetting that I had sought for it earlier but never found it. I open the bottom drawer and find a nail hammer. I withdraw it from the drawer and gaze at it.

“What am I going to do with this?” I wonder, looking at the hammer with my piercing light brown eyes. I shake my head, place the hammer back in the drawer then step back a little as my heart begins to beat at a rapid pace.

“What are you doing, Phenyo? You are a bishop’s daughter,” I scold at myself.

I turn and study each section of the kitchen with suspicion and fear in my eyes, as hot tears run down my face. Is there anybody here who could have heard what I have just said?

I swallow my spittle and wipe my tears with the back of my hand, head to the kitchen door and double check that I have locked it. I then race to my bedroom to find my cell phone. I slow my pace down as I approach my bedroom door, feeling like an intruder about to eavesdrop at the open door. I peek to see if the dead man is still there.

This is surreal indeed. I am praying that this might be a bad dream that I am about to wake up from, but to my devastation, I realise that it is not.

I stand in my bedroom and gaze at the dead man with tears welling up inside my eyes yet again. I see my cell phone on the bedside table and quickly head towards it and snatching it up.

My eyes wander around the room and it dawns on me that I have yet to check the sliding door. I head to the sliding door that leads to the balcony. I sigh in relief when I find it locked. I exit the bedroom whilst using my right hand to dial my mother’s number. I then enter into the guestroom, place the phone on my ear, and wait for the lines to connect.

“Good Morning Phenyo,” my mother greets humourlessly.

“Mama, I need your advice,” I say, sitting on the bed restlessly.

“I am listening...”

“Mama…would you break the law to protect yourself?”

I am panicking, not even aware that I am repeatedly tapping my foot, waiting anxiously for her answer.

My mother laughs at my ridiculous question. “You are a sweet child. Breaking the law is not in your vocabulary.”

“Mama…may you please answer my question?”

“Phenyo…I am married to the Bishop, your father…I can’t answer that in the eyes of the Lord.”

“Mama…have you ever heard of hypothesis?” I ask as I roll my eyes and shake my head in dismay.

She scoffs. “I know what that means and I’m afraid that I cannot answer you.”

“Well, I am afraid I have to end this call…goodbye, mother.” I reply with a scoff.

“Before you end the call young lady, tell me…”

“Tell you what?” I ask in an abrupt manner. I am angry with her. By now, my anxiety is killing me and I become more aware of how much damage I caused to my nails by biting and chewing on them. I half-heartedly listen to my mother.

“When are you going to look into your father’s offer?”

“Mama…may you please understand that I don’t want to follow in yours or my father’s footsteps, let alone those of my three big brothers…I don’t want to become a pastor nor sign my life away to anybody and anything.” Please stop involving me in things I do not want to partake in.

“Phenyo…do as I wish and everything in your life will fall into place…especially with what’s troubling you.”

I remain silent for a while, tuning into my mother’s tone of voice and suddenly, my subconscious mind repeatedly utters the words, “Mama knows.” I begin to sob then end the call immediately.

I deliberately retreat to the floor, defeated that I breakdown in tears as I hear my phone ring. I lift it up then gaze at the caller’s identity and my tears worsen when I see the name ‘Mama’ written on my cell phone screen.

“I don’t know who to trust,” I disclose audibly, rising from the floor, without picking up my phone. I then exit the room. Thirty seconds later, I return to the guest room and realise, only then, that the room has been roughly rearranged.

“I am not alone,” I say to myself as I reverse slowly out of the guestroom, shaken by the feeling that what had just happened in this house was orchestrated by someone who purely hates me.

I head back to my bedroom and roughly pull the bed sheets off the dead man. I stand and gaze at him for a long time while tears run down my face. I quickly wipe them away and take a series of deep breaths.

In attempt to cover the blood, I place the bed sheets on the area of the floor where the man’s blood is dripping. I then climb onto the bed and begin to push the dead man off on the floor with my hands, using my pillow to avoid contact with him.

“Gosh, he is heavy,” I mumble to myself as I slide off the bed from my end and head to his side, staring at him.

“Who are you?” I ask with a frown on my face.

I step on the bed sheets and snatch the man’s right wrist, pulling him with such force that he thuds to the floor like a lifeless doll. Whilst facing downwards, I allow my eyes to scan his whole back, enabling me to identify if he may be someone that I know.

“He is masculine too…could this be? No...,”I ask and answer myself loudly.

I take another deep breath, climb back onto my bed to remove all the remaining bed sheets and become extremely irritated as I realise that his blood has stained my mattress.

“Ting!” My phone beeps indicating that a message has come through. My eyes scan the room searching for it—I walk to the guest room...I slowly approach and snatch it up from the floor and read the message aloud...

*You took long to come to the door, so I figured you left for work and I’ve left for work too…Zenzi.*

I let out a huge sigh of relief, realizing that Zenzi would no longer be a distraction, until it dawns on me that it is a working day for me too.

“Gosh! I forgot that it’s Friday today,” I whisper to myself with a feeling of dread. “Think quickly Phenyo!” I shout at myself, as I scroll through my phone’s contact list and search for my work number, immediately pressing the dial button.

As the phone lines connect, I immediately receive a ringing tone and soon, the phone is answered by my Manager who responds in a clear but firm voice.

“Absa Head Office, Priscilla Booysens, Good morning…”

“Priscilla…It’s Phenyo…how are you?” I say, clearing my throat.

“Hi Phenyo…great and you?”

I take a long deep breath. “I am not feeling good...I feel nauseous and have been vomiting since this morning.”

“Oh no! That’s awful, Phenyo…will you be running late?”

“I am not sure…let me head to the doctor and I will call you immediately, once I am done.” I hurriedly reply, rushing to hang up the phone.

“Please call me immediately after…you have never been out of work…are you sure that’s all?” She asks, seeming very concerned.

“I sure hope so Priscilla…I sure hope so…let me go, so that I can call you immediately after.”

“Alright…talk to you soon, get well.”

“Thank you Priscilla, goodbye for now.” Lies will always be lies no matter how big or small they are.

I end the call immediately, walk towards my wardrobe and snatch up my black handbag, with the phone in my hand, then exit the room and head to the kitchen.

As I walk down the stairs, I notice a white VW Scirocco parked not too far from my kitchen door.

“Shit! That’s Basil’s car...no...no! What the hell?”

My eyes immediately shoot towards my indoor rubbish bin, I tiptoe towards it, slowly open it then pull out the bucket that carries trash and put it aside. I deposit my long arm into the empty bin and withdraw Basil’s gun. A 9mm Beretta 92FS handgun. This is our secret hiding place. Hide valuable things where people never look. Those are his dear words. I tiptoe back up the stairs and sit right on the beginning of the stairway, trying to catch sight of the man who is driving Basil’s car whilst I put my phone on silent. Just as I am about to switch off my phone, it begins to ring.

“Hey baby, are you alright?” I whisper calmly.

“I am supposed to ask you that…I am outside your front door and it’s locked…Priscilla says you’re not at work, is something wrong?”

“Basil…I feel awful and everything is going wrong today.”

“Like what baby…what’s going wrong?”He asks.

“Like right now…you are at my place and I am not there…I needed to see you too you know, but not in this condition.”

“I am sorry…it’s just that you sounded not in the right space of mind when I called you in the morning, and I hate being far when you need me, so I drove back from Bloemfontein, right away.”

“But I wanted to make dinner…you know…the way we both do for each other.” I clear my throat, realising that I have just lied to him.

“Don’t worry babe…tomorrow is yet another day.”

I smile. “Thank you for always understanding…you are heaven sent,” I say.

I hear the garage door opening, and then it dawns on me that I did not lock the small door that leads to the garage from the kitchen.

“Baby…let me speak to the nurse…I will speak to you in a few minutes.”

“Tell me where you are and I will come there right now,” he requests.

“I have to go, the nurse is staring at me…bye for now,” I whisper and quickly end the call.

I tiptoe towards my bedroom and close the bedroom door then lock myself in. I slowly open the wardrobe door, step inside it and remain silent.

I cover my face when I realise that I have forgotten about the corpse that is lying on my bedroom floor. I slowly open the wardrobe door, tiptoe towards my bed, which is facing far away from the door hole, and lie on it whilst watching the door and prepare myself for the worst.

I am shivering in fear, I do not know what to expect as I stare at the body of the dead Basil as tears begin to flow down the sides of my face. A few minutes later, I notice a shadow walk past my bedroom door and I realise that Basil is inside the house inspecting it. There is silence in the house, causing my fear to increase. My heart is pounding so loud in my ears, the sound is deafening. He immediately sends a text message that reads,

*I am inside the house, I wanted to sleep but your bedroom door is locked…were you rearranging the house because I see the second bedroom is messed up?*

I decide not to respond to the message, given that he asked to come into my bedroom and I could not answer. I keep quiet and automatically my eyes dart towards the doorknob as I see him standing by the door. I assume he is contemplating whether to fiddle with the doorknob or not and without further ado, he does just that. He continues to turn down the doorknob but without much success, he finally relents and let goes.

I tiptoe towards my wardrobe and lay flat on the floor. I manage to look obliquely towards the bottom of the door and check to see if he is still standing there. I smile when I realise that he seems to have given up.

“I cannot leave right now…he might still be here,” I whisper to myself as I continue to keep quiet and concentrate on Basil.

Ten minutes later, as I am lying on the floor, I notice an on and off beam coming from my cell phone, indicating a text message. I draw the phone closer so that I have a clearer vision of the screen. It is a message from Basil, reading…

*Hey babe…just leaving your place. You did not lock both the garage and front doors*

I draw a long, deep breath before I attempt to answer him but as I begin to type, my mind goes blank and I cannot think clearly.

“I don’t know what to say…what do I tell this man?” I whisper.

I rise from the floor, unaware that I am tiptoeing towards the bedside table to put the gun there then tiptoe to my bathroom and step into my bathtub. I open the window slightly, slowly, so as not to make a noise, and peek to check if the supposed Basil is still parked outside.

I heave a sigh of relief when I no longer see his car. “Perfect, he is gone…let me quickly go to the doctor,” I reason, as I grab my handbag, exit my bedroom and lock thereafter.

I tiptoe down the stairs, cautious that he may still be around, inside my home but to my relief, he is not. I, however notice that he has left with my car keys after spotting my car parked in the garage. I wonder why. So, without any further delay, I use the Uber cab service.

I waste no time requesting the Uber cab and it arrives five minutes later. I exit my home from the front door, quickly jump into the cab and take a seat at the back. The cab driver smiles at me.

“Who are you running from?” He says.

I stare at him, he is looking at me with an intriguing smile on his face and I cannot help but notice his friendliness. He is coloured, with curly, but flat sideburns and slightly faded stubble. He seems to be in his early thirties too. Ooh! His looks remind me of Luciano, a boy I fancied in high school. I stare at him and become speechless. Without realising it, I begin grooming myself and neatly tuck my dress on the sides of my thighs, trying to compose myself from the bloody ordeal that I just came from to reality. Without any hesitation, I smile at him but still utter no words.

He scoffs. “I am Dean…your driver,” he says shyly. “Are you alright?” he asks.

I smile and nod. “I am Phenyo…and I am headed to Mulbarton Private Hospital,” I say softly.

He smiles and nods at me, immediately faces the front, fires up the car and we begin our short journey to the hospital. We are both quiet but I cannot help but notice him staring at me. I refrain from speaking as I hear him say,

“Are you alright back there Miss Phenyo?”

I simper and nod at him but immediately look away as if to disguise the guilt in me. He has beautiful light brown eyes, just like Basil. Oh! That reminds me…a dead man’s corpse is waiting for me at home. I sit up straight when I see that we are approaching the Hospital ahead.

“Where would you like me to drop you off, Miss Phenyo, inside the hospital’s yard or by the gate?” he asks whilst staring at me in the rear-view mirror.

I clear my throat then say, “Actually…I would love for you to wait for me.”

He smiles at me then nods as we enter into the gate. He presses the button to request a ticket at the parking card machine, pull the card out then drives us in.

“I will park here and wait for you,” he notifies me as I step out of the car.

I stroll slowly towards the entrance, I turn to look back to make sure that no one is following me, only to notice that the driver’s eyes are boring into the back of me whilst I walk.

MIDDAY

MULBARTON HOSPITAL

I walk towards the reception area to check if the doctor is in there and indeed, the receptionist says,

“Yes, Doctor Kopiva is in her office, is she expecting you?”

I shake my head. “No, she isn’t but she is our family doctor.”

The receptionist nods. She understands me. “I guess you can go and see her.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile on my face, then hurry down the passage that leads to the Doctor’s rooms. As I walk down the passage, a male nurse greets me then passes by. I smile at him then enter into my doctor’s office.

“Good Morning,” I greet the receptionist with a smile then sit on the chair to wait for her to permit me into the doctor’s office.

“Good morning, Miss Phenyo…how are you?” The receptionist greets. She rises from her office chair, approaches me with my file in her right hand, and hands it to me.

“I am alright, just feeling a little bit under the weather today, I don’t know why,” I answer her sincerely, without pretence.

I remain in my seat, completely avoiding eye contact with her, paranoid that she might recognise the liar in me. I remain silent whilst waiting for the doctor to exit her office, as she takes her time to attend to my needs.

Ten minutes later, Doctor Kopiva exits her office and smiles at me. She is born of half Indian and half-Zulu culture and is a beautiful woman in her early forties. She gazes at me and asks,

“Phenyo…what’s wrong?”

I become speechless and gaze at her, not sure if she can read the lies I am about to bestow upon her.

“Come…let’s speak in private, I am sure it’s nothing serious,” the doctor says as she leads the way to her office.

I close the door of her office, remove my jacket and hang it over the chair placed there for patients to sit on.

“Let’s do the usual my dear…to the exam room we go,” the doctor instructs me, as she places her hands on my shoulders and drives me to her exam room.

I take a deep breath as we enter the exam room. Doctor Kopiva instructs me to take off my dress and I do as I am told. She immediately takes charge and begins her standard routine checks on me and I simper towards her playing out my role as that of a sick patient.

“May you please lie on your back,” the doctor requests.

I stare at her and realise that she has her left eyebrow arched alarming concern. My mind is conjuring up accusative thoughts, as I am aware that doctors like to drain medical aids with their false examinations.

She is busy moving her stethoscope around the side of my heart, all the way to down my left rib.

I hear her say, “I would like to run a set of blood tests. As soon as your results are in, I will notify you so as to arrange a further consultation. My advice until then is to refrain from eating any meat.”

“I will do just that doctor and thank you, I say, profusely nodding at her.”

I step off the bed and get dressed before heading to her desk. I take a seat—watching her whilst she scribbles a note consisting of a long paragraph, then sign it off and hands it to me.

“Please send this to your work. I have booked you off until the tenth because I need to see you next week Tuesday.” Doctor Kopiva says.

“Is there something wrong with me?” I ask the doctor with widened eyes.

The doctor takes a deep breath. “Look, Phenyo…I don’t want to conclude anything, that’s why I say that I need to see you on Tuesday morning, at about eleven o’clock.”

I nod at her with a simper of my face, as I rise from the chair and take a deep breath.

My face has worry written all over it and my body is filled with fear that I become so anxious, I can no longer wait to exit this hospital.

“I will come and see you next week Tuesday then,” I say fondly.

I head towards the door, then simper at my doctor.

“Phenyo, try and get some rest,” the doctor urges me.

I nod at her, exit the office, and walk down the passage, ignoring everything that Doctor Kopiva has just said. I enter into the Clicks store situated inside the hospital and buy two lunchbar chocolate bars and two Bonaqua strawberry flavoured waters, then exit the hospital.

I head towards the parking lot and scan around it looking for the Uber driver,

“I am parked here, Miss Phenyo,” the driver shouts out to me.

I turn to my right hand side and smile at him.

“I thought you had left,” I say to the driver, opening the front passenger door and hopping next to him.

“I wouldn’t leave you stranded, Miss…you asked me to stay,” he replies with a soft hoarse voice and a smile on his face.

I close my eyes, we kiss passionately, and I open my eyes to find him puzzled, with a frown on his face.

“Are you alright, Miss Phenyo?” He asks.

To my embarrassment, I realise that I must have imagined a kiss that never happened and I become tongue-tied. My mind must be diverting me to a lighter place as to disrupt me from my chaotic reality. I focus my eyes on the chocolate bars and the flavoured water instead.

“I bought you these,” I mutter, handing him the goodies I bought, trying to break the awkward silence between us.

“Oh thank you, that’s a first. I must be the lucky one,” he says, very pleased. “I thank you for the goodies. No one in my life has ever been this thoughtful. This really took me by surprise!” he says.

I slowly pluck up the courage to look at him and I find him watching me. I assume he is not impressed with the goodies.

I flash a grin on my face, at least he appreciates the gesture.

“Um...Actually, I am ready to go,” I say with anxiety to get home.

“Exactly what you pay me for, Miss Phenyo,” he says, facing his front, starting up the engine and heading to the exit at the gate.

The silence in the car cuts too deep as he turns up the volume of the music a tad. We listen to the clear lyrics of the song blaring out from the radio and the words say,

“It’s so strange how a stranger can love you, yet the love that loves you is nowhere to be found.”

We stop at the traffic light and his steady gaze baffles me. I look into his eyes then my paranoia hits me, does he know anything? I disrupt my thoughts by taking a brief nap.

“We are here, Miss Phenyo,” he notifies me whilst lowering all the windows of his car and switching off the music.

He smiles at me and I return a slight smirk.

“Thank you so much, Dean for everything…how much do I owe you?”

There is something he wants to say but hesitates. Perhaps he is too shy or he is insecure and second guessing himself.

“The fare is three-hundred and fifty rand, Miss Phenyo,” he confirms, holding up his mobile phone to show me the calculation.

I notice him watching me and once again, I become tongue-tied. My heart soars with emotion and I find myself wanting to share so much with this man but the words refuse to escape my mouth. I battle to swallow but manage to draw out my purse from my handbag. I open it, withdraw four one hundred bank notes and hand them to him assuring him that he could keep the change for himself. This man is a perfect stranger yet he makes me feel so uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Miss Phenyo. I am so appreciative,” he responds politely, gazing at me with gratitude on his face.

I swallow hard, then exit the car to search for the remote inside my handbag. My focus is now on getting home and disposing of the corpse. I step in front of my gate, press the remote and enter into the premises. No sooner do I begin padding towards my home, I hear a man’s voice call out my name...

“Phenyo!” he exclaims.

I turn around and watch as Dean steps out of the Uber cab, heads to the gate and gazes at me. I head back towards the gate in frustration, wondering what could be the problem.

“Perhaps I left something in the car?” I mutter to myself.

I step out of the gate and stare at him in question, waiting for him to speak, but instead he approaches me. My heartbeat accelerates, and I suddenly feel my body becoming cold all over. He has a smile on his face. Nervously, I tuck my hair behind my ear and realise in dismay that I still have my headscarf on. I reprimand myself for not taking the time to remove it.

“What’s that?” He asks, hearing me mumble to myself as he opens up his arms to embrace me. I walk into the embrace, closing my eyes and resting my head on his chest for a minute whilst taking in the smell of his Bvlgari Aqua perfume. I feel his arms tighten in his grip and I hear him say,

“Thank you for today. I felt you needed to be held and I could not allow myself to leave without knowing that you are ok. You are very lovely and kind.” His expression is sincere.

I open my eyes and gaze at him. It takes a moment for me to find my voice all the while hoping that he detect my vulnerability but rather my gratitude.

“You are welcome, Dean,” I reply then clear my throat. “I cannot thank you enough,” I add.

“Phenyo…I cannot walk away without telling you how I feel. This is hard for me and I don’t usually do this but I am drawn to you and I don’t want to live with regret never knowing what might have been,” he confesses.

His light brown eyes are full of questions as he stares straight into mine. I become shy and quickly look away, then slowly look back at him. Which makes me wonder why a man with model features such as his, drive cabs? I swallow my spittle then smile back at him.

“May I please have your number? He asks.

I blush as he hands me his personal cell phone, encouraging me to key-in my number, and I notice a slight tremor in my hands as I focus on creating my contact. It seems like hours later before I hand him his phone back.

“I will speak to you soon, Miss Phenyo. Great relationships are the ones we never see coming,” he says walking back to the car to position himself against it and watches me walk into the yard.

“Goodbye Dean, chat later,” I say, moving flexibly towards the gate and entering as it opens wide.

I turn to give him one last glance, as he waves at me and drives off. I wonder why I gave a complete stranger my number. It is because you deserve such compassion with the situation you are in. My subconscious answers.

“Back to reality,” I say in great disappointment, as I open my garage and check if Basil’s car is still there. To my relief, it is not. I lower the garage door and lock it, preventing access to any car that comes by, especially Basil’s car.

“It will give me enough time to finish what I need to do,” I blurt out, as I insert the key into the garage-kitchen door and lock it again.

I place my handbag on the marble stone kitchen table, withdraw my bedroom keys, then anxiously head upstairs to my bedroom. I dread doing this. I open the door and stare at the lifeless body with tears welling up in my eyes.

“I need to dispose of the corpse before anyone comes by,” I mutter to myself.

As I muster up the strength to start moving the body, my tears begin to flow and I am unable to control my emotions.

“I need to be strong,” I reprimand myself. “I cannot afford to cry as I will never be able to see this through.”

I withdraw one pair of latex gloves, which are still tucked in my bosoms from earlier, waste no time fitting them on. I draw in a long deep breath, then carefully begin to roll the heavy dead man with my bed sheets. I am emotional and wish to collapse onto the floor and cry but crying will not solve anything. I have to focus and pull this man down the stairs. My gut is begging me to slow down as I hear voices in my head saying,

“Stop and examine him!”

My mind, however is logical, saying,

“Buckle up Phenyo, you don’t have much time before anyone sees this corpse.”

“I have no choice, I have to pull you out of here,” I tell the dead man.

Gathering up my strength for the second time, I cringe as I grasp his lukewarm hands in mine, and begin to pull him out of my bedroom with such struggle, until I reach the entry towards the stairs.

“Gosh! This man is impossible to move,” I complain but I have adrenaline pumping through my veins and continue to fight. I am determined to keep going until I place this body inside the boot of my car. I work slowly, trying to figure out how I am going to accomplish this.

Walking forth, I begin to pull him down the stairs. The thumping noise his feet are making as they hit every stair, will etch itself in my mind forever, as I take on the pain of hurting another human being to sob as I continue to do the unexplainable.

We finally arrive at the end of the staircase in my open-plan kitchen and living room and as my mind begins to wonder, I sit at the end of the stairs and begin to sob painfully.

I express my thoughts aloud, as I stare at the lifeless being who might just be Basil.

“I am never going to forgive myself for pulling you off the stairs like this baby,” I say through heartfelt sobs.

My cell phone vibrates inside my handbag and I head towards the kitchen table where I had left it earlier. I draw the phone out of my handbag, and answer it.

“Hello…,” I greet.

“It’s Dean,” he says with his sweet voice.

“Hey… how are you?” I reply trying to muster up a smile.

“I am good thank you…are you alright?”

“I am not good, Dean but I will be in time.”

“Would you like to share what’s bothering you?” He asks with concern in his voice.

“It’s a family dilemma but I am sure it will work itself out.”

He scoffs and says, “That bad, huh?”

I giggle pretentiously. “It will be ok. May we chat later, once I am done?”

“Of course we can. I look forward to hearing from you, Goodbye Phenyo.”

I end the call and cover my face with both hands in exasperation. I remain standing in that position for a few minutes, feeling terrified and overwhelmed. The hair on my neck rises as I turn towards the staircase and notice a long trail of dried up blood. I feel as if I have been summoned to complete this task. I force myself to drag the dead man towards the garage door but I find my strength waning. I shift my focus on the anger welling up inside of me, as I watch the trail of blood tag along while I drag the dead man out of my kitchen-to-garage door. My heart hardens and I refuse to become weak and emotional.

I place him next to my white VW Scirocco, which now saddens me as it reminds me of Basil. We have similar cars and similar tastes in things. I head back into my house, dash upstairs to look for my extra set of car keys hidden between my shoes inside my wardrobe. I find them, then head back to the kitchen, grab my handbag off the table then rush to my car. My body freezes as I realise what I have to do now. I barely have strength to place this body in the boot of my car, as I eye him out, measuring the size of him with my naked eye.

I kneel on the floor and try to pick him up with both my hands under his armpits but I feel defeated as I struggle to lift him. He is excessively heavy. I remain seated on the floor and recollect my strength. This is no time to admit defeat. I have to dispose of his body.

I pull myself up from the floor, position myself behind his body and take a deep breath as I gather him by the waist, managing to lift him up from the floor. His head bangs against the boot as I hold him up from behind. I throw him inside the boot, face down and feel as if I am shoving dirty laundry inside my washing machine as I pull the balance of his lower body up and tuck him in.

Finally, I feel a sense of relief that I have managed to store him inside the boot of my car. I take a last long glare at him, as if paying farewell to the love of my life. I shut my boot and lock it. I feel exhausted but exhilarated at the same time. With only my house to clean, I feel recharged and push myself to see this through.

“No time like the present,” I mutter to myself.

I collect the sheets from the floor and use them to wipe off the dried up drops of bloods on my car, then head back into the house and shove them into my washing machine. I add powdered soap and set the machine to begin removing all evidence. I have no time to waste. I feel numb inside as I pick up the gray bucket in the cleaning cupboard, fill it cold water and add some cleaning detergents. I become anxious and claustrophobic as I desperately scrub my floors, willing the trail of blood to disappear.

As I wipe the sweat off my forehead using the frill of my short dress, a thought enters my head,

“If my parents think that they can get me to Church by pulling a stunt such as this, they are in for a major blow,” I rant to myself.

I continue scrubbing like a woman who has just lost her mind. I do not stop until I reach the end of the stairway, determined to remove every bloodstain visible to the naked eye. I eventually reach my bedroom’s door way and marvel at my white and gray matte wall. The colour white has suddenly become symbolic somehow. It takes me back to a place when things were peaceful and pure. But nothing is peaceful about this room any longer as I suddenly have a flashback memory of how the dead man lay helpless on my bed. My eyes wander towards the floor and I still see him helpless, his mouth open allowing one to believe that he was in pain when he died. Do you even know what a dead person looks like, Phenyo? I hear my subconscious ask me. My face is damp as I feel hot tears streaming down my cheeks and falling onto the floor as I battle to control them.

“Who am I kidding? Here I am, pretending to be very tough when in fact...,” I bleat, shaking my head in dismay. “Get a hold of yourself, Phenyo,” I scold myself, entering the bedroom, emotionless.

I proceed to rebeautify my room into what it once was. Satisfied with my effort, I exit the bedroom and disappear into the bathroom to take a long shower, whilst my body wracks in hysterical sobs at what had happened hours ago. I exit the bathroom naked, wearing nothing but my plum bath sheet. I head to my wardrobe and remove my black c-cup wonder bra—fitting it on to enhance my bosoms. I decide on wearing my dark blue torn up jeans and fit them on immediately not bothering with any underwear. I search for my short sleeved, pink stretchy-shoulder length cotton top that has frills on the sleeves and throw it on. I walk over to my shoe wrack, pick out my white Converse sneakers, which I have worn before, and slip them on, unperturbed by the condition they are in.

It then dawns on me that, the man who claims to be Basil might return to my house any second, and I still have not left the house. Oddly enough, the dead body of Basil completely slipped my mind. I rush to the kitchen and head for the washing machine—perfect, it is finished.

There is a frown on my face as I open the machine and peek inside—half expecting to see blood, but to my amazement, there is no hint of blood on any of the sheets.

I take a long deep breath, snatch my handbag, phone and car keys, and exit the house. I jump into my car, place my handbag on the front passenger seat next to me then insert the car key inside the ignition and fire up the car. As I check the rear-view mirror, I become irritated with myself.

“Shit! I didn’t open the garage,” I bleat—using my left hand to find my gate’s remote and immediately open it.

I slowly reverse my car out of the garage, then immediately press the remote to close up. As I proceed to move forward, I step on the accelerator as though someone is chasing me even though I have no idea of where I am heading to.

EVENING

ON THE ROAD.

I follow the road leading to the Highway and as I get onto the highway, I move in the direction of the East Rand, not having a clue as to where I am going. My mind is active, as I contemplate a plan in my head. I decide to dump the body in a river but have no idea of which river yet.

I check my cell phone and realise that it is on silent and that it has over one hundred text messages from the supposed Basil. I continue to drive without bothering to read these messages, unfazed by their contents. They are the least of my worries right now. A board ahead with the word “Slagplaas” written on, in big white bold letters, catches my eye as I head straight on towards Nigel road. The word means abattoir or slaughterhouse in English—I immediately take a left turn on the gravel road that leads to it. My body is riddled with fear and I am trembling as I feel myself slowly crumbling to pieces. I continue to drive at a slow pace in the direction of the slaughterhouse, determined to have the corpse slaughtered. I am a hot mess.

“I am beyond terrified,” I admit, stopping at the supposed slaughterhouse, whilst wearing the mask of bravery on my face.

The weather has become so chilly, as the cold encompasses my body, reminding me of what I am about to do. I stop the car and remain still in my seat, sceptical to step out. I inhale long, deep breaths of air, then open the door and exit the car with the last ounce of bravery I have.

I remain rooted to the floor, right outside my car door and I examine the place, as chills run down my spine. This place looks eerie and I feel as if I am about to enter into a morgue.

“Are you really going to do what I think you are going to do?” My subconscious asks me.

I examine the old, dirty building from where I am standing—it looks very ancient and I conclude that it must have been here since the 1800’s. I feel isolated and frightened as the silence overwhelms me, and I realise that I am the only person here. There is no vehicle in the yard apart from a big white Ford van, with no canopy on.

I approach the rusted gate, touch it then wipe the dust off my hands. Fear fills my body, as I debate with myself as to whether I should enter the gate or not. I decide against it, so I stand there, hoping that someone will notice me.

Seven long minutes pass by and still there is no sign of life. I remain rooted to the spot. I do not have the courage to take the next step.

“This place is too creepy for me to risk my life, especially since I have no idea what I am about to find there,” I murmur under my breath.

“May I help you miss?” enquires a man in a very daunting voice. I jump at the sound of his voice not realizing that someone has been watching me the whole time. The voice sends shivers down my spine. I have goose bumps.

I slowly turn around and face the stranger calling out to me. My eyes widen with fear and tongue becomes twisted. I open my mouth to speak but I am dumbstruck.

“I said...may-I-help-you,” he repeats, poking his nose with his left index finger, and gazing at me with tiny eyes, concealed behind a dusty set of spectacles. He has a wicked smile on his face.

The man standing before me is tall and of Afrikaans decent. He is bald and fair in complexion, giving one the idea that he may have once had blonde hair. He has a muffin belly and is dressed in dark khaki shorts, a short-sleeved shirt and khaki industrial Hi-Tec sneakers. His brown socks finish off his uniform and stretched right up to his knees.

“Hello there, I am looking for the slaughterhouse,” I say fondly whilst smiling at him, disguising my nerves.

His glare is unnerving whilst he studies me and continues to poke his nose. I do not take my eyes off him and he somehow seems nervous to me or is it that he detects my nervousness?

“This is the slaughterhouse...who are you looking for?” He asks.

“I am not looking for anyone specific, Sir. I just require some service,” I answer proudly.

“Certainly Ma’am, how may I be of assistance?” he enquires with a sincere smile on his face. He is perplexed as he looks around but sees nothing.

“Are you alright?” I ask, following his gaze.

“I am Ma’am. I am just a little confused...what are you slaughtering? Is there someone else coming with the cows?” He asks, scratching the right side of his head.

Cows? Reality sets in. How am I going to tell this man that the “cow” to slaughter is in fact a lifeless corpse of my boyfriend tucked away inside my boot?

“Lady...I am closing the slagplaas in five minutes...can I help you?” He asks, very irate at this point.

I begin to hesitate, and against my wishes, I hear myself say,

“Sir, we are holding a traditional wedding for a family member next week. May you please quote me for three cows?” I somehow do not trust this man with what I need to do.

He instantly relaxes, answering with a smile on his face. “Please bring the cows, and I will gladly assist you. We will slaughter and cut them nicely for you. Our prices are reasonable and we charge one thousand rand per cow,” he says proudly.

“Thank you Sir, I will come back between Tuesday and Wednesday to complete things with you,” I assure him. He seems quite satisfied with my answer.

“I will see you next week then...goodbye and drive safe,” he says, opening the gate and entering inside. He turns to give me one last look and I hold my breath and pray that he is not suspecting anything. To my relief, he turns and walks away. I grin, then retreat into my car and leave right away, heaving a sigh of gratitude.

“That was close!” I whisper to myself.

I have so much going through my mind, as I drive off.

DRIVING BACK HOME

I step on the accelerator, unaware of the speedometer, as I rage in anger. How did I end up in this mess? My life was so perfect yesterday. How did Basil end up dead in my bed? As I mull over these thoughts in my head, I do not notice the traffic officers on the side of the highway. It is only when I look into my rear-view mirror, that I see the officers chasing me in a police vehicle. I hear sirens going off, forcing me to want to pullover to the side of the road.

“Damn! These cops,” I exclaim—without realizing that I am swerving towards the left.