Kunye (1)
“How are you doing, mamas?”
How was I doing?
I had recently been dumped on the eve of a very important exam, accidentally ordered my vanilla frappe with cow’s milk instead of almond milk, and one of my roommates chose to not pay rent this month so the landlord has been launching missiles of insults at me for the past week since I’m the only accessible out of us all.
I don’t think I’m doing the how.
“I’m definitely going through it, hold on for a sec –” I thrust myself into the noise of the bustling streets when I step outside into the balcony and quickly lock the sliding door shut. “Sorry for that, didn’t want Dumb and Dumber to find me talking to you while I’m here. Your girl is definitely not okay, I’ll tell you that.”
I distract myself with the view of Johannesburg metropolitan city that had looming grey buildings and congested roads, typical characteristics of the “city of gold” (as some deemed it many years ago).
It was given that name by the older people, seeing that large deposits of gold were found in the year 1886 along Witwatersrand. Miners, mostly black miners, would move to Johannesburg to find means of making money to provide for their families.
Perhaps it may have been gold then but in this current moment, it was something else. Instead of gold, it was a city of crime, human trafficking, and scams – with a capital SCAMS.
Even though Braamfontein is just a little out of the Central Business District of Johannesburg, we (as students) still find ourselves as victims of the heavy crime.
I wish I can talk about how I was made to pay for a free sim card but I am currently on my way to sobbing myself to dehydration.
The sky was a pale blue today, leaving itself vulnerable to allow the sun to leak through whenever it pleased, scorching the inhabitants of the city.
My mind swats all that distraction to the side, betraying me in the worst way possible, and I find myself reminiscing about my ex.
“I don’t know anything but him, Thando,” oh boy, here comes the flood of tears. “everything was going okay, we were okay, and then all of a Sunday, he has a fiancée right before we have to celebrate our one-year anniversary? What?”
My best friend coos to soothe my hysteric sobbing but it doesn’t help. Within moments, I had gained the attraction of everyone walking past the Broadway apartment building and since I was on the fourth floor, anyone could see me and make some sort of familiarity if they wished to.
Is it bad that I don’t really care much for that right now?
“Shh, you were here before him and you will still be here after you deal with this. You were doing just fine before you met him.”
“Now that I know a life with him, I don’t think I want a life without him.”
I was embarrassed at my own tone of words, embarrassed that the daughter of Reverend Mpiyakhe Timothy Zulu and his wife, Rorisang Sharon Zulu, wanted nothing more than to be in the arms of a man.
A mere man.
An XY-chromosome that is twenty-eight years old and made it into the Forbes Forty under 40 list after starting his own law practice under the government.
That very same law practice has taken high profile cases, such as the paraplegic athlete who slain his girlfriend on Valentine’s day to a popular on-screen personality that was found to be living with his wife’s corpse that was rolled up in a bedsheet for days.
All parties mentioned were sent to jail by his prosecutors.
Thando sighs out softly before speaking again, “It’s the heartbreak talking. Should I come over tomorrow after work?”
Have her come over and risk disappointing her with my antics? I don’t think so. Not now. There’s just too much to cry for. I doubt she’ll be able to take any of it. Hell, I wouldn’t take any of it.
“I could bring some snacks, just something to make you feel better?” there was hope dancing on the tip of her supplement and for a second, I felt stupid for wanting back a man who wasn’t faithful to me.
Then I thought about our weekly reading dates.
Us staying in to cook a meal and talk about our long days.
The pillow forts I’d coerce him into making with me.
How his fingers would always touch the coils my head produced, noting each and every springy twist and how it was bouncier than the one before.
I thought back to his cock. Large. Thick. Powerful. Like a bull, it was the meanest part of him. The part of him that I relished more than his occasional softness.
No way, I’m actually crying again. What is it with these tears!
“Mel? You’re sniffing and you’re not saying anything.”
I bring my hand to wipe at my damp cheeks with a humorless chuckle, “Ignore my tears, you don’t have to come here. I’ll be good. I’m always good. This – this is only temporary.”
“I just want to make sure you’re good.”
God, your persistence over my well-being is actually making me cry way more, Thando Gumede. You’re too good for me, too good.
“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m going around in circles and not really addressing how I feel. I feel like a stupid simp. I want nothing more than to Uber to his place right now and ask him to ask his fiancée if we can date –”
My friend interjects with a tone that reeked of something I was fearful of – disgust. “Cut cut cut…I’m just going to leave my offer on the table and you’ll tell me when you want me there, okay? I’ll make the time. This is your first major heartbreak so this is all natural.”
“All natural?” I echo with a sniff.
“All natural,” she confirms and it was like a ray of light emanating from her body had started to stretch out through my phone screen. “now, you’re going to be just fine, mamas. Get something to eat and –”
We both freeze when the sound of glass shattering reaches the balcony. In a haste, I turn around and find my female roommate staggering across the kitchen while leaving crimson in her steps. She hadn’t even looked up to notice that I have been in the apartment since she arrived.
A small groan leaves my lips.
“Mamas, Dumber just arrived and she definitely broke something. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Alrighty. I love you.”
I take a brief moment to scan those three words, replay the tone of her voice, and then repeat them silently to myself. She said it with as much authenticity as he did, there was no sign of trepidation in their tones indicating uncertainty. They literally said the same thing, the same way – why did he lie to me?
“Take care, mamas.”
That’s all I could say before ending the call.
My mind is in a clamor and the last thing I want is to confuse myself even further by overanalyzing my own friend’s actions and words. My life is already chaotic as it is.
Now, time to deal with chaos personified.
Dumber is the way I affectionately refer to Nolitha “2 Litha bottle” Khumalo, who happens to be one of my two roommates.
Her body makes many jealous and having her eat whatever she wanted whenever she wanted just increased the envy. Full hips, a tiny waist, and ample breasts have eyes flocking towards her direction whenever she walks out (I've witnessed it and I just get even more jealous).
She is riding solo today, alcohol clearly shaking up her steps, and she didn’t even look up when I closed the door behind me until I made my way to her.
“Melly!” She squeals with a little gurgle – alcohol seeping from the small confinement of her mouth – and she gazes down at her leaking foot with a pouted lip. “It was literally like, by the door. I swear.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her enough to put her hand into mine as I lead her to the bathroom. “I’ll go get your shoes after I’m done here.”
She didn’t even flinch when I brought the alcohol-drenched cotton pad to her heel, patting away at the drying crimson. Instead, she sat on the toilet seat like an obedient child and flexed her toes occasionally.
Can you believe that she’s five years old than me but I need to care for her like she’s a child?
“Where’s Sizwe?” I ask, using the basic first-aid knowledge my university taught me to haul the shard of glass out. It slides out just in time for me to apply pressure to the gash and potentially clot her blood to the point where she won’t bleed out.
“Don’t know.” She murmurs while rubbing her temple and I sigh.
She’s smart.
Both my roommates are dumb but Sizwe is a lot less dumb than Nolitha, who I thought would be perfect to question seeing that she’s slightly intoxicated. However, her loyalty remains (even when she’s drunk) so she didn’t rat out her scamming best friend.
Analyzing her patched-up foot, she pulls me into her arms and nuzzles her face into my belly, “thank you so much, doll.”
I mumble a small “no problem” before tending to the mess she made. For some odd reason, she felt the need to leave her shoes outside the apartment and they were slathered with vomit. It made a lot of sense. It’s currently ten o’clock in the morning so she must be hungover.
However, I am no stranger to this.
I have cleaned up vomit from when they came back from a hotel room and Sizwe didn’t even bother to remove the used condom from the back of his bootleg Michael Kors coat.
Money must be tight because only Nolitha was blessed with alcohol and probably a healthy bank deposit for the company she offers these men.
Sizwe, on the other hand, disappears when he hasn't been given that much money like his best friend. I just wish he disappeared with his rent paid.
Finally, once finished with cleaning up the living room, I head to the toilet to discard the bloodied toilet paper and wrappings.
My reflection frowns at me.
Her eyes are hollow, the skin around her chubby cheeks is dull, and her nose must’ve spread a little due to her endless crying.
My endless crying did this to us. Nothing else. There’s nothing else to blame.
This is all due to me.
My eyes flicker to the open cabinet and I see a bright pink paper peeking through. Hm. My fingers note the almost foreign packaging when I pull it out of the cabinet.
I see it. It’s here. In my hands. Unopened. Full. Heavy. Well, a lot less heavy than when it has been put to use. But it's here and ready to tend to its sanitary purpose.
I haven’t gone out to go buy a packet in two months.
Oh --
Oh.
Oh no.
My period is late.
