Irrevocable Desire

My hometown, Goldfields, also known as Welkom, was the only truly spectacular town in the province of Free State and the surrounding territories. Due to its wealth, it was known as the Land of Abundant Treasures. The billionaires and multimillionaires who resided in the Goldfields suburbs took pleasure in watching the less fortunate weed their yards and snow-wash their vehicles. In the Goldfields, even the weather resembled a tyrannical Goliath. It sang the climate song of Antarctica, compelling trees and plants to dance against their will or risk breaking. The destitute breadwinners were forced to lick the dust off their employers’ shoes. Life was merciless. Those who were incapable of adapting were forced to drink their lives like a vagrant consuming free soup.

This was my twenty-third winter season since my birth, but the windiest, comparable to a Greenland winter. Perhaps it was the impact of climate change. Even though I was born in the coldest month, I preferred summer to all others.

The weather had been afflicting every living creature with cold for the previous three weeks. Women who had spouses had no choice but to remain attached to their males under those duvets. Furious unplanned babies were a welcome addition to their growing budgets. Even those who stocked up on morning-after pills were not guaranteed not to become pregnant.

For honey thieves, lying in the name of love was the best justification for stealing honey prior to the owner’s honeymoon. For the majority of couples, there was neither romance nor love, only consumed with lust.

I used to be able to handle my life rather well without thinking about having a boyfriend; even my bouts of loneliness did not require my constant attention. However, things were different this time. I had the impression that something was missing from my life. Despite the fact that I had no idea why I felt this way, perhaps it was because I was maturing better than my previous years.

Obviously, I turned twenty-three on this day, and I realized it was time for me to design my own breakthrough; to be independent and to find a man who would tear out my hymen. After all my curiosity about sex, it was time for me to learn the truth. I’ve always wondered what it was like to become pregnant after being laid. Observing couples in movies make love piqued my interest in the excitement I was missing. Even pregnant women rarely complained, but they were ecstatic when they felt their babies move within their wombs for the first time. I had never rushed into anything, but now I knew it was time.

I was alone in my bedroom, peering out the window, hoping that my adoptive parents would surprise me with a key pendant for my birthday and declare my independence. To be honest, I wasn’t expecting a birthday party, since I never even had a birthday cake on any of my birthdays. Only mom, dad, and my sister, Chloe had birthdays, which served as a reminder that I wasn’t the actual blood of the Harmony family.

I still remember Chloe’s twenty-third birthday, when mom and dad threw her the biggest party and gave her a giant golden key. She was told that she was no longer a child, but rather an adult. Consequently, I remained devoted to my parents in the hope of receiving the key one day. I never stressed them out with boys, despite the fact that my beauty, self-assurance, talent, and intelligence were the true intriguing magnets, but I had my ways of keeping boys away. I had never been kissed, nor had I ever promised to love any man before. I was as pristine as gold in the midst of thousands of wild miners searching me high and low.

I stared at the door, expecting someone to knock or walk in – they may have forgotten yet again. Despite the fact that I had reminded them earlier in the week that I was about to turn twenty three, it was obvious that they had no intention of giving me the key. Even after all these years, they have never regarded me as one of their own. I’ve always been curious about my true identity beyond the last name I was given. Where did they find me, and why did they choose to raise me if I was unworthy of their affection as a child? Was I their adversary’s offspring?

My sister, Chloe, was my favourite person in the entire world. She wanted me to follow in her footsteps as an aerobatic pilot, but I wanted to be a neurosurgeon instead. It seemed possible to me, but our mother, Vega, would not let me pursue my dream. In her view, she did not raise me to be in control of my own fate, so I had to dance only when she played her guitar. Although I received A-plus grades in mathematics, physical science, accounting, agriculture, biology, English, and Afrikaans, my mother forced me to turn down all four bursaries that were offered to me.

“Because your sister is no longer residing with us, you will be unable to attend university,” my mother told me.

“However, I don’t comprehend, mother,” At times, I wished to oppose her, but it was difficult to do so because I already knew they were not my parents, yet they raised me.

“You can study hand embroidery, stand-up comedy, the psychology of fashion, or you can stay at home and help me with household chores,” my mother explained, “and we have a number of small colleges that offer low-cost courses that I can afford to waste my money on.”

This was the price I paid to please my adoptive parents. The A+ Matriculant was therefore expected to study stand-up comedy. To my reward, the only better ‘stupid’ course offered at my college was Viticulture and Oenology, which I ended up studying. Was I the wisest fool when I complied with my mother’s requests? Was there any other option I could have taken?

Perhaps I was premature and had no choice at the time, but now things needed to change immediately. I had to free myself from the constraints that were preventing me from attaining the success I desired. The age of twenty-three allowed me to cease acting like a girl and begin to act like a woman. I had to believe in myself and refuse to be driven by others. As a woman, I had the right to establish my independence and pursue my own path in life.

Having reached rock bottom in my submissive and awe-inspiring respect for my parents, I had no choice but to leave them. My life had finally reached a turning point where I resolved to take charge of my own fate.

On the day of my birthday, I quickly realized that I was a formidable contender for whatsoever my heart desired. Yes, my mother compelled me to jeopardize my career by enrolling in a useless college that I doubt was recognized by the government. Despite the odds, I knew that I still had the ability to paint my own fate, not only because I was a better woman, but also because I was more intelligent, matured, and confident.

For the first time in my life, I considered dropping out of college. I had no desire to waste any more of my time, let alone study a course that even my sister had never heard of. I’d also heard that there were a lot of shady schools out there, with the majority of them selling bogus credentials.

As I stood by the window, my thoughts turned to the chaos of my life that I always recorded in my diary. One part of my intellect prompted me to consider writing a novel, as my life had already been divided into a plethora of untold chapters. Even though I had no laptop or desktop computer, I knew I could type my work at a public library and save it to a USB flash drive. Instead of attending college, I began to believe it would be advantageous to spend the majority of my spare time attempting to write a novel in the library. For a brief moment, I imagined myself signing autographs for thousands of readers of my first best-selling books.

My second option was to ask a man I met at Discovery Bank four weeks prior to my birthday if he would be willing to serve as my mentor and help me improve my writing skills. For a split second, I questioned the nature of our unidentified friendship; however, as my tutor, even to those who were always preoccupied with the affairs of others, our companionship could make perfect sense. Since Melchizedek was already a skilled author, I knew he would assist me with character and plot development.

Maturity compelled me to begin a new life on my own terms, without relying on the generosity of others. It was merely a matter of having the courage to acknowledge my independence as the key to the happiness I sought.

I respected my parents for twenty-three years and made every effort to prevent them from complaining about me. I had been taking care of all the housework prior to their request. Even when they were yelling at me for no reason, I never once showed disrespect. I had survived childhood, puberty, and adolescence without losing my good nature. I did everything I could to win my parents’ affection, but perhaps I was unworthy of their affection. And that always led me to question my identity.

The realization that I was about to enter the vast, complex world of adulthood was a difficult experience that demanded my uncommon sagacity. I was unaware of what to anticipate or avoid. No one was going to be present to inform me if I was losing my way. Many had donned slacks and returned to the world as if nothing had occurred. Others endured greater suffering and committed errors for decades.

I’ve witnessed struggling mothers raising children whose scumbag fathers refused to provide for them. As life continued to crush happiness like a truck tire on gravel, the majority of women grew accustomed to filth and ugliness. Some were forced to adapt to harsh conditions despite having the ability to flee, while others adapted in the hope that cruelty would soon cease.