a brief moment Nomkhosi’s eyes met Tumi’s. Tumi could swear she saw fear in them. She couldn’t help feeling compassion for Nomkhosi.
“This is awkward.” Nomkhosi brought her hands together, lacing them tightly into a knot. “Sisi, the baby I’m carrying is Tshepo’s. Our relationship was a huge mistake. He told me you were separated. He said you left him. He said many things that I later found out weren’t true.” She spoke fast, gasping for air here and there. “I believed you were divorcing him. Now I know I was stupid to take his word.”
Nomkhosi swallowed hard, continued, “What I’ve done is inexcusable, coming between what God has created. My parents raised me better than that.”
Tumi watched Nomkhosi, but no longer with sympathy. She shifted in her seat and sized up the woman once more.
“I’m ashamed to even look at myself.” Nomkhosi raised her eyes to Tumi’s. “I wish I could turn back the time. I wish I had a chance to make another decision, a better decision. But it’s too late now. I –” She stopped when Tumi lifted her hand, palm turned outward, signalling a halt.
“Ausi, I’m sorry but I must stop you before you go further,” Tumi said. “You’ve made a mistake. Tshepo couldn’t possibly be the father of your unborn child. I know my husband; I’ve been married to him for nearly seven years.”
“No, I’m not making a mistake,” Nomkhosi said, shaking her head. “Tshepo is the father. The affair with him was a mistake, and I’m deeply sorry it ever happened.” For a moment Nomkhosi looked as if she was about to cry again. She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, trying to keep the collecting tears from spilling over.
The temperature inside the house seemed to have dropped a few degrees. Everything seemed suspended, dangerously, as though a sneeze, the twitch of a finger, the blink of an eye would trigger a crash.
“Like I said, Tshepo is not your baby’s father.” Tumi’s words were sharp and deliberate; she stared at Nomkhosi challengingly. “My husband is a good man who is committed to our marriage. The man you’re referring to isn’t Tshepo, and that’s all I have to say about the issue. Now if you don’t mind, I should be getting to work.” Tumi stood up, walked over to the door and held it open.
Nomkhosi opened her mouth but struggled to form words. She awkwardly collected her bag, hoisted herself up and approached the opened door. She hesitated for a second when she reached Tumi.
“Sisi, please believe me, I’m telling the truth.”
“Ausi, I honestly don’t want to hear any more,” Tumi stated firmly.
“In June we went to Cape Town for a week. He said you had left, moved out and gone back to your parents in Soweto. You called only twice during that time and both conversations were short. I was convinced it was over between you,” Nomkhosi said. “I’m sorry to have bothered you, sisi Tumi. Please forgive me for the trouble I have caused.”
Tumi watched as Nomkhosi got into a white Toyota Yaris parked in the street and drove off. She closed the door behind her and let out a deep breath. There wasn’t time to piece together and make sense of what had just happened; she was already thirty minutes late for work and the principal at Kyalami Preparatory School didn’t take kindly to staff being tardy. She grabbed her handbag, a set of car keys and a pile of unmarked exercise books and headed for the door.
From the corner of her eye something caught her attention. She stopped; Nomkhosi’s ultrasound lay on the table. Tumi went over, picked it up and held it uncertainly between her fingers. She thought of running after Nomkhosi but decided against it. Nomkhosi was probably miles away. After a moment of deliberation, Tumi stuffed the ultrasound in her handbag and left.
As she was navigating the morning traffic to work Tumi had time to replay the morning’s scene in her mind, in slow motion. The accusation was rubbish, of course. What nonsense. She and Tshepo had a good thing going, and she believed God would one day bless them with a child. Tshepo was all she needed in life. For almost seven years she had worked hard for her marriage, weathered many storms in the beginning; she wasn’t about to let a random woman and her unfounded allegations come between her and her husband now. Tshepo was her husband, hers alone, and their marriage was solid and meant everything to her.
The sound of the cellphone ringing jolted Tumi out of her deep thoughts.
“Just checking if everything is still okay, sweetheart.” It was Tshepo. “You got me worried with that call.”
“Actually something strange has happened . . .” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “But it’s probably nothing. I mean, I know it’s nothing.”
Tumi started to tell Tshepo about Nomkhosi’s visit but stopped; Nomkhosi’s words flooded her mind: “In June we went to Cape Town for a week. He said you had left, moved out and gone back to your parents in Soweto. You called only twice during that time and both conversations were short . . .” Tumi tried to think back to that time in June. Tshepo may have gone to Cape Town around that time, but Tumi couldn’t prove he’d said those things about her moving out of the house.
“You still there?” Tshepo asked. “You were saying . . .”
Tumi stalled; somehow she no longer wanted to continue telling him about the visitor, though she was convinced in her heart the matter was a simple case of mistaken identity or something. “You know what, my love, this doesn’t matter.”
“No, no, my wife, you can’t start a story and then decide it doesn’t matter. Come on, tell me,” Tshepo protested. “So you open the door to be greeted by a crazy sobbing woman, then what? Did she tell you her name?” His tone was curious; Tumi thought she detected a little apprehension. Or was she imagining it?
“I didn’t say she was crazy. She was sad,” she said. “Anyway, turns out she was lost. She came to the wrong house.” She wasn’t sure why she was lying to him about this woman and her allegations; she never kept secrets from her husband.
“Oh? Which house was she looking for?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t ask her. Why all the questions?”
“She was lost, wasn’t she? And I know for a fact Mrs Modise knows everyone in our neighbourhood.”
“She came to the wrong estate, she mentioned a name I didn’t recognise,” Tumi said quickly.
“Are you sure?”
Tumi heard a shuffling sound in Tshepo’s background and him muttering, “I’m on the phone with my wife, what do you want?”
There was a brief pause. “Listen, baby, I would love to continue chatting, but something urgent has come up,” he said with agitation. “Do we have plans for this evening?”
“No, I’m hoping to get together with the girls. I haven’t seen them in ages. Is that all right with you? We can do something tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll stay here for an extra hour or two. We’re starting to lag behind. We can’t afford to, not with this baby. I love you.”
Tumi hung up. Her eyes involuntarily landed on her handbag lying on the floor on the passenger’s side. She hadn’t looked in that direction since throwing the bag into the car. The sight of it brought a pang to her stomach.
Tumi
