The Sunday News
Short Story Thubelihle W Ncube
I SANK deep in the leather chair. Not flexing but stressing. The laptop on the coffee table kept playing a single song that was on repeat. The lyrics echoed through my mind, igniting sadness, pain, remorse with hot tears stinging the back of my eyelids and flowing down my cheeks. I reached for the handkerchief and wiped away the tears before blowing my nose so as to acquire clear breath. I bowed my head, resting my chin in my cupped hands as my heart sank deep in my chest. I looked at the impeccable piece of paper on the table next to the laptop. Designed in purple and cream — colours she loved most. I could not fathom the reasons of her actions, honestly I wasn’t even honest with myself.
What did she doubt in me? I thought we had been the perfect match, a perfect couple made in heaven . . . aybe it’s true nothing perfect can be found on earth . . . how was I going to face the youth at church? Or the ladies who had tried getting my attention all along yet I had ignored? Maybe Sandisiwe wasn’t meant for me . . . or maybe she was and she was making a huge mistake of her life? I tried praying to God with my head bowed, to let her make the correct decision. Hoping that I was the perfect decision, hoping she was to come back to her senses.
The door to my room swung open. Ashley sat next to me. She began to talk endlessly as if she had been sent on a mission to preach. She kept blabbering about what kind of a woman leaves a man two days before their wedding.
Of a woman who runs away leaving behind all her belongings.
Of stories that had began to circulate in the neighbourhood.
Of the neighbours believing I had hit her and she quit on me.
Because of her silence, people speculated.
Because of her actions my family was humiliated, my mother was labelled a monster and chancers were hypocritically sympathising with us.
Because we had no idea where she was, what she was doing, or why she had disappeared; I allowed people to talk.
Instead of getting better after the talk, I felt worse. A thorn piercing a fresh wound, rather than a painkiller. Truly when people are in pain, it’s good to avoid talking to them about how it was God’s plan of letting it be so. My bolt of sanity had lost grip and all I could hear was oozing flies and laughing mosquitoes under the bed waiting to suck more of my blood . . . sinister laughs of vampires that only appeared in darkness, partying in my closet and sad cockroaches that kept roaming the edges of my plate as they strolled towards the food that had been touched not.
I needed to be alone, but I could not chase Ashley out of the room. I took my headphones and maximised the volume on the laptop which kept playing the same song by James Blunt. I closed my eyes and in the windscreen of my mind I could see that beautiful face of hers. Her smile that developed when her lips parted to expose her milk white teeth. Her brown eyes that shied away from mine when I looked into them. Her pear-shaped breasts that gave her a stunning look, corresponding with her bottle shaped feature, curvy hips and splendid short stature.
Thoughts of how I’d bumped into her as she turned away from the till spilling coffee on my suit as I waited for the client who I was representing on my next case came playing like my favourite movie in my mind. How she had gave me the scotch handkerchief, clean and new for me to wipe the spills of coffee on my suit. It was my first time falling in love in such a way, a testimony of love at first sight.
Then my phone began to ring. I removed my headphones and took it from my pocket in an agitated manner because its vibrations were irritating on my lap. I cast a glance at Ashley whose face reflected that my nebulous face was giving her a lot of thoughts.
“Can I speak to Mr Mthimkhulu?”
“Speaking and how may I help you sir?” I responded with annoyance.
It was the police officer, and they demanded my appearance at a nearby bushy area. From a distance, people were speaking but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. As I approached they fell silent, and they paved way for me. I noticed two policemen, dressed in gloves and masks covering their noses and on seeing me, they removed their hats. My knees knocked against each other as I saw a heap of soil next to a shallow pit. My neighbour was kneeling with a shovel, cuffed on the heap of the soil from the pit. Then I noted the police metal coffin, open and from it I saw a hand that had become green and the smell made me puke. As I lifted my head, I saw the engagement ring on the finger with a big ruby diamond on it . . . I wept as I realised the tragedy that had befell me.
They told me the story of how this neighbour had raped and killed my fiancé before mutilating some of her body parts in an act of ritual murder. I tried to scream, became weak and grasped for air before I passed out.
“It’s alright my son; please just put the rose on her casket and sprinkle soil so that we may finish this ceremony.” That was my father shaking me out of these painful thoughts of what had happened. As the casket was lowered, her grandmother rolled beside the grave. I just said “goodbye my love”, as I felt heartbroken, body shaken and love taken.
