This Thing Called the Future (14 page)

I rest my head against the house, waiting. Breathing. Listening for the creak of the gate that would indicate he's entering the yard.

Drops of sweat dribbling down my forehead. Salty tears trickling into my mouth.

I wait for what feels like a long time and hear nothing. I lick the blood forming in a jagged line on my palm, the rusty nail taste filling my mouth. Glance around the corner,
quick quick
, searching for the glowing cigarette in the darkness.

Nothing but night, and a dog barking in the distance.

Please let me make it home,
I pray, and that ghostly whisper assures me,
You're safe.

Tip-toeing to the gate, I ease it open, looking left and right.

Nothing
. Nothing but shadows.

I listen. Rustling as the wind blows trash across the dirt road.

Nothing
. He's gone.

But as I turn to head down the hill towards home, someone reaches out and grabs me from behind.

I scream.

“Relax, Nomkhosi.”

“Uncle Richard!” I'm so frightened, the only thing I can do is gasp his name.

“You see why you shouldn't be alone after dark.” He twirls me around to face him. “Your grandmother was worried. She sent me after you.”

“Gogo, worried?” I try to make my voice cheerful but it shakes. “She knew where I was. Why would she be worried?”

“She dreamed that Babamkhulu was shaking her awake, telling her that you needed help. She woke up shouting—she said it was so real, his hand on her face.”

“That is very strange.” My voice cracks. “But I'm okay.”

“She's not ready for you to be gone in the evenings,” he says. “And she's right. You should be home, like a good girl. I don't approve of you going out at night like this. Did you see that man lurking near the Nenes' gate? I asked him what he was doing and he just hurried away. Just think if you had tried to go home by yourself! What could have happened to you, Khosi?”

“I didn't see him.” Blood drips from my palm onto my bare leg. I clench my fist closed so that Uncle Richard doesn't see it.

“I thought you said Thandi's
baba
would walk you home.”

“He wasn't there.” I look back at Thandi's house, hoping there's a light on in her bedroom at least, something that will confirm my lie and make Uncle Richard believe I was telling the truth. But the entire house is dark.

“I'm glad you came to walk me home, Uncle,” I say, emphasizing each word. I'm just that lucky he didn't find out I was at a party instead of at Thandi's house. “
Ngiyabonga
.”

Ngiyabonga, Babamkhulu
, I thank my grandfather inside my heart.

I know he saved me tonight.

The next morning when I take my bath, I'm surprised to see dark, purple bruises all over my body, like I was in a big fight.

I guess I was.

I'm still counting bruises when Auntie Phumzi arrives. Through the bathroom window, I hear Zi shrieking when she sees Auntie's youngest girls. I peek out through the open window and watch the three of them run through the yard, laughing, ignoring
Inkosikazi
Dudu, who stares at them from her front porch. Beauty's dressed in a very short white beaded skirt, her chest bare. She's wearing dozens of blue beaded necklaces that dangle between her breasts.

I hurry into my clothes because I'm pretty sure Mama and Auntie are about to have a king-sized battle and I don't want to miss it!

Sure enough, they're arguing when I get to the dining room, where Mama is resting on the sofa.

“There is no way I would give permission for Khosi to have her virginity tested,” Mama is declaring.

Her eyes flash from Auntie Phumzi to me. I start to open my mouth—
I want to go, just to see what it's like
—but she shakes her head at me.

“If you don't care about Khosi's purity, why would she care?” Auntie Phumzi asks.

“Phumzile, they're only fourteen,” Mama snaps. “I don't think it
encourages purity just because some old women ask girls to spread their legs so they can judge if they're still virgins or not. It's barbaric.”

Auntie's voice rises in anger. “No, Elizabeth, it's our culture.”

“Anyway, I expect Khosi to be a good girl, no matter what,” Mama says, her voice indicating she's tired of this fight already.

“It's not just virginity testing, Auntie,” Beauty says. “We sing songs about purity, and we dance, and they teach us what it means to be a wife and a mother. They teach us to respect ourselves.”

Girls from school have told me all about the process: how they lay down behind four sheets, how they open their legs while an old woman inspects them. If she says they're a virgin, they get a certificate. Sometimes, they'll arrange a huge celebration, with hundreds of girls dancing and singing and celebrating their virginity.

“We sing to Nomkhubulwane, the Earth Mother,” Beauty continues. “You know, she is the one who helps young girls stay pure.”

“Nomkhubulwane is a pagan festival.” Mama shakes her head. “This isn't for my Khosi. We are Christians.”

“We are Christians, too, Auntie,” Beauty says.

Auntie Phumzile looks severe. “It doesn't matter that Khosi is Christian, she is misbehaving. This virginity testing may be just the thing to set her straight.”

“Misbehaving?
My
Khosi?” Mama sounds indignant.

“I didn't want to bring this up,” Auntie says in a terrible voice, and now she's looking at me, and Beauty's looking at me, and their looks are accusing, “but Richard called me. He says that when he arrived at Thandi's house, it was completely dark. He doesn't think Khosi was actually there studying.”

Now Gogo and Mama are watching me too. “Why would he say that?” I ask, doing my best to look completely innocent, perhaps even offended. Instead, I feel tears creeping into the corners of my eyes, my body betraying this lie.

Auntie continues. “Khosi will get into trouble with this thing of sneaking out and lying. Maybe she went to meet men. Maybe she has a boyfriend. Is that what you want?”

Nobody but Beauty notices the tears squirting out of my eyes. I wipe them away quickly and give her a shaky smile.

Mama speaks again and this time she sounds really, really angry. But she isn't angry at
me
. “Phumzile, you're my older sister and so I respect you. But this is the last time I'll say it: No. I will not send Khosi to a virginity testing. I won't have her prancing around in a little white skirt, showing off everything to every man she meets along the way.” Mama flicks her hand towards Beauty and the outfit she's wearing. “You don't think
that
gives men ideas? That's too much dangerous, especially with these stupid men out there who think they can get rid of HIV if they rape a virgin.”

Maybe Mama's trying to shame Auntie but all she does is make her mad. “You'll regret this, Elizabeth.”

“No,” Mama spits. “
You'll
regret this.”

When Beauty and Auntie leave, however, Mama turns to me. “Khosi, is it true? Did you sneak out to meet men last night?”

Gogo's even quicker than me. “Shame, Elizabeth! Has Khosi ever lied to us?”

“Ehhe, you're right, Mama.” Mama puts her head in her hands, like it aches. “
Ngiyaxolisa
, Khosi. We won't speak of this again.”

For Mama and Gogo, the discussion is over. But I know I lied to them. I know I
did
sneak out to meet men. Well, not men exactly, but Little Man.

When Beauty and Auntie drive away, I find the little girls in the bedroom. “Let's go outside and play
sangoma
,” I suggest.

The four of us sit in a circle on the cement in the front yard. I gather stones and a few sticks together. “Who wants to be the
sangoma
?” I say.

“Me, me!” Their hands shoot up in the air.

“We'll have to take turns.” I turn to Zi. “You can pretend to be the
sangoma
first.” I indicate the sticks and stones I've gathered. “Here are your ‘bones' to throw so you can read what's wrong. Who wants to be the first patient, coming to see the
sangoma
?”

We're still playing when Little Man wanders past our yard. He jogs up to the fence and waves me to come over and talk. “Hey, Khosi!”

“You girls wait here.” I let myself out of the gate and sit on a stone wall nearby. He leans against it, looking casual and soooo handsome. In just the last month, he's grown much taller than me. Now, instead of looking eye to eye, he looks down when he smiles at me.

“Where did you go last night?” he asks. “I came back thirty seconds later and
poof
! you were gone, like magic. I walked all the way to your house but I never saw you. I was so worried.”

“You remember that man at the party that was giving me a hard time?”

Little Man's eyes darken. “He's been giving you a hard time for months now.”

“He followed us from the party. He started chasing me.” I hold out my hand to show Little Man the cut across the palm. “I barely escaped him.”

Little Man is inching closer and closer, until we're almost touching, his knee close to my thigh. He reaches out and caresses my palm with his finger. Bumps spring up all over my arm. “Don't ever walk alone,” he says. “It isn't safe.”

“Who's going to walk with me everywhere I need to go?” I ask.

“
I
will.” He sits beside me, his arm rubbing mine.

My heart is thumping so loud, they can probably hear it in Botswana. But even I know that it isn't a realistic offer. Little Man can't go with me everywhere I need to go. There are hundreds of men all over Imbali who might harm me. I read in the paper recently that one in four South African men admitted to raping a girl. Imagine that! One in four! How could anybody possibly protect me? Only God and the ancestors can keep me safe.

“Did you like the party?” he asks.

“It was too much craziness for me,” I admit.

“I hope
I'm
not too much craziness for you.” He leans against me, bumping my shoulder with his.

A stone is lodged in my throat. “No, you're not,” I whisper.
You're perfect,
I want to add, but don't.

“Good,” he whispers back.

We linger, his dreads tickling the skin on my shoulder. Even though he's looking at me, I'm too shy to do anything but stare at my feet, and
then at his hands, the skin rough, the nails clean. I want to reach out and touch him. I want—

After a few minutes of warm silence, he gets up. “See you in school on Monday?”

“Of course.”

His fingers touch mine to say goodbye.

I watch him walk away, my heart beating fast. When I turn around, Zi and the cousins are standing just inside the gate, giggling.

“Is that your
boyfriend
?” Zi asks.

The three of them howl with laughter.

“Shush,” I say, finger to lips. “Don't you dare say anything to Gogo or Mama or Auntie.” I shake my finger at the two little cousins, knowing Zi will always keep my secrets. “That goes for you two as well.”

“We won't say anything,” the littlest one assures me. “We don't tell Mama about Beauty's boyfriend.”

“
Your
boyfriend is so
good-looking
,” the other one sighs.

I look back at the corner where he disappeared. “Yes, he is,” I say. “But the best part is that he's really, really nice.”

That night, when she thinks nobody hears her, Mama coughs into her pillow, trying to muffle the noise.

I lie in bed beside her, my eyes closed, pretending to sleep.

She coughs so long, it seems like she's going to cough out one of her lungs.

Very early in the morning, I wake up and creep out of the bedroom so I don't wake her.

I go to the bathroom and turn on the light. The tub is full of pink water and smells like bleach. A white pillowcase floats inside the water. I look at it closely. The bloodstains are almost gone, bleached out. Mama is trying to hide it but she can't: they're still there, faint marks. A testimony to her night-long coughing vigil.

Once again, I'm keeping secrets: I don't tell Gogo about the bloody pillowcase in the bathtub.

We are all worried about Mama but we don't talk about it until the afternoon before Mama is supposed to go back to Greytown.

Auntie Phumzi comes for Sunday lunch. While scrubbing the dishes, I step out the back door with a pan of dirty water. Auntie and Mama are huddled around the side of the house, deep in conversation. I pause.

“Richard says you haven't been to see a doctor.” That's Auntie.

Mama: “I'm too tired to wait in line all day.”

“I can send Beauty with you to the clinic, or you can take Khosi,” Auntie says. “It's simple to solve this thing. It's not a problem at all.”

“I'll think about it,” Mama promises.

I'm afraid to move. If they hear me, they'll stop talking. I look down at the dirty water, the bits of food floating in it. My eyes scan the horizon of houses in Imbali. Looking up, I notice for the first time that somebody has climbed the billboard and spray painted graffiti on it. STOP AIDS NOW is scrawled across the bottom.