Simbongile Princess Ntabeni: The Called

Chapter Ninety-Seven

-Sibongile-

A lot was going on, even for me.

It was the beginning of a new journey yet I was already tired. New journey being navigating through life without my dad as a backup plan, new journey being a soon-to-be Mrs. Ngqotyana. I didn't feel like I was ready for any of those... I just felt overwhelmed, famished and maybe extremely exhausted. After learning that Masixole and Kamva had left Cape Town I realized that he may have not been the man I thought he was. I mean, ever since I had known him, there was never a day that he didn't communicate with me about anything happening in his life. Now all of a sudden, he found comfort in me assuming and in him skipping important conversations and skipping town without my knowledge. It felt like I was back to Bonga again... That wasn't the man I agreed to marry.

To make matters worse, he didn't even offer me a shoulder to cry on ndibhujelwe? I mean, this whole time I have had to be strong for my kids and family with hope that with him I would be afforded the opportunity to be vulnerable and just cry, grieve, break down all the walls. But I couldn't, he didn't allow me to. He probably felt like I was unnecessarily being a brat for wanting to call of the wedding not understanding the emotional baggage I was suddenly feeling. That was probably the only explanation to his outburst. That I was being a brat.

I decided to just focus on me, and my kids... eyakhe into soyibona when he decides to be my man and not the stranger he had become in such a short space. Sim walked into my room as I was preparing to go to the mortuary. We hadn't spoken much since her father brought her back. She got into my bed, I hadn't made it yet, and then just watched me. I got dressed, stealing an eye on her every other second and when I was finally done, I sat down smiling at her.

Me: Wanna talk about it?

Sim: How are you holding up?

I chuckled... that question I expected from Masi, not her. But it still meant a lot that she cared to ask.

I brushed her cheek, kissing her forehead.

Me: I'm okay mntanam, mom's a big girl nyhani ngoku.

Sim: You know you can cry, right? We won't judge you.

Me: For some reason ke mntanam, tears won't change the fact that I am now going to the mortuary and in three days we will be burying umzali wam. It's painful, don't let this face fool you, but this is how it was meant to be. Umntwana angcwabe umzali, not umzali angcwabe umntwana.

She nodded, I could tell she was still upset.

She blinked once, and tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Sim: I think Junior hates me...

Me: Why would he hate you?

Sim: Before I left, he told me that granddad wasn't okay and begged me to help him. I couldn't. Besides being angry at granddad, I didn't know how to. Mna mama izinto ndizazi ngoske ndiziphuphe or ndiziboniswe, granddad knew that. I tried explaining that ku Siya but he... he probably hates me mama.

Me: Before we drown ourselves in assumptions let's call him up here, okay?

She nodded, wiping the tears with the back of her hand.

I walked out and went to call Siyambonga, he frowned but followed me upstairs. If kuthethwa ngomntu oneengqondo zikayise kuthethwa ngo Junior. He was a mama's boy by heart, just like Sim was a daddy's little girl BUT Siya had his father's brains the most and sometimes it was frustrating for Sim because he wasn't an easy person to deal with. To reason with.

We got to my room, he looked at his sister and automatically went to console her. An automatic twin response that I had grown to never question.

Siya: Why are you crying? Umenzeni mama?