Holding On

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Here I am, sitting in a house whose owner I don't know, waiting for a man, whom I am not too familiar with twiddling with my thumbs. I really don't understand Siyabulela's need to always want to set me straight, almost as though he is reprimanding me and I honestly don't like it. I don't really know this guy; I have heard Anga mention him a few times during the holidays when we would be home but either than that, I really don't know this guy from a bar of soap. Instead of sitting around and wondering where this guy could be, I decide to call my mother and inform her of my whereabouts, or at least whom I'm with. She lets me know that she will be taking a cab back to the B&B, which is where I will find her when I return, as visiting hours are done now at the hospital. After our brief conversation I decide to keep myself entertained and switch on the TV, I browse through the available channels and my eyes land on my favourite, National Geographic. I decide to really settle in and remove my shoes from my feet and grab the fleece that's placed on one of the arm rests of a sofa adjacent to the one that I'm currently seated on.

As I continue watching I start hearing sounds coming from somewhere around the house. I try to listen to determine which area of the house the sounds could be coming from, but I fail to locate the direction, probably because I don't even know north to south in this house. If I was a normal girl, and I say normal because I am not, I would probably be scared but because I grew up amongst boys, namely my brothers, I know I can protect myself from whatever or wherever is making that noise. I've been told numerous times that I throw a mean left hook, so whoever wants to feel a taste of my fist and wrath must just head to where I'm seated and I sure won't disappoint them. They will come to know why abantu (people) from back home call me ntombikayise. (My father's daughter). I start hearing heavy footsteps coming closer to the living room and I hope to gwad that those are Siyabulela's footsteps otherwise, kuzof'umntu ndiyakuxelela. (Someone will die I tell you) I sit up from the couch, as I was lying down, yes, I know I know, I really made myself feel at home, and wait to see the person behind the footsteps and luckily, it's this idiot. I stare at him, deep inside I'm fuming because I don't understand how he could take me to a place, no, a house, that I don't know and leave me ALONE for almost an hour without saying anything. What if I needed something, or even worse hurt? Ebezothini? (What was he going to do?) This idiot is just standing by the door, leaning on it with his hands deep inside his pockets and his legs crossed. He is just staring at me and not uttering a word. I'm not sure if I'm infuriated by the fact that he's not saying a word or whether infuriated because he's still on his feet, staring at me and possibly intimidating me.

I decide to break the ice, and speak

Me: Siyabulela, xa undijongile ubona ntoni? (When you look at me, what do you see?)

Him: Bhabha? (Baby)

Me: Ndithi Siyabulela, xa undijongile, ubona ntoni? (I'm asking you, when you look at me, what do you see?)

Him: Umfaz'wam (my wife)

Me: Mna ubukhe wandiva ndisithi ndifuna uba ngum'fazi wakho? (Have you heard me say that I want to be your wife?)

Him: Akhange nditsho, kodwa mna ndithi, xa ndijonge wena ndibona umkam (I never said you did, but all I'm saying is that when I see you, I see my wife)

Me: Why did you leave me here all alone huh? How could you disappear on me kanjalo nje (like that) knowing fully well that I'm not familiar with my surroundings mm? How could you?

For a while he says nothing, and continues to stare at me, as though trying to read me. I maintain the stare because for once, I want him to stop thinking he can do as he pleases with me and that I will always fold over. Yes, he's an alpha male, bold, confident and dominant but still, I refuse to go down without a fight, or at least without being heard. My father did not raise a wuss.