Uncharted Journeys

Twelve

As I sat on Mike’s cream-colored couch, the familiar comforts of home surrounded me. The savory aromas of the meal I had cooked filled the room, a stark reminder of how my life had changed. Living with a man before marriage was something I had never imagined I would do. My thoughts drifted to my daily phone calls with Theresa. She often complained about me being away for too long, and the distance between us felt like an ache in my heart. Knowing that she wouldn’t be joining us for the holiday trip to the Eastern Cape in December made me worry about her spending the season alone.

I picked up my phone and dialed her number.

“Hey, Theresa. I’ve been away for too long. I feel like I’ve abandoned you,” I said, my voice cracking slightly, betraying my emotions.

“Girl, I’ve been thinking the same thing! You’re always running off to Mike’s place or somewhere else. I’m starting to feel like I’m losing my best friend,” she replied, her words laced with a hint of sadness. I could almost see the concern etched on her face.

“I know, I know. It’s been tough with everything going on. But I promise I’m here for you, and I value our friendship so much,” I said, taking a deep breath, feeling a mix of guilt and longing.

“I know you do, but it’s hard when you’re never around. I’m stuck in this rut, working all the time and never having anyone to talk to. You used to be my go-to person, but now it feels like you’re always busy with something else,” she confessed, her voice sounding tired. I could sense the weight of her loneliness.

“Theresa, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were feeling this way. Let’s make a plan to catch up more often, okay? Maybe we can schedule regular calls or something?” I suggested, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, eager to reconnect.

“That would be great. I just feel like we’re drifting apart, and it’s really hard for me,” she said, her words trailing off, leaving a silence that felt like a gentle hug.

As I sat there, surrounded by the comforting smells of home and the traditional dishes I had made as a peace offering, I knew that our friendship was worth fighting for. Even though we wouldn’t be together in person for the holidays, I was determined to stay connected and support Theresa through the tough times ahead. We would make do with regular phone calls, and I would be there for her in spirit, even if I couldn’t be there in person.

As the Day of Reconciliation approached, anticipation filled the air, and the house buzzed with excitement. The warmth of traditional dishes filled the kitchen, blending with the sounds of laughter and joyful chatter. My brother and I had reconciled, strengthening our bond, and we eagerly anticipated the family reunion ahead.

After our flight, we arrived home briefly to unwind before heading to our grandparents’ house for the long-awaited gathering. The scenic drive to their home was filled with anticipation, the lush landscapes passing by as we approached the heart of our family’s traditions.

Upon arrival, the atmosphere was alive with the hustle and bustle of relatives reuniting, exchanging warm hugs and lively anecdotes. The aroma of home-cooked meals filled the air, invoking memories of years past and setting the stage for a day of celebration and connection.

Throughout the reunion, amidst the laughter and storytelling, I found moments of solace in quiet conversations with Mike, his reassuring voice a constant source of comfort amidst the joyful chaos. As we gathered around the table to share a meal, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for the love and support of my family, and the enduring bonds that united us on this special day of reconciliation.

As the evening progressed, our family’s cherished tradition of gathering together for the annual reunion continued. Generations of Amatshonyana had upheld this legacy, and it was a time for us to set aside differences and revel in each other’s company.

Yet, amidst the joyous atmosphere, a familiar barrage of inquiries began. “Are you working yet?” my aunt inquired with genuine interest, her eyes gleaming. “When are you getting married?” chimed in my excited cousin, while another family member teased about the timing of having children. Though well-intentioned, the onslaught of questions left me feeling drained. I yearned for a holiday free from the weight of expectations and timelines, where I could simply bask in the warmth of familial bonds.

As the night wore on, my parents’ ritual of departing early signaled the end of the festivities. We piled into the car, following a tradition ingrained in us since childhood.

Retreating to my childhood bedroom, I welcomed the quiet solitude, finding solace in phone conversations with Mike. The soft glow of my phone illuminated the room, casting a comforting aura as Mike’s gentle voice filled the air. In the midst of the lively celebrations downstairs, our conversation provided a welcome escape, allowing us to share updates and plans for the future uninterrupted.

Later, as we settled into the conversation, Mike mentioned his plans for the upcoming weekend. “My sister, her husband, and their kids are joining us for Christmas,” he began, his voice tinged with excitement. “It’s going to be quite lively.”

I couldn’t help but feel a pang of nervousness at the mention of family gatherings and the topic of marriage. The idea of tying the knot anytime soon felt daunting, especially considering Mike was still recovering from his accident, and our relationship was still in its early stages. I chuckled nervously, attempting to steer the conversation in a different direction.

Mike continued, sharing his experiences of meeting more of his father’s side of the family that day, making it a memorable experience. But as the conversation turned towards marriage, I couldn’t help but feel a knot forming in my stomach.

“Marriage? Well, um… It’s not really something I’ve thought about much. There’s still so much going on…” I stammered, hoping to shift the focus away from the uncomfortable topic.

“Oh, that sounds like fun! Family gatherings can be quite… energetic,” I replied, trying to sound casual despite my racing thoughts.

Attempting to change the subject, I shared my plans for the weekend, mentioning an outing with cousins and childhood friends. “We’ve planned some cruising and partying,” I explained, trying to sound enthusiastic despite the inner turmoil.

However, when Mike revealed his own plans that seemed to involve me early that Saturday morning, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me. “But I thought you said you had family plans?” I questioned, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Well, I did, but I thought maybe we could… you know, do something together instead,” Mike responded, his tone uncertain.

Feeling torn between my existing plans and the unexpected turn of events, I hesitated. “I don’t know, Mike. We’ve already made plans, and I haven’t seen my friends in so long…” I hated that I would have to postpone my plans.

Just then, my brother’s interruption shattered the moment, informing me of church visitors coming over the next morning, effectively forcing me to cancel my plans. If he didn't send a message I wouldn't have known or I wouldn't have cancelled my plans but I knew my parents needed all of us there. Frustration and confusion welled up inside me as I abruptly ended the call with Mike

After dropping the call, I decided to avoid Mike’s messages. I went to take a bath trying to relax before a night rest then got back to my room and went back to sleep since it was early morning. As I couldn't sleep I decided to call Mike again but couldn’t contain my anger and confusion. “Why don’t you want me to spend time with my friends?” I demanded, my voice laced with frustration.

Surprised by my reaction, Mike attempted to explain, “I don’t have a problem with that. I just thought maybe we could spend some time together. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

However, I deliberately chose not to respond to Mike’s messages, deciding to address our conversation later when emotions had cooled down. I needed time to sort through my thoughts without the immediate pressure of his expectations and the confusion surrounding our plans.

As I closed my eyes, I reminded myself that clarity often comes after sleep.

Later that morning, I indulged in the luxury of sleeping in, savoring the warmth and comfort of my bed. The thought of facing a crowded room filled with chattering voices and clinking dishes was exhausting, so I decided to avoid our guests altogether. When I finally woke up, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling food wafted into my room, making my stomach growl with hunger.

Determined to escape the chaos, I thought of locking my door and putting on my headphones, immersing myself in the soothing sounds of YouTube movies. Maybe start with “Love Comes Softly,” a film that always left me tearful.

But just as I was settling in for the film, a gentle knock on my door broke the silence, piercing the peaceful atmosphere I had created.

“Lerato, what’s up?” I asked, opening the door to find my sister-in-law dressed in a stunning outfit, her hair styled perfectly.

“Hey, girl! Your mom needs your help with the guests,” she said, handing me a bag. “And you should really get dressed – you don’t want to miss out on the fun!”

I declined, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m not really in the mood, Lerato. And I’ve already done most of the work with preparing last night. I just want to relax.”

Lerato looked understanding. “Okay, but your mom really needs you. And you look beautiful when you dress up – come on, it’ll be good for you!”

I smiled weakly. “Thanks, but I’m good. Go help your mother-in-law instead – I’m sure she needs it more than me.”

With a nod, Lerato headed out, and I closed the door behind her, locking it for good measure. I sighed, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. I knew I was avoiding my responsibilities, but the need for a moment of peace and solitude was too strong to ignore. Settling back into bed, I hoped to find some clarity and calm amidst the chaos.

A few minutes later, my phone rang, and Mike’s name flashed on the screen. I hesitated, not really in the mood to talk, but I answered anyway.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asked, his tone gentle and soothing.

I sighed, feeling a lump form in my throat, and my voice came out barely above a whisper. “Not much, Mike. I’m just not feeling well. I’m under the weather.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and I could sense his concern. “Okay, well, take care of yourself. But I was thinking, maybe we could meet up later? I’d like to take you out.” His words were laced with a hint of excitement, but I just couldn’t muster the energy to respond.

“Mike, I don’t know… I’m really not up for going out right now,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

Another pause, this time longer. “Alright, I understand. Just let me know if you change your mind. I’m here if you need anything,” he said softly.

“Thanks, Mike. I appreciate it,” I murmured, feeling a mix of gratitude and guilt. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Take care,” he said before hanging up.

As the call ended, I placed my phone down and closed my eyes, trying to push away the feelings of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. I felt a pang of guilt for pushing Mike away, but the overwhelming need for solitude was too strong to ignore.

Turning back to my laptop, I clicked on the movie, hoping to lose myself in its story and find a temporary escape from the complexities of the day. The room was quiet except for the soft murmur of dialogue from the screen, and slowly, I allowed myself to relax, letting the film’s narrative wash over me.

As I lay there, trying to find some peace, a sudden scream escaped my lips as my brother burst into my room. I didn’t understand how easily he got into my room while I had locked it. His face was etched with concern, and soon, my sister-in-law and mother joined him, their worried expressions filling the space. I lay there, teary-eyed, feeling overwhelmed but unable to articulate why.

My mother’s soothing voice broke through the haze. “Ivile, what’s wrong, my child? We’re here for you.”

Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to explain. “I’m just… so tired. I need some time to myself. I don’t want to deal with all the questions and expectations right now.”

My brother placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “We understand. Take your time. We’ll handle everything. Just rest.”

Feeling their support, I nodded, a sense of relief washing over me. As they left the room, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside me. I lay back down, the soft hum of the movie in the background providing a semblance of comfort.

My mother came into the room and took a seat, accompanied by my aunt, who wore a conflicted look. I could sense the gravity of the moment as they exchanged glances, and I braced myself for what was to come.

“Ntombikayise, kunabantu apha,” my aunt began, her tone laden with significance. Her words hung in the air, leaving me on edge, unsure of what would follow. Then, my mother spoke up, her voice steady yet filled with emotion.

“Uzokucelwa,” she said simply, her gaze locking with mine. The weight of her words hit me like a ton of bricks. People were here to ask for my hand in marriage. My mind raced, trying to process the sudden turn of events.

As the news sank in, I felt a rush of conflicting emotions. Heat flooded my cheeks, and tears welled up in my eyes. My mother was already at my side, removing my shoes and calling for sugar water to calm my nerves.

My brother tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s going on now? Which one of you thought it would be…?” he didn’t finish as he saw that I wasn’t feeling well. The others chuckled, but I continued to cry, my tears streaming down my face like a river as I felt exhausted.

My mother’s expression shifted from concern to worry. She asked, her voice soft and gentle, “What’s wrong, baby?” But I remained silent, my tears flowing like a faucet that couldn’t be turned off.

She exchanged glances with my brother and sister-in-law, her eyes communicating a message I couldn’t quite decipher. Then, she instructed them, “Take him away.” My sister-in-law guided my brother out of the room, and my aunt followed, closing the door behind them, leaving me alone with my mother.

She sat beside me on the bed, her warm hand on my shoulder. “Now let’s talk. Are you on your period?” she asked straightforwardly.

I gazed at her, perplexed by her question, wondering why she was bringing up such a topic. My mind raced with thoughts, but I couldn’t find the words to respond. The room felt quiet, except for my sniffling, and the weight of my emotions hung heavy in the air.

“Ivile mntanam, I know this might not be what you expected,” she began, her tone gentle yet firm. “But at this point, I think you should go out and buy the kit so we can be sure. I know a pregnant woman when I see one.”

I looked at my mother in confusion. Even though I had been careful and used contraceptives, I still had this nagging feeling that she might be right.

She gave me a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, my child. We just need to be sure.”

She left me briefly after we spoke, giving me time to think it through. I sat there, feeling a mix of emotions, trying to process everything. The room was quiet, save for the distant sounds of laughter and chatter, and I felt a sense of heaviness settle over me as I contemplated the possibility of being pregnant.

Amidst the chaos of my thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder why my mother had earlier mentioned hosting a church meeting. The revelation that so many people were aware of the situation only added to my bewilderment.

Once I had calmed down slightly, my mother spoke to me with a reassuring smile. She emphasized the importance of getting the pregnancy test results soon and revealed that the man involved was willing to marry me. Her words carried a mix of encouragement and understanding, giving me the space to process everything.

After offering me a few moments to collect my thoughts, my mother left a beautiful skirt on my bed. As I sat there, grappling with the weight of the decision ahead, I couldn’t help but feel grateful for her unwavering presence and guidance.

On that pivotal day, my life took a dramatic turn as I received two life-altering pieces of news: I found myself at the center of lobola (dowry) negotiations, and I discovered I was pregnant with Mike’s child. Overwhelmed by a whirlwind of emotions, I confided in my mother, pleading with her to keep the pregnancy a secret until I could confirm it.

Dressed in a traditional wraparound skirt and a simple white t-shirt, I entered the living room where the elders had gathered for the negotiation process. With each question they posed, I affirmed my acceptance of Mike and our relationship, steeling myself for the path ahead. As the discussions continued, I seized a fleeting moment to slip away discreetly, my heart pounding in my chest.

With my father’s car keys in hand, I drove to the mall with a sense of urgency. Purchasing a pregnancy test, I found myself trembling as I opened the box and read the instructions. Despite my fear, I needed to confirm the truth, aware that a visit to the gynecologist would be necessary for further confirmation. The drive home felt endless, my mind consumed by a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, but I remained determined to take control of my situation.

As I returned home, the sight of a sleek black car parked in the neighborhood caught my attention. To my surprise, my brother and Mike were nearby, laughing together in the warm sunlight. Beeping at them as I passed, I couldn’t shake the apprehension that gripped me.

Upon entering the house, Lerato’s curious inquiry about my whereabouts only added to my unease. Struggling to maintain composure, I brushed off her questions and sought refuge in my bedroom. Alone in the bathroom, I faced the daunting task of taking the pregnancy test, my hands trembling as I awaited the results.

When the truth was finally revealed, a wave of emotions swept over me, leaving me grappling with the reality of my situation. Amidst the chaos, memories of the day the Petersons came to meet my family flooded my mind, each detail etched into my memory. From the elders’ solemn presence to my father’s quiet strength, every moment seemed to echo with the weight of the decisions that lay ahead.

As I stared at the positive result, a gentle knock on my door broke the silence.

“Hey, Ivile, are you okay?” Lerato’s voice was soft, filled with concern. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door.

“Lerato, I…” My voice wavered as I struggled to find the right words. Her eyes widened with worry as she stepped closer.

“What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all day.” She reached out, placing a comforting hand on my arm. “You can talk to me.”

I took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up again. “Lerato, I just found out I’m pregnant.”

Her eyes widened in shock before she pulled me into a tight hug. “Oh, Ivile! This is… a lot to take in. How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. Scared, overwhelmed, confused… everything all at once.” I pulled away slightly, looking into her eyes. “I haven’t even told my mother yet.”

Lerato nodded, her expression serious. “You need to tell her. She’ll know how to help you through this. And you need to tell Mike too.”

“I know, but it’s just… so much right now.”

She gave me a reassuring smile. “You’re strong, Ivile. You can get through this. Just take it one step at a time.”

Summoning my courage, I left Lerato and went to find my mother. She was in the kitchen, preparing some food for the guests.

“Mom, can we talk?” My voice was barely above a whisper, but she heard the urgency and turned to me immediately.

“What’s wrong, my child?” Her concern was palpable as she led me to the living room, away from the commotion.

I handed her the pregnancy test, unable to find the words. She stared at it for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise before a smile spread across her face.

“Oh, Ivile, you’re pregnant!” She hugged me tightly, her joy evident. “I’m going to be a grandmother!”

“Mom, I’m so scared. What will Dad say? The lobola negotiations are still going on…”

She pulled back, her expression turning serious. “You’ll have to tell him, Ivile. He needs to know before the negotiations are over. It’s important for the family to be honest and open about everything.”

The following morning, I took another pregnancy test, my hands shaking as I held the small white stick. The result remained consistent, and a wave of nausea washed over me. Despite the celebrations with the rest of the family the day before, I still couldn’t bring myself to talk to Mike. He might have expected me to open up before he and his family left, but I retreated to my room, lost in thought. The soft glow of my lamp cast a warm light on my face as I sat on my bed, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home.

After the second test confirmed my pregnancy, I carefully disposed of the evidence, anxious to keep it hidden. I wrapped the test in a small piece of paper and tucked it deep into the trash can, the scent of garbage filling my nostrils. My mother approached me again, and I told her that I was indeed pregnant.

“Mama, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say to uTata,” I said, now crying.

“Utata wakho loves you, and he is as proud of you as I am,” she said, comforting me in a hug.

“Mama, how do I tell him?” I sniffled.

“You will have to tell him, baby. He will understand, and with your lobola negotiation still happening, he needs to know,” she replied. I knew she was right; if I was pregnant, the families would need to discuss adding the damages to the lobola that needed to be paid to my family.

The next day, I accompanied my father to his office at the church, trying not to look like someone with an agenda, but I don’t think it worked. After helping organize a Christmas celebration night for the orphanage children, my dad took me out for lunch at a famous fast-food restaurant. As we sat down with our coffee—he had his burger, and I opted for a blueberry muffin—he encouraged me to speak.

“Ungathetha, ntombiyam,” he said with a mischievous smile.

“Hayi, Tata, I didn’t say I had something to say,” I replied, but he just laughed and took a sip of his coffee, nodding for me to continue.

“Ndizithwele, Tata,” I finally said, looking down in shame.

My dad stayed quiet for a while, processing the information. Then he said, “Do you want me to say anything about the pregnancy during the negotiations?” He was giving me a choice instead of making decisions for me.

“Hayi, Tata,” I answered, not wanting my uncles or anyone else in the family to know more than necessary.

My holidays were overshadowed by a sense of unease. Instead of feeling happy, I was consumed by distress, wishing this situation hadn’t arisen. The sound of Christmas music playing on the radio and the aroma of fried bacon wafting from the kitchen only made me more anxious. Every morning, I stayed in my bedroom until everyone had eaten. But Lerato told me that if I didn’t tell my brother, she would because keeping secrets was bad for her relationship. I laughed and promised to tell my brother on Christmas.

In the days that followed, I continued to avoid discussing plans or dates with Mike, crafting excuses and making up stories to keep him at arm’s length. The phone rang several times, but I let it go to voicemail, unable to muster the courage to face him.

However, things came to a head on Christmas Day. I had envisioned a traditional celebration with the warmth and laughter of family and friends filling the room. But I hadn’t anticipated Mike’s family being part of it. My parents, enthusiastic about Mike and fond of him, had invited them to join in the festivities. As I walked into the living room, I was met with the sight of Mike’s family mingling with my own, their cheerful banter and festive attire a sharp contrast to my internal chaos. The sound of Christmas music filled the air, and the aroma of fried chicken and other traditional dishes wafted from the kitchen, but I felt suffocated, caught between my unease and my family’s eagerness to celebrate our new relationship.

After lunch, as everyone engaged in lively conversation and dessert preparations, I decided to take Mike aside for a private conversation. The drive to the nearby filling station was marked by a heavy silence, the weight of what I was about to say hanging heavily between us.

As we parked, Mike began, his voice laced with concern. “Could you please tell me what’s been happening? And don’t blame the lobola negotiations, because you started acting differently even before that.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “Mike, there’s something important I need to tell you.” I glanced out the window, avoiding his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”

Mike fell silent for a moment, processing the information. His shock quickly shifted to frustration. “Pregnant? How long have you known?”

I felt a surge of frustration. “So, that’s all you can say? I found out on the seventeenth, just before the lobola negotiations,” I said, my voice rising. “A whole week, and you didn’t even notice?”

Mike’s face flushed with anger. “You should have told me sooner!”

“Maybe I should just make this easier for you,” I snapped. “Let’s call off the wedding. Not many people know about it yet.”

“Stop the car,” he demanded, his voice firm.

I kept driving, my mind racing. “I said stop the damn car, Ivile!” he insisted. I pulled over to the sidewalk near a school, my heart pounding.

The tension was palpable as we waited in silence. My phone rang; it was my mother. “Are you okay, baby?” she asked, her concern evident.

“I’m fine, Mama. I’ll be there soon,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

As I ended the call, Mike looked at me intently. “Does she know?”

I nodded, avoiding his eyes. “She noticed something was wrong, and I confirmed it with the pregnancy test.”

Mike took a deep breath, his anger softening into remorse. “I’m really sorry. I was confused and didn’t know what was happening.”

All I could manage was a nod.

He continued, “I love you, Ivile, and I want this—all of it. Don’t think I’m not happy; I am. I could get on top of this car and shout it to the world.”

I managed a tearful smile. “You’re serious about this?”

“Absolutely,” he said, leaning in to kiss me softly. “I’ve been dreaming of being with you and marrying you for a long time.”

“Making me pregnant?” I teased lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

He laughed softly. “No, being with you, planning a future together. It’s been what I’ve wanted.”

The mood shifted from tense to tender as we both acknowledged the gravity of our situation. We agreed to have open conversations with our families soon and to face the challenges ahead together. As we drove back to the house, I felt a flicker of hope amidst the turmoil. Mike’s support provided a glimmer of reassurance that, despite everything, we could navigate this new chapter together. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards the Lord for the blessings and guidance I was receiving. I had chosen the right path, following what was required of me. Trusting in the Lord, I knew that I had been forgiven for my past mistakes.

On the family front, I found immense support, which helped alleviate my initial anxiety about sharing the news with my dad. Thankfully, my mother had already sensed something was amiss and had gently coaxed the truth out of me. By the time I spoke to my brother, everyone was not only on board but also overjoyed for me.

As I shared the news with Theresa on our Christmas evening call, her squeal of excitement was music to my ears. “Oh my gosh, congratulations! I’m going to be an auntie!” she exclaimed.

I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. “I’m so happy for you, and I can’t wait to meet the little one,” she said. We spent the next hour chatting about everything from baby names to nursery decorations, and I felt grateful to have such a supportive friend in my life.

“You’re going to be an amazing mom,” she said before we hung up. “And don’t worry, I’ll be there for you every step of the way.” Her words of encouragement meant the world to me, and I felt grateful for our friendship.

With my family’s support and Theresa’s enthusiasm, I felt a renewed sense of hope. The only challenge now was deciding on a wedding date, as I needed to get married before my pregnancy became noticeable. With eight weeks already passed, Mike and I had important decisions to make—and fast! The pressure was mounting, and I could feel the wedding jitters setting in. My mind raced with visions of white dresses, floral arrangements, and reception venues, while my stomach churned with anticipation.

As I looked out the window, reflecting on the whirlwind of the past few weeks, I realized that despite the uncertainty and the hurdles ahead, I was not alone. The love and support surrounding me gave me strength and courage. This was a new chapter in my life, filled with challenges and joys, and I was ready to face it head-on. With Mike by my side and a supportive network of friends and family, I felt a cautious optimism about the future.

The road ahead would undoubtedly be complex and demanding, but for the first time in a while, I felt hopeful and ready to embrace whatever came next.