When Love Sprouts

Chapter 12: Cupid Plays Chess

The weeks that swallowed Azania had turned into months of despair. Mrs. Buvoir had become nothing more but a granule in the good green world. Joao, poor Joao, his beautiful smile and charm had all faded away. His upbeat music had changed, it became slow and somber: the blues.

Danika had vanquished from the face of the Earth. Joao tried finding her. Time and time again, he would call her number, maybe she would pick up.

"Hello..." said Danika.

"Oh, thank God you picked up. We've been so worried about," Joao said.

"Syke! I'm not available right now, so do call later, byieee," she said.

"Ugh, f**k you, and Azania," he uttered angrily.

He stomped into his bedroom and shriveled his poster-covered wall, his eyes brimmed with tears. How dare they leave him all alone, how dare they?

"Zee, Danika, and Dad too, who's next Mom," he questioned, letting the river of tears spring forth. He crouched down on the dark oak wooden floors, and began shredding his Boity posters piece by piece.

"I just can't lose more people, I can't, I can't," he sobbed.

Suddenly, warm hands began comforting him. "Sis' Dee, why is it like this, is it always gonna be like this," he asked.

"You have to be strong Joao, bekhezela mtwanam," encouraged Dorcas. She was making her rounds when she placed the neatly ironed sheets on his ruffled sheets. She raised him up and sat him on the bed, then took his hands and placed it into her wrinkly hands.

"The truth lies in the eyes," she said.

Dorcas placed a piece of paper in his hands. He looked at it confused at what it could be. "What was it," he wondered.

"And this," asked Joao.

"That. . ." She said, then stared around cautious of peery eyes. "That's the answer to finding your sister," she whispered.

"Sis' Dee, how did you even. . .? What do you mean," he questioned marveling at the sight of the torn paper in his sweaty palm.

"I found it when I was cleaning your father's office," she reported. Dorcas stood up and left him to gaze at the paper, he was trying to figure out what it meant.

Joao stared at it for a few more minutes. "Wait, this can't be. ." He said.

"Jelly bear," whispered the Mrs Mrs Buvoir's voice. She was standing behind the creaking wooden door.

He chucked the paper into his pocket. The last thing Mrs. Buvoir needed was the amount of trouble coming their way.
"You know, Mom, you can't call me that anymore. I'm growing up," he said with a chuckle.

She walked near him and sat near him on top of the messy bed. "Oh, but you'll always be my Jelly Bear," she said scooping his cheeks.

"I remember when I first held you in my arms, we were all so excited. Well, I was more excited than your sister, Azania, and your father. Those two were inseparable.
Every Thursday he'd go fetch her from her netball games. Then they'd go to the mall and come back with clothes for you, oh," she said.

"I miss them dearly, but at least I still have my Jelly Bear," she said hugging him tightly.

"Mom, what did Dad actually do with Mr. Kwanza," he asked.

"Well, they had businesses together. He and your father would spend hours and hours talking, from the bits and pieces I could steal from their conversations I could tell that he was quite a bitter man, but that's as far as I knew about him," she said.