A BRIDE FOR HIRE Novel Chapter 2

I wake up to a mirror ceiling revealing me – the mess. So I’m not dead, that’s exactly what I needed after today – waking up alive!

Tears threaten me, these pieces of shit, didn’t they get the memo? Nobody cares about them, whether they rain down on me or blind my eyes. Nobody cares, after that fruitless marathon yesterday you’d think they’d understand our stance right now.

Crying is not going to send me home and even if I did manage to vex this man enough for him to want to repackage me and ship me off to my parents again, those two vile beings are the last thing my eyes deserve to see. For the mere fact that they still went on to send me off even after I fainted, like c’mon!

My phone rings next to me, an unknown number crashes my screen and I almost ignore it out of anger but what if it’s my ticket out of here? Perhaps Ndumiso has a crush on me again.

“Hello.” I whisper into the speaker and prepare a swift SOS message in my head. ‘I’ve been kidnapped, come save me.’ – it sounds urgent enough.

“Nqobile.” The devil is a liar!

I get up from the bed faster than my sister could ever vanish with R30 000. My breath does all the cussing my mouth isn’t able to.

“I didn’t know mama and baba would do this to you, Nqobile. I thought they’d drop this whole thing and move on.” Of all excuses 30th thousand rands could afford her, she chose this one? How pathetic am I to these people?

“Are you okay? Where are you? Did he … has he met you?” she feigns panic. I can see right through that crap of a performance now, Gal Gadot would be in competition.

“Listen to me and listen to me carefully, Nonkanyiso Goqo. Fusegi mqundu wakho nxa.” My thumb swipes the red button immediately afterwards. I said no more crying, why are you still crying Nqobile!?

There’s so much I’ve been through in life but I don’t recall ever weeping about it, tears were a niche thing in our household. Some of us never got anything from it and so we stopped doing it altogether, sometimes I’d never understand what emotion to feel so I’d delude myself into being my own therapist until I’ve talked myself out of my emotions. Maybe that’s what this calls for as well, I just need to play the character and give myself therapy lessons at night.

The room is spacious… no, let me call it what it is, empty. There’s only a bed and large curtains. No second door whatsoever which means there is no toilet and I don’t think my bladder appreciates that!

What do I do now? I can’t go out there by myself, uninvited and wander around people’s property looking for a bathroom. Who even brought me here, who held me while I was unconscious? Blurry images leave me paralyzed for a second before shaking the thoughts away immediately.

Back to thoughts that matter, where am I going to release myself? My knees buckle together as I slide myself off the bed in search for anything, even a bottle will do at this point.

Ha! Ding, ding ding.

I grab the empty vase placed in the corner opposite me, it looks old and besides it’s not like I won’t clean it tomorrow when Mr X is at work. My fingers work quick on bringing my underwear to my ankles, the pinafore made it easy. I bring it beneath my hole and release the golden showers.

“Whewww, that felt good.” Luckily I always stash my pockets with tissue because in my head when I fill dresses with tissue they bring out the illusion of hips out on me.

After wiping myself and disposing the used tissue into the vase, I go to open the sliding door so I can place it there for the day.

The place is massive. One massive flat ground with corners framing the balcony, maybe for privacy?

“I sent you to do one thing, Minenhle, one thing and you come back with the wrong woman?”

I gasp and quickly cover my mouth. Is that the Mr X? There is no way for me to tell where these people are even talking, it’s probably behind the corner framing this balcony.

“The old man said your girl ran away with the money, what was I supposed to say? Tell oBaba that we came all this way for nothing, the deal is off?” the so called Minenhle of many talents, including purchasing brides for his brother, says.

“Was she briefed of what is expected of her here? Please don’t tell me no because I don’t intend on babysitting a hazard.” How lovely is this husband of mine? Sweeter than lemons isn’t he?

“He said she’s well behaved, just take it easy with her and keep her away from Godzilla.”

There’s a distasteful groan from the other party, he’s already not into me and he hasn’t met me yet. Great!

“Relax Bakho. Just talk to her about the arrangements, I trust the girl she seems good.” Good?

“There is nothing to relax for, you carried in an unconscious woman into my house, do you sincerely believe it will be business as usual when she sees my face? I want you to fix this, Mini. Talk to her or console her but fix this and I will deal with the unstable one.”

“I will get Sis’Sbahle on it.”

There’s an unstable one? Soon as I hear movement, I drag my behind back inside the room and close the sliding door. I’ve made up my mind, there is no way I’m leaving this room tonight.

Is this a trafficking ring of girls being promised marriage only to be shipped off to West Africa or something? I can’t stop walking up and down the hall of a bedroom, thinking of every single possible nightmare waiting for me.

It’s not even dark outside so if I sleep now, I’ll probably be restless at night and I don’t need to sit wide awake from night to morning.

The phone rings again, this time it’s MaKhanyile. I want to not answer it but years of obedience forces my hand and thumb to take careless decisions.

“What do you want from me, MaKhanyile? I’ve given you my all already haven’t I?” I’m still whispering because the trauma of being called a hazard still rings at the back of my head.

“Watch that tongue of yours or I won’t pray for you in this situation.” She can keep it honestly, “Your father wants to know if Bungobakho has seen you, what did he say? Does he like you?”

“No, we haven’t met and we won’t because I’m not leaving this room.” I snap at her out of frustration and anger, the pain bit is not available for her anymore.

“Nonsense, you will leave that room. This is your husband Nqobile, you must make him breakfast; iron his clothes; get his bath water ready. Everything, you must do everything please don’t embarrass us.” She says.

“Anything else on the list? Should I massage his penis too?”

“You will get there one day.”

Argh!!

“Goodbye MaKhanyile.” I hang up and block her with immediate effect.

I’ve never felt so helpless, there’s nothing in me that feels present. My mind is on and off the blur. I remember the time Nonkanyiso lost her school shoes and when we got home somehow I got roped in for the beating, we were only in grade 3 at the time. After MaKhanyile had whooped our asses into the American flag, we laid on the floor and exchanged ice packs. That night we laughed about the whole thing, not because it was funny but because it was the only expression that wouldn’t get us a second beating. That’s the thing with African parents, they beat you and want you to laugh it off after.

I thought I’d always have my sister’s back just as I always had hers, it made perfect sense to me hence I never bothered to fight against her, whether MaKhanyile pitted us against each other or not I always remained on my sister’s team.

I was the joke back then wasn’t I? But now, now I’m the central roast. My body tumbles on the plush covers, with all this banging headache I could use some rest.

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“Wakey, wakey Mrs.” can MaKhanyile give me a break!

I’m too exhausted to lift a single limb off this bed but at the same time I could really use a drink. However, as I stated before I’m not leaving this room, I’d rather hydrate on my own piss.

Wait, if this isn’t my room… I swing up my head up in a snap of my fingers and look around the room. A lady in a green Cheongsam dress and messy dreadlocks is standing beside my bed holding a tray in her hand.

“She’s alive, thank heavens. We just ran out of body bags so I was beginning to worry.”

Perhaps I’m tone deaf, what did she just say? I clutch the covers closer to my skin and gulp all the saliva I can muster.

And like a crack in an act, she breaks into a cutesy laughter like we weren’t talking about body bags a second ago!

“I’m joking, sthandwa. Your man left you some breakfast.” She says, placing the tray on my lap and fixing the big pillows behind me.

All that information and yet I still don’t know who this is standing like a shadow of an absent father in my room.

“I’m MaNgcobo.” Her teeth shine through her smile.

‘I’m MaNgcobo’ – why does this statement sound like it’s supposed to explain everything? The way she said it, the smile that’s unlike any smile I’ve seen really, that intro sent something down my spine and it wasn’t chills.

“I’m MaGoqo.” I never thought I’d live long enough to call myself MaGoqo. Death has always been appealing to me.

“Nice to meet you, MaGoqo. Now can you eat some food, your lips are starting to tell on us.” Is she a genuine fan of dark jokes?

I look down on my plate, it’s very… heavy. A mountain of uphuthu; oxtail stew and a plethora of salads.

“Your food looks beautiful.” I whisper as my stomach chooses to show off.

“Oh no, I didn’t cook. Your man did.”

Hm, he’s a good cook … wait a damn minute. He can cook? That’s not good, he’s not supposed to cook. I’m the cook, I must cook- for security reasons only.

“Whats the matter, has he never cooked for you before?”

“Before?” frown!

“Yes, during the course of your relationship that is.” Oh, I forget that part. The lying.

“He didn’t really prepare any of this for me back then, this is new to me.” I play around with the spoon, scooping up some of everything only to play around with it again.

“C’mon eat, even if he poured some love potion you guys are married anyway. I’ll bring you cosmetics and fresh clothes, in the meantime finish your food.” She orders, with a smile, you can’t forget the smile.

I wait for MaNgcobo to walk out the bedroom then quickly cover the food with my hands, “God, I pray You burn every dangerous poison on this plate Amen.” Then start digging in.

I’m too hungry to let trust issues win over me. 20 or so minutes later she walks in carrying a toiletry bag and another shopping one with clothes inside.

“These are the pinafores we bought for you but since we couldn’t dress you yesterday, we will do so today.”

I grab my tray, the plate is still half full. Once I heard my stomach grumble my courage left my body and I stopped stuffing my face with immediate effect.

“Thank you MaNgcobo.”

She smiles and goes on to open the curtains and the sliding door.

No, no, no Nqobile. The vase!

“Oh my, Bungobakho’s urn was here all along? What’s it doing outside?” I’m sorry, Bungobakho’s what?

My heart starts beating differently as if it’s dancing to a song of death. No pun intended, respectfully.

“That’s … that’s his urn of what?”

“Leo’s ashes, poor thing. It smells abit different though.” She’s about to bring it to her nose and I instantly want to change places with Leo.

“Maybe he left it here on purpose?” my fingers lock as I try to deescalate my problems. I can’t be proving him right on day one.

“You think so? That would be very strange though, Bakho respects these ashes as though Leo’s still alive.” Can she stop talking!

Now I feel extremely horrible. Why would he leave ashes in a guest’s bedroom?

“Let me leave it, he can be snappy about such things. Let’s go get you ready Makoti wethu.” MaNgcobo grabs me by the wrist and pulls me out the room.

All I’m thinking of is poor Leo, I hope he was blind when alive that way even his spirit doesn’t get the chance to rat me out for showing it my entire Palace inside out.

I haven’t even shaved!

I didn’t get to look around the house much because I kept thinking of that poor ancestor I just peed on. The signs were there, I was never meant to marry. Sibahle left me to shower in the bathroom three doors from my bedroom,

I’m quick with everything because I actually like having her around, she’s the only person I consider human in this family for now.

Once I’m done with the fast shower, I lotion up and put on the dusty pink t-shirt first. It’s too tight, I had to take it off again and double check this isn’t 13-14. My sister would have never fitted into this.

Eventually I’ve gotten everything on, almost forgot to wrap my head and put the marriage sachet across my body. I return the bags to my bedroom then wander off in search for MaNgcobo.

Instead I bump into a family portrait hung on the accent wall above the fireplace. Those are a lot of people, a lot of scary looking people.

“We had that picture framed in every single house as an appreciation for the effort it took in taking it. Some people disappeared until the last minute of the shoot, Baba almost had it all cancelled.” She’s coming behind me.

“Which one is baba?”

She eyes me and it’s only then do I remember what I forget. The relationship.

“I know about the arrangement between you and Bhuti.” She says next to my ear, the sheep in cow’s skin!

“You do?”

MaNgcobo nods.

Unbelievable of her to play me for nothing, what’s her deal?

“I just needed to be sure you will be able to keep the story up when the rest of the family drops by for lunch today.” Since when did I sign up for theater performances during family lunches?

“A lunch for what? Since you know I’m only here to serve whatever purpose Mr X has for me, why is there all this fuss?”

“The family needs to buy into this, especially Baba. Please don’t mess this up, Nqobile. A lot is at stake here, things that could be irreplaceable once broken.” Talk about no pressure!

“Will he hurt me, Mr X will he hurt me?”

“No, never. He just needs some patience and someone who will work towards understanding him.”

I don’t want to understand grown adults please.

She looks up at the portrait with me, nostalgia showers her eyes as she continues to peer, “We are not a bad family, I think it’s important you know that.” She says and walks right away.

Mmmh, I don’t know about that. She said family, they are not a bad family, not people. And that bothers me.

Okay Nqobile, time to be umfazi. Maybe if I impress this man enough he will release me from this contract I never signed up for sooner than my death.

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