A BRIDE FOR HIRE Novel Chapter 5

I’m not sure since when exactly have I developed insomnia but apparently I have and it’s here to stay. It’s been four hours of me shuffling all over this bed, I tried switching the position of the pillows; I tried lessening the number of covers; I’ve tried sleeping on the floor and yet I’m still restless.

“Goodness gracious me! Why can’t one thing go well for me, just one.” The vent is needed, each time I do so something lifts off my chest almost instantaneously. So, I continue to exert my frustrations out on the pillows too – the only thing quiet enough to listen to me.

“I’m hurting, all this shit hurts. Being strong hurts, pretending hurts, lying to myself for people I know don’t give a shit for me hurts. The betrayal? It all hurts. I. Am. Hurting!” my fist drives into the softness of the cotton thrice, the fury in me is still boiling my lungs that’s a when I plant my face on the pillow and let out a scream before breaking into a serious cry.

Today, I’m angry at myself. I let this happen to me, it was my meekness that dragged me into this pit of depression.

‘But again, your bravery just secured your sister’s future. You’re doing this for Olwemihla to live the life of her dreams.’ ~ my brain therapist chips in. Unnecessarily so, I didn’t need her optimism today.

And we both know that’s a lie, I’m not here for Olwemihla. It just sounds more soothing to think like that because knowing your worth’s value to your parents is a little more painful to admit.

‘Nothing is new though, they’ve always been like that. You just chose to open your eyes to their true colors a little too late.’ ~ she’s speaking sense on that, I take the L.

Just because it’s nothing new, it doesn’t mean the wound hurts any less. Familiarity does not equate to healing, you can swing on cloud 9 after every single weed joint you smoke – that doesn’t mean your demons are going away. You just becoming good at pretending like it.

‘Whatever, none of this will you get you anywhere. So get over it.’ ~ yup, Keisha was on duty tonight I can see.

I switch my brain off completely and usually that means all I want to do is eat, eating entertains my thoughts-break. I wrap my pinafore on and head out the bedroom still stretching and yawning.

It’s so quiet, it feels like I’m dreaming.

Not to throw shade but this family traumatized me yesterday afternoon, one moment it’s all good and the next sparks are flying and women are marking their territories. I’m not too sure how to feel about that whole lunch war.

Perhaps Mr X and I need to actually sit down and have a conversation, mainly to do with his family.

I don’t turn on the light, I’m just relying on the bright ones shining in from the outside through the curtains. I think the open plan setting also makes the house extra bright even with the lights off.

My brain heads for the oven. With how our conversation ended last night, I don’t think the man ate the food I left for him out of fear of being murdered or something.

One good thing about me? Because I have developed other personalities in my head – some optimistic, others pessimistic, it’s easier for me to call myself out on a mistake and the way I spoke to Bakho yesterday was a little overbearing.

Yes sure, he’s a customer and customers are always right. Nevertheless, he is also an old man …. Sorry, let me reiterate, he is a mature man and I had no business screaming at his face like that. I owe him an apology for it.

This food isn’t cold I can skip the microwave. What do I want is a glass of whatever that alcoholic drink I saw in the fridge was. I’m about to slide myself on a bar stool and start digging in when the kitchen Aluminum door just swings open, another giraffe strolls inside whilst whistling Barry White.

I cover my mouth in both shock and fear. Who is this?

He grabs a dishcloth from the other side of the kitchen and wipes something with it, I force my eyes to go down so I can see what it is.

“Eh… Zimpambosi zomfula.” The Man startles as he finally notices me when walking back out. He hid that object quite fast, I still saw it!

I force my lips into a movement I don’t understand, maybe I want to say something but I’m dead already so I can’t speak. That’s how it feels anyway.

The only moment my breathing returns is when he shuts the door after walking out. A deep exhale relaxes my muscles again, and my palms stop itching.

Who on earth was that and why was he wiping a knife with my dishcloth? What the heck is going on here?

I turn around and stare at the curtains, no I shouldn’t peek. Im not here to police people, whatever is happening is none of my business.

But I live here, I’m sure I deserve to know what’s going on in my own yard right? It’s too early, literally the wee hours but I’m itching to call someone and ask if I’m safe in this house or not.

MaNgcobo comes to mind, it’s my first day and I already want to be controversial?

Screw it!

After digging for the phone in my pocket, I scramble for her number that had saved all on her own while I was bathing. Yeah, privacy isn’t much of thing in this family.

It rings for a few seconds then she answers, “MaGoqo, is everything alright?” you can’t miss the panic surging and also the sleepy voice.

“Yes! … Sorry for waking you up actually, it’s just – “ my literacy isn’t strong enough to explain everything I just went through here in a few minutes.

“What happened, Nqobile man?” her voice strengthens.

My fingers clutch on the phone, “I saw someone here, he looked like bhuti but he wasn’t bhuti. Is everything okay?” see, I’m bad at explaining situations like this.

“Zohlokoma is here with me in bed, MaGoqo.” She says.

Then who was that?

“Wait, wait … uhm, did he have those wave cuts?”

“Something like that.”

“The heck! Okay, sthandwa sami don’t mind them. I’m sure it’s nothing serious, just go back to bed.” She sounds cool and relaxed as well, obviously I will relax too.

“If you say so, mama. Sorry for waking you up again.” I really feel stupid for doing that now.

“It’s okay lover, goodnight.”

“Goodnight mama.”

No matter what, in a marriage you should hold your own forte – umfazi ngumfazi emzini wakhe, I shouldn’t get used to doing this because let’s be real, his family would eat it up during every family gathering and I don’t want to be a cause for any rift between them.

I should go to bed. Nqobile, go to bed.

The food is still all over the plate, I’ll warm it later this morning and finish it then. You know what, maybe Mini being here is good, he’ll have all the news for me by noon because I won’t roll over this itch of finding out what was that all about until it’s scratched.

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Around 8AM I’m up and positive that we’ve started the day on a good foot, clean energy and with a new lease on life. I’ve talked myself into that anyway.

I’m already ticking off on my chores list mentally: it’s first the kitchen; the living room; the guest bathrooms and listing grocery. But first and more important, early morning peeing session, I grab my cosmetics too.

Everything is lovely, I’m walking on clouds. Nothing’s going to change if I don’t start looking at this in a whimsical experience light. So I’ll have to suck it …

“AAAAAAHHHHH!” I fling my hands over my mouth and fight my lungs for air to breathe.

They all stand up at once too. There are … 1,2,3,4,5,6 obnoxiously tall men huddled in my living room. My husband is the only one still leaning on the top rail of the couch, his eyes scanning me in concern I think, it’s very difficult understanding his expressions because of those thick waves on his forehead.

“Good morning, bo-Bhuti.” I smile as less awkwardly as possible, and even wave.

They don’t say anything back, I think they’re stunned too. Funny because this is my house now, if I’m not here then where am I supposed to be? I excuse myself without further explanation and only then do I hear them breath out, murmurs and chuckles fill the room again.

There is no time for lengthy showers anymore, I’m quick and done changing into my last clean pinafore. MaKhanyile needs to send my clothes quick! After putting a doek and the makoti-sachet I make my way out to the kitchen immediately to start prepping breakfast for all those people.

I don’t even know who they are, I did however spot one that has a strong resemblance to Bab’omncane. But, if that is his son then why didn’t he pitch up yesterday?

Here comes the real kicker, what do I cook?

Eggs and bacon? There is lots of it in the fridge or do I just rock old school heavy foods? Ugh, to make my life simple I take out pork cutlets from the freezer and get those defrosted while I chop up mushrooms and some veggies for a creamy sauce that I’ll dress over the cutlets. For starch, they’ll make do with the baguette bread that’s piled in the fridge, only I’ll add my twist and mix some butter; aromat and garlic with some herb spices then fry them up. Everything will be self service just avoid me running low on my confidence batteries and ending up being a fuck up.

What do tall men drink anyway!

There’s an expresso machine here, should I just make that? As if I know how to work this thing to begin with!

After a busy 25+ minutes, I’m already done and the noise from the living room has kept gradually increasing. The main Convo? Their childhood trauma, they are boasting out laughing over their childhood traumas. And now more than ever I’m certain oBaba have some agenda that isn’t so good and pure because it’s utterly insane to me how ugly their relationships with their own children were.

I grab a bowl of warm water and pour three drops of Maq dishwashing liquid and lemon then throw a dishcloth over my shoulder ready to go make them wash their hands.

I hate how they lower their voices when I approach, like damn stop breeding the weird vibe.

“Sorry to interrupt boBhuti. Breakfast is ready, please wash your hands.” My tiny voice feels like it’s drowning in their breathes alone.

I march up to the husband first and kneel, he’s the only one who will be getting that privilege, the rest will get a bend.

“Thank you, Zimpambosi zomfula.” He speaks so slow, not slow in a slug manner, but slow in a regulated manner.

My last night’s behavior mirrors in my mind once again, I feel a little bad for yelling once again even if he deserved it.

“Mhlaba.” I nod and take my bowl elsewhere once he was done.

When everyone is finished washing their hands, I return to my territory and get rid of the dirty water, it’s literally red-ish.

My heart is already thinking what my mind refuses to. I push that nonsense to the back of my head and continue getting everything sorted on the dining room table. Breakfast is self service, I’ve placed juice; water and coffee on the table for them. They’ll choose what they want, these are grown men with choices and apparently childhood traumas too.

Meanwhile I dish up my plate and go have my breakfast outside in the garden gazebo.

There’s a peace that comes from sitting in this area, one I can’t silence in my mind. It’s been a full day and some hours now, I’ve met the family; I’ve met the husband and still the question won’t stop recycling itself in my mind. How. Did. I. Get here?

Life is moving too fast all a sudden, I’m evolving faster than colonizers did in Africa and in all that my greatest concern is: Am I going to fulfil my role right? Like I said before, it’s been only a day and some hours and yet I’ve already disturbed my sister-wife’s peace in the crack of dawn!

Marriage has never been buddy-buddy to me, hence the level of loathing I share for it but now that I’m here and there is no going back anytime soon, I want to make sure I do my best.

Problem is, I don’t know what’s my best exactly in this situation. All I keep thinking about is what would Nonkanyiso have done?

Perhaps I should call her and ask for help, she knew this man four whole weeks more than me, she probably knows a thing or two. I grab my phone from my pocket and sprint to my call log before I talk myself out of this.

It rings two times unanswered. Weird.

I call again, shifting to the left of the bench for better reception.

The answer? Voicemail.

“Hhayi-bo wenja, answer your damn phone!” she doesn’t have the slightest right to be mizing me, I’m the aggrieved between us.

On my fourth call, the bitch finally picks up.

“What do you want, Nqobile!?”

Apparently, the audacity that she eats for breakfast!

“What are you fired up for? You’re out there living your dream life with your boyfriend and that R30 000. I should be the angry woman not you!” and I am angry, at myself not them, stupid I know.

She deeply sighs, collects her manners again and rephrases that stella opening line, “I apologize, Nqobile. I’m just … it’s just that I’m tired, I haven’t slept much.” Awww, they do say money makes sleeping hard.

“Can we meet up later today or something?”

She doesn’t say anything but I can hear her galloping breathing very clearly.

“Are you going to vanish again?”

“Nqobile c’mon, I have apologized please forgive me.” I won’t do that crap!

“Can we or can we not meet today?” I ask again, more firmly this time. Maybe in her head I’m just trying to weave my way in her heart again.

As if!

“Why? And does that psycho of yours knows that you want us to meet?” who is the psycho now?

I’m about to ask when someone clears their throat behind me. My body jolts in a fright, “I’ll call you later friend, bye.” I stumble over a few words but I think I covered that well.

“Did I interrupt something, MaNdaba?”

I shake my head, “No Mhlaba, that was nothing. Is everything alright?”

He’s good-looking today, more casual than yesterday. He’s wearing a baby pink formal pant and a white cotton tee paired with sneakers. Did he iron his own clothes?

“Yes, my brothers appreciated the meal. Siyabonga Sobahle.”

I crack into a smile, it’s genuine trust me.

I’m not used to being shown any gratitude for anything that I do, not in the way he says it.

Flashes of what I came across last night erase the good judgement, I’m doing too much it needs to stop.

“I haven’t officially met any of your other brothers, they weren’t here yesterday.” I baby walk into the conversation we should be having. Me being officially announced because these pop-up meet-ups are not comfortable for me.

“I have sisters too.” Oh, talk about a fun fact.

“Will I ever officially know them? If it’s any of my business of course, I’d respect any decision you make.” Maybe not any, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

“We’ll talk. Uh, for now we are on our way out.” Lovely, just freaking lovely!

“Okay, peace chommie.” I’m so over this man mahn!

After grabbing my plate and glass, I walk off back to the house leaving him there on his own.

The house is empty again and clean, did these men clean up themselves? There isn’t a single dish or grain of bread in the kitchen.

So I’ll just clean up in the bathrooms and living room then go to bed for a nap.

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Yeah, that sleep thing didn’t work and I thought of calling my sister again but after what she said, I decided nah.

I’ll just see what I can do… erh, did I miss another lunch planning?

I watch madame stroll in my house, looking around for whoever, until her eyes finally set on me. I walk further down the passage way and make sure to reveal how disturbing this looks to me.

“Ah, Ma…” Beauty gestures for me to finish it off for her because apparently, she doesn’t remember the name of the woman whose house she’s in right now.

“Nqobile is just fine, Ma.” Yeah, I also have to call her that.

“How are you today, Nqobile? After yesterday’s disaster, I can’t imagine how tough you’ve been finding adjusting to the family.” Her boobs give me no rest, they look like air balls that have been pumped to their limits. They look good on her though.

“No family is perfect, Ma. And I’ve been doing just fine thanks.”

I cringe at how she throws herself on the couch and the way she puts her feet up on the table.

“I came in peace, to apologize really. My behavior yesterday was unappreciative, it’s just my boy hasn’t brought anyone home in a long time. I don’t know if he has told you, Bungobakho is a bit… different from his siblings.” Different in what manner exactly? They all seem the same to me.

Well, make an exception of Minenhle.

“I see.” I nod.

“Why don’t we go shopping? I don’t reckon you own any clothes less hideous than that.”

Excuse her!

“It’s a pinafore, I don’t think there’s one in couture Ma.”

“Then you should change it. C’mon, you’re a Ximba now you must be decent at the very least.”

My brow takes a curved quest, “I don’t think Msuthu minds the way I look, Beauty.” She’s starting to remind me why I was told to avoid her like the plague.

“Has he looked at you? In any case, he might not mind how you look but there are other watching. A 50 cents is a 50 cents, you don’t need to rub it in dirt to make it undesirable but little girl, who wants to walk around with a dirty 50 cents in their purse?” her lips tilt ever so slightly, “Come, let’s go.” Beauty gets up, packing her sunglasses and car keys into her bag.

“I don’t have the keys to the house, I can’t lock up.”

“No one will dare walk in her, the last person who stole a TV in this house. Returned a week later with a bigger one and a microwave as a gift, he did the installation free of charge.”

What!?

“The quiet ones huh?” she smirks and her heels start making noise all the way out the house.

I don’t know what to do. Why can’t I go out and let loose? It’s not like she will kill me and bury my body in the wilderness. Besides, I need clothes.

I close up the house, leaving it unlocked as is and hope Beauty wasn’t bluffing. My feet almost trip over the three steps going down the verandah.

A Brabus!?

“This is your car?” I’m stunned and impressed.

I didn’t take her for a sports car fanatic.

“Get inside the car farm julia.”

Argh! She always ruins everything!

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That whole shopping is a girl’s therapy stuff? 101% true!

I’ve never felt so carefree before, it’s fun other than the little moments where Beauty says something lame or belittling. I’ve learned one thing though, and it’s that when you learn how to fly with the witches, you find they aren’t so bad after all.

We’re walking into a restaurant in after three straight hours of parading Galleria mall with shopping bags hanging from our arms. Shoes; dresses and a few skirts is all I brought… oh underwear too.

And because I felt bad for spending that man’s money, Beauty clearly stated she will be refunded her money, I bought him a belt. A leather one. Probably not the best gift to buy for a man you still don’t know.

“I told you, your legs are too skinny for pencil skirts. Who wears pencil skirts outside the office anyway?” at this point I can’t tell whether she’s insulting me for fun or if she’s just naturally brutal in her honesty.

“Not very word coming out of your mouth needs to be mean, Beauty. I like hanging around with you but I hate your ignorance.” I mumble behind her in my forced feisty tone.

We are ushered to a less crowded area and given menus. The waitress promises to return after five minutes.

“What are you going to do about it?” her eyes pop out towards me.

Ah! I’m gobsmacked!

“That’s your problem, don’t say you don’t like something if there’s nothing you’re going to do about it. That’s how these people learn to give you the respect you think you deserve.” She scoffs and starts chewing the free bread sticks.

“You think this family is the one you were sitting around your fancy dinner table with? If that’s what you believe then wake the hell up and start smelling the coffee before you wake up to 3rd degree burns. Be smart, Nqobile.”

My Flippen gosh, I’m just a paid bride here, what’s with all the trigger warnings?

“We aren’t a bad family BTW.” And why do they all say that?

My ringing phone distracts me.

It’s MaNgcobo.

“Excuse me.” I get up from the table and head to a corner further away from our table.

“MaNgcobo, how are you?” she must be checking in after the midnight saga.

“Hey sthandwa sami. I’m okay, just woke up and figured we should do something today, maybe fetch your belongings.” Ooou, this will be a tough one.

“I’m not exactly home right now, I’m at the Mall.” I whisper.

“Oh! That was quick, you and your man are already going out and doing couple’s stuff?” oh my word no!

“No, not with Bakho. I’m with Beauty.”

I hear tyers screeching, “With who? By yourself? Kanjani manje Nqobile?”

“She came and offered to take me shopping, what was I supposed to do?”

“Call me, as I stated. Goodness, Nqobile where are you?” she’s overreacting now.

“Galleria Mall but I’m fine, Beauty isn’t that bad.”

“You just arrived yesterday, Nqobile. You definitely don’t know who Beauty is. Do not leave that Mall with her, I’m on my way.”

“Sibahle, what’s going on?”

“Just do as I say.” The crazy bitch hangs up on me.

What kind of family is this?

I return to the table feeling uneasy all over again, I’m not sure of anything anymore. What’s going on? There’s so much going on in this family and not enough resources to find out what.

Beauty looks at me for a minute, the bread stick being twirled in the air. “Your nanny?” her question isn’t a question.

She knows it was her.

I want to stuff my face with bread sticks too now.

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