THE RISE OF TUMELO
CHAPTER 07
ITUMELENG
I pretended like I wasn’t interested in going out, I wanted him to relax and trust me before I could make a run for it. The calm facade was just a mask, underneath I was seething with anxiety, my mind racing with plans and escape routes. I forced myself to breathe normally, to not give away the turmoil brewing inside. Right now, he just left, saying he’s heading to his mother’s house for dinner. Good thing I can get a taxi to my friend’s apartment.
It’s 6 pm, the sky outside is a deep shade of orange, and the city is alive with the hum of traffic and chatter of pedestrians. I start snooping around, my eyes scanning the space for any sign of my phone or a clue about Tumelo’s plans. I don’t know what I’m searching for, but I’m hoping to find something good and worthy.
I take a deep breath before walking into his bedroom, my heart pounding in my chest. The room smells like him – a mix of cologne and fresh laundry. My luggage is packed, yes, I took all the clothes he bought for me, and a surge of defiance runs through me. Who does he think he is, keeping me prisoner?
I start searching the room, my eyes landing on the 3 stacks of cash on the table next to his bed. My heart starts beating fast, and I hesitate for a moment, wondering if I’m really going to do this. But then I remember the weeks of captivity, the fear, the uncertainty, and my resolve hardens. I take all of it, the cash feeling cool and heavy in my hands.
I grab my luggage and make a swift exit, my eyes scanning the hallway as I walk out of the apartment. I’m hoping I don’t bump into him along the way because I stole his money. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but I’m not going to let it stop me.
I hail a taxi on the street, the cool evening air a welcome relief after being coiled up in that apartment. I give the driver my friend’s address, feeling a mix of relief and excitement as I leave Tumelo’s apartment behind.
As the taxi pulls up to my friend’s apartment, I feel a surge of anticipation. I’m not going to stay here for long, first thing in the morning, I’m taking a taxi back home. The thought of freedom is exhilarating.
I pay the driver and step out onto the sidewalk, looking up at the familiar building. My friend’s apartment is on the third floor, and I feel a sense of comfort wash over me as I walk towards the entrance. The door swings open, and Nthabi’s face appears, her expression a picture of shock and confusion.
“It…Itu? I… I thought Tumelo kidnapped you.” She’s beyond shocked, her eyes wide with concern, and I can see the questions swirling in her mind. I smile, feeling a sense of triumph and relief wash over me.
I stand in the doorway, my patience wearing thin as Nthabi continues to block my entrance. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock and curiosity, and she’s scanning me from head to toe as if she’s not sure I’m really standing in front of her.
Her gaze lingers on my face, searching for any signs of trauma or struggle, but I’m determined to keep my emotions in check. “Can I get in?” I ask, my voice laced with a hint of annoyance, trying to hide the vulnerability that’s creeping in.
Slowly, she steps aside, allowing me to enter the apartment. As I walk in, I take a quick glance around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Boi, but she’s nowhere to be seen. The familiar scent of our apartment wafts through the air, a mix of cooking spices and fresh laundry, and for a moment, I feel a pang of nostalgia.
Nthabi follows me, her eyes still fixed on me, and I can sense the questions swirling in her mind. She’s trying to piece together what happened, trying to understand how I managed to escape from Tumelo’s claws. “Where were you?” She asks, her tone a mix of concern and accusation, her voice a little softer than usual. This girl is testing me, and I’m not in the mood.
I turn to face her, my expression stern, trying to keep my emotions in check. “I told you where I was and asked you to call the police, but you didn’t.” I remind her, feeling a twinge of disappointment. I thought we had each other’s backs, thought we were a team.
Nthabi’s expression is sheepish, and she looks away, avoiding my gaze. Her eyes dart around the room, landing on the couch, the TV, anywhere but me. “Call the police on Tumelo? Girl, give me a break, I value my life.” Her words are laced with a hint of fear, and I realize that this Tumelo guy is more than just a casual acquaintance. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and Nthabi’s scared of him.
“Oh, so you were going to leave me to die?” I ask, my voice dri, my voice dripping with disappointment. I thought we were friends, thought we had a bond.
Nthabi’s eyes snap back to mine, and she looks taken aback by my words. Her face softens, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the friend I thought I knew. “Stop it, so he freed you just like this, untouched?” Her tone is incredulous, and I don’t know what she’s getting at.
“No, I escaped while he was out,” I say, my voice firm. Her eyes widen in shock, and she looks like she’s about to lose it.
“Are you crazy?!” She half-shouts, her voice rising in pitch. “Itu, do you have a loose screw up there!? That man is going to find you, and if he finds you here, you’re going to get us all in danger!” She’s yelling now, and it’s unnecessary because I’m standing right in front of her.
My hands are now firmly planted on my waist, and I can feel the anger and hurt simmering beneath the surface. “Ohh, so in other words, I was supposed to stay there even though I didn’t want to?” I repeat, my voice laced with sarcasm and a hint of desperation. The words taste bitter on my tongue, and I can’t help but feel a pang of betrayal. I thought Nthabi was my friend, thought she would understand.
Nthabi’s expression is unyielding, her eyes cold and distant, like she’s putting up a wall between us. “You can call it however you want, but you have to leave my apartment.” She says, her words like a slap to the face, leaving me reeling. My heart sinks, and I feel a wave of rejection wash over me. It’s 7:30 pm, and I’m supposed to go where, exactly? The city outside is vast and intimidating, and the thought of facing it alone is daunting.
“Excuse me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, trying to keep my emotions in check. I’m hurt, and it’s showing, but I’m not going to beg. I try to keep my composure, but I can feel my voice trembling slightly.
“Itu, I think as soon as you understand how heartless that man is, you won’t judge me with your eyes.” She says, her voice softer now, but it’s too late. The damage is done, and I feel like she’s taking his side.
“So please, first thing in the morning, I want you out. Nelspruit is in his claws.” She adds, before turning around and locking herself in her room, leaving me standing there, feeling dismissed and unwanted. The sound of the lock clicking into place is like a final nail in the coffin, and I feel a lump form in my throat.
I’m hungry, but I’m not going to touch anything. Nthabi is already angry that I escaped from Tumelo, and I don’t want to give her any more reason to kick me out. I try to push the thought of food aside, but my stomach is protesting, growling with hunger. It doesn’t make sense to me; we can just call the cops, and then boom, arrested. But I know that’s not how it works with people like Tumelo. They’re above the law, and the thought sends a shiver down my spine.
I sigh, feeling defeated, and head to Boi’s room with my luggage. Boi and I share a bedroom because this is a two-bedroom apartment. I drop my luggage on the bed, and my eyes land on the money I stole from Tumelo. I didn’t want to show it to Nthabi, and I’m glad I didn’t. The thought of keeping it safe, of using it to start fresh, is a comforting one.
I have a spaza shop at home, and I sell fries, bread, snacks, cigarettes, drinks, and more. I don’t get a lot of money from it, but it’s enough to add groceries at home. With this money, I’ll buy more, and I’ll make sure to keep it safe. The thought of going back home, of being able to start over, is a tempting one, and I feel a spark of determination ignite within me.
–––
Tumelo sits with his family, the warm glow of the dinner table casting a sense of calm over the room, but his mind is elsewhere. He can’t stop thinking about Itu, wondering if she’s managed to escape or if she’s still trapped in his apartment. The thought sends a pang of unease through him, but he pushes it aside, trying to focus on the meal.
Puleng, seated next to him, is engrossed in her phone, her thumbs flying across the screen with a speed and accuracy that belies her age. Boitumelo, his mother, comes back into the room with a bowl of steaming vegetables, her face flushed from the heat of the kitchen. “Tisetso,” she calls, her voice warm and inviting, “come and eat, my boy.”
Tisetso, her youngest son, jumps off the couch, his eyes fixed on the food, and runs into the kitchen. He leans in close to his sister’s ear, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can I seat next to him?” He asks, his eyes shining with excitement. Tisetso has always looked up to Tumelo, and the older brother is his role model. Puleng rolls her eyes, but a small smile plays on her lips as she nods, allowing Tisetso to take her seat. “Thank you,” Tisetso whispers, his face splitting into a wide grin as he slides into the chair.
Tumelo’s eyes flicker to his little brother, and for a moment, he feels a pang of fondness. Tisetso is 14, but he’s already tall for his age, and his eyes shine with a fierce determination that reminds Tumelo of himself at that age.
“Let’s pray,” Boitumelo says, her voice breaking into Tumelo’s thoughts. The family joins hands, and Tumelo closes his eyes, his mind still wandering back to Itu. He can’t shake the feeling that she’s going to be a problem, that she’s going to disrupt the carefully constructed balance of his life.
After the prayer, they all dig in, the sound of clutting utensils and satisfied sighs filling the room. But Tumelo’s mind is still elsewhere, his thoughts consumed by the girl who has managed to get under his skin.
“Guys, can you listen?” Boitumelo says, her voice breaking into Tumelo’s thoughts. The family looks up at her, their faces expectant. “I invited your big brother here because I have something to tell all of you.” Boitumelo says, stealing glances at Tumelo, her eyes flickering with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty. It is clear that she is nervous about something, and Tumelo’s instincts tell him that he is not going to like it.
Boitumelo takes a deep breath, her eyes scanning the faces of her children, the warm glow of the dinner table casting a sense of anticipation over the room. The air is thick with expectation, and for a moment, the only sound is the soft clutting of utensils against plates.
“I met a man years ago, his name is Mandla from Bushbuckridge, and he’s Tisetso’s father.” She says, her gaze lingering on Tumelo, whose jaws are already clenched in a mixture of anger and apprehension.
The room falls silent, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the background. Puleng looks up from her phone, sensing the shift in atmosphere, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in her mother’s words. Tisetso, on the other hand, is beaming with excitement, his eyes shining with happiness, as if he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life.
“I want you guys to meet him and accept him as your father.” Boitumelo says, her voice steady, but Tumelo’s eyes are flashing with anger, his body tense with resistance. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, can’t believe his mother is doing this to him.
“Did you hear me, Tumelo?” Boitumelo asks, her voice a little softer, as if she’s trying to placate him, to calm the storm brewing inside him. Tumelo nods, his mouth full of food, but his eyes are screaming, his anger simmering just below the surface.
“Right, he’s a good man, and I’m pretty sure you’ll all like him.” Boitumelo continues, a huge smile plastered on her face, but Tumelo’s not buying it. He knows his mother, knows when she’s trying to hide something, and this Mandla guy is definitely something to hide.
“I’m going to invite him for dinner month-end, so you can get to tonight, so you can get to know him better.” She says, her eyes shining with anticipation, but Tumelo’s anger boils over, and he can’t help but ask, “Does he provide for you?” The question flies out of his mouth, unexpected, and Boitumelo’s smile falters.
“W-what? Of… of course he does.” She stutters, her eyes darting to Tisetso, who’s watching the exchange with wide eyes, his excitement momentarily forgotten.
“If so, why am I sending you 15k each month?” Tumelo’s voice is low, his words dripping with sarcasm, and Boitumelo’s face falls, her eyes welling up with tears. The room is silent, the tension palpable, as Tumelo’s siblings watch the exchange with bated breath.
Tisetso’s eyes fill with tears, and Tumelo’s anger softens, just for a moment, before he remembers why he’s so mad. He pushes his chair back, the sound scraping against the floor, and stands up, his eyes locked on his mother’s. “We need to talk, privately.” He says, his voice firm, before turning and walking out of the room, leaving his family in stunned.
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