Between the open gap, she was able to see another set of chairs similar to the ones in the room she was in. She concluded it was a twin room. A brief conversation went on behind her line of vision, but she couldn’t pick out the words.
‘You can come in,’ announced Sister Barbara.
She did. The second office was brighter, because the curtains were rolled aside. The windows were closed in spite of the hot weather. The lights were on. But all made sense when she saw Father Kennedy. Few survive to his age. His lens was the thickest she had ever seen, and he was struggling to see her.
‘Ho ho,’ he chuckled like Father Christmas. ‘I’m an old man. Don’t bother me. A street child has stolen what this time?’
Natasha had all the reasons to believe he was fooling. Sister Barbara would have told him a version of the story by now. But he was a cheerful man. The atmosphere was light here.
‘Not the usual stuff I bring with me, Father,’ Natasha returned with equal humour, and managed to smile.
‘Then she should be worse,’ he said with a relatively lower voice, looking at Sister Barbara and wagging a finger at Natasha.
Sister Barbara stood on one side of the desk, humbly pressing the backside of one hand in the palm of the other. ‘Father this is Miss Natasha….’ The secretary started.
She said everything as Natasha had told her.
‘It’s nice of you to come, along,’ Father Kennedy said. ‘God bless you.’
He paused, and then closed the bible he had been reading. He added it to the pile that lay at the end of the table. When he was sure it was aligned with the other books beneath, he continued, ‘I’m sorry though, the procedures are much longer than this.’
The hairs at the end of Natasha’s head went upright
‘But why?’ she protested.
He waved his palms at her coolly. The hell of a cool cat, Natasha noted. She could see she had a fight on her hands.
‘What you’re talking about is adoption’, he paused again, ‘We may have to assess your financial position. You have to pass a medical test. We’ll see if your home is suitable for child development. Also your religion and your family structure.’
‘I understand you very much,’ Natasha chirped in. ‘But, I’ve lived with the child before. It might as well mean that every parent should pass the fitness test as you say.’
She was saying bullshit and she knew it.
‘Wait.’ Again he gestured to interrupt her.
‘Look, if we find undesirable intentions in your motives, then we might not give the child to you.’ Natasha wondered what this was supposed to mean, but he continued. ‘In your case, staying with the child for two months and having him run away aren’t the best of qualities we’re looking for. You were either too hard or too soft on him. You do agree with me that child abuse isn’t uncommon these days.’
He rose from the chair slowly and began to go over a pile of files that were on the shelves. He slipped out one. From inside, he produced some papers, which he shipped across the table. Natasha was feeling drained down to bone. It wasn’t easy to go through the legal procedures, and there was no guarantee that she would win as he had said. With her car in shatters: the insurance claims, another legal procedure, it was more that she could possibly bear.
‘Without further ado, you’ll have to fill in these forms,’ he said.
Natasha pulled the papers closer and started to go down them.
The name of the child, ‘Manata’. The surname ‘Manzira’ as his aunt had told her. The other things required were her name, her occupation, her religion, brief history on herself and so on and so on. She completed the form and returned it.
Father Kennedy took it and started looking at it, but he quickly snapped at her, ‘But this isn’t the surname that we have here.’
The question somehow caught her unawares. For a brief moment, she even thought her boy wasn’t even here.
‘But that’s the name I got from the aunt,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mention, she worked in a bar in town, but she can’t be found now.’
‘You see, the first thing we do when a child is brought to us, we send a number of trained people to try and find the family of that child. We want to know if they can be reunited with their family. We also write a report on every child. This isn’t the surname we have.’
‘What is it that you have?’
‘Mohyi.’
Sipeyiye’s surname has rarely been mentioned in connection with Manata. She hadn’t used it that often. A puzzle was beginning to unravel.
‘Who gave you that name?’ she asked
The Father consulted the file again. ‘Our team travelled to Muzarabani where they found the child’s relations. They were told the surname of the child is Mohyi.’
‘What else is there?’
‘Well, it says here that the boy’s mother is dead. She died of AIDS on giving birth. It says here the father abandoned the mother and the child when he left for overseas, something like it. The man then is called Mohyi.’
Everything suddenly became very clear. The child was Sipeyiye’s!
She remembered him telling the same story the day she told him she was pregnant. Sipeyiye admitted to abandoning the mother of his unborn child. The stories fitted like a jigsaw.
She felt like a megawatt of electricity had been turned on her.
‘But you’re not saying anything,’ she heard the sister say as if from a distance.
‘Sorry. This is getting a bit more complicated. I’ve just thought perhaps I could do the form later, if you’ll allow me to come along with it tomorrow,’
‘It’s all still ok,’ said the sister, strolling across the room.
‘Father, would it be all right for me to take a copy of the boy’s history with me?’ she asked hurriedly.
Sister Barbara had already left the room.
‘You can photocopy that, and leave me the original copy.’
‘And the child?’
Natasha was dying to see Manata.
‘I doubt if that can be today. Hope you find me in a better mood when next you come. And please, you should plan when we should look at your place. The other thing is the medical test.’
He handed her three sheets of paper. She paced down the corridor to the receptionist. Again, the receptionist jumped to photocopy. Natasha then made another trip to the Father. She dialled the taxi on the cell phone.
She strolled to the gate and waited. The taxi came in about half an hour.
She took a seat in the back.
‘Khumalo,’ she called to the driver, clutching the sheets of paper in her hands. And what was Sipeyiye gonna say now?
Chapter 58
The phone buzzed in his pocket. It irritated him. He switched it off. It rang again. Perhaps he would save himself from a lot of trouble if he picked it up. He slipped it out.
‘Hello,’ he said.
Mrs. Rudzi, Natasha’s secretary sounded very depressed.
‘Natasha can’t be found at the hospital.’ Her voice echoed eerily in the line.
Sipeyiye sighed. What was wrong with this girl?
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I came to the hospital around six in the evening. She wasn’t here. She’s hindering the work of the police. They went to her place, but she wasn’t there either.’
‘God...’
‘Where do you think she’s gone?’
‘I’ve got no idea.’
‘But I thought you would come to see her.’
‘That was the most decent thing to do. But you can never know with Natasha, maybe she didn’t even want me there. You just have to know how she performed yesterday.’
‘You never told me.’
‘I don’t want to have anything to do with her shenanigans.’
‘That’s rude of you.’
A pause...
‘I’m afraid this girl is going from one problem to another every time. She needs help. I believe you can give her that, S
ipeyiye. Leave the past behind you.’
‘I’ve got to be careful. I don’t even know how that accident happened. She rarely uses the Gwanda road. Meanwhile, the journalists got hold of it. I had to make threats to stop the story being published.’
‘For now I’m worried about her whereabouts. The problem with Natasha is that she hardly makes friends. There are moments in life when we all need someone around. She’s carrying too much on her head. Look now, we don’t even know where to find her.’
‘Well, we’ll see.’
‘Thank you very much.’
She hung up. He looked at his latest Apple phone. He had bought it for a hell lot of money. Looked like a toy now. Nothing was making sense to him anymore. He was bored to pain. He was bored with Sue. He was bored with his job. He was bored with Natasha. Nothing was leading him anywhere.
He flicked the television on. It blared back at him. A talk show on why the Zimbabwean team was failing at the Africa Cup of nations. Always failing at the last minute, the team was! That didn’t make his present situation any better. He switched it off. He rose again and left the room.
‘Would you like anything while I prepare supper?’ John said from the door
‘Nothing,’ Sipeyiye snapped back at him. John retreated, having discovered that his hospitality was unwelcome. Sipeyiye swung back in the couch and gazed into the air.
Just then the intercom phone buzzed. He picked up. He didn’t even allow his mind to wonder who it was.
‘Hello, can I help you?’
‘Yes, I would like to talk to you. It’s Natasha.’
His heart missed a bit. Natasha! He managed to maintain his composure though.
‘Ok,’ he said brusquely.
He pressed the numbers on his electronic control. He could hear the familiar sound as the gate slid open, followed the growl of the hound on seeing her.
He didn’t want to be caught off guard. He snatched a copy of the Herald from the table and pretended to be reading.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Enter,’ he called out. ‘It’s not locked.
She slid the door open and walked in. She was on crutches, taking one step at a time. Sipeyiye fought the urge to look her in the eye. She looked tall and painfully thin. He could also make out a bandage on the shoulder. Also she was lighter in complexion compared to the last time he had seen her.
He wondered how he should handle her, without a show of love or hate, with pleasure or indifference.
‘Have a seat,’ he said.
She took the nearest sofa without a word.
‘You must be in hospital, Natasha’ He remembered to remain neutral just too late. And it was apparent too that it wasn’t going to work. Natasha had always had that effect on him.
‘But I’m not. Who told you that?’ She was arranging the skirt around her.
‘Your secretary.’
‘I thought she would have more sense than that,’ she exclaimed.
This girl, thought Sipeyiye.
John walked in and said his greetings. ‘Can we have some lemonade?’ said Sipeyiye. And to Natasha, he said, ‘you probably have opted for nothing.’ He pursed his lips into a line.
He hadn’t established the cause of her coming yet.
She didn’t smile, but that didn’t surprise him. And the atmosphere was tense again.
‘Thank you,’ she muttered.
‘I saw the article in the Truth,’ she continued. ‘How considerate of you.’
He wasn’t aware what she was talking of now. Surely the newspapers have many articles and dates.
‘I mean the one on the queen and the urchins.’
‘For God’s sake,’ Sipeyiye chirped. ‘I hope it’s not that boy we’re talking about. Can’t you ever get past him?’
He hustled to his feet and started to pace around the room.
John returned with the bottle of lemonade, two glasses in a tray and placed them on the table.
‘Get over what?’ she asked sharply.
‘Losing the boy Natasha! There are things that are impossible in life. You need not assume they’re not. As somebody I love, I feel I’ve to stress this strongly.’ He made another blunder of slipping the word ‘love’ in his speech.
He noticed her mouth was agape. ‘Who told you that?’ she asked curtly.
He had answered this question already. ‘Your Secretary.’
‘God!’
She pressed her palms against her eyes.
‘And there is no need to make a fuss over it. She did it all in good faith.’
‘Well, won’t you wait and listen? I went where the children where ‘bundled to’, to quote your paper. I found the boy.’
So what was her point of coming here, wondered Sipeyiye. What she did with the boy was none of his business, and he nearly spat that in her face.
‘Now, there is a file on the history of every child. I’m glad to tell you that boy who smells of sweat, or whatever your reason for hating him, is yours.’
There was an abrupt silence when she finished. There hadn’t been anything that Natasha had been doing of late that made sense at all. There were so many things to say to her but they became entangled inside him. He resumed his seat and asked calmly, ‘What makes you believe he’s mine?’
‘You forget you told me this nasty story this other day.’
‘But that doesn’t automatically make him mine. He could be anybody’s child.’
‘Not when the facts fit like a jigsaw.’
‘I can’t understand this.’ Again Sipeyiye thumped his fists on the lap.
Natasha fell back in the sofa and relaxed. ‘If you can’t, maybe this will help.’ She tossed the leaves of paper across to him.
He snatched them up and started to read. He read slowly the surname, Mohyi. He raised an eyebrow. He read the history beneath. There was a woman who was abandoned by a man Mohyi. The woman bore a child Manata. The woman died of AIDS soon after giving birth.
This was difficult for Sipeyiye to comprehend all at once. There were reasons just theoretically, for him to believe the child was his. But in real life, nature does not hold so much coincidence. This thing was out of this world.
‘Let me say my bit and leave,’ said Natasha rising dismissively. He looked at her.
‘Manata is at Sanity Home, I talked to those responsible. They say there are some legal procedures I’ve to follow if I’m to bring the child back. You probably know this better than I do. I can’t pass the test, because I’m HIV positive. The future of the child becomes very unpredictable. But if you’re the father, nothing can possibly stop you from claiming the child. Do your thinking and reach me when you can.’
She turned to leave.
But Sipeyiye jerked up and tucked at her arm.
‘You haven’t had your drink,’ he said
Natasha squinted at him over her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t wait,’ she said.
‘What are you up to?’ he enquired.
‘I want to rest.’
He walked her to the door. He became keenly aware that she was leaving now and a strong desire to have her around overpowered him.
‘You didn’t come in your car,’ he said.
A question or what?
‘I can drive you back.’
She balanced on one crutch. He knew she was going to put him off, so he quickly added, ‘Never mind, I’m not busy. Let’s go.’
She looked around. She couldn’t see the Pajero. There was only the Jaguar all right. She had a rough idea that the Pajero was beginning to give him problems, so he had settled for the Jaguar.
The hound growled at them, sniffing and punching with its paws. It remembered its old friend Natasha. Natasha patted him and slid into the car.
As they drove off, Natasha could feel Sipeyiye’s gaze on her. She had the urge to look back, but even while looking forward, she could feel his gaze sweeping over her from toe to top on every opportunity he could find. She doub
ted it had anything to do with her beauty, knowing as she did that she was now painfully thin.
‘You never said you were buying a new car,’ she said to shake off the tension.
‘And I never did.’
‘Oh,’ she gasped, turning at him.
‘This is a rented car,’
She was a bit disappointed. ‘Oh I see.’ She nearly added, ‘Was this meant for Sue then?’ She was not going to allow Sue to come between them twice.
They had driven into the city now. The street lamps flew past them, giving alternated layers of dark and light fringes. On either side of the road, shops and banks clicked by: TM, Barclays, Lucky 7 and so on. And it was somehow amusing, the smell of rich upholstery in the nose.
At the gate the guard peered into the car, just as he was about to open the gate.
He saw Natasha.
‘Sorry ma’am, but the police are looking for you,’ he said.
‘For me?’ she exclaimed.
‘Yes ma’am. And they want you to report to the police station as soon as you return.’
It wasn’t she who gasped, but Sipeyiye. ‘But do you think it has anything to do with the car?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know.’ The guard shrugged. ‘That’s the entire message I got from them.’
‘Well, thank you,’ murmured Natasha. To Sipeyiye she said, ‘drive on.’
They drove around to the park. ‘What shall we do?’ asked Sipeyiye, pulling at the clutch. Natasha momentarily wondered you or we? But she let it pass.
‘I’ll rest.’ She patted a yawn. ‘I’m dog-tired. But I’ll do the rest tomorrow. Thank you for driving me home.’
She was reluctant to let him leave and she became aware of it. She just wanted him to stay here with her for the rest of her life. She wanted to give in to her heart, to surrender her all and to forget the past wrongs and allow him to take control of her shattered world. She had loved once in her life, but true love never dies. She wanted him to the end of times.
‘You’re thinking,’ Sipeyiye asked.
‘I’m not,’ she denied vehemently.
She turned around and found his gaze. She held his gaze for quite some time. There were so many unsaid things between them, but she could not be the one to initiate. But as the seconds ticked by, she realized she was making a fool of herself.
‘Bye,’ she eventually said.
She willed him to object. And she dearly wanted him to follow. But he didn’t.
‘Take care,’ he said noncommittally.
She walked briskly towards her apartment, the tears welling up in her eyes. She wanted him to take care of her insurance claims. She wanted him to take care of her world so cold. And God, he hadn’t even said anything about Manata.