Run away bride: should I trust him?

CHAPTER 9:RUN AWAY BRIDE-(THE CALL)

We arrived home. The house in Dube was quiet. The taxi outside was parked, the dogs next door were barking at the stadium traffic. The sky was turning orange.

The first thing on my mind is taking a bath. I felt dirty. Not because of dust — because Arjun's hand had been on my mouth, on my arm. I could still feel his fingers on my wrist. I wanted to scrub it off.

Ma Dineo gave me a bucket of hot water and Sunlight soap and a clean towel. "Take your time, my child," she said.

I went into the small bathroom with the yellow flower dress still torn at the shoulder and Nkosi's army jacket over it. I locked the door. I sat on the bucket for a long time before I poured water.

I washed my face, my arms, my mouth three times. I watched the dirty water go down the drain. I cried quietly so Ma Dineo wouldn't hear. I wasn't crying because Arjun found me. I was crying because for 5 minutes at the stadium, I felt normal. I felt like a girl who could prank a soldier about a toilet. And then he came and reminded me — you are not normal. You are a runaway bride. You will always be running.

When I came out, wearing my blue jeans and Dream Big t-shirt again, Ma Dineo had made tea. Bra Solly was sitting on the couch, his matching traditional shirt now off, his face tired.

His phone rang. Loud. The old Nokia ringtone.

He looked at the screen and frowned. "Thohoyandou number."

He answered in Venda, "Hello? ... Yes, I am Bra Solly..."

His face changed. Slowly. His eyebrows went up, then down. He stood up.

"What? When? Which hospital?" he said.

Ma Dineo and I stared at him.

He hung up and looked at me. He didn't speak for a long time.

"Bra Solly? Who was that?" I asked, my heart already beating fast.

He receives a call from the hospital that is treating Khathu. He was severely injured and lost a lot of blood. He was found by one of his friends on campus. Who noticed he hasn't been showing up to class.

"He was in his room. For almost two days. Bleeding," Bra Solly said slowly, in English so I would understand every word. "His friend from university, Peter, he said Khathu didn't come to class Friday, Saturday, Sunday. He went to check today. He found him on the floor. Unconscious. They took him to Tshilidzini Hospital. He lost a lot of blood."

The bucket bath, the warm tea, the safe house — all of it disappeared.

"Khathu?" I whispered.

Bra Solly nodded. "The doctor says it's possible that he won't be able to walk properly for days or even months. They beat his leg. His knee. They say they kicked him many times."

I felt bad because this was all my fault. I involved him in all this.

My legs gave way and I sat on the floor. The tea cup in my hand shook.

Khathu. My Khathu who taught me to ride a bicycle. Khathu who carried my school bag when boys teased me. Khathu who put me in that quantum even though he knew Arjun was dangerous. Khathu who told me "Run, Milondo, don't look back."

And now he cannot walk.

If I had just stayed. If I had just married Arjun in that white church dress, Khathu would be in class today. He would be walking. He would be laughing.

"It's my fault," I cried. "It's all my fault. I asked him to help me. I called him that morning. If I didn't call him, Arjun wouldn't have found him."

I put my head in my hands and sobbed loudly now, I didn't care.

Ma Dineo quickly sat next to me on the floor and pulled me into her lap, like I was a small child.

"Shhhh, my child, shhhh. It's not your fault. It's that devil's fault," she said, rocking me.

Bra Solly and Ma Dineo realised that I'm feeling bad about everything. They changed the topic.

"Ah, Milondo, did I tell you, Mrs. Khumalo's son passed his English test today?" Ma Dineo said suddenly, too brightly. "He said he wants you to teach him tomorrow."

Bra Solly jumped in too, "And tomorrow, we will go to the police station to check, maybe they will let us see the docket. And Nkosi, that soldier boy, he said he will come by tomorrow to return his jacket and check on you."

They were trying to make me feel better. But I could see in Bra Solly's eyes he was also feeling guilty — because he is the one who told the neighbor woman where we went. He is the one who made it easy for Arjun to find us at the stadium.

We all felt guilty. We all ate pap that night without talking much.

I left early to bed that night. I honestly couldn't stop thinking about everything that happened so far in my life. It makes me miss my aunt Huli.

I lay on the small mattress in my room, door locked, Nkosi's heavy jacket folded next to me like a blanket, and I stared at the ceiling.

Aunt Huli was my mother's sister. She died when I was 18. She was the only one who ever told me, "Milondo, you must finish school. Don't be like us." She used to buy me second-hand books from Thohoyandou market. English story books. She had a soft voice. When she died of cancer, no one else told me to dream.

I wish she was here. She would know what to say. She would tell me it's not my fault Khathu is in hospital. She would tell me running was not a sin.

I held my new phone — the new Soweto number that Arjun now had — and wanted to call my mother, but I was scared. What if Arjun is out already? What if he is at my home in Tshidimbini, waiting?

Monday is fast approaching I'll have to see that monster again. What kind of torture is this?

The police woman said I must come to Orlando Court on Monday to testify for bail hearing. I have to stand in the same room as Arjun. I have to see that smile again.

I touched my lip where I bit it. It was swollen.

I thought freedom would feel light. But tonight, freedom feels heavy. Heavy like Khathu's broken leg. Heavy like Monday.

I closed my eyes and tried to dream about being a teacher, but all I saw was Arjun's Fortuner parked outside Bra Solly's gate, and Khathu unconscious on his dorm floor, holding his phone with my new number on it.

And somewhere far, in Tshilidzini Hospital, my best friend couldn't walk because he helped me learn how to run.