Run away bride: should I trust him?

Chapter 14:RUN AWAY BRIDE-( hello stalker!!)

It's been days after the dinner. Three days exactly. Since I stepped on Lieutenant Jerk's boot and he drove away in the rain.

And I feel weird. Like someone is watching me kind of weird. Not the normal Soweto watching — like neighbours watching who comes in and out. This is different. This is eyes on your back when you walk to school.

On Monday I was walking to Dube Centre, and I saw the same blue Golf parked near the corner. I didn't think much. On Tuesday, same blue Golf, but further down, near the spaza shop. The windows were tinted, I couldn't see who was inside. On Wednesday today, I swear I saw it again near the taxi rank when I was coming back.

Maybe I'm paranoid. After Arjun, everyone looks like Arjun's brother.

It couldn't be Arjun he's probably picking up soap in jail by now. I laugh when I say that to myself, but it's nervous laugh. Home Affairs said deported to Nigeria. Flight was on Tuesday. He is gone. He cannot come back — they took his passport, flagged him.

So why do I feel like this?

And it's not just that, my phone sometimes rings but nobody answers. I find it alarming after everything I went through in Arjun's hands.

My new Soweto number. Only five people have it — Ma Dineo, Bra Solly, Khathu, the school principal, and... Nkosi. I saved him as "Lieutenant Jerk" in my contacts.

Since yesterday, unknown number keeps calling. Private number.

First time I answered: "Hello?" Silence. Then breathing. Then cut.

Second time, same. Third time today during maths class, my phone vibrated. Private number. I answered outside. "Who is this?" Silence. Then a man's voice, very low, not Arjun, said, "Milondo." Just my name. Then cut.

My hands went cold. I almost dropped the phone.

I wanted to run to tell Ma Dineo, but then I stopped. I don't want to make Bra Solly and Ma Dineo worry so I won't tell them.

They have done so much for me. Enrolled me in school, bought me a table, fed me, protected me. They finally smile without worrying. If I tell them "someone is watching me," Bra Solly will not sleep again. He will sit at the gate with his knobkerrie all night. Ma Dineo will cry and pray all night.

I cannot do that to them. Not after they celebrated my freedom with a "CONGRATS" cake.

I told Khathu though. On video call last night.

"Khathu, what if it's Arjun's friends? The ones who beat you?" I whispered, so Ma Dineo wouldn't hear from the kitchen.

Khathu's face became serious on the small screen. His leg still in cast.

"Milondo, listen. Arjun has many boys. In Musina, in Jozi. They do his dirty work. He is in Nigeria but his phone still works. Maybe he gave them your new number."

"What do I do?" My voice shook.

"Tell that soldier. Tell Nkosi. He is police-military, he can trace number."

Lieutenant 'jerk' would have been of use but I heard that he is fully on duty. Ma Dineo said she heard on the radio that the President is in Durban this week, and all presidential protection soldiers went with him. Nkosi is probably in Durban, standing with his broad shoulders and sunglasses, being rude to people who need toilet.

I can't call him. He will think I'm making up stories to get a free lift again.

Today after school, the weird feeling got worse.

I was walking home the short cut past the community hall, backpack on my back, and I felt it strong — someone behind me. I turned quickly. No one. Just a man fixing his bicycle. But my heart was beating like at the stadium.

I walked faster. Then I heard footsteps matching mine. Faster when I went faster. Slower when I slowed.

I started running. My school shoes slapping the tar.

I didn't stop until I reached Bra Solly's gate and slammed it.

Ma Dineo was in the yard hanging washing. "Milondo, why are you running? Is it rain?"

"No, Mma, I... I was exercising," I lied, breathing hard.

That night I couldn't sleep. The phone rang again. Private number. 10:34 PM.

I answered. Silence. Then: "You think you can deport a king? I will be back for my wife."

It was Arjun's voice. Low, but it was him. I know that voice. I heard it every night for a month in Tshidimbini when he came to shout at my father.

My blood froze. I dropped the phone. It cut.

How? He is in Nigeria. How is he calling me from a private number? Did he get a Nigerian sim and roam? Did he give my number to his boys and they are playing voice notes?

I picked the phone with shaking hands. I blocked private numbers. I turned off my phone.

I lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, listening to the dogs barking outside. The blue Golf. The breathing. The voice.

Maybe freedom is not a one-time court order. Maybe freedom is something you have to fight for every day.

I thought of Nkosi's jacket, folded in my cupboard. I thought of his words: "I will be there."

Tomorrow I will go to Orlando Police Station. Even if Nkosi is in Durban, the nice police woman is there. I will tell her. I will not keep quiet anymore to protect Ma Dineo and Bra Solly from worry. Because keeping quiet is how Arjun wins.

I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep. I waited for morning, with my school books hugged to my chest like a shield.

And outside, somewhere on my street, a car engine started and drove away slowly.