The Rose Between The Worlds

The phone was ringing, my son was crying, and the porridge was burning. All at the same time. I had Wisdom balanced on my hip, his little face wet and scrunched up because one of his teeth was coming through. With my free hand, I stirred the soft porridge before it stuck to the bottom of the pot—the only pot we had, and one I had learned to stretch across more meals than it was ever meant to make. Our room was too small for all of us. One window that never quite closed, letting Pretoria's winter creep in every morning. Paint peeled from the corner near the ceiling where rain had found its way through last summer. There was one double bed with a dip in the middle where Wisdom and I slept, his plastic bath doubling as a toy box and my clothes folded inside black plastic bags because we didn't have a wardrobe. Wisdom's clothes were folded more neatly in a Shoprite bag. A chipped yellow mug held our two toothbrushes. And instead of a proper door, we had a curtain that was supposed to give us privacy. It didn't. Outside it, Ma Joyce was arguing with her boyfriend again. My phone vibrated across the mattress. I almost ignored it. Unknown numbers were usually debt collectors. But it kept ringing. I shifted Wisdom higher on my hip and grabbed the phone. "Hello?" "Palesa?" I recognized the voice immediately. "Rainey?" She sounded breathless, like she was walking quickly. "Can I call you back? Wisdom—" "No. Listen to me. Are you sitting?" I looked around my tiny room. "I'm standing." "Sit down, Palesa." "Rainey, what happened?" "Sit." I sighed and lowered myself onto the edge of the bed. The springs complained beneath me. "Okay. I'm sitting." "I got you an interview." For a second, I didn't understand. "What interview?" "At Stuurman Group." My hand stopped moving. "In Sandton." The spoon slipped slightly between my fingers. Everyone knew Stuurman Group. Every unemployed graduate in Gauteng knew that name. The glass building on Rivonia Road. The company that seemed to own half of Sandton. Trucks that moved across borders. Property developments in Waterfall. Luxury apartments in Midrand. Money. Power. The kind of company people like me only saw from the outside. "Rainey, I can't." "You haven't even heard the position." "I have Wisdom." "So?" "So I have a child." "And you need a job." I closed my eyes. She wasn't wrong. "It's for a personal assistant," she continued. "To the owner himself." My eyes opened. "Mr. Pieter Stuurman?" "Yes." I laughed. Nothing about the situation was funny. "Are you trying to get me killed?" "Palesa!" "Rainey, seriously. You know I can't work for someone like that." "Someone like what?" "Rich." She snorted. "He's more than rich." "Exactly." "Fifteen thousand rand to start." My breath caught. "Rainey..." "Medical aid too." I looked around the room. The damp patch on the ceiling. The cracked wall. Wisdom's tiny sneakers lying beside the bed. Fifteen thousand rand. My rent was R2,500. Wisdom's creche had been R1,800 before I had to take him out because I couldn't keep up with the payments. My mother sent R500 from Limpopo whenever she could. Every time she called, she told me the same thing. Hold on, my child. I had been holding on for so long that I was beginning to forget what it felt like to breathe. "When?" I whispered. "Tomorrow. Nine in the morning." "Tomorrow?" "Yes." "Rainey, I don't even have a suit." "Do you still have that black dress from graduation?" I glanced toward the black plastic bag hanging from the wall. "Yes." "Then wear it." "It's old." "Nobody cares. Iron it." I swallowed. "And the job?" "I told you. Nobody stays." My stomach tightened. "What do you mean?" Rainey went quiet for a moment. Then she lowered her voice. "He's difficult." "How difficult?" "My cousin's friend worked there for three weeks." "Three?" "Three." I stared at Wisdom. "And?" "She quit." "Why?" "She said he's cold. Very cold. Doesn't smile. Doesn't like noise. Doesn't like excuses." I almost smiled. "Sounds lovely." "I'm serious." "So am I." "Palesa, listen. The woman before her lasted six weeks." "Six weeks?" "Nobody makes it to two months." I looked down at Wisdom. He was playing with the collar of my shirt, completely unaware that his mother was trying to decide whether fifteen thousand rand was worth walking into a man's nightmare. Then Rainey said something that made me still. "They also say he doesn't like women who bring problems into the office." My eyes moved to my son. My beautiful, noisy, perfect little problem. Wisdom looked up at me. "Ma." My heart squeezed. I pressed my lips to his forehead. "What's he like?" I whispered. "An Afrikaner. Early thirties. Rich-rich. Like, owns-the-building rich. Handsome, apparently." "Apparently?" "I've seen pictures." "And?" A small laugh escaped her. "Girl... yoh." I rolled my eyes. "Rainey." "I'm just saying. The man is handsome." "That won't pay my bills." "No, but the fifteen thousand will." She had me there. I looked at the black plastic bag again. At the little room that had become our entire world. At Wisdom's sneakers, one of them held together with super glue. At the CV sitting inside my handbag—the one I'd printed at the internet café for R10. Seeking any opportunity. That was what it said. Because after graduating, I had stopped knowing what I was qualified for. I only knew what I needed. A job. A chance. A way out. "Send me the address," I said. "I already did." I checked my phone. There it was. STUURMAN GROUP — RIVONIA ROAD, SANDTON. 9:00 AM. My stomach twisted. "Okay." "Okay?" "I'll go." "Oh, thank God." "Don't celebrate yet. It's only an interview." "An interview that could change your life." I said nothing. Maybe she was right. Then she added, "And Palesa?" "Yes?" "Please don't cry in the interview." I laughed softly. "I don't cry." "You're lying." "I don't." "You cried yesterday because the bread was finished." "That was different." "How?" "The bread was finished." Rainey burst out laughing. I couldn't help it. I laughed too. For a few seconds, the room didn't feel quite so small. Then she said goodbye and the call ended. Silence returned. I looked at Wisdom. He stared back at me with his big, curious eyes. I brushed the porridge from his cheek. "Tomorrow," I whispered. Sandton. A glass tower. A man nobody could work for. And a job that paid more money than I had ever earned in my life. I didn't know it yet, but walking into Stuurman Group tomorrow would change everything. Because sometimes the door you walk through looking for a job... is the same door that leads you straight back to the biggest mistake of your life. Wisdom sneezed directly into my face. I froze. Then I laughed. Properly. For the first time in three months.