Chapter 13: First Love
934 Words
The café smelled of cinnamon, coffee beans, and something sweet baking in the back. Dodo arrived ten minutes early, tucked herself into the corner booth, and pulled out her phone to reread the blog comments flooding in beneath her newest article: The Better Half Phenomenon. Most were encouraging. A few were painfully honest. One said simply, “I didn’t know how much I needed this.”
When Thuli walked in, bold as ever in her oversized hoops and high-waist jeans, Dodo stood to hug her — a real hug, not the half-pat kind they’d exchanged the last few times they’d bumped into each other at the grocery store.
“Haibo, girl! You’re glowing!” Thuli said, pulling back and tilting her head. “What’s going on with you? New man? Lotto? Secret surgery?”
Dodo laughed. “You really haven’t changed.”
Thuli smirked, sliding into the seat across from her. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
They ordered. The waiter, a young guy with piercings and a Durban accent thicker than warm jam, brought their drinks — chai for Dodo, flat white for Thuli.
“So,” Thuli leaned in. “You look… different. Not just cute-different. Soul-different. Spill.”
Dodo swirled the frothy top of her chai with a spoon. “I’ve reconnected with my first love.”
Thuli narrowed her eyes. “Wait. Which one? Don’t tell me Fanele with the good job but no backbone? Or that DJ from Umlazi — God forbid.”
Dodo chuckled. “No, sisi. None of the above.”
“Then who?”
“Me.”
Thuli blinked. “Eish. You’re deep now.”
“I’m tired,” Dodo said, setting her spoon down. “Tired of bending, fixing, waiting. I used to think if I just tried harder, if I was a little softer or sexier or quieter, one of them would stay. Love would stay. But I kept editing myself for the wrong audience.”
Thuli reached for her cup, nodding slowly. “Yo. I feel that.”
“I used to chase this idea of the better half. Like I was incomplete. Like I needed someone else to finish the sentence of my life. But I’m the whole damn story.”
Thuli smiled. “Okay, Maya Angelou.”
They both laughed.
“Seriously,” Dodo continued. “I started writing again. I post on this little blog. Just honest stuff. I wrote something recently called The Better Half Phenomenon. It’s doing well.”
“Send it to me!”
“I will.”
They sat quietly for a beat, sipping.
“You know,” Thuli said, “I like this version of you. You seem... full. Like you’re not leaking anymore.”
Dodo looked out the window. “I think I am. For the first time in a long time.”
“So what now?” Thuli asked. “What’s next for our reborn queen?”
“I want to do something wild. Like — a trip. With the kids. I want to show them something beautiful. Something outside of homework and taxi rides and checkers specials. I was thinking… Cape Town.”
Thuli lit up. “Girl! Say less. I’ve been dreaming of Cape Town.”
“Really?”
“Let’s go. You, me, Portia, and Henry.”
Dodo raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t even like kids.”
“I like your kids. Besides, Portia is practically my age in attitude. And Henry? That boy’s a comedian.”
Dodo laughed. “You’re serious?”
“As a load shedding schedule. Let’s do it. End of the month. I’ll sort accommodation. You do flights.”
---
A few weeks later, Dodo stared out the window of the plane as the mountain range of Cape Town rose like a painting come to life. Table Mountain stood wide and still — a stone guardian wrapped in cloud. Below, the ocean glittered like glass and bruised silver where it met the shore. Portia was glued to her phone, snapping aerial photos for i********:. Henry, on the other hand, was fascinated by the plane’s wings.
When they landed, the air smelled different — cleaner, cooler. Even the sun felt softer, like it filtered itself gently through the mountain’s shadow.
Their Airbnb sat in a quiet part of Sea Point, a sun-washed apartment with a tiny balcony and an ocean view. At sunset, Dodo stood on that balcony, Thuli beside her, sipping wine.
“I needed this,” Dodo said.
“We all did.”
They walked the promenade the next morning, Henry chasing pigeons, Portia rolling her eyes but smiling anyway. They visited Kirstenbosch Gardens and had a picnic under the trees. They rode the cable car up Table Mountain, the city shrinking below them into a toy town.
Cape Town was a place that slowed you down. It made you want to pause between breaths, to actually taste your food, to feel every moment as it passed. Dodo kept thinking — this is what wholeness looks like. A city where the ocean kissed the mountain, and nothing had to be fixed.
She bought herself a small silver ring at a Greenmarket Square stall. Not for romance. Just to remind herself: she belonged to herself first.
---
That night, after the kids had fallen asleep and the city twinkled below, Dodo pulled out her journal. She wrote:
In this city, I remembered the sound of my own joy. I wore it like a second skin. It didn’t need to be loud. It just needed to be mine.
- Writer
