Choice Assorted

Chapter 11: Church Clothes

The second Sunday after Portia met Ma Solomon, Dodo found herself sitting three pews behind her mother at church. Ma Gloria was in a royal blue dress, her posture as straight and righteous as ever. Her Bible lay open on her lap, lips pressed tight in habitual disapproval every time she glanced back.

The sermon was on Ruth and Boaz — waiting on God, doing things the “right” way. Dodo felt the nudge in every line, especially when the minister warned against women who were too independent to submit to divine wisdom.

After the service, an elder approached her with a warm smile.

“We’ve heard good things about you,” he said. “There’s a young man from our Johannesburg branch. Brother Phumlani. A banker. Would you be open to getting to know him?”

Ma Gloria lit up like a Christmas tree.

Dodo agreed — not out of interest, but curiosity.

What did their idea of a good man look like?

Brother Phumlani was respectful. Kind. God-fearing. He called her “Sister Dodo” and prayed before their meals. On paper, he was everything Ma Gloria had prayed for.

But when he asked what kind of books she enjoyed, his eyes wandered before she even finished answering. When she told him she worked as a company secretary and wrote stories in her spare time, he nodded, but never asked what she wrote about.

Two weeks in, he mentioned speaking to the church minister about marriage. Her stomach dropped.

One evening over tea, she asked, “What kind of woman are you hoping to marry?”

He didn’t hesitate. “A submissive one. Quiet. Like it says in the Bible.”

Dodo blinked. “What does that mean to you?”

“It means I lead. She follows. I don’t like my decisions being questioned. There’s order in the home when the man is respected.”

Her mouth opened slightly. She shut it again.

“I find that... concerning,” she said carefully.

Phumlani smiled, as though she were a child being adorable but misguided. “You’ll understand in time. The world has confused too many women.”

He shifted. “Are you still in contact with the fathers of your children?”

Dodo held his gaze. “Yes.”

He nodded slowly. “If it’s for the children’s sake, you should speak to the the wives, not to them directly. Assuming they are both married. There’s wisdom in boundaries.”

Dodo swallowed hard.

She felt like she was wearing a dress too tight at the throat.

“I don’t think this is for me,” Dodo told Ma Gloria over dinner.

Ma Gloria’s face dropped. “Look where your own choices have gotten you. Two children. No husband. And now you reject a man who came the right way?”

“With my Choice Assorted kids as tangible proof of my assorted choice in men?” Dodo replied gently, forcing a small smile.

Ma Gloria’s eyes welled up. “I only want the best for you.”

“I know. But this — choosing a man before I even know myself? That’s not it, Ma.”

Ma Gloria shook her head, her fork forgotten on the plate. “So what is it, Dodo? What do you really want? Or are you just being difficult now? Too picky for your own good?”

“I’m not being picky,” Dodo said.

“Then what? Because men like Phumlani don’t grow on trees. He has a good job, a clean record, he’s not out here playing games. You think you’ll find perfect? You think time is waiting for you?”

“Ma—”

“No, listen to me,” Ma Gloria said, voice firm. “You’re nearly thirty. That clock you’re pretending not to hear? It’s ticking. What will you do when you marry at forty-five — with a body shutting down and no man wanting a wife who can’t give him his own child?”

Dodo looked down at her plate. Her fingers trembled slightly.

“I already gave birth twice, Ma,” she said quietly. “I’m not a baby machine.”

“No one said you are. But men think about legacy, Dodo. And they look at you — two kids, two fathers, no ring — and they start doing calculations. Love doesn’t cancel biology.”

Dodo met her mother’s gaze. “I’m not going to marry out of fear. Not again.”

“Fear of what? Stability? Commitment?” Ma Gloria asked, her voice rising slightly.

“Men like Phumlani,” Dodo said, her voice suddenly sharp, eyes narrowing.

Ma Gloria flinched. “That was years ago—”

“And I still carry the scars.” Dodo’s fork clattered onto her plate. “You saw the bruises, Ma. You prayed over them, remember? Told me to ‘forgive and submit.’”

“That was not—” Ma Gloria paused, suddenly unsure of her footing. “I didn’t know how bad it was.”

“You chose not to know. Because it was easier to blame me than to face what your godly son-in-law really was.”

Ma Gloria swallowed hard. “You think I didn’t cry when you left him? That I wasn’t ashamed? But I was also scared for you. Two children before thirty, and no husband—how long do you think the world stays kind to a woman like that?”

Dodo looked at her mother, pain swirling behind her eyes. “You keep talking about the world, Ma. But what about me? What about what I want?”

“So what do you want, Dodo? You don’t want Phumlani. You don’t want a man who comes empty-handed, and you don’t want one who has expectations. You say you want love, but it sounds like you want perfection.”

“I want peace,” Dodo said. “Peace when I walk into my home. Peace when I close my eyes at night. Peace in my spirit — even if I’m alone.”

Ma Gloria let out a shaky breath, blinking back fresh tears. “Then you better be ready to grow old with that peace. Because men don’t wait forever. Especially not for a woman raising other men’s children.”

Dodo nodded slowly. “Maybe they don’t. But I’m not rushing into another prison just to wear a ring.”

Ma Gloria looked away. The silence between them thickened. Then, in a low voice, she said, “I just don’t want you to wake up one day and realise it’s too late.”

Dodo reached across the table, her fingers brushing her mother’s hand. “It’s already late for a lot of things. But I’m finally learning to show up for myself — and that’s not too late.”