Chapter 8

Mufaro—Great Pleasure

After holding her for a while without saying a word, Unashe spoke close to hair.

“Why don’t I take you out and buy you something to eat? You don’t seem to have a stove in here.”

Priscilla smiled but stayed in his arms. It was a new and good feeling. She could not recall any man ever holding her like this, so tenderly as if she was a special treasure. Even her mother didn’t hold her. Breathing in his scent, she held on tightly and closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his strong arms around her.

“You want to go out now? Are you sure?” she asked in a muffled voice.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and bringing her up with him by holding her elbows. She reluctantly stood up, facing him.

“Thank you, Unashe. I’m so glad you are here,” she said, not sure those words were adequate to explain the feeling of gratitude in her heart. And something else, too, a sense of comfort at his tenderness and caring.

“I like taking care of you,” he said, though he seemed distracted to her.

Shyly, like a little child, she went into his arms again and put her arms around his waist. Unashe let her stay there for a while, and then pulled her head back so he could look into her face. She was lovely, standing there in his mother’s work clothes looking like an angel. Her eyes were half closed and a small, dreamy smile on her lips. He found himself leaning down and softly placing his lips on hers. She didn’t move away. He moved back and removed her hands from his waist, feeling guilty and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his mouth. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Priscilla giggled softly, pressing her lips together. “It was nice,” she said, moving away from him, still looking down, her heart racing. Unashe could have kicked himself. What had possessed him to do that?

“Come, let’s go.”

* * *

They drove in silence to a small restaurant at the nearest shopping center. Priscilla looked out the car window, as he drove.

The name VINOLA’S shone brightly in red. There were a few people at the bar, but further inside she could see dining tables laid with gold tablecloths. When Priscilla stepped in, she was quite surprised at the restaurant’s glamour and felt underdressed.

“It’s nice here,” she whispered to Unashe as a waiter in a richly embroidered waistcoat and black trousers approached them.

“That’s why you are here,” he whispered back. She gave him a quirky smile and stepped aside so the waiter could lead them to a quiet table in the corner past only three sets of other diners.

Unashe pulled out a chair for her in an exaggerated gallant way and she laughed. He sat down opposite her, stretching his long legs by her. He opened the big menu and peered at her over the top.

“Will this place do, madam?” His eyes danced with mischief. She smiled back. She felt like she was dreaming. She had never imagined the day before that she would be eating dinner with Unashe in this magnificent restaurant. And the way she was feeling inside made her wonder. He was making her feel so happy when she should have been sad. And the kiss.

Forget the kiss.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve never been here before, or to that many restaurants. Have you? Like with Chantel?”

“Not with Chantel. Actually I never went past the bar.”

The waiter arrived to take their orders and they both ordered chicken grilled to absolute tenderness, with fresh vegetables and roasted potatoes. They ate slowly and talked. Unashe wanted to hear all about her work, and she wanted to hear all about his plans for the future.

“I’m going to be very successful,” he said, “no matter what I have to do.”

“That’s nice. Do you have any ideas?”

“I just don’t see myself making it in this country. Just as the British came here to explore and take our land, I want to go check out what they have to offer over there in Europe.”

Priscilla smiled at his statement, amused by his logic.

“I get frustrated, and I want to see the world. You know, go overseas. Learn what the developed countries are doing. Just get out of here.”

“Do you hate this country that much?” she asked, a bit disappointed. She never thought of leaving Zimbabwe, not that she would even know where to go. Many young people’s only ambition was to go to England or to South Africa. They preferred to suffer in foreign lands. They wanted to go anywhere rather than stay in Zimbabwe. It shouldn’t surprise her that Unashe wasn’t any different, she thought.

“I don’t hate it, but I don’t want to be stuck here all my life. I want to enjoy life and I think Harare, which is the most happening place in the country, is actually tired. You know all my friends have left the country, especially the Prince Edward boys. They are doing well, getting degrees, driving BMWs in South Africa and stuff. I never applied to go to university, but now I regret it.”

She watched his face intently, getting lost in his eyes. Unashe, why would you want to leave? She couldn’t blame him, though. It seems everybody felt life could only be good if they left Zimbabwe. The economy kept getting worse, and the corruption was so bad everybody was out to get what they could from the country. It was hard to get anything done, including getting your passport and even your identity card unless you knew somebody.

“I think I’ll be around here for a long time,” she said, sipping her juice.

“It doesn’t matter. You are doing well in your company. I wouldn’t be surprised if you start running the company soon anyway.”

“You think I can do that?”

“You seem like you can do anything. You are a very determined person.”

“I was crying like a baby last time I saw you.”

She had a self-mocking smile on her face, but he didn’t find that whole night’s episode funny at all.

“Anybody would cry,” he said and took a sip of his root beer.

“So any luck on the job front?” Priscilla asked, eager to change the subject.

“Not yet, but I have some interviews lined up.”

“You are lucky your mother is well off and can take care of you while things fall into place. That is a blessing.”

“It can also be a curse, because you tend to relax and not have the drive to succeed that you have, for instance. She’s great. She never puts pressure on me. I actually put more pressure on myself.”

“I’ve always admired her independence. She’s my role model.”

“I should tell her.”

“No. Don’t. You know how big-headed she is.”

They both laughed. The bill came and Unashe took out his wallet.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you pay.”

“Don’t worry. When you get your stove you can cook for me.”

“Any time.”

He watched her smile and grinned back at her. “I have something to tell you,” Unashe said.

Priscilla’s smile froze at the serious expression on his face. “What is it?”

“Don’t get mad,” Unashe said as he held up a cautionary hand.

“Don’t make me mad,” Priscilla warned, leaning closer. “Just tell me.”

“All right. I knew about Oliver.”

“What do you mean?”

“I knew he wasn’t your father. For many years. I just knew that we could never tell you.”

Priscilla opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it abruptly. She shook her head, puzzled.

“Ma told me about it. I’m sorry I never told you.”

“It’s fine. It’s just weird to learn that everybody else knew except for me. At least you could’ve told me. You knew how mean he was to me.”

“I just never knew how to tell you. Mum said I shouldn’t say anything, and your family seemed fine. And then I just forgot about it. The only thing I know for sure is that you and I were not related, not that we ever really were.”

“I’m now not related to a lot of people. I don’t even know who my real family is.”

“I’m sorry, Cilla. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Priscilla looked into his sincere eyes. So warm, so inviting. She bit her lower lip again and regarded him suspiciously. The look in her eyes made him ask, “What?”

Priscilla leaned forward and spoke very quietly, as if somebody could overhear. “Unashe. So do you know who my father is?”

“No. I don’t. I have no idea who he is.”

“Are you sure? Did you ever ask your mum?”

“No. Maybe I did but she never told me. I don’t know if she knows. Do you want to find him?”

Priscilla leaned back in her chair, only then beginning to think about who her real father might be. She had been so busy that she hadn’t given serious thought to this man who was half of her.

“I don’t know. I suppose I may one day want to see him. Not now, though.”

“Are you sure?” Unashe asked.

She looked at him, a frown on her face, and nodded.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Thanks for the dinner.”

They didn’t say anything as they made their way out of the empty restaurant. They had been the only people eating for a while and would have stayed if the manager hadn’t started clearing his throat and turning off the lights.

As Unashe drove her home through the empty streets, they were both quiet and thoughtful. When they got to her building, it was after ten o’clock. He took out more items for her that were still in the car, and they both had armfuls climbing up the stairs.

“A two-plate stove. Wow,” Priscilla exclaimed as she put the cutlery and curtains on the kitchen cabinets. She looked through the boxes as Unashe watched. The kitchen was tiny and, with Unashe’s build and height, he practically filled it up.

“Yes. You know how Ma is. She wants to look after everybody.”

“She has a heart of gold.” Priscilla surveyed all that Mukai had sent with Unashe.

“We both worry about you. That’s why she sent me here tonight,” Unashe said, walking into the lounge. “Where are you going to sleep?”

She looked around the lounge then pointed into the bedroom. “In there.”

“Let’s try and cover the windows,” Unashe said, picking up one curtain. “You can’t sleep with the windows like that. You might wake up and find some strange creature staring at you,” he said, and laughed when he saw the fear in her eyes. She looked out the window and shivered.

“Now you are making me scared,” she complained, staring into darkness.

“Come on, we’ll cover them.” He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her into her bedroom.

“Don’t worry. Nobody can climb upstairs and look at you.”

It was quite an effort to hang the curtains precariously over the windows without the proper rods and equipment. Still, Priscilla felt better now that she couldn’t see darkness. She tried not to think about being alone after Unashe left.

Unashe helped her to make her bed on the floor using all the blankets. The makeshift area looked quite comfortable when they were done.

“There you are, Cilla,” he said, surveying his handiwork as if it was a work of art.

She smiled at him. “Perfect.”

“Why did you decide to come here? Why didn’t you go to your sister or even spend the night with us?” Unashe asked suddenly.

“I didn’t think of it. I guess I should start being independent and not rely on others too much. You know what they say, ‘What leads to living together is what leads to contempt.’ Don’t want to get on anybody’s nerves.”

“You know we don’t mind,” Unashe said.

“I know. I’ll be fine, you’ll see. I don’t have to work tomorrow, so I can get my stuff together. I like the feeling of freedom, even though I don’t have much.”

Unashe watched her for a while, seeming to weigh her words. She knew what he must be thinking. He was still living with his mother and here she was, exactly the same age as him, making a life for herself.

“What are you going to sleep in?” he asked, looking at her work clothes.

“Unashe,” she said in mock severity. “Don’t tell me you didn’t bring me something to sleep in.”

“I’m so sorry, my queen. Please don’t kill me,” he begged, pretending to be so scared that she laughed. That was Unashe. He could make her laugh, even when her world was falling apart.

“Okay, I’ll spare your life because you have been a good servant,” she said. Then, smiling, she added, “So far.”

“You are too kind, madam.” They smiled at each other for a while.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he confessed, suddenly serious. She matched his expression as she frowned.

“I don’t want you to leave.” They stood, the makeshift bed between them, and looked at each other.

“I better go,” Unashe said and stepped over the makeshift bed towards the door. Priscilla followed close by, trying to think of something to say to make him stay longer. Her mind was blank. Of course he couldn’t stay with her. What was she even thinking? She chose to live alone, and this is what she got.

“I’ll see you soon,” she said as she saw him to the door. She could hear the hope in her voice and felt confused.

“Yep. You’ll probably get tired of seeing me,” he said. Her heart lifted at his words, though he was wrong about her ever getting tired of seeing him.

“Lock up.” She nodded at his command, and he stepped out. Priscilla turned the key in the door and stared at it for a while. She was heading towards the bedroom when she heard a knock. She just knew it was him.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me.” Of course it was Unashe. She unlocked the door and opened it, questions in her eyes.

“I couldn’t leave you. I’ll stay with you most of the night,” he declared and stepped into her living room. She closed the door and locked it.

“I’m glad,” she said, though she was a little apprehensive about the prospect. She walked towards her bedroom and crossed over to the other side.

“Do you want me to?”

She nodded. “Can you? What will your ma say?” she asked, worried, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’ll tell her I went to a friend’s house after I left here,” he stated simply and leaned against the wall.

They stood silently for a while. It was so quiet. The neighbors were all fast asleep and there was very little traffic on the road outside. The silence filled with something shifting between them. Something that almost reminded her of the air before the rain, heavy and scented. It was almost tangible.

“I don’t know…” she said.

“I couldn’t leave you alone. I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” he said honestly.

Priscilla pointed to the floor. “You forgot a pillow.”

“I suppose now I’ll have to die, my queen,” he said and sat on the homemade bed, grinning at her. She looked at him, shaking her head at his antics.

“You can lie on me,” he offered, then watched her face as all sorts of expressions played across it. “I can be a pretty good pillow.”

She didn’t say anything, but slowly took off her blazer and gingerly sat next to him. He took off his shoes and she slipped her heels off and slid down on to the floor with him. Her heart was beating wildly as she looked up at the ceiling with the white paint.

“Come lie on my chest,” he said softly. She wanted to refuse but knew that she would do as he said. She looked into his eyes silently for a while, and then slowly laid her head on his chest feeling his heartbeat and his chest rise and fall. Her heart rate had increased so much she was sure he could hear it. She swallowed hard, not sure she could trust her voice to say anything. Would she sleep? Would he?

“I’m just curious,” Unashe said, breaking the silence. “Why did your parents have the wedding, anyway? What was that all about?”

Priscilla giggled, feeling some of the tension leave her body. This was Unashe. She shouldn’t be tense around him. “I don’t know. They do things that are weird to me.”

“Tell me about it.”

Priscilla shrugged. “Most people don’t think our own traditional marriage is enough, you know.”

“I hate that. Everything is becoming westernized.”

“Some things need to be westernized.”

“Like what?”

She relaxed when they began to share their opinions on their culture, dreams, their likes and dislikes, state of marriages, the corrupt government. Their voices were the only sound in the room until almost 2 a.m. when Unashe turned off the light.

She was awake for a few minutes before exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

Before he, too, fell asleep, Unashe wondered what was happening to him.

He brought the blankets over them, covering her shoulders.

“Good night, Cilla,” Unashe said.

“Good night, Una,” she whispered, but she was already asleep.

* * *

It was early morning when Unashe woke up and gently nudged Priscilla. The light wormed its way through the thin curtain fabric and gave the room a strange, intimate glow.

“How did you sleep?” he asked in a hoarse voice. She had slipped away from him and lay with her head facing the wall. She turned and faced him slowly and her eyes looked unfocused and distant from dreamland. She blinked rapidly, her eyelashes striking against her skin.

She covered her eyes with her hands and looked at the ceiling while he still watched her, seemingly fascinated.

“Are you awake?” he asked again.

“Yes,” she responded quietly, shyly. “Are you going home?”

“Yes,’ he replied. “Come and lock the door after me.”

She stood up, rubbing her neck. Her shoulders and back ached from the floor. This was now the second night they had spent together, but this morning was different. There was an awkwardness that wasn’t there when Oliver had kicked her out of her home. She didn’t seem as comfortable as she had been before. It seemed she had crossed some mysterious river and could not go back any more, or remember the best place to cross without drowning.

“You go back to sleep,” he said, touching her cheek.

“I might,” she said, not quite looking at him. “Thank you again, for everything.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll see you soon.”

He seemed to want to say something more, but thought better of it. Then he left.

Priscilla checked her watch. It was 5 a.m. She rubbed her eyes as she sauntered back to her bedroom. With a sigh she lay back on her makeshift bed and thought of Unashe.