LUTENDO’S THIGHS SHIVER as she walks into the restaurant she picked for the dinner with Letty. She is more nervous than a drunkard holding a breathalyser. Irked at how the tables are clustered, she takes a seat at the far end, by the wall. She looks through the menu. Really she just needs a glass of water, but she beckons the waiter and orders a burger meal instead.
Then she notices a light-skinned, impressively curvy woman standing by the door, alone. She knows it’s her. Letty.
The woman saunters in, scanning the room. When she sees Lutendo staring, she walks over. Lutendo does not stand to embrace her. She remains fixed to her chair.
“Lutendo …”
Lutendo’s tears start to creep out, her forehead creases, her lips lose shape like gum and she weeps.
Letty holds her in her arms and brushes her back. “Shhh, I am sorry. And I’m so sorry we didn’t even get to speak at the funeral.”
Lutendo wants to shake the woman off and scream.
They sit opposite each other, breathing the same air. There is now silence. Lutendo notices that Letty sits upright, her shoulders straight. Lutendo wants her to be ashamed, but Letty seems confident.
“How are you holding up?” asks Letty, picking up the menu.
“I didn’t bring you here to chit-chat as if we are friends. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course, whatever you need, Lutendo. I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
“Yes, about that. I know, it’s terrible that my father had a heart attack.” She leans forward. “But you know what really bugs me? My mother’s death. Today makes it fourteen years. I need to ask you, Letty, why did you kill her?”
Letty looks up, sudden tears in her eyes. “Lutendo, you know I did no such thing.”
“Do I? I really would like to know how you and my father decided which day and what year the two of you would murder a mother.”
Letty is quiet for a moment. “Last year, your father almost choked me to death,” she says softly.
“No. Please don’t play that card. I am a lawyer and a very good one. I know a manipulator when I see one.”
“I’m telling the truth!”
Lutendo laughs, a loud laugh that turns heads in the restaurant.
“Lutendo, your father was Satan.”
“You were having an affair with Satan, and you were willing to kill his wife to be with him. I mean, surely the hell you were living in was too nice for you.”
“See these?” Letty pushes back her sleeves. “Your father did this to me.”
Lutendo looks away, horrified by the swellings and scars all over Letty’s arms. It’s as if a dragon spat on them. She looks back, straight into Letty’s eyes. “Do you think I care? After everything the two of you put my mother through?”
Letty’s face hardens. “Why did you really ask me here?”
Lutendo reaches for her handbag, takes out some papers and pushes them across the table. “This is the title deed for my parents’ house.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I want you to have it.”
“What?” Letty looks at the papers as if they’re a horror movie she wasn’t prepared for. “Why?”
“I’m giving you your lover’s house on a silver platter, and you’re asking questions? He left the house to me, but I don’t want it. I want nothing from that man, even from his grave.”
It all began when Lutendo was twelve. Like a storm in the night, it arrived without warning, and she didn’t know where to hide. Dishes flew in the kitchen, smashing and bouncing off walls. Her mother kept shouting, “You want to kill me so you can bring Letty into this house? Into my house?”
Lutendo could hear it in her voice: her mother wanted to swallow Letty’s name back with her enraged tongue, to make her just disappear.
The next day, their neighbour handed Lutendo the pot her father had thrown: it had missed her mother’s head, flown through the door, over the brick wall and onto the woman’s verandah.
After that night, Lutendo knew that if this Letty happened to knock on their door, she should set dogs on her. That if Letty arrived one hot day, exhausted and asking for a jug of water to quench her thirst, Lutendo should ask about the witch that sent her. When you hear about the same person over and over again, you start constructing a face for them, a body, hair, skin, bones and blood. Every part of Letty fuelled anger in her.
Lutendo was only twelve years old, but she had made an enemy.
One afternoon, a few weeks after the big fight, Lutendo entered her parents’ bedroom and stood tensely before her mother, as if something in the room might fall if she moved a finger. Her mother was on the bed, having a heated phone conversation. When the call ended, Lutendo asked her, “Is Papa having an affair?”
Before, when Lutendo asked about her parents’ fights, her mother had always said she was too young to understand. But Lutendo no longer played with snot, nor did she put baby naartjies on her nipples to disguise them as bosoms; these days she had actual ones, although at times she felt like chopping them off with a knife. This time, her mother answered her.
“Yes … he is. Lutendo, the woman tells me he’s promised to leave me.” She stood up from the bed. “Go check the pots on the stove. Your father will be hungry when he comes home.”
Lutendo hoped that the food had burnt to ashes, so that her father would go to bed hungry. Perhaps if she poured rat-poison into her father’s food, he’d puke his adultery out into the open. She’d enjoy watching the ghastly bile dribbling down his beard. Letty could be erased, easily wiped away with a mop.
Later that evening, her father’s footsteps echoed through their big house as he arrived home from work. “I want food,” he announced.
Her mother stood up to dish his dinner. Lutendo hated how her mother carried the food to him on a tray, as if she was feeding a king.
In silence, her father ate the beef tripe and pap her mother had cooked that afternoon. Earlier, the tripe had lured flies of different sizes into the kitchen, buzzing to her annoyance. Lutendo watched her father as he bit into the meat – tongue out, saliva gushing out of control. She wondered if he was eating the part she’d spat on.
Lutendo had never heard her mother beg for her life before. She ran to her parents’ bedroom, pleading in her head: Letty, please make it stop. You’re the one in the middle of this whole mess. Just make it stop!
“Who are you to question me in my own house?” her father shouted, kicking her mother. “You were nothing before meeting me! Now you’re asking me questions?”
Her mother howled, waking up the neighbourhood: “The baby is coming!”
Lutendo had heard about muti that some women smear on a man’s underwear, special muti that makes him love you and only you. Later, when Lutendo thought about the affair alone in her bedroom, she’d asked Letty questions in her head: Letty, did you put muti in Papa’s underwear? Letty, do you think Papa is an evil man?
Letty, did Mama tell you that she was eight months pregnant?
That night, she slept on the hospital bench. A doctor woke her with a tap on the hip. The doctor looked exhausted – bags under her eyes like she never slept. Lutendo had a disturbing urge to poke them with her fingernails.
“Do you also want to see her?” the doctor asked.
“Who?”
“Your mother.” Her tone was saddened, like a professional mourner at a funeral.
“My mother? Has she had the baby yet?” Lutendo looked around the hospital hallway. “Where’s my father?”
The doctor blinked uncontrollably. “He hasn’t told you? Your mother had a blood clot during the C-section. She’s fine, but the baby … we couldn’t save him. We did everything we could.”
Lutendo felt as if a hundred knives were hitting her chest at once. She felt mice biting the insides of her stomach, bats flapping their wings in her head. For a second she was hot, then cold. And before her heart fell on the floor, she realised that Letty had won.
After that, Lutendo was always on guard, waiting for another tornado. Her mother told her never to speak to the next-door neighbour, never look her way; just pretend she didn’t exist. Back then, Lutendo didn’t know who she was or her name, she was just the single woman who’d moved in next door. In her mind, Letty was a sculpture, a made-up, far-away form. She knew nothing about her except that she and her father were destroying her mother.
The waiter places their orders in front of the two women. Neither seems to have an appetite. Letty is still staring at the papers. Lutendo hands her a pen: “Don’t worry, I’ve sorted everything out, all you have to do is sign. Do whatever you want with the house. I know you need it, considering.” She looks at Letty’s belly.
Letty rubs her bulging stomach uncomfortably. She is five months pregnant. “I never intended everything to happen the way it did, please believe me.”
“Have you ever chewed a bitter pill instead of just swallowing it? And how long did you keep chewing before taking a glass of water and washing the bitterness away?”
Letty doesn’t answer.
“That’s what it felt like after we buried my brother,” Lutendo continues. “Mama locked herself in her bedroom.”
Letty glances around, as if she wants to get up and leave. “Lutendo, I really –”
“I remember banging the windows, shouting, begging my mother not to end her life ... I was twelve! And do you know where my father was at the time?”
Letty waits for her to say it.
“He was right next door, fucking the neighbour.”
Letty’s face is pale. It seems as if her eyelids wound her eyes.
“I wonder, would you have been relieved if she’d just killed herself? Wouldn’t it have made things easier? One swing from the ceiling …”
“I had nothing to do with your mother’s death.”
“You know what she said to me the next day? She said, ‘Lutendo, almost. I almost chopped my head off for a man.’”
Letty swiftly leafs through the document in front of her, not wanting to hear any more. “Where do I sign?”
Lutendo notices a tear dropping from Letty’s right eye onto the paper, like a tiny raindrop.
When she’s done signing, Letty raises her head. “You don’t know the whole truth, you know?”
“I know everything I need to know. I know that Papa died a peaceful death in bed, while my mother screamed until her final breath.”
Exactly fourteen years ago, Lutendo was woken once again by her mother crying out in the bedroom. It sounded as if someone had lit a match and set her on fire. Lutendo ran to her.
She found her mother lying on the floor, gesturing at her stomach: Pain. Pain. Pain. When Lutendo moved closer, she saw stab wounds all over her mother’s belly.
No one had seen anything. No one heard anything. No one knew who’d stabbed her.
After her mother’s funeral, Lutendo moved between relatives; her father continued his relationship with Letty as if nothing had happened. He never heard from Lutendo.
Letty shakes her head. “Lutendo, your mother did not tell you the entire story.”
“Does it matter? She’s gone and you’re still here.”
“It matters a whole lot, because your father was married to me before he cheated on me with your mother.”
Lutendo goes silent, then opens her mouth: “What?”
“She really didn’t tell you?” Letty shakes her head again. “Then I suppose I’ll have to.”
Years ago, before bringing Lutendo into the world, Lutendo’s mother was a thriving hairdresser, working at a hair-salon in the city. She was a beautiful young woman. So much so, she turned heads on street corners.
One afternoon, a lady rushed into the salon and came directly to her station.
“Hello, are you Senhle? A relative said I could find you here. She said you’re very good. As you can see, my hair is a mess and I need to be somewhere later today. Can you please fix my head? I will pay you whatever you want.”
The lady’s name was Letty. Apart from her messy hair, the woman was glamorous – her bright-red lipstick shimmered on her light-skinned face, she had long false eyelashes, and her navy-blue dress clung to her curves, emphasising her thick thighs. She couldn’t stop fidgeting while Senhle combed her hair.
“Hau, sesi, are you in a hurry?” asked Senhle.
“I’m sorry … I am, actually,” Letty replied with a smile. “I’m going on a Caribbean vacation.”
“Oh, that’s nice – are you going alone?”
“No, my husband and I have been planning the trip for some time. I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”
Senhle’s curiosity barged in. “I can’t help but wonder, what do you do for a living? You look amazing.”
“I’m a housewife. My husband … my husband is a businessman; he has businesses all over Africa.”
“Yoh, you must dish me on how you met him – you’re living the life!” Senhle joked.
Letty giggled. “I met him exactly two years ago at a wedding.” She was now helplessly blushing. “He looked so handsome ... I didn’t even know he was rich. We just clicked, you know? And like they say, the rest is history.”
Senhle plugged in a hair-straightener as Letty continued: “I wasn’t doing well in the love department before meeting him. The Bible says those who struggle will reap the rewards one day ...”
“Yes, that’s very true,” Senhle replied, although she didn’t know what scripture Letty was referring to.
When Senhle was done with her hair, Letty glanced at her watch, fluttering her eyelashes. She couldn’t hide her annoyance. “He’s late, and I don’t have cash with me. I told him I’ll be here ... Let me go the ATM, nê? I’ll leave my handbag here.” She stood up to leave.
“It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.”
There was hair all over the floor from her earlier clients. Senhle unplugged the hair iron and went to fetch a broom.
She was sweeping the floor when a dark-skinned, well-built man stepped into the salon. Senhle watched him as she slowly moved the broom back and forth. The man was talking to her co-worker, who pointed at Senhle.
He walked over confidently, as men who think they are important tend to do. As if the world’s stopped spinning for everyone to watch them. His well-cut navy-blue shirt complemented his dark-chocolate skin.
“Hello, is my wife Letty here?”
“Oh, she just went to the ATM across the street, she’ll be coming back.”
The man nodded, playing with the car keys in his hand and observing the salon. Then he turned his stare on Senhle.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked.
“No, no … I just … How old are you?”
“I’m twenty-six.”
His eyes travelled unashamedly from her head to her toes. “What’s your name? You’re such a pretty girl.”
Senhle was flattered, if disconcerted. “Thank you. My name is Senhle.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Um, actually no, no I don’t.”
He stepped closer. Senhle eyed the people in the salon – almost all of them were turning to watch.
“I’d like to see you sometime, Senhle. In better-looking clothes and better-looking shoes.” She felt a little insulted, but then he added, “You will look even more beautiful.” Casually, he took out his wallet and placed a card in her hand.
Senhle didn’t know what to say. To think Letty was thanking the heavens for this man, and here he was propositioning her in front of the entire salon. Senhle gracelessly slid the card into her jeans pocket.
Just then, someone called out, “Baby!”
Senhle quickly resumed sweeping.
“Honey, you’re late. I’ve been waiting for you!” Letty planted a kiss on his lips, then placed her bill in Senhle’s hand. “Thank you so much, Senhle, I’ll definitely come here to do my hair from now on.” She touched Senhle’s arm, then turned to take her husband’s hand proprietorially.
The couple walked out hand in hand. But at the door, the man turned back – and winked. Letty hadn’t noticed and was still merrily holding onto him. An overwhelming sadness came over Senhle. She felt enormous pity for the woman. She picked up the hair on the floor to throw it in the bin. And without a second thought, she threw the card straight into the trash as well.
Letty continued coming to the salon, more than she needed to. She came to share news of her happy marriage; but soon, she came to share sadness as well. She was struggling to conceive. She suffered three miscarriages, and Senhle was there through all of them. The two bonded over their misfortunes, as Senhle was struggling financially and supporting her sick mother.
Throughout their long conversations in and outside the salon, Senhle never mentioned to Letty that her husband was busy following her around, asking her out.
When she eventually gave in to him, she cut all contact with Letty – and quit hairdressing. The affair caused such a kerfuffle in the salon. Gossip spread wildly, about Senhle and whether the man was going to leave his wife for her.
The product of that affair was Lutendo; and Lutendo’s father left Letty to marry Senhle.
When Lutendo turned ten, Letty moved into the two-bedroom house right next to their double-story. Senhle knew this was meant to make her life miserable.
After Letty’s story ends, there is total silence at the table. Lutendo is speechless.
Then she shifts in her seat. “So … you want to tell me that you and my mother were actually … the best of friends?”
“Until she stabbed me in the back, yes.” Letty isn’t shedding any more tears. “But your mother’s only crime was falling in love with another woman’s husband. Your father’s crimes were much bigger. He ruined our friendship and abused us both – physically and emotionally. He destroyed our lives!”
“But … you took him back.”
“I loved him. Even after everything he did, I forgave him. Lutendo, that man had us all dancing like headless chickens. He was so smooth ...” She shakes her head in disgust. “When he died, I took a deep breath. I am free now. I did not want my unborn child to know a father like that.” Briskly, she pushes her chair back and reaches for her handbag. “Anyway, thank you for the beautiful house. I will sell it to the highest bidder.”
Lutendo reaches across the table. “No, wait.”
“You’ve changed your mind?”
Lutendo takes a deep breath. “What do you think? My father murdered my mother like some dog, and you’re carrying my half-sibling.” And then – taking herself by surprise – she laughs. “Letty, the house is your reward.”
Warily, Letty lowers herself back into her chair. Then she stretches her shoulders and smiles. “Huu, that was tense. Now that we’ve cleared everything up, can we please eat? I’m starving.”