Holier Than Thou

I fall in love with places according to what they feel like. The market place my mother and I usually go to for greens feels like freedom, happiness and hope. There are always women selling this and that, others heavy with a child, others with babies strapped onto their backs, others complaining about cheating husbands but they all represent the fierceness of a woman. The church feels like happiness, like floating on top of a cloud and it is always thick with the familiarity of those who have come together seeking the same things. Well, the congregants are usually dripping an unhealthy dose of self-righteousness but I have learned to live with that. This place feels like new beginnings, like second chances and more importantly like freedom.

The apartment has so much space to move about and the best view the place could give you. Unlike back home. Well, back home there's too much space, more than I need actually but it is the aura of the place that makes it suffocating.The walls back there seem to have it all, ears, eyes, feet. They are always moving, threatening to suffocate me. And I am sure sometimes I hear them sigh in a very exhausted way. Sometimes I feel their eyes are on me, it is hard to forget not to be pefect when you are within those walls. But the walls of my apartment are light, they seem to be floating away, like the folds of my long skirt. It is hard to believe my parents allowed me to live anywhere but the dorms. With how much they love perfection I am sure living alone at my age is something they don't approve of. It has to be the pastor who convinced them to. After all they worship the very ground he walks on.

I do too.

In my own way.

I tie my headwrap around my head, way too tight so that the pain of it will give me something to focus on today. My hand goes to my lower belly out of its own volition. The gesture makes me freeze in my actions. I look at myself in the mirror, there actually is not much to see since my whole body is covered in folds of clothing. But that is okay. My mother taught me well. I am a woman, my body has to be covered all the times. My heart breaks when I think of what I am going to do. A lump setttles on my throat but I quickly swallow it down. You have done this before Maqhawe, it is going to be okay. But it will never be okay. It will never be okay. I keep examing myself in the mirror until a knock on the door breaks me out of it.

''You have done this before, you have got this my love,''I tell myself before wheeling around, steeling my heart and hurrying to the door. I open it, expecting to find his imposing form by the other side but instead I find myself face to face with a girl who is the definition of ethereal. She has black, thick long braids whose number I can count on one hand. They are only on the crown of her head anyways, the sides are shaved. Her makeup is flawless, except for the dramatic glitters on her cheeks. They give her a perfect glow still. I scan her from head to toe quickly, trying to be surreptitious about it. I dont get much details into my head, just the masculine figure and boy clothes. She is beautiful in a word. Her face is long, with pouty lips and big curious eyes. Plus flawless smooth skin to boot.

''Hi, my love,''she chirps, blessing me with a very beautiful smile ''I am Tsitsi, the roommate,''she finishes excitedly. I am trying to be unresponsive but her energy radiates to me and despite myself, I smile.

''I am Maqhawe,''I tell her rather cooly. I don't know how to raise my voice higher than this. It is not allowed in our home. But maybe I can try since I am now in college. I am expecting her to greet me the formal way acceptable in our church but then I realise she is not one of us, she doesn't look like a chosen one. My mother would kill me to know that I am sharing a room with her.

''Help me with these, Princess,''she singsongs as she pushes past me. How did she know my name means Princess? I shake my head and start hauling the suitcases in. This girl obviously brought her whole house to college. It takes more than fifteen minutes to get them into the apartment and then into her room. She starts treating me like I am with the movers or something, telling me where to put her bags and where not to.

She takes out some candles and starts planting them everywhere while she tells me about positivity and whatnot. I am glad we are not sharing bedrooms otherwise I would be living in rainbows. I ask her why she likes the rainbow so much when she places some rainbow cat figurines on the TV and she says because she is stilll young at heart. I dont poimt out that she is not that old anyways, she is in her first year in University for crying out loud.

And she says the rainbow doesn't let you olay favorites, you fall in love with it it means you fall in love with all it's colors and you can't pick. But I have to admit, the room looks brighter, cozy and wamer with every green, purple, yellow or red thing she adds. I don't tell her that though. I will let her do the talking; I am not allowed to wear or own anything that is not white or sky blue so I envy her for all those colours she had in her bag. I have had it up to here with her incessant chatter when there is a knock on the door. That is definitely him. My heart sinks. But why? I love him don't I, I should be happy that he is here.

But I am not.

''I will be back soon,''I announce, picking my phone and leaving the room hastily beofre she lounges into twentyone questions. He is standing outside. As soon as I see him my heart melts, I don't get why I wasn't happpy to know that he is here. But now that he actually is, I am more than happy. I shut the door behind me because I don't want the roommate to see him just yet. His eyes go to the door but he dooesn't say anything about it. He gives me one of his megawatt smiles and extends his hand to me.

''Looking good like always,''he kisses my cheek and I swear I melt on the spot. ''Any second thoughts?,''he asks as he leads me towards the elevator. I only shake my head because I don't trust my voice to speak right now. Of course I am having second thoughts. Like the first time we did this, and the second time. ''Not talking to me?,''he asks as the elevator begins its descend.

''No just worried about tomorrow, it will be my first day at university,''I whisper because anything higher than this, I will break down and turn the rest of the day into a nightmare. It already is a nightmare but at least I have not allowed the floodgates to go free. This is the time I wish I had a friend, the time I wish I know something else besides our foreboading neighbourhood with streets that are always abandoned and the church I go to filled with the most pretentious people ever.

''It will be alright, trust me. You will enjoy it,''he tells me. Enjoy? I am not looking at him but I know he is smiling. He is so tall that I only go as far as his elbows when I am wearing flats. The elevator doors open. We are in the lobby. I move mechanically, like a robot as he leads me outside of the building. I can feel the fear creeping up my spine. He gives my elbow a reassuring squeeze. I don't look up at him to smile, I know I will lose it. All the way to the doctor's he fills the silence with jokes that I find very dry. When the tiny white building is looming in front of me I realise I cannot do it. Not for the thrid time, no not for the third time.

''What?,''he demands, his voice has taken a sharp edge to it. I realise I am shaking and my cheeks are wet with tears I had been holding in all this time. I cannot abort a child for the third time in a year. That cannot happen. And I am only eighteen.

''I cannot do it!,''I state. I think this is the loudest I have heard my voice be. Feeling bolder by the second I add ''Not again! This has gone on for far too long, I won't!,'' I am practically yelling now, I feel a grip on my arm. He is digging his fingers into me. I want to tell him to let me go but there is something in his eyes, something I have never seen before.

''Listen here young woman, I am not going to let you ruin both our lives you hear, imagine how your mother would react if she found out. The church,''he says in a grave tone. The mention of my mother sobers me up. I want to protest, I want to fight for my child but I know it is a lost cause. In as much as I am good at faking it, my heart has been breaking with each child I have had to give up. But he is right. We cannot keep any of the babies. He is as old as my father after all, and the relatiionship started when I was seventeen, even now he could still go to jail for being with me. What more, he is married, and the pastor my parents worship with all they have.

Peace, Love and Blessings.