Four

"You are beautiful. You are strong. You are awesome. You are tough, you are the student body president," I say the last bit in a low tone and laugh. "You are a smart, fierce female."

I should be proud of myself and ignore my husband’s treatment of me. I am tough, the first female student body president my school has had in the last thirty years, it’s a big feat. I shouldn’t mind my husband’s dislike of virgins. He’s a monster.

As I murmur these words to myself in front of the long, standing mirror in our matrimonial bedroom, an invisible cloak settles on my shoulder. Even if it’s only for a moment, I feel better than I did earlier. Stronger.

Though my eyes are puffy from letting my emotions get the best of me but it is nothing a little makeup cannot fix. I lick my parched lips, I have a bad habit of biting them when I’m nervous. My reflection flashes me a fake smile with her hands going to her waist as she strikes a pose in her body-hugging gown that reveals even the contour of her belly button. I wink at her.

The top two buttons of the navy blue gown are down to reveal more than a decent amount of cleavage and her hair is swept up in a half-up, half-down hairstyle. The hair is away from my face as I like it and is also down, the way Brandon likes it.

Giving myself a mental kick, I remind my twin image in the mirror I did not dress up in my most provocative gown for Brandon neither did I style my hair this way for him. I am doing it for myself, yes, for myself first before him or anyone else.

My shoulder sags, I stare harder at myself in the mirror, maybe that’s a lie. I have not put on any lipstick yet because I don’t know his favourite colour, that’s if he has one. I don’t have any, I believe all colours have a role to play and should be loved equally.

The ringtone of my new iPhone, the first of many gifts that came from Brandon before the wedding cuts through my thoughts and I happily leave the mirror. Standing there didn’t do as much good for me as it usually did. Speaking to myself in front of a mirror before a big day has always had this magical effect on me. Except for today.

I panic and drop the phone when I see who’s calling: Clarissa. It’s not just any call, it’s a video call. Thankfully, my feet cushion the fall and I pick it up to see the screen is free from any cracks. I do not want my husband to have any other reason to dislike me more than he already does.

Clarissa doesn’t know I’m married, no one in school knows just yet and I hope I can keep it that way. I have only one more semester to go and it will be bye-bye university, welcome to real life.

"Bitch, where have you been? You went MIA on me," Clarissa shouts as soon as my finger hits the receiver button. "Ouuuu, I like me some hot, sexy, black girl, who are we seducing tonight?" she says with a whistle.

A laugh escapes my lips, the sound causing her to laugh along. Clarissa is the only one who makes the word black sounds like a title, she has taught me to embrace my skin the same way she loves her Asian eyes.

"No one," I murmur.

"Don’t you dare lie to me, lady," she starts, "I can see right through you and I know you are avoiding my question. Where are you?"

"Clary."

"No, no, no, no, no," she cuts me off, "you are prepping for a lie, ain’t you?" Her eyes fill my screen and her voice reduces to a whisper, "Bitch, please. Don’t you dare lie to me."

"Yes, bitch," I reply and laugh out loud.

The word bitch coming from her sounds sexy, she’s the only one who’s allowed to call me that and many other names. I do the same too. We are that close, not just roommates, roommates and best friends.

When her full face appears back on my screen, I smile as she plays with a lock of her jet black, straight hair. "Clary, I’ll tell you everything when I get back next week."

She doesn’t need to know I am in the same city with her and I didn’t travel to South Africa like I told her. We have always talked about how we wanted our weddings to be, the roles she will play and I could not bear the thought of inviting her to a wedding with a man I do not love.

"Fine, suit yourself," she mumbles. I can already picture her giving me the silent treatment for a whole day when she finds out I lied to her. She doesn’t take kindly to liars, all thanks to a scumbag of an ex.

A notification pops up on my screen, I bite my lips and look down. "What’s it?"

"My parents are calling," I answer.

"Put them on," Clary says and I shake my head with my eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. They will most definitely talk about my marriage. "Come on now, I haven’t seen them in ages. I miss them."

We have a cordial relationship with each other’s parents and when they had asked me why Clarissa was absent for the wedding, I had sprung up a lie. All I had done during that period was lie and make up more lies for my friends, parents and anyone who questioned my behaviour.

"Are you okay?" Clary asks and I nod. "If you don’t want me to speak to them, it’s fine but make sure to extend my greetings, okay?"

"Clary..." I trail off.

"It’s fine," she continues, "you promise to tell me everything when you get back?" I nod, I will give her every single, little detail. "I’m okay with that, be good."

The screen of my phone goes black after we exchange our goodbyes and I smile sadly to myself, sometimes I think I don’t deserve her. She gives so much of herself into our friendship and the best I can do is repay her with lies and exclusion from my wedding. To think I call her my best friend.

Ma’s face comes on my screen, chasing away the lingering feeling of guilt and a scream from her has me buttoning up my gown. She’s big on decency and doesn’t give a damn about my age. I’m still her baby.

I roll my eyes, greet her and ask of Pa.

"He’s fine, he went out," she says, her eyes twinkle and I laugh, she always acts like a newly married at the mention of Pa. "How’s Brandon? I’m loving my new phone."

Brandon bought a new phone for all of us, the only reason I started using it was because my old Samsung thought it a good idea to stop working and also because of my parents. They had no hesitations accepting their future son-in-law’s gift, they love him.

"He’s fine too," I lie. I haven’t seen him since our early morning fiasco and I have not left the room. I’m not sure I want to see him.

"Did he like our gift?"

I chuckle at the excitement in her voice, it was her idea to get him something in return after all he has spent on us. "Not yet."

"What do you mean?" She frowns. "It’s either he likes it or he doesn’t, which one?"

"Ma," I whine and pout, "not yet because I have not given him. We were too tired last night, there was no time for gifts."

Her face brightens up and she jumps from the stool she’s sitting on. She took the bait like I expected. "I get it. How was it?"

"Ma!" I will not discuss my inexistent sexual life with Ma no matter how close we are.

The door creaks. "I think he’s back."

"Alright, moghel," I laugh at her wrong usage of the South African slang which loosely translates to homegirl. I am not her homegirl, I am her daughter, her baby.

"Let me leave you then. Ndiyakuthanda."

"I love you too, Ma," I reply and end the call.

No sound comes from the door again and I chuck it up to my imagination. I walk back to the bed and plop on it with the silver necklace in my grasp. My fingers stop on the half heart pendant that reads: El.

The other half that’s hidden somewhere inside my box has Brand written on it and if I join the two together, they will form a full heart. I am not sure I want him to have it, I don’t know if I will ever get to wear mine.

Ma and I had been excited to make the twin necklaces but now I am filled with only uncertainties. I shove the necklace under the pillow when the door opens without notice, doing my best to act normal.

"What are you hiding?" Brand asks with his eyes darting between me and the pillow.

"Nothing," I reply and sit up, going on to add, "where have you been?"

"Work. I missed you."