The Other Woman

By Dee Kuziwa

Tawana's in love with Mudiwa. Only, she's stuck in the friend-zone. Then she meets the wife of the man she loves. As she retells the story, she realises where Mudiwa's concerned, she's always been the other woman...

...

"I know your husband, Mudiwa Kanengoni." Tawana finally settled on a word.

Nakai paired a frown with raised eyebrows. "You work together?"

Tawana chuckled. "We dated the same man at some point," she said bluntly.

...

Both women stood up and gathered their bags and belongings.

"You got the best part of him."

"I think we both did in one way or another."

"He chose you," Tawana reminded Nakai bluntly. "Nothing beats that. You have a daughter together. Star-gazers call first-born daughters love children."

"Well, when you put it like that… bravo." Nakai said snidely.

Both women stood up and gathered their bags and belongings.

"You got the best part of him."

"I think we both did in one way or another."

"He chose you," Tawana reminded Nakai bluntly. "Nothing beats that. You have a daughter together. Star-gazers call first-born daughters love children."

"Well, when you put it like that… bravo." Nakai said snidely.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Kuziwa
• Release date: Mar 28, 2019
• ISBN: 9781540158901

Book preview

TIME FOR A STORY?

Tawana had just picked up a tube of hand cream to sniff and tell when she saw the woman approaching. Her baby fit snugly in the carriage part of the shopping trolley and her handbag dangled, strapped to the side of the handle bar. The masses in Pick ‘n’ Pay at Sam Levy’s Village were a surprise to Tawana on her Thursday shopping ritual. Uniformed children trailed absentmindedly behind their parents, while others tried to manipulate junk food into trolleys brimming with fruit and vegetables. Half-term break, Tawana remembered. Oh, the bliss of not knowing what that calendar item looked like on her organiser.

The woman wore a pair of form-fitting, army-green jeans and a yellow flowy top. On her head balanced one of those large floppy hats Tawana’d always wanted to own. No, wait, she did own one, she recalled.  In pink. Her sister had bought her one on impulse and she loved it. Thank God for little sisters with great fashion sense. She ought to have worn it this crazy sunny day while she was out and about. Maybe tomorrow, she contemplated. If she needed to be out and about. She had a green maxi dress that she knew would be grateful for some outdoor parading. Pink floppy hat, green dress, purple sandals; ne’er a bolder fashion statement.

But back to the stunning woman and her daughter. Tawana approved of the scent from the tube and dropped it among her groceries. She’d only seen pictures and they hadn’t done the woman across from her justice. Her eyes were actually the dark side of magenta; deeper than midnight in intensity, and not at all the cliché brown of their African descent. Her smile, when she attended to something her daughter pointed to, transformed her into a goddess with its warmth and power. That bone structure couldn’t be bottled and sold like lotion. No, women like Tawana who were lacking in a certain area of angular contours and symmetry had to make do with Vault Cosmetologists and daily prayers to the goddess of beauty.

The woman slipped out of their aisle and into the next on her left and Tawana hesitated; lingering to avoid all her curiosity taking over and forcing her into compulsive stalker behaviour. She counted one minute; two, then casually steered her feet into the next aisle coming in from the right. The woman travelled lazily up the aisle and Tawana made a point to measure her steps towards them, paying unnecessary homage to pastas and cook-in sauces on her side of the aisle. The baby cooed as Tawana let them pass right in front of her. The other woman stopped to consider canned foods and her baby looked up and pointed directly at Tawana.

Mummy look, she giggled and waved. Girl.

If ever there was a misnomer, Tawana mentally rolled her eyes. She was walking, breathing evidence of all out of traces of girl.

The woman turned and saw Tawana watching; well, maybe staring? Observing? Tawana considered. Ogling? Ogling was more like it and maybe a little too longingly.

She’s taken a shine to you, the woman noted, offering a shy, fellow-shopper’s cautious smile.

Busted, Tawana pursed her guilty lips. She relaxed her facial muscles and smiled back.

Looks like it,

She’s usually a good judge of character, the woman placed two cans of crushed tomatoes in the trolley and locked her hands on the handlebar. So, you pass the test. The woman made a sound that could’ve passed for a laugh.

And cute to boot. How old is she? Tawana gripped her right hand over her left to keep from tickling the adorable baby’s chin.

Just turned two. You have kids of your own?

Tawana shook her head a little too sadly and smiled to dismiss the sting.

Not yet. But this one is precious.

Drives me crazy. But a good kind of crazy. The woman reached out and tousled her daughter’s satiny curls then leaned down and pecked the top of her head.

Sorry to disturb your shopping, Tawana retracted her steps with an apologetic smile.

Nonsense. Grocery shopping can be such a self-absorbed chore, it’s good to stop and chat with strangers once in a while. In my case, with an actual grown-up, she chuckled, comfortable now. ... I’m Na-, she reached out her hand in greeting.

Nakai, Tawana re-joined without extending her own hand to meet Nakai’s and finished the name on her own. Nakai Makoni? Kanengoni? Did you take his name, Tawana wondered?

Nakai withdrew her hand in a numb-and-struck-dumb shock and gripped the trolley possessively.

Have we met?

Tawana shook her head. Only in a virtual world that bears no boundaries but all the right filters for a perfect photo shoot. Tawana continued to herself.

Probably not, she shrugged. Anyway, she tucked a few stray locks behind her ear, I have to say the pictures don’t do your perfect face justice.

Nakai just stared. Her mind scrambled to think of all the places her pictures could have landed on this woman’s radar. As far as Nakai knew, she wasn’t famous. Her dance picture? Nakai shook her head at the absurdity of the idea. That would have meant she and the woman had actually crossed paths.

Meanwhile, Tawana applauded herself mentally. Great opening, she told herself snidely, and guts the sunny side of reckless.

I’m sorry, she repented of her tactless revelation and tugged on the strap of her handbag. Sorry we had to meet this way. Mudiwa will have a fit.

Nakai blinked, recovering from her trance and tried to smile.

It was good to meet you? Nakai stammered, a watery smile refusing to graduate to her eyes. She asked her statement; completely thrown by the encounter. She’d wanted to switch off her warmth but realised it cost nothing to be polite. She also needed to walk away but her feet remained rooted to the spot.

You and your little princess have a good day. Tawana wanted to say, to bring the awkward to a respectful close.

Instead, she checked her trolley and Nakai’s, estimated the time and thought, what the hell?

Do you have time for coffee? I could tell you a story.

In for a penny, in for a pound...

DON’T THINK JUST KISS

"I know – knew – know ? Maybe it’s know after all," Tawana stammered as they settled at their table at the nearby Café Nush.

A waiter hovered over their table, jotted down their beverage orders and disappeared. Nakai had just parked the stroller and her groceries angled towards her when their order arrived.

"It’s safer to say know," Tawana rambled on, trying to harness that composure she’d applied back in the supermarket.

I know your husband, Mudiwa Kanengoni. Tawana finally settled on a word.

Nakai