The last chapter
ONE YEAR LATER
THERE WAS SO much noise in those two living rooms Mpilo couldn't hear herself think. The dining room had been turned into a hair and make-up station and the sitting room a changing room. The door which led to the veranda at the end of the passage between the two living areas was left half-open for air, the weather forecast said it would be a maximum of 30 degrees that day. She sat on the piano stool with the closed piano in front of her, on it a big square mirror. Through it, she could see everyone.
“But who gets married on Christmas Eve?” Samantha complained as she searched through her make-up kit for blush amongst the many items on the table.
“Says the lady who got married on Valentine’s Day” Mpilo forced to speak while mascara was being applied to her eyes.
“Shh” said the make-up artist.
“But it was a beautiful wedding, a beautiful beach wedding” Norah said from where she sat in the sitting room having her ice tea, already dressed in her lilac two-piece which made her look ten years younger; already finished with hair and make-up.
“And what a beautiful bride” she added.
Samantha stopped her search and looked to her, blushing. She had found a mother in Norah, as few as the moments they spent together. But she was also glad she had reconciled with her own mother, and the rest of her family. They hadn’t lost touch since the wedding.
“Now I need to write about your love story” Amahle jumped into the conversation, trying her best to sit still while her hair was curled with a hot iron. She sat on the far end of the dining room, on a dining chair, her new friend Abigail was also getting her hair done next to her.
“If it will be anything like that best-seller of yours, go ahead hon’ ” Samantha encouraged and went back to her searching.
“Mommy, can we have ice-cream after we’re done with our hair” Abigail cut in.
“Sure thing” Samantha responded not really listening to her.
“Are you crazy?!” Mpilo exclaimed. She ignored the make-up artist’s shooshing.
“I do not want my flower girls looking like they had a mud fight thank you.”
“Who ever thought Mpilo would be such a bossy bride” Gladys commented. She was feeding beautiful five-month old Naomi on one of the sofas.
“It’s landlord syndrome” Samantha teased. Mpilo hadn’t sold the house to anyone after all. She rented it out to a Zimbabwean family which went home for the holidays so she still had the house to herself at the end of the year.
There was more chatting and ranting for the next thirty minutes. Then they were all done. The ladies where in one-shouldered knee-high lavender chiffon dresses, the two girls were wearing a darker shade of purple. Their hair was tied in a bun with pearl pins sticking in them, the girls was curled. Mpilo was in a gorgeous lace wedding gown which fit her like a glove. Her hair had grown long enough to be curled. She looked amazing. Norah was now putting hand-made bracelets on all of the girls. That is what she did now with all of her time, she started a book club and made and sold jewellery.
“Norman would be so proud” she cupped her daughter’s face into her hands after adorning her with her bracelet, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t cry Ma, you’ll ruin your make-up” Mpilo smiled.
The photographer would arrive in no time so they used the remaining time to pray. They gathered in the sitting room in the space where the coffee table had been and joined hands. First Abigail prayed, thanking God for weddings which made everyone so happy. Amahle praised God for finally completing Mpilo’s true love story. They had both opened their eyes when she prayed and Amahle winked while Mpilo smiled broadly. Norah was too busy crying to say anything, so Gladys prayed, thanking God for good friendships like these. Samantha prayed the longest; thanking God for Mpilo’s life (she literally mentioned every stage of her life) and prayed over her marriage and future children. Last was Mpilo, who only whispered three words, trying her very best to hold back the tears: “Thank you Lord.”
After hugging and wiping off tears which escaped forcefully, the room came alive again with noise. The girls were watching cartoons on the TV, Norah was playing with little Naomi, Gladys finally had the chance to have breakfast and Samantha was on her phone chatting away with Michael. Mpilo was the only one who heard the knock. She thought it was the photographer so she walked towards the open door to welcome her. But instead, it was a skinny young man with a fresh bunch of beautiful crimson roses. ‘Oh Daniel you sweetheart’ she taught.
“Mpilo Zulu?” the young man questioned. She smiled and nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind her, just so the guy didn’t think they were running a mad house. She signed, forgetting to look at the senders address, she told herself she knew they were from Daniel.
“You're a beautiful bride” he said passing the flowers to her. He also handed her a white envelope.
She smiled at him, “Thank you.” The young man walked away hurryingly and jumped onto his yellow motorcycle and drove away.
She was about to walk back into the house and gloat when she read the writing on the envelope. She immediately recognized the hand-writing. Her heart raced. She turned back and walked to the wooded table and chairs on the veranda. She sat down, making sure not to ruin her dress, put the flowers down on the table and opened the envelope. The card inside was white with two silver wedding bells and heart binding them. She opened it. She ignored the words printed on the card and read the hand-written portion.
Princess
I've always known you'd make a lovely wife and a great mother. Love him like you've loved me and cherish them like we've always dreamed. Congratulations.
Mister
Her heart sank. This was it. It was had and it was good but now was time to let go in order to have another. To have again, she wouldn't miss that for the world. And so she walked down the isle with her mother by her side that day and never looked back.
THERE WAS SO much noise in those two living rooms Mpilo couldn't hear herself think. The dining room had been turned into a hair and make-up station and the sitting room a changing room. The door which led to the veranda at the end of the passage between the two living areas was left half-open for air, the weather forecast said it would be a maximum of 30 degrees that day. She sat on the piano stool with the closed piano in front of her, on it a big square mirror. Through it, she could see everyone.
“But who gets married on Christmas Eve?” Samantha complained as she searched through her make-up kit for blush amongst the many items on the table.
“Says the lady who got married on Valentine’s Day” Mpilo forced to speak while mascara was being applied to her eyes.
“Shh” said the make-up artist.
“But it was a beautiful wedding, a beautiful beach wedding” Norah said from where she sat in the sitting room having her ice tea, already dressed in her lilac two-piece which made her look ten years younger; already finished with hair and make-up.
“And what a beautiful bride” she added.
Samantha stopped her search and looked to her, blushing. She had found a mother in Norah, as few as the moments they spent together. But she was also glad she had reconciled with her own mother, and the rest of her family. They hadn’t lost touch since the wedding.
“Now I need to write about your love story” Amahle jumped into the conversation, trying her best to sit still while her hair was curled with a hot iron. She sat on the far end of the dining room, on a dining chair, her new friend Abigail was also getting her hair done next to her.
“If it will be anything like that best-seller of yours, go ahead hon’ ” Samantha encouraged and went back to her searching.
“Mommy, can we have ice-cream after we’re done with our hair” Abigail cut in.
“Sure thing” Samantha responded not really listening to her.
“Are you crazy?!” Mpilo exclaimed. She ignored the make-up artist’s shooshing.
“I do not want my flower girls looking like they had a mud fight thank you.”
“Who ever thought Mpilo would be such a bossy bride” Gladys commented. She was feeding beautiful five-month old Naomi on one of the sofas.
“It’s landlord syndrome” Samantha teased. Mpilo hadn’t sold the house to anyone after all. She rented it out to a Zimbabwean family which went home for the holidays so she still had the house to herself at the end of the year.
There was more chatting and ranting for the next thirty minutes. Then they were all done. The ladies where in one-shouldered knee-high lavender chiffon dresses, the two girls were wearing a darker shade of purple. Their hair was tied in a bun with pearl pins sticking in them, the girls was curled. Mpilo was in a gorgeous lace wedding gown which fit her like a glove. Her hair had grown long enough to be curled. She looked amazing. Norah was now putting hand-made bracelets on all of the girls. That is what she did now with all of her time, she started a book club and made and sold jewellery.
“Norman would be so proud” she cupped her daughter’s face into her hands after adorning her with her bracelet, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Don’t cry Ma, you’ll ruin your make-up” Mpilo smiled.
The photographer would arrive in no time so they used the remaining time to pray. They gathered in the sitting room in the space where the coffee table had been and joined hands. First Abigail prayed, thanking God for weddings which made everyone so happy. Amahle praised God for finally completing Mpilo’s true love story. They had both opened their eyes when she prayed and Amahle winked while Mpilo smiled broadly. Norah was too busy crying to say anything, so Gladys prayed, thanking God for good friendships like these. Samantha prayed the longest; thanking God for Mpilo’s life (she literally mentioned every stage of her life) and prayed over her marriage and future children. Last was Mpilo, who only whispered three words, trying her very best to hold back the tears: “Thank you Lord.”
After hugging and wiping off tears which escaped forcefully, the room came alive again with noise. The girls were watching cartoons on the TV, Norah was playing with little Naomi, Gladys finally had the chance to have breakfast and Samantha was on her phone chatting away with Michael. Mpilo was the only one who heard the knock. She thought it was the photographer so she walked towards the open door to welcome her. But instead, it was a skinny young man with a fresh bunch of beautiful crimson roses. ‘Oh Daniel you sweetheart’ she taught.
“Mpilo Zulu?” the young man questioned. She smiled and nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind her, just so the guy didn’t think they were running a mad house. She signed, forgetting to look at the senders address, she told herself she knew they were from Daniel.
“You're a beautiful bride” he said passing the flowers to her. He also handed her a white envelope.
She smiled at him, “Thank you.” The young man walked away hurryingly and jumped onto his yellow motorcycle and drove away.
She was about to walk back into the house and gloat when she read the writing on the envelope. She immediately recognized the hand-writing. Her heart raced. She turned back and walked to the wooded table and chairs on the veranda. She sat down, making sure not to ruin her dress, put the flowers down on the table and opened the envelope. The card inside was white with two silver wedding bells and heart binding them. She opened it. She ignored the words printed on the card and read the hand-written portion.
Princess
I've always known you'd make a lovely wife and a great mother. Love him like you've loved me and cherish them like we've always dreamed. Congratulations.
Mister
Her heart sank. This was it. It was had and it was good but now was time to let go in order to have another. To have again, she wouldn't miss that for the world. And so she walked down the isle with her mother by her side that day and never looked back.
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