Zvakatangira pa Gochi Gochi Part 3 (Storms of Vicissitudes) – Preacher’s Daughter

I let go of Tsunami’s embrace, retained my composure and smiled warmly at the old woman, pointing where I had seen the restroom signs. For a few seconds, she didn’t blink a bit, she cast an enigmatic gaze at me.

Her gaze was worth ten pages of a dialogue, the fleeting glimmer in her eyes was almost liquid. Though her words were restrained, she spoke a great deal of counsel, I listened to what she wasn’t saying, yet I heard her loud and clear.

Before she surrendered her gaze, she blinked twice and I saw my own mother staring back at me through her eyes. In that instant, I knew the nature of her debt, a mother’s intuition. I lost my balance and my feet faltered a bit as I tried to recollect my decorum.

“Are you alright?”, Tsunami muttered as he pulled me firmly closer to him.

“Yeah, yeah”, I am just a bit tired”, I cleared my throat whilst giving him a false nod of confidence.

As I looked back, the old woman was still standing, almost matching my countenance, except hers was powered by wisdom, and mine was laced with a fractured hope.

On our way home, time went so fast, I was caught up in such a turmoil of all sorts of emotions, mostly regret and anxiousness. I don’t remember the kind of conversations we held, my mind was on autopilot, I was a prisoner of my own conscience, it truckled my strongest impulse, hatched several tales and every tale condemned me.

Just after Tsunami parked, I realized that my reality was now stranger than fiction, my insides curdled. I could hear my heart beating so fast and loud, “DI DI DI”. The panic rise was unforgiving, it shot through my body like a turbo-charged generator.

My eyes glazed, my insides rumbled,” Jesus”, I whispered as I got out of the car.

Imi kunzwa sendinotsva.

Let me calm down and talk about Tsunami’s house for a minute.

Elegantly masculine, cosy and well dressed in modern furniture. Every part of the house carried pride, neatly punctuated with contemporary ornaments.

I couldn’t help but ask “Who cleans for you?”

Nonchalantly looking at his watch, “I hire help, the maid comes twice a week”.

Ndikati zvangu zvaita nechemumoyo coz zvekuita domestic work maya.

“Feel at home babe”, clearing his throat, “I bought food for you, check in the microwave, I need to rush back to work”.

“Thank you, Tsunami,”, I looked at him warmly and smiled politely.

“Rest, I will be back soon”, he pulled me closer, kissed me on the forehead whilst squeezing my ‘behind’ and he left.

Ndakatura mafemo ndichifunga kuti saka nhasi humhandara hwangu hwakutobaya?

I stared in blank air for more than a minute, took a bath and sat on the edge of the bed. My two voices started arguing, the ‘Confident Diva’ and the fragile ‘Church girl’.

At that point I had no single nail tip left, I had bitten them all off. I literally and figuratively realized that I liked biting more than I could chew. I asked myself the how ‘s and the why’s and I couldn’t answer.

The neatly folded ‘bed throw on the left side of the bed looked at me reproachfully, hissing, “Girl how naive?”

I exasperated a sigh, although my conscience hurt like a thorn in the flesh, it was nothing to the stubborn pounding headache. My mouth was desert dry, stomach empty but I had no appetite. I stood up, reached for my small bag, retrieved my lip gloss and checked myself in the mirror.

As I looked in the mirror, my reflection gave me a double gaze and the girl in the mirror wasn’t who I wanted to be, the choices she had made wasn’t what I would have chosen. She had deep regret in her eyes, I could see the weariness of her spirit.

I couldn’t stand looking at her anymore, I sat still on the bed staring blankly at the window, breathing a breeze of melancholy. Reality sank, I knew I was in a bad situation, real bad, Michael Jackson real bad.

As a preacher’s daughter, I had compromised a lot. I was not in love with Tsunami at all, though I liked him. I couldn’t bear the thought of him deflowering me, it drove me crazy because he was undeserving. I had saved myself for a future husband and as a Preacher’s daughter I regarded it sacred.

Suddenly I remembered, Mathew 7 vs 6 -Do not give that which is sacred and holy to the dogs”.

Whilst I was still on that verse, I heard doors opening and closing, “BHA BHA”.

Tsunami is back!

Imi Kani!

Extracted from Storms of Vicissitudes, a Novel by Rudo Muzondo.

Available on Amazon, link below;

https://www.amazon.com/s?k=rudo+muzondo&crid=2EWR9LZ8J3FFM&sprefix=rudo+muzondo+%2Caps%2C692&ref=nb_sb_noss