The Homecoming

The house sat in darkness. It was surrounded by a dense thicket of trees and shrubs through which no light, however optimistic, could penetrate. Trembling from the cold shiver that snaked its way down her spine, Annie wrapped her jersey tighter around her. Belying its status as part of spring, the October night was crisp and cold in the Midlands.

Despite her determination not to let the house prevent her from what she knew she had to do, Annie could not stop the hesitancy in her walk. She knew that her entire body reflected her dread. From the top of her head to the tips of her toes, she radiated fear. Fear of the ghosts she was about to awaken.

The door creaked slowly open, rusted on its hinges and a tired, yet oh so familiar, face peered around the wooden frame. "Hello Ma." Annie could hear the crack in her voice and she struggled for the inner strength that was her core.

"Anitha?" Her mother peered short-sightedly into the dark night, unable to believe that this unexpected apparition was her own flesh and blood. "It's me Ma - Annie." Annie pushed open the door and entered the house. The house where it all began. In many ways, the house where it all ended.

"What you doing here?" Her mother's question could so easily be viewed as hurtful. There was no joy in a daughter come home. Not in this house.

"I need to know, Ma. I need to know it all." Ignoring her mother's sharp gasp, Annie swept past her and into the family room - a misnomer if ever there was one. The only family activities that the room had ever seen were activities that were best forgotten. Yet that was why she was here after all. To remember. To understand. Maybe, in time, if possible, to forgive.

~~~~~~~

It all started a week ago. Or rather it restarted a week ago.

Slumped against the bathtub in the apartment that she shared with Samuel, her partner for the past two years, Annie held her life sentence in shaking hands. Two blue lines. Positive. Congratulations! You are pregnant. Please see your doctor as soon as possible to confirm the results of this pregnancy test.

The blue lines signified the start of a new life. It also signified the end of hers.

In her doctor's office later that week, she listened in awe to the sound of the foetal heartbeat. Strong. Pounding. Beating a tattoo of life. Echoing the pounding behind her eyes that threatened to consume her. Tears rolled slowly down her pale cheeks.

Dr Lucien smiled at her. He had been in this business for over 20 years and never tired of the look of wonder on his patients faces when they first heard the sound of the baby's heartbeat. "You're 4 weeks along. Still early days, but everything seems fine. You've got a strong one here!"

"If.if I wanted to get rid of it.?" She left the end of the sentence hanging. Hating herself. Needing to know.

Recoiling at the look of shock on the doctor's face, Annie averted her eyes, unable to hold his gaze.
"That's a big decision."
"I know." Quietly. Resolutely.

The doctor sighed. "You can terminate during the first trimester. Up until 12 weeks."

She nodded, still unable to look at him. "Annie?" he queried gently. "This is not something to decide hastily. Please go home and think about it. Talk to people. Talk to the father. If you decide to abort, we'll help you with the arrangements. In the meantime, please take care of this baby. Take care of yourself."

Driving back to the apartment, tears coursing down her cheeks, vision blurred, she narrowly missed driving into another car. Hearing the angry hooter blaring across the peaceful afternoon, she pulled over to the side of the road and sobbed uncontrollably. "Oh God, please help me now! Please!" She started to laugh when she realised what she had just said. God! God? God was not part of her lexicon. The idea of a beneficial supreme being, all powerful and watching over her was an idea she had rejected at the age of 12. God was Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny all rolled into one for Annie.

She remembered being a little girl. Little Anitha. She would crawl under her blankets at night, crying silently into her pillow and trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to spill over into the night. She would try desperately to vent her despair without calling his attention to her. Little Anitha would talk to God. She believed in Him. He would help her. He would stop the hurt and make her happy. She prayed with a fervour that would have put the best Christian, Hindu, Jew or Muslim to shame. For years she pictured God in her mind. He was a kind old man. She knew that despite never getting the chance to see his face. He always had his back to her and he never turned around to look at her, however much she tried to coax him with her words. She was 12 when she realised that God did not walk with her. She was alone.

No, that wasn't right. She hadn't always been alone. For the first time in years she thought of Jeev. Jeevan. Her protector. Her brother. Her world once upon a time. "No," she whispered into the air. "I can't think about this. Not now." Starting the car up again, Annie drove to her flat. Drove to Samuel. Sam, her lover, her world. But not her husband.

He would want to marry her of course. She knew he had wanted to for a while now, but she had fiercely and silently resisted. Any mention of the topic and she would turn away. Poor Sam. It was over now.

Sam saw Annie's car pull into the driveway. He watched her as she climbed slowly out of the car. She walked with the weight of the world on her shoulders. He fingered the ring that he kept in his pocket and knew that this was not the best time but he had to try. He knew that she was against marriage. He suspected that she loved him and had learned to live with the unspoken knowledge. He lived his life based on that tiny scrap of hope. One day she would voice her feelings and that would be the day she would agree to be his wife. But he couldn't wait any longer. He had to try.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She ran. Of course. He knew she would. He just didn't believe it. She ran from Sam, from her world, from her life as it was and as it would never be again. She ran home. Back to the beginning. Back to the end. Back..

"Anitha, I can't let you do this! I won't let you destroy us again." Her mother was adamant as she barred the way to her bedroom. Small and strong, she had somehow lost that remote look of coldness that Annie remembered from her childhood. She looked tired and old now. A part of Annie stirred with compassion and was quickly closed off. "Ma, I am going into that room whether it means stepping over you or not so please move out of my way." Pushing her mother aside, she opened the bedroom door. Another shut door in the house of her childhood.

He lay on the bed under thick covers. The room was warm and cosy with the cheerful blaze of the fire dancing across the ceiling. It's been painted she thought in amazement. Who would have done that? She looked at him. The animal. The bastard. Her father. The person she hated most in the world. Really, the only person she had ever hated. The intensity of her emotions raged through her and she saw him as he had been on the day she had left.

He had been tall and strong. She had always felt so little and lost in his presence. She had received a scholarship from the South African Institute of Race Relations to study at the University of the Witwatersrand for a degree in Commerce. Jeev had encouraged her to study and become a business woman. "You will be a big girl in a big company one day, Anitha. You're a charou! Money is in your blood!" he would laugh as he put on a pretend Indian accent. Paka Indian he would say. A real Indian. Shouts of laughter would follow as the children had been raised with their father's fake Pom accent. Their father had been to England for a year as a boy and he had never lost the accent. Even though they lived in a small farming community and he tilled the land, he spoke of curried chicken and not chicken curry.

He would take the whole family on trips to the farmer's market in Pietermaritzburg. Kids, fruit and vegetables would be loaded onto the back of his small van as they left before the sun was up to make the hour long trip. They would set up his little stall and sell fresh fruit to the larnies, as he referred to white people. She remembered watching Jeev's smile fading as the day progressed. He would listen in silent anger to the jokes that the white people would make at their father's expense after buying the best bananas and apples. Jeevan's back would get stiffer and he would try to stand taller and let the "Uppity Coolie" remarks pass over him. One day it had been too much and he lobbed a tomato at a retreating back. The drive back had been filled with terror. Annie had sat holding her skinny 12 year old legs and shivering in anticipation of the expected retribution.

They arrived back at the farm at seven that night. It was a wonderful summer night and the air was filled with the fragrance of the jasmine bushes her mother had planted everywhere trying to disguise the smell of the chickens. A balmy breeze blew lazily through the night, stirring the hair on her head and she lifted her sweaty face to catch the cooling breeze. Such a perfect night.

The shouting soon started and it was of a size and sound that she had never heard before. When the whipping started she couldn't bear it any longer and she ran to the barn. The door was open and she crept in silently. Her father was beating Jeev with his belt. Relentlessly, remorselessly, over and over again. Jeev's body was strong and his muscles gleamed where his shirt had been torn off his body. Welts were visible and blood was starting to seep through. "You will get those ideas out of your head this instant. I will have no more of this freedom nonsense, do you hear me?" Each word was punctuated by the whining of the belt as it cut through the air. Jeev just lay there. She could see the tears roll down his face and Anitha could not stand it any longer. She flew at her father and grabbed his hand, sobbing wildly, begging him to stop. For a second he did. Shocked he looked at his little daughter, hanging onto his arm, snotty tears coursing down her face and then he tossed her aside. "Uma, take this girl away." Only then did Anitha see her mother standing in the shadows with her hands against her mouth. Her mother rushed forward and picked her up, dragging her out by her arms. That was the last time she had seen Jeevan until the day when they had brought his body in its wooden coffin for the mourners to pay their last respects.

The day she had turned eighteen had coincided with the day she had left to go to university on her scholarship. Her father had stood at the door refusing to look at her. "You worthless deserter! Having you and your brother ruined my life! You will never be anything but a farmer's daughter. Go then and don't come back!" She had gone happily and had never returned. Until now. Twelve years later and she had returned. They had all known that one day she would have to come home.

"Anitha?" Her father's voice croaked with old age. He peered short sightedly at her as he struggled to sit up. Her mother rushed over to help him and Annie gasped as she got her first real sight of the man who had killed her brother. His skin was flaccid and hung limply from his bones. He was thin. Painfully so. His high cheekbones cut through the pale skin of his face and his skeletal fingers clasped her mother's softer ones as he leaned on her for support. He coughed and his entire frame was racked by the spasms that followed. He was old! How old was he now? She searched her memory frantically and the information seemed so important now. He was 60. Too young to look this old and yet he did. Could twelve years be so cruel?

He saw her look of shock and he smiled wryly. The familiar smile that she remembered was somehow different. The edge of brutality was gone. In its place she saw sorrow and shame. Her knees grew weak and she collapsed onto the bedside chair. He reached for her hands and she was too weak to resist as he clasped them within his papery old ones. "I knew you would come. I only hoped it would not be too late." At her unspoken query, he continued in a breathlessly husky voice. "You need to know the truth and we've hidden it for so long. I know you hate me. I don't blame you. I've hated myself for years and years now."

Another coughing spasm. "I didn't beat him to death, Anitha. I didn't!" he repeated the words with the vehemence that she no longer expected as he saw the imperceptible shake of her head. "I know I was a bad father. I treated you kids." he looked at his wife before continuing. "I treated all of you so badly. I was cruel and wanted to cause pain. I was drinking all the time and my demons could not be drowned. I tried to forget my pain. I was such a disappointment to myself. My life was not turning out the way I had always dreamt that it would. I wanted so much and it seemed like I got so little instead. I blamed you children. I said it over and over again to myself, to your mother and eventually I said it to you." His voice broke and a sob rose up in his throat, and escaped into the quiet evening. It was a sound that was at odds with the quiet and cosy domesticity of the room.

"That evening.I had heard what those goras  had said and I was too cowardly to do anything. I saw Jeevan's actions as a slight against me. I was incapable of defending myself and so he had to do it. My son! I should have been the one to defend myself, to defend all of you, not him. It felt like he threw that damned tomato at me. He had spat on my honour with his action and I had to punish him."

"I never meant to hurt him so much, but once I started I couldn't stop. When you ran at me and tried to stop me, I realised what I was doing and I was so disgusted with myself. Do you know what I did?" He didn't stop for an answer. "I threw my belt at him and I called him every filthy name I could think of and then I left him. I left him there crying in the mud and straw and I went to get drunk." He wiped a feeble hand across his face as the memories of that night came crashing back. "When I returned, your mother was sitting with you and trying to calm you down. She was singing you some song and you were still crying into your blanket. I went to the barn and saw Jeevan. He had hanged himself! He had hanged himself with my belt! Oh God, my son, my only son and I had killed him." Her father tears filled the room. Silence until he continued. "It was my fault but not the way that you thought. I didn't beat him to death. I killed his spirit. I destroyed his heart and he couldn't live anymore. And I forbade anyone to talk to you about it. I cut him down and called the police. There was an inquest. They asked questions...so many questions. Death by suicide and I cremated him that same day we got the body back. You were so quiet then. You hardly spoke to anyone!" His voice ended on a rising note of hysteria.

Annie felt her heart dissolve into a million little pieces of hurt. She could see Jeevan's face in the firelight and she sensed his presence. "You hurt us so much." she whispered. "I know. I pray for forgiveness every day. I will never be able to change the past and I don't blame you for not wanting a future with me at all. Annie, I am so sorry. Half the time I was out of my mind with all the alcohol I used to drink. I killed my family and I pay for that every day, with every breath that I take. I have cancer Anitha." It was a matter of fact statement, said with no ulterior motive but to share information. "In some ways, the pain cleanses me and I welcome it. I will die soon and I welcome that too. The only thing I am happy for is that you have made a success of your life. The only thing I hope for now is that you are happy."

Later, she left the emotions of the room behind and she walked into the night. She climbed the hill that they would run up as kids and she saw the way it used to be. Jeev, was running up the hill, holding her hand and staying by her side so that she wouldn't fall. When they reached the top he took her in his arms and swung her around, high up into the air. "Fly, my girl. Fly as high as you can. I'll never let you fall."
Sitting there, the night wrapped around her and the house sleeping behind her, she placed a hand on her belly and imagined the heartbeat of her child. Her fears were real but she knew that she would not destroy this life and it would not destroy her. She was not her father. She took out her cellphone and called Sam. She couldn't marry him. Not yet. But she loved him and that was enough.

Dhesh

 

Your comments will be appreciated. Please take a few moments to submit them here

Please use the back-button on your browser to return to the submissions page, or click Home

 

 

Name

Comment

Date

Erna

A moving slice of life. Thanks for submitting this – and I hope we’ll see some more!

2007-05-27

Lynette

great ending... positively inspiring, thank you

2007-08-22