Temporary Marriage

TEMPORARY MARRIAGE

By

Thabi Majabula

Published by Thabi Majabula at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Thabi Majabula

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed, this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com. Thank you for your support.

This is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarities to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

You sit here all day, eating my food, wearing the clothes I buy, but you can’t do something as simple as washing the dishes! What do you do all day? Do you sit on your bottom all day in that foreign country you come from? You can’t even perform in the bedroom! You’re not a man, you’re a waste of resources. Get out of here. Get out! shouted Mpho.

Dalu was standing beside his desk, looking at her. She was furious. She grabbed at his exercise book and tore off some pages. He took hold of the untorn pages, they struggled. He took the pages from her, she slapped him. They both stilled. Dalu watched her as she backed away from him, a fearful expression on her face. He could feel his cheek smarting.

He followed her. She stopped when her back hit the wall. She put her hands up over her head. He dropped the pages in his hand and put an arm either side of her head. Standing at six feet, and of medium build, he towered slightly over her.

I’m not going to hit you, he said. Slowly, Mpho removed her hands from her head.

Having said that, I must also make it clear that this is the last time you hit me, he continued. She looked at him in silence.

I clean up the house most days. Today, I got caught up in my work. I’m sorry the house isn’t clean, and I’m sorry that supper isn’t ready. I can take you out if you like, he continued. She continued to watch him in silence.

He stepped back from her and bent down to pick up the pages of his work. He went to pick up the pages she had torn, then he went to put them in one of his desk drawers. He turned to Mpho.

We can go now, he said. She walked out of the room. Dalu sat down at his desk. He closed his eyes and told himself to calm down. He could not believe that she had slapped him. No-one had ever slapped him. She must have had a really bad day, he thought.

Hearing nothing from the bedroom area, he opened the desk drawer with the torn pages. He examined the damage that Mpho had done. He could tape the pages together, and lose nothing. He heard footsteps, and looked up.

Mpho was coming towards him. She looked fantastic. At five foot ten, and voluptuously built, she was a divine vision in a blue dress that showed her legs and breasts to great effect. He ran his eyes hungrily over her, then forced himself to look at the pages in his hands.

Control yourself, you’ve lasted this long, you can last longer, he told himself. He put the pages away and looked up. Mpho was directly infront of him. Her breasts were in his direct line of vision. He panted, wanting to rip the dress off her and suck on them. He made himself look into her eyes.

Well? she said.

Ready to go? he croaked. She turned away from him. He stood, hoping to get to the car without disgracing himself. If she looked at his lap, she would know exactly what he wanted. He collected his wallet from his bedroom and followed her to the car.

She drove off, clearly put out. Dalu looked out of the window to stop himself from ogling her. He moved his seat back. His six foot frame was having trouble fitting in her tiny Uno. He shifted until he was comfortable.

You look and smell great, he said.

What? said Mpho. He looked directly at her.

You look and smell great, he repeated. He smiled to himself as she stalled the car, distracted by his comment. He looked away from her.

Where do you want to go? he asked. She mentioned a very upmarket restaurant, and his heart sank. He was going to be very embarrassed when he failed to pay for their meal.

Is that alright? Can you afford it? she asked snidely.

No problem, he said.

At the restaurant, they met people that Mpho said were friends of hers. One of the men in the group, Frans, invited Mpho and Dalu to join them. Mpho accepted quickly and sat down. Frans found a chair for Dalu, and one for himself. Dalu watched Mpho talking animatedly, then he looked round the table. There were three couples, besides him and Mpho. The women did not like Mpho, she was captivating the men. Dalu could understand that.

Frans invited Mpho to dance, and they left the table together. The women at the table looked at Dalu malevolently. The men talked about how ready the country was to host the coming international football tournament. Dalu joined in half-heartedly. He was watching Mpho and her dance partner. They were dancing very closely. Frans’s hand inched down Mpho’s back, and stopped on her bottom. Mpho removed the hand, it returned to her bottom seconds later.

Dalu sat fuming. He watched the man whisper to Mpho, she laughed. Dalu’s blood boiled. He stood and joined the pair.

It’s time to eat, he said.

We’re dancing, said Mpho.

Excuse us, I want to dance with my wife, Dalu said to Frans.

Your what? said Frans.

My wife.

She didn’t say…

I say! Dalu said aggressively. Frans released Mpho, Dalu took her in his arms.

What’s the matter with you? I was having a good time, said Mpho.

Have it with me! said Dalu.

I want to sit down, said Mpho, and she walked away. Dalu followed her. At their table, she and Frans started flirting.

We’re not staying. My wife has to work tomorrow, said Dalu.

Your wife? said the people at the table.

My wife, Mpho. It was nice meeting you all. Good night, said Dalu, getting to his feet. He pulled Mpho’s seat out, and took her hand.

I’m not going yet, I haven’t eaten, she said.

We’re going, Mpho. You can stand, or I can pick you up.

I’m not going anywhere, said Mpho. She gasped as Dalu put an arm under her knees, one on her back, and picked her up.

Put me down. Put me down! she said in disbelief.

Would you give Mpho her handbag? Dalu asked Frans. Frans put Mpho’s handbag in her lap, and Dalu walked off.

Put me down, Mpho kept saying. At the car, Dalu set Mpho on her feet.

Give me the car keys, he said.

I won’t!

I can go through your handbag myself and find them. She gave them to him. He unlocked the car, and walked Mpho to the passenger door. He opened it, and closed it when she was seated. He climbed into the driver’s seat, and drove to a KFC. He ordered takeaways for them both, then he drove home.

Mpho was furious. He watched her flounce into the house, banging doors behind her, as she went to her bedroom. He put the food in the kitchen, then he followed her to her bedroom. He knocked, and opened it when there was no response. Mpho gasped. She was naked.

Don’t you knock? she demanded, as she drew the duvet off the bed, and covered her body.

We need to talk, said Dalu.

I have nothing to say to you.

Then listen.

I don’t want to.

If you want to dance or flirt, do it with me. I’m your husband, it’s my job to give you what you want in that arena.

You? Give me anything? That’ll be the day! I’m the only one who provides around here.

You provide materially, that doesn’t mean I don’t provide. You’re my wife. I won’t have you cheating on me.

I did not cheat!

You flirted with that man, and let him touch you intimately.

He did not…

His hand was on your bottom! If that isn’t intimate, I don’t know what is. You should have slapped him, instead of letting him paw you. That ring on your finger tells you, and everyone else, that I’m the only one you’ll allow to touch you intimately.

Then why don’t you? I dress to kill, I dress skimpily, and I walk around naked, but still, no reaction from you. I’m not made of stone! You never touch or hold me, why shouldn’t I get that from someone else?

Because I’ll kill him! Dalu said with certainty.

Why would you kill him for appreciating what you have no use for? Are you gay?

No!

Then why don’t you touch me? They watched each other in silence.

I want to pay amalobolo, said Dalu.

What? asked Mpho. Dalu could see that he had surprised her.

I want to be introduced to your family, and I want to pay amalobolo.

What does that have to do with touching me?

Once I’ve paid amalobolo, I’ll touch you, replied Dalu. Mpho looked at him closely.

Who told you about amalobolo? she asked.

What do you mean? asked Dalu, with a frown.

I mean, where would a kwerekwere like you have found out about amalobolo?

I’m not a Kwerekwere!

You’re foreign.

I’m from the part of Zimbabwe populated by people with ancestors who came from KwaZulu. I grew up with the concept of amalobolo, I didn’t pick it up, or hear about it at a street corner.

I don’t want you paying amalobolo.

Why not? Won’t it show that I value you?

You’re not paying it. Dalu watched her, trying to understand why she would object to having amalobolo paid.

You’re ashamed of being married to me, aren’t you? Are you ashamed of being married to a foreigner? he demanded.

What if I am?

Get over it, because I’m not divorcing you so you can marry another man.

I want a divorce.

You’ll get it in hell! shouted Dalu, banging out of the room.

He walked away from the bedroom area to the kitchen, where he paced up and down, then he stepped outside the house. He walked about the townhouse driveway until he calmed down, then he returned home. He opened the kitchen door, and Mpho looked up, startled. She was sitting at the table, eating the food that he had bought. He entered the house, and closed the door.

Goodnight, he said, as he went to his bedroom. I shouldn’t have talked of divorce, now I’ve put ideas into her head, he thought crossly. He changed into his pyjama bottoms, and climbed into bed, but he could not sleep. He tossed and turned, then he decided to go and do some work.

He sat at his desk in the lounge, but he could not focus. He put away his work, switched off the light, and sat in the dark. The light came on. Mpho was standing at the lounge door in her dressing gown.

What are you doing here? she asked.

I could ask you the same thing, he said. He watched her as she went to sit down. She had a book in her hand. She opened it, and started reading. She laughed sometimes, and at other times, she smiled as she read. She’s gorgeous, and she’s mine, even if she and her people don’t know it yet, Dalu thought. If necessary, he would hire someone to find her family, and then he would pay amalobolo. He bade her goodnight, and went to sleep.

A few days later, he was writing at his desk.

What is going on here? Mpho demanded. Dalu looked up from his work. Mpho was standing at the open front door, and glaring at the kitchen area, with her hands on her hips. Dalu followed the direction of her glare. Sis Ruth was ironing the laundry.

Who are you, and what are you doing in my home? demanded Mpho.

It’s sis Ruth. She does the cleaning and the ironing, replied Dalu.

Since when? Wena, get out of here, Mpho said to sis Ruth.

Mpho… said Dalu.

Get out of my home before I hurt you, shouted Mpho. Sis Ruth picked up her handbag, and left. Mpho turned to Dalu.

What is going on here? she demanded.

I told you, sis Ruth does the cleaning and ironing for us, replied Dalu.

I didn’t hire her.

I did.

I don’t want her here.

Who will clean and do the laundry if she isn’t here? I’m paying her myself.

I don’t want her here!

I do, because I can’t do all that she does, and write as well. I need her services so you and I don’t get into quarrels about the dirty house.

If I find her here again, I’ll kill her.

Why? She’s helping you by keeping your home clean.

I don’t need her help!

Are you saying you won’t complain if you find the house dirty?

I’m saying drop this pretence at working, and clean the house properly.

"I won’t do