Swift Justice

by Meredith Taylor

  Tumi walked back with a small tray with two pastries and a cup of coffee. Edgar could smell that it was a vanilla latté. Tumi placed a pastry in front of Edgar and took a bite of his own. “You’re still drinking those?” Edgar asked, motioning to the latté.

  “You’ve got me addicted to them now,” Tumi responded with a smile. He held up his cup and said, “Cheers. Congratulations on being top student. I’m happy for you. And I’m glad that I get to see you.” Edgar raised his cup to clink it against Tumi’s, and they both took a small sip of their beverages. The way Tumi was acting made him feel even worse about leaving in the first place. Edgar was used to the sullen, sarcastic Tumi, and had resigned himself to the idea that the way Tumi treated him on that final day of mock court meant that he was ready to move on. But the warmth and sweetness that Tumi was showing him now made it all the more complicated.

  They finished their drinks and pastries and walked down the street leading from the coffee shop towards the center of the city. The crowds had died down as evening was coming, and only a few people were sitting in the restaurants of the busy street. Edgar saw the pensive look on Tumi’s face, the way his brown eyes creased in thought. He had missed their conversations and how they seemed to understand each other on some unspoken level. They had developed habits of doing things for each other without asking, often without acknowledgement. And they had grown so comfortable living close together. As they walked side-by-side, all of those comforting thoughts came flooding back to Edgar. He thought of the struggles Tumi had gone through recently, and asked, “Have you discovered anything else about your birth mother?”

  Tumi nodded, folding his arms across his chest in the cold. “There is a nun who worked at the home where I was adopted. My mom says that she saw the nun talking to a young woman, someone who seemed overly concerned about me. She says the girl looked a lot like the picture of Abongile that I had. If I can find the nun, I might be able to find her. But it looks like she’s disappeared off the face of the planet. I have some leads, but nothing solid.”

  “I hope you find her. I know how much it means to you,” Edgar said, trying to offer a comforting smile.

  “What about you? How is life back in England? Have you made any plans about your future?” There was something almost hopeful in Tumi’s eyes as he asked the question. Edgar wondered if he was hoping to hear that Edgar would take the scholarship and return to Ridgemont.

  Edgar didn’t have the heart to hurt Tumi again, so he merely said, “Nothing concrete yet. Life is… different. I think South Africa changed me after all, even though I didn’t want to admit it at first. It’s actually good being back. I missed it.”

  As they continued walking down the street, Edgar spotted a music shop. In the window, he saw something that instantly made him freeze. “It can’t be…” he said, and without thinking he walked briskly towards the entrance of the shop. Tumi called out after him, but Edgar was transfixed. He entered the shop and went towards what he had seen in the window. His mouth hung open as he felt his heart racing so fast it felt ready to burst from his chest.

  “What is it?” Tumi asked as he reached Edgar. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Edgar reached out his hand, touching the grand piano in front of him. “She used to… My mother used to have one just like it when I was a boy. We used to play together. She taught me a piece…” Edgar ran his fingertips down the length of the piano. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He sat down and removed the key cover, and tentatively pressed a low F#. His heart jumped. It sounded so similar, the way it resonated through the room, the unique tone that the piano carried. He thought back on his mother, how her red hair would glow in the sunlight as she played in their living room back in Kensington. Edgar was just a small boy, and he sat in awe of the beautiful sound his mother made. Sometimes, he would play along as best he could, but most of the time he would just watch her. When she died, Edgar’s father had sold the piano, saying that it brought back too many memories, and even though they owned another grand piano it was never the same as the one his mother used to play.

  Without another thought his fingers began to move across the keys, and he played the piece his mother had played so often when he was a child. She said that it was a piece from when she was a girl, living in South Africa, that made her think of what the country was all about. Edgar never knew what that meant, but as he played the piece, he started to get an idea of what she was talking about. He was taken away to another place and time with the melody, and he could hear the hope, the pride and the resilient spirit that it captured. He felt Tumi next to him, saw the two of them taking the journey of that piece of music together. When it was over, the final note lingered in the air, and Edgar looked up to see the shop assistant watching with a smile.

  “That was beautiful,” Tumi finally said when they all came back to reality. Edgar felt his eyes burn with emotion.

  “My mother used to play it for me.” Edgar thought again about what his aunt had told him, about how his mother had chosen a life of security rather than a life of love and freedom. His heart ached with the memory of what he had lost.

  Edgar was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of Tumi’s phone ringing. Tumi looked at the phone and said, “Sorry, I need to take this. I won’t be long,” and he took a few steps away to answer his phone. Edgar’s mind was still in a daze, but he heard Tumi speaking into the phone: “What? You found her? Where is she? Can I see her?” Tumi ended the call and came rushing back to Edgar, and said, breathlessly, “I’m so sorry to do this, Edgar. They’ve found the nun, Sister Beatrice. She’s living here, in Cape Town, only about twenty minutes from the city. I have to go and see her. I’ll call you when it’s over, okay?”

  Edgar jumped up from the piano bench and said, “Of course, Tumi. I completely understand. Do you want me to come with you?”

  But Tumi was already halfway to the doorway, shaking his head, “No, I have to do this alone. I’ll call you soon. It was good to see you. I’m sorry.”

  Just like that, Edgar was left alone in the music shop. His thoughts were still on the memories of his mother, and the fact that Tumi might soon have the chance to meet a woman who was important to his own life. He made his way back onto the city streets as the sun hung low over Table Mountain. It would be a few days until the final exam, and Edgar would have a lot of time to think about things.

  Chapter 28

  Tumi parked his car in front of the small home in the leafy suburb outside of Cape Town City. Dark had fallen, and the street lights made the scene look otherworldly. Tumi’s heart hadn’t stopped racing since he had received the phone call twenty minutes before. The nun he had contacted about Sister Beatrice had let him know that they had tracked her down, that she had moved in with another relative a few months before after her sister had died, and that she was prepared to meet with Tumi. Tumi couldn’t wait to ask her everything, but he knew that the woman might not remember his birth mother. Sister Beatrice was almost 90-years-old, and she had probably worked with thousands of young mothers in her time working at the orphanage. Tumi knocked on the door with bated breath, trying to temper his expectations but failing.

  The door was answered by a middle-aged man, who introduced himself as Sister Beatrice’s nephew. He had taken her in after his mother, the one Beatrice had lived with, had died, and he told Tumi that he wasn’t the first person to question Beatrice about her time at the orphanage. Tumi followed the man down a dimly lit passageway to a half-open door where Tumi could smell perfume and menthol. Beatrice’s nephew knocked on the door and introduced Tumi to the frail, old woman sitting on the comfortable rocking chair next to the bed. Beatrice still wore her nun’s habit, and gave Tumi a toothy grin as she shook his hand, not rising from the chair. She adjusted the colorful quilt over her knees and instructed Tumi to sit on the chair opposite a small coffee table. Tumi sat down and was left alone with Beatrice.

  “What is your name, boy?” Beatrice asked, her b
lue eyes searching Tumi’s face. She didn’t seem to recognise him at all, and since Tumi had only been two when he was adopted he couldn’t remember her either.

  “Tumi Moketla. Sister, I’m here to ask about the woman who put me up for adoption. I was one of the children at the Mfuleni Children’s Home. I spoke with my mother, who told me that you might have known the woman who is my birth mother. Her name was Abongile, but I don’t have a last name. Does that ring a bell?” Tumi stared at the old nun’s face, a look of confusion never leaving her eyes. He felt like she was only half-hearing him, and he began to feel like talking to her might have been pointless.

  “Abongile… The name sounds familiar. But I met so many young mothers. Did I ever tell you about my time as a midwife?” Tumi politely listened to the woman’s story, even though he was growing impatient. She spoke about working in the townships of Cape Town, trying to help the struggling families she encountered. Tumi admired her dedication, but he was eager to get answers to his questions rather than listen to any more of her stories.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clipping that he so often carried with him. It had become a part of his everyday life to be searching for his birth parents, and after learning that he had already lost his birth father, Tumi couldn’t waste any more time finding the woman named Abongile. He showed the picture to the nun, who looked at it with the same puzzled expression she had shown whenever Tumi had asked her questions. “This woman is Abongile. She was a survivor of the shack fire. My birth father was killed on that day, but she made it out with me and brought me to the children’s home. Does she look familiar?”

  Tumi waited as Sister Beatrice examined the photograph for a long time. The ticking clock on the wall was the only sound in the room. Tumi felt desperate. This was his last hope to find Abongile. If Sister Beatrice couldn’t help him, he truly had reached a dead end, and the chances of ever finding her would be practically zero.

  “Abongile…” Sister Beatrice said after a few long seconds. “Abongile…” she chanted, almost musically. “Yes!” she finally said, and her face lit up with recognition. “I know her! She was with Hannes, from the labor movement! Is that right?”

  Tumi could hardly believe his ears. He sat upright in his chair, and said, louder than he intended, “That’s right! Do you know anything else about her? Is there some way that you can help me find her?”

  Sister Beatrice nodded her head. “She was a lovely girl. Lovely! She would help us to make food for the children sometimes. Hannes did so much work in the township to try and make life better for everyone, and she was always there by his side. She was the brains of the operation, and she had lots of ideas about what could be done. A very strong young woman, very sharp mind,” Sister Beatrice said, tapping her finger to the side of her head. “I wonder what happened to her. She had a sweet little boy. This little boy in the picture.” She showed Tumi the picture again, and he realized that she was losing track of what Tumi had asked her, but he let her continue. “The boy was always so lovely and kind. Hardly ever cried. He would always sit and watch us as we spoke and planned things, just observing. I told Abongile that he would be just as sharp as her one day. What a sweet child.” At that, Sister Beatrice looked up at Tumi’s face, and her eyes suddenly went wide as her face drained of color. “It’s you!” She looked from the picture to Tumi’s face multiple times. “You… Abongile’s boy! But look how you’ve grown! Was I right about you? Did you grow up to be as smart as your mother?”

  Tumi smiled broadly, feeling emotion welling in his chest. “I study law at Ridgemont University.”

  “I knew it!” Sister Beatrice called out. “I told her you were a brilliant little boy, even at that young age. Always watching us and learning.”

  “I’m trying to find Abongile, Sister Beatrice. I’ve been searching for her for a long time. I need to ask her questions about my past. I need to know why she decided to put me up for adoption. Why she didn’t want to raise me.”

  Beatrice looked Tumi directly in the eye, the smile disappearing from her face. She said, “My boy, that’s not true. She wanted to raise you. She loved you so much. So very, very much. She told me that she wanted to see the people who adopted you, but she never wanted you to know who she was. She came there when your new parents visited you at the home. She watched you, and I told her that if she was having second thoughts, that she needed to tell me and I could delay the adoption. We got into an argument. She said that she was absolutely sure that she wanted you to have a better life. She had lost everything in the fire, and she had nothing left to give to you. No money, hardly any food. She just wanted you to be happy. She made me promise that you would be happy, and when I met the couple who came to adopt you, I knew you would be. Have you been happy?”

  “Oh yes,” Tumi said, nodding emphatically. “I’ve been very happy. My parents really love me. They’ve given me a good life.”

  Sister Beatrice’s smile returned to her face. “Abongile would be so glad to hear that. I wish she could hear that now. She wanted to stay by your side, but she knew that she couldn’t give you the life you deserve. She made me promise never to try and contact her, never to let you know anything about her. It seems I’m breaking that promise right now.” Beatrice chuckled at the thought. “But you are a grown man. And the truth can’t hurt you now.”

  “I need to find her. Can you tell me anything? Do you have a last name for her? Or where she lived after the fire? Any information can help.”

  Beatrice pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “I hardly knew her, my boy. I never even knew her last name. All I knew was that she didn’t want us to keep her information on file. She never wanted you to find her. She made me promise. It’s not really our policy, but she was a desperate girl and I needed to make sure that you were taken care of. She didn’t even have food for you, my boy. Not even a bite to eat.”

  Tumi hung his head. He felt like his journey truly had come to an end. Without any information from Sister Beatrice, there was nowhere else for Tumi to go. Abongile could’ve been anywhere. She might not even have been alive anymore. Tumi had nothing to go on. He felt sick, like he was ready to throw up. He was completely lost.

  But Sister Beatrice spoke again, softly, and Tumi’s head shot up as she said, “There is one thing I can tell you about her…”

  “What is it? Anything will help. Anything you can remember…”

  “When she came to me and told me that she couldn’t take care of you, I tried to stop her. I had hardly ever seen a mother who was so attentive to her child, so loving and tender. I tried to stop her because I thought that it would be wrong to break a bond so strong. The way she loved you… I told her that the love she had for you, and with a little bit of help from a support network, would be enough to overcome her struggles. That she should give it some more time. But she said that it was because she loved you so much that she wanted more for you. She had spent her entire life in that township, struggling for everyday survival. She said that she didn’t want you to live the same life that she had lived, and without Hannes she knew that she couldn’t give you a better life. All she wanted was for you to be happy. Tell me, do you have love in your life?”

  Tumi sighed deeply. He thought of his parents and Mohale. “I have a lot of love. My family has been wonderful to me.”

  “My boy, your mother had to leave you because she loved you. And she couldn’t live with her decision unless she was certain that you were feeling that same kind of love every day. I hope you remember the gift that she gave you, and that you see it that way. And I hope that you make her proud by nurturing love in your life.” After a few moments of silence, Beatrice spoke again: “Sometimes love comes in unexpected places, and we need to fight for it.”

  Tumi took the nun’s hands, feeling the cold, bony fingers in his own, and he said, “Thank you. You’ve given me a lot of comfort today.” Tumi wasn’t sure that he was completely telling her the truth.

  Chapter 29

/>   Edgar had met with Prof. Nkuna to discuss the award that he had won, and he had to tell her that he had no idea if he would be able to return to Ridgemont for postgraduate studies. It was all still very uncertain. Edgar had to go back to Cambridge, and he had promised Thomas and their father that he would be the dutiful son. What other choice did he have? Was it even worth it to leave behind everything he knew just to stay in a country that he had been so eager to leave just a short while before?

  After his discussion with Prof. Nkuna, Edgar decided to spend the weekend in Ridgemont before his final exams the following Monday. He booked a room at the Lord Turnbill, using the credit card that his father had reactivated after Edgar’s emphatic promises to be the son his father had always wanted. It would be two nights of saying goodbye. Two nights of letting go of everything that Ridgemont University had meant to him. Edgar felt restless, and decided to go to his favorite watering hole, Percy’s Pub, one final time. Seeing Tumi again would be nothing but torture, and Edgar did his best to avoid texting Tumi like he wanted to.

  The pub was almost empty; most students were too focused on exams to go out, and Edgar was one of the few people nursing a drink in the smoky room. He sat at a booth near the large window facing the street. The gin and tonic in his hand was bringing him some comfort. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion. He had been studying as much as he could over the past few days at his aunt Celeste’s house, trying to at least make a success of the course he had committed himself to so that he could have all of the credits he needed to graduate. He looked around at the few figures in the pub, a few girls playing pool and a group of friends at another booth laughing. He would miss Ridgemont.