Deadline

by Zaheera Walker

  Anne had heard about Feriyal’s situation from the greater newsroom. She needed to hear it from her. A refined journalist knows something has substance if it comes straight from the source. She decided against the baby album. The moment wasn’t right.

  The waiter approached with a pen and notepad. “We’ll have the usual.” Feriyal nodded in agreement. Two coffee milkshakes; one black coffee. Two regular burgers with mushroom sauce. Chips on the side.

  “There is something you should know, Anne.” She bit her lips. There was a lump in her throat. It grew and grew. Quiet. No tears, please. No. Not now. Feriyal gave herself a mental warning. “Where do I start? I don’t know how to tell you.”

  Pale, freckled hands reached out to her. “Feriyal. It’s okay. I heard. You know how news travels in a place like that. The reporters aren’t happy. But you know. None of them are brave enough to stand up to him. Nobody wanted to see you go. They all have a soft spot for you.” Anne comforted the broken girl.

  “It was sudden. He sent me an SMS one morning. Wanted to see me later that day. I went to the office thinking it was good news.” She clenched her hands. Sharp nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. “He was so cold. Told me my time in his newsroom was over. No explanation. Nothing. I felt worthless.”

  Anne sniffed the aroma wafting from her cup. She loved coffee. Drank it black, no sugar. “I can’t believe it. No, wait. I can. Remember when you first arrived I warned you? Told you to keep a diary. To record all the things he promised. The sexual advances. Everything. Remember? Did you keep one?”

  Questions. Questions. Questions. Not a single answer. Nothing.

  She lowered her gaze. Feriyal hadn’t thought it was necessary. She had heard stories about Aneel. She had heard how he made young girls miserable. More than ever if he didn’t feel he could control them. “I did. Just have to find it,” she lied. Anne knew she was lying, but left it at that.

  More hollowed silence followed.

  “What does your mother have to say? Have you told her anything?”

  She offered to stand in as a witness if Feriyal wanted to take it further. She encouraged her to fight for what she believed in.

  “Fight with everything you have.”

  “What’s the point? Yes. He asked me to date him. He eyed me from top to bottom when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I told him I was not interested. He didn’t seem upset or anything. I told you, remember?”

  Feriyal didn’t believe Aneel wanted her out because she rejected him. She also did not want to waste her energy taking him to the labour court. She had more pressing matters in mind. Her top priority was to find a job.

  “Listen, young lady. You’re an excellent reporter. You’ll rise above this. Whatever you decide, I will support you.” Anne paid the bill, then hugged her as if to squeeze the air out of her petite frame. “I’ll call you soon.” She paced her way back to the office.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Feriyal went to the city library to think. A perfect plan to make her mother believe she was at work.

  Every bit of money counted at that time. She could not waste it on buying newspapers. Yet the need to find a job was great. She had to scan the classifieds section. The library was the best option. There were newspapers available for the public to read. The silence in that place was a blessing too. She did not feel like talking to anyone.

  With trained eyes, she scanned the columns. The employment section was filled with jobs of all types, but nothing for her. There were funeral notices, birth announcements, marriages and the escort services.

  Escort services!

  She went back to that section. What if she joined? Just to make a bit of cash. She could do it on the quiet and take the money home. Her little secret to help her for a bit. She stepped outside and dialled the number.

  “Pleasure Palace. Sonja speaking.” The woman sounded fake. Passing herself off as a spring chicken. That was, until the clothes fell off. Until she forgot her fake accent. Until her libido deserted her. “Can I help you?” There was no answer. “Hellooooo.”

  “Aa… mmm. Hello. I’m sorry. I’ve just seen one of your adverts in the newspaper.”

  “Yes, that’s right. The boss is looking for fresh girls. We can’t seem to keep up with the demand these days. Have you worked before?”

  “No, I haven’t. It’s just that your advert caught my eye and I thought I’d give you a call. Find out a bit more and see if I can manage it.”

  “So you’re a fresh daisy, then. Lovely. Always nice to offer our clients something different. Can you come in today?”

  “Err… Just wanted to enquire about your service. You know. Like how it works. Would I have to be interviewed? How much money can I make?” Feriyal trembled like a leaf. She could not believe she managed to tell the woman why she was calling.

  “That’s fine, honey. We’re a different sort of business. No interviews needed.” She chuckled and whispered to someone in the background.

  “There’s nothing to it, really. Just a shimmy here. A hip roll there. Easy. You can make as much as you want. Write your own pay cheque if you know what I mean. Up to R20,000 a month sometimes. Tax free. Our clients are screened before they come here. We work by appointment. Much safer that way. Sometimes we go to them. But someone always knows where we are. It’s a security thing. So... can you come in today?”

  Click. Feriyal cut the call. She could not go through with it. She thought about the diseases. The danger. The abuse. No. That was not for her. Rather beg on the streets if that’s what it took. But the money was good. Maybe. Just maybe if things didn’t come right this was something to consider.

  Back on the bus. Her journey home. Enough lies. How much longer could she carry on? The lie that was depressing her. Making her feel small. Sooner or later, it was going to catch up to her. A tear splashed on her blouse. She did not realise she was crying. There was so much going on in that little head. Her problem was too big for her to handle now. The bus jerked at her stop. She alighted and sat down at the bus shelter. Let me process this in my mind now. There’s no escape for me. If I keep this to myself, I’ll be lying to Ma. If I tell her, she will be hurt. I don’t have many choices, do I?

  Her chest expanded as she took in a deep breath. She chose to do the right thing. Today, she was telling her mother the truth. Maybe the old lady could sense it. She was acting strange these last few weeks, but Feriyal was too occupied to worry about another problem.

  “Ma! I’m home.” Feriyal switched on the black and white TV. Some family members had passed it down to them when they became the ‘up and coming’ people. Handme-downs. The hand-me-down Adam family.

  “Come sit with me. Ma. Where are you?” Her mother was resting in the bedroom.

  “Coming, Feri. I’m not as quick as I used to be.” She hobbled through to the lounge, hair tousled. Brittle and grey like an old woman. She planted slow steps towards the couch. Every bit of movement was an effort. “What’s wrong, Ma? Aren’t you watching TV?” There was no answer.

  “How are you, my girl? Had a nice day?” She dropped onto the couch, like a feather floating down to the ground. Her eyes were glassy and she looked a size smaller than she had in the morning. “I love you. More than life, you know. Our time together is precious. I’ll always be by your side. Whenever you need me.” She struggled to get the words out. Her voice trailed off. A deep breath.

  “What is it, Ma? You’re scaring me.” She squeezed the old lady’s hand and wondered if there was anything more she could do to make it all better. “Is it that bad?”

  “Haven’t been feeling too well for a while now. Went to the hospital to do some tests the other day. The results came back and the doctor called to say he wanted to see me.” Her eyes were heavy with sleep, but she had to finish what she had started. “It doesn’t look good. He said it straight. Didn’t want to waste my time or give me false hope. Nice doctor. You should have met him.” Her face creased with pain as she lifted her legs onto the sofa. It to
ok effort, but she wanted to lie down. “He took his time to explain. Said I’m very ill. That I left it too long.”

  “What? What did you leave too long, Ma? You’re not making any sense.”

  “Cancer.” The silence of death echoed in the fraction of space between them. “I have cancer, Feri. Some long name cancer. He wrote it down for me. Just in case I want to get a second opinion. Why would I need a second opinion? Isn’t one enough? If God wants me, He’ll take me.”

  The Earth stopped spinning. Rooted on its axis. Just for that split second. As if it ran out of fuel. It didn’t happen before. Just stopped for the first time. Without warning.

  Feriyal was up against the wall. She needed the support. There were no words. What was she going to say?

  “God is so cruel. Why is He doing this to us? He took my father away before I got to know him. Now you.”

  This was not helping the situation and she knew it.

  “It’s spreading fast, Feri. The doctor says there isn’t much time left. Maybe six months. Maybe less. He wrote some notes.” She handed her a sheet of white paper. “Here. You can read it if you want. Said if I came earlier maybe they could have caught it in time.”

  Why are there always storms in life, Feriyal wondered. She had worked out the words for that evening. She was going to tell her mother after they had supper. She was going to tell her about the work situation.

  That she wasn’t going back. The next day. Or the next… but the timing was not right. Not now.

  “Oh Ma. I love you. I love you. I love you.” She took brisk steps towards her. She wanted to reach her before the tear gate opened, but it was too late. She held her firm. “Don’t worry. We’ll get through this. Nothing is forever. Things will work out. You’ll see.”

  Her secret was going to be with her for a while longer now. That much she accepted. Maybe forever. She hugged her. She drew strength from the only person who never let her down. Ma. Her mother.

  ***

  After supper, Feriyal washed the dishes. She hated wet hands. Soft cuticles snailing over her nail plates. She washed up just to keep herself occupied. Her mother cleared the table. They did not speak much. They were both processing the bad news in their own ways.

  Later, they perused the family photos. The one lying on top of the other albums. Black and white photos of people. Unknown faces. Her parents’ wedding day. Her father cradling her in his arms. There were pictures of her balancing on his shoulders too. What did he smell like? How did he feel when I was born? Was he happy or was he expecting a son? She couldn’t remember him. Photos of cousins playing in someone’s backyard. Family gatherings. Mother and daughter shared beautiful memories. Memories laced with laughter and tears. On that night, they did all these things. They planned to look through the dust-covered albums.

  One by one.

  “The doctor said I must be at the hospital the day after tomorrow. He wants to start chemotherapy. All these big words. Zofran. Intravenous. Side effects. Too much to remember, Feri. I’m too old for this.” She slumped back onto the couch. The faithful couch always there to break her fall. Lost and alone.

  “It’s fine, Ma. I’ll come with you.” She gripped the frail woman in her arms. The rag doll who was once her confident mother.

  “What about your work? You always said you don’t want to stay away, because you had to prove yourself.”

  “It’s okay, Ma. The newsroom is quiet at this time. I have annual leave left. It won’t be a problem. Really.”

  That night, Feriyal realised her unemployed status was not high on the list anymore. She crafted a plan. A plan to buy another day. Another day of lies.

  Constant coughing from the adjoining room kept her up most of the night. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Her mother was all she had. What was life going to be if death snatched the fragile old woman? Fear knotted in her stomach. At last, sleep captured her. It took her away from the worries of this world.

  ***

  “Oh Ma, before I forget. I called my boss. To see if I could take off some time. He said it wasn’t going to be a problem. Everything was pretty slow at the moment. In fact, he said I could take a few weeks off. Starting today,” she lied. “See. I told you it was going to be fine.”

  There was no other way but to lie. Fabricated words had to be uttered. Lies were now becoming a part of her life. She was breaking the rules. To be fair and accurate. To report the truth always. However, this was her mother. Not the ethics associated with the newspapers.

  “That’s good news, Feri. At least I don’t have to be alone when I go through all these strange treatments.” She rolled on her side and pulled the duvet over her head.

  “You can sleep in a bit longer. I’ll cook breakfast. Clean the flat. The little things.” She hated the kitchen. “It’s my turn to serve you. You gave me everything, Ma. I haven’t thanked you enough.” Feriyal planted a kiss on her forehead. She left the room to freshen up. Her laugh carried through the bedroom like soft musical notes.

  Every crotchet played in the right key. Feriyal was the one who buried herself in books. She helped with the chores. Not cooking. It was not for her.

  “That’s kind, Feri. My beautiful Feri.” She knew how much her daughter hated the kitchen. “It feels like only yesterday I was watching you take your first steps. Now you’re all grown up. A woman. Be prepared to take on the world. Inch by inch.” Deep breaths. To clear her chest and her thoughts. “Hope you’re not staying away from work because of what I told you last night.”

  Guilt consumed her. She was worried her mother was onto her pack of lies.

  “No, Ma. Not at all. I’ve been working long hours these past few months. I’m just feeling a bit exhausted. I could do with a bit of rest.”

  Breakfast was a small feast that morning. She made masala tea for her mother. A few cloves, cardamom and cinnamon sticks boiled in a pot. Tea bags added at the end. A refreshing brew. It was Frisco for her.

  Instant coffee. That was easy. Next, she moved onto the eggs, tomato bredie and some toast. Samosas and baked chicken pies. Not too bad.

  Raindrops started falling. They splashed like tears as mother and daughter sat down to eat. It smelt fresh. Pure like a virgin. Washed away the sins of the world.

  “I’m going to watch yesterday’s soapies. Come sit with me.” A favourite pastime for the mother who couldn’t change what her Creator mapped out for her.

  “You know me well, Ma. I don’t have time for loveydovey fickle nonsense. There’s more to life than following someone’s storyline. I think I’ll pass. I’ll finish the novel I started reading yesterday.” Feriyal’s words shot straighter than an arrow. Yet it came with gentleness.

  “The day will come when you’ll settle down. You’ll feel complete when you find the one you love. Have children. Grow old. It’s nice to be a modern woman. It gives you independence. Money. Everything you want. It just doesn’t make your heart beat faster. A woman should always have a man at her side.”

  “You’ve been alone for so many years, Ma. Why didn’t you settle down again after my father passed away?”

  Her old eyes brightened and a smile painted across her face. “Your father was my first love. What we had, I’ll never find with someone else. Not in this lifetime. His kind was rare and you don’t find such treasures anymore.”

  What was her mother trying to tell her? “Okay. One day I’ll have someone special. Just like my father. We’ll give you grandchildren. Leave them with you when we go gallivanting. One day. Just not now.” Case closed.

  ***

  While her mother watched repeat episodes, Feriyal slipped away to make a call. She dialled Anne.

  Ring. Ring. Ring. Why was it taking her so long?

  When she picked up, the familiar sounds of the bustling newsroom in the background was overwhelming. “Daily Voice. Anne Jones speaking. Can I help you?”

  “Hi Anne. It’s me. How are you?” She didn’t know how to share the news. What if Anne was not interested in
her private life? “I know you’re on deadline, but I need a friend. Now more than ever.”

  “Hi... Feriyal? Slow down. Take a deep breath. Start again. What’s wrong?” The newsroom was chaotic, but Anne’s voice was calm and patient. She had a soft spot for Feriyal.

  “My mum is very ill. She doesn’t have much time left.”

  “Now wait a minute. You always told me your mum was very active. I don’t recall her being sick or anything. Maybe you heard wrong. You did have a lot on your mind. Maybe it’s not that serious.”

  “My mother was in the bedroom when I reached home yesterday. When I saw her, I could see something was wrong. She took my hand in hers. Then she broke the news. She’s in the advanced stages of acute myeloid leukaemia. I don’t know much about it, but her doctor told hershe has very little time to live. About six months.”

  There was a gasp and then silence. “Oh. My. Precious. Girl. I’m so sorry to hear that. Especially when it’s someone as dear as your mother. But don’t lose hope. Medicine is so advanced today I’m sure the doctors will give her the best treatment available.”

  The two spoke for a long time. Anne assured Feriyal she was going to be there for her. The pain was always a bit easier when it was shared with someone. They promised to be in touch on a regular basis. Now more than ever.

  Crumpled like a rag doll on the worn-out sofa, her mother was asleep. Too tired to watch TV. Feriyal looked at her through sad eyes.

  She saw bruises on her arms and legs that were never there before. Was it because her mother was growing old or was it the illness? Life at that moment was unpredictable. Her mother was living on borrowed time.

  Only a few months left. Who put a timeframe on the love between a mother and daughter? Who put a timeframe on anybody’s life? Who but the Almighty? He knew best, they said. His plan was definite. If that was so, why was He being cruel?