New pk insides

I am a PK, not an Angel A path of high expectations, congested by perfect imperfections…

NOKUKHANYA MAZIBUKO

I am a PK, not an Angel. Copyright ©2015 by Nokukhanya Mazibuko. All rights reserved.

Printed in Durban, South Africa.

ISBN 9780620656047

This is a Self-published book, printed and bound by BK Bookbinders. Any information about the book or any related matters can be addressed to the author.

Email: mazibukokhanyo@gmail.com Facebook page: I am a PK, not an angel

This is book a fiction. The names, characters, places and events either are out of the writer’s own imagination or are used fictitiously. If there is any identical or resemblance of personalities, it is coincidental.

Acknowledgements ♥♥♥ Okay, this is the part where I have to thank a whole bunch of individuals for their input, love and support; I don’t know where to start though…

Maybe I should start by thanking my creator, the God Almighty, my Alpha and my Omega. He has been so good to me, and I understand that I wouldn’t have done this without him – he is my source of everything, with this gift of creative writing, I thank him ♥ And then there’s Mom, oh my Mom, I love you. You have always been my number one fan and cheerleader. You celebrate my smallest achievements; I already know that this book will count as one of your greatest gifts. Thanks for your undying love and support. God bless ♥ My siblings, I know you are not much into this reading thing, but I thank you for all the time you cheered for me when I wrote a chapter, up to the end. You are not the best siblings, but hey, lol I love you Nonto, Mbuso, Sizwe, Thandeka, Thabile, Pamela, Phetho, Thandazo and Ntomb’futhi. I wouldn’t trade you…yet! Lol ☺

My dear friends and readers: I want to be honest with you and tell you that, I would have given this up long time ago if it wasn’t for you and your love for my story. Every time I was in a verge of giving up, your comments and inbox’s haunted me, lol. Thank you. I spent most nights awake, sitting in front of my laptop writing for you.

This story was only mines to write and share, it is yours to read, believe in, relate to, learn from and maybe laugh at, or criticize too if you have to. So, having the kinds of feedback that you have given me, is humbling and mind blowing. I’m amazed, and grateful. I pray that the Lord blesses you richly, and may your support for my book and others to come continue endlessly.

May God bless every hand that touches this book, and every eye that reads it.

We made it!!!

I am a PK, not an Angel

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to the pleasant sight of my sleeping husband; he was sleeping so peacefully – he looked so young and cute in his sleep. His alarm clock woke me harshly before I took my time to admire his sleeping self, it was ringing out loud, but he slept through all that loud noise – the more things change is the more they stay the same right? That’s what they say. For all the four years I had been married to Zakhele, his alarm clock in the mornings was my daily torture. He never seemed to hear or attend to it when it rang, and that annoyed the hell out of me – but I had no choice but to live with it because one of us had to switch it off. Him being a very heavy sleeper, you could move him from his bed to the next city without him waking – I didn’t understand that about him. Me, I can hear a slight sound and noise in my sleep. I must say though, it was a pure pleasure to wake up to a sea breeze every morning, this was new to me.

Moving to our new house in Ballito was the best move for me and my sanity – especially my sanity. I loved its modern Tuscan villa style, the white interior decor with touches of red and silver. But I loved most the patio that I walked into outside our bedroom, the walk in closet and the en-suite bathroom which was the size of our previous bedroom. It was a very big house for just two people, but you wouldn’t hear me complain because I loved it. Our old house in Amanzimtoti was lovely too, although it was no match to our new one. Our previous house was situated along the highway – the noise alone was unbearable, but one of my hundred reasons for moving out of it, is the tragic accident that happened there. It was a very warm day, last year in November, cars crashed through our concrete walls while I was outside hanging laundry on the washing line. It was like a movie, everything happened so fast – I just froze. I heard a little voice crying from one of the cars before I realised what had just happened. She was in a red VW Polo Vivo, she kept crying ‘Please help me, mommy, daddy’ and no one responded. I could not sleep well for days after witnessing that tragic ordeal; we had to move from that house.

1

I am a PK, not an Angel

I looked at him through the man-size mirror as he was getting ready for work; he was looking like a million bucks, oh how fine he was! I had never in my life seen a man as handsome as my husband, that’s the truth with no bias business in it. It was lovely seeing him dressing up, I admired everything God has given him – his perfect physique so heavenly. There’s nothing he loved more than looking and smelling good and expensive. He worked so hard for the ravishing life we had, and I had even given up asking him to allow me to have my own job. He made me give up the first job offer I had after university, I thought it made sense because it was during our wedding preparation so I wasn’t going to cope, plus the job was in Johannesburg. I have had so many job offers in Durban after that, but he still wouldn’t let me – I even suggested I open my own dental surgery and he told me I don’t have to work he can provide for me. I knew he could provide for me, he could provide for the whole world even– but this was not a question of provision and he’d never get it. Not working was so boring, as much as he could buy me anything and everything I asked of him – I needed to make something of my life too. I would also love to tell him about my day at work, the ups and the downs and everything in between.

It was that time of the month I hated the most, month end. I had to pay bills and do groceries – housewives duties kind of thing! I went to Gateway shopping mall, intentionally ignoring Ballito lifestyle mall, I didn’t know my way around there at all and I’d given up trying to get used to it. I was still on my business when my phone rang, it had been ringing for a while and I didn’t hear it.

“Baby, hi.” I answered, it was Zakhele.

“Who is Thulani?” He asked me that question and I almost choked in shock.

“Thulani who? I know a lot of people by that name.” I knew exactly who he was talking about, the annoying obsessed idiot from high school.

2

I am a PK, not an Angel

“Nonhle, who is Thulani?” he asked again. His voice gave me shivers, I felt a lump on my throat.

“I’m not sure who you’re talking about, but I know one from high school.”

“Is that the same one you were with yesterday when you told me you were doing your hair? Are you sleeping with him?”

My God, when and how did that move from me explaining the guy to explain my sexual relations with him? I didn’t even know where it was all coming from. I didn’t know how to explain this stupid guy to him and he was obviously worked up to believe anything I’d say.

“Baby I’m at the mall right now, can we talk about this when I see you?” I needed time and energy for this kind of a conversation, the old lady behind me in the queue was on an eavesdropping tip.

“Are you too busy with him to talk to me?”

“Shezi, no! I’m not busy with anyone, I am doing groceries and I’m in a very long queue at Checkers.”

“Come to my office right now. I expect you here in ten minutes.” he hung up. Just like that!

What had this guy done now? I wondered. Zakhele must have seen an inbox or a lousy Facebook comment from this guy; I should have logged out on all my social network accounts before I gave him my laptop. This was so stupid and I hated it. I drove to his office in Umhlanga with an excessive speed limit, I flew there actually. I didn’t know what was on my husband’s mind; and a fight with him was the last thing I needed. We had been okay after our counselling sessions with our pastor, I didn’t need another stumble. We have had a very rough year and far too many obstacles. I said a prayer before getting out of my car, I needed peace and strength.

3

I am a PK, not an Angel

His receptionist didn’t greet me; she was busy munching – I don’t think there’s a day I’d seen her not chewing, she kept to her food attack and just showed me the way to the stairs – apparently the lifts weren’t working. I wondered how much time was left of my given ten minutes as I went up the stairs; they were worse than my hectic gym sessions - killer work out. I got to his office gasping.

“Lock the door.” he ordered me as I entered. He was staring at our wedding picture on his desk. He didn’t look at me. “Start talking and explain this to me!” he said and turned the laptop to me as I sat.

“Baby,” I took a huge sigh. “I know this guy from school. He invited me on facebook about two or three months ago. Yesterday I bumped into him at Ushaka marine after I was done doing my hair.” I explained.

“Read this message for me and make me understand what is going on here.” Before I read the message his phone rang and he rejected the call.

He was mad. He looked mad....and scary.

I read the message out loud as instructed “Mhhhhh you are still so unbelievably beautiful and sexy as you were back then. You were supposed to be mine. I still have mad love for you Nonhle; it was lovely seeing you this afternoon. Hope to see you again.”

I didn’t know how to explain this, but I had to. Everything already sounded like this was a hell of day for me and Thulani. How was I supposed to explain his obsession with me to my husband after this message? I hated Thulani at this moment.

“He was asking me out at school, we never dated and I never liked him.

Yesterday I just bumped to him, it was a coincident.”

“It was a coincident huh? Does he know you’re married?”

“Yes he knows I am married. He is nothing to me, baby.” I assured him again.

4

I am a PK, not an Angel

“Then why is he sending you a message like this, why did you even accept a high school admirer of yours on facebook? Are you helping him with chances to try his luck with you?”

Why was he like this to me? I was not a bad person here, I didn’t do anything wrong.

“I don’t know why sent me that message. But better is the married person who is texted by an admirer, than a married person who invites their ex partners to their lives and spend nights with them. Right?”

“Don’t you dare make this about me? You are seeing this guy behind my back and he is all over you – making annoying remarks on your pictures and you make this about me?” He shouted and got up his chair making his way towards me. I was terrified by his look.

“I’m not going to explain things I do not know. What I know is, I am not cheating or sleeping with Thulani, if that’s what you are implying. And please don’t make yourself a better person here, because we both know you’re not. In fact you are in no position to point fingers at me, Zakhele Shezi.”

I stood up and went out of the door boiling mad. I am not sure what I was mad about the most. But I know I was mad at both my husband and Thulani. I wanted to send him an inbox on Facebook, but then Zakhele would be able to see the message and he was going to be angrier. I think walking out on him was another factor I had added on his day’s angry list.

But I couldn’t take it anymore. A part of me was a bit happy that he saw that message; that there’s someone out there who’d do anything to be with me. I suddenly remembered the time I caught him cheating with his exgirlfriend from tertiary. Apparently she was going through a divorce with her husband, and my husband was an appropriate candidate to ease her pain I guess. There’s no greater pain I can ever feel again compared to the one I felt during that time. Through that pain and disappointment, I stayed with him. I still managed to love and forgive him. And he was mad at me over a lousy message, what games was he on with me?

5

I am a PK, not an Angel

Chapter 2

In the evening there was a home cell prayer meeting in our house, but my husband was nowhere to be seen. He didn’t answer his phone when I phoned him. I don’t know why they appointed him as one of the junior pastors at church, he was obviously too occupied to fit the expectations of the role. He sometimes strayed from his role, he was not worthy. I am not judging him at all, but if it were up to me I’d ask them to remove him from that position. He was probably chosen because it is the other branch of his father’s church, also he was one of the much respected men at church and in the city altogether, because of his calibre and influence of course. When we first met he was so hands on in the church things, he was so responsible and active – perhaps that’s why they kept him thus far.

He had changed so much ever since, like a child who misbehaves to seek attention – this bothered my spirit. The last time I spoke about his behaviour and how he had changed, he told me he is just a pastor’s son not an angel from heaven – sometimes he’ll get it right and sometimes not.

That was a simple defence mechanism, and he didn’t have to defend himself like that, being a pastor’s kid myself – I knew what being one meant and what it entailed. It’s the hardest thing ever, the hardest part being people’s expectations of you and how they crucify you for the little mistakes you make and things you say. When you’re a pastor’s kid, people have their own specific thoughts, as to how you should live your life and carry yourself, I couldn’t deny that fact – but they sometimes would really push you too far. As for my husband’s case, no matter how I put him on scale – the fact that he is a Christian and a pastor was a contradiction to his personal conduct and choices sometimes.

His friend Nhlanhla and his wife Zethu were the first to arrive, they could see something was not right because they knew us, they knew me. I was very edgy, although I tried so hard to cover it up. It was always a painful duty for me to pretend I was ok when I was not; my husband helped me master that art though. I put my smile on my face, put roses on top of all 6