Edith's Dress

y: standard 6 in primary school. She'd qualified for the nationals for the Interschool Tennis Competition- the on

aid, glaring blankly at he

when she became a superstar in the little village of Palapye. Edith Motswagole: Tennis protégé! Well of course she then grew older, and a year later there was another superstar after her, as she transitioned into secondary school. The memory was left at her disposal, for on

how she was going to look like in public. Edith had a rather tall, lanky but yet athletic looking figure. She stepped off her 3-inch heel pumps a

word that's got everyone hyped at the slightest hint of trends and change and... difference. But it was indeed his eyes that had gotten her attention. It might not be important, it might be somewhat a superficial notion to suggest that love could develop from just a simple look in the eyes. Then again, who's to quest

capacity and somehow, nothing seemed appropriate for a funeral. She tried on a black maxi dress and it exquisitely draped down around her figure, hu

nd tried introducing herself again. The thought occurred to remove the black eyeliner she was wearing and just leave her eyes natural. She brushed it off. He

th Motsw

es came flocking back in turns. Every time. Like notes in a song already composed, already

Edith Motswagole," he expressed,

ways wanted a small intimate gathering with her closest family members and friends and a tantalizing white mermaid dress. The dress had to be a mermaid dress. One time at a school ball she had worn

to was a little older than she was. Twenty-five years to be exact, but that's not th

***

a chance to sit. Motheo's house was incredible. Large red jacaranda trees were forming a canopy over almost the entire place. Edith counted 4 in total. The red flowers would randomly detach and fall against the crisp morning air, gently settling on the ground, paved with red face-bricks, adding on to the collection already on the ground. Edith could t

out from their Range Rovers and Mercedes Benz's, pristine black two pieces, slick pointy high heels or leather moccasins, heavy dark blazers, flappy hats, large dark sunglasses, perfume that makes your nose sensitive to pleasure- just the smell of money. She knew not one of them. She knew no one, in fact. She just pretended to

ecting their familiarity in her mind, but she didn't know the words.

an stood on the porch and announced that the proceedings would start. They would bring the coffin out from the house and onto the porch. Everyone got on their feet at once and the singing got louder. The sadness of the song caused her throat to dry and clamp up as she felt as if a heavy mass had developed there, blocking the passageway. The beautifu

own him. Maybe he didn't want to get to know her like that. Maybe he was bored and wanted a simple chat. Maybe he wanted to ask for the time or the date, or something rather random like dir

es. Nice to meet yo

th wasn't usually chatty, but she thought it was right to speak up and impress this man who to her seemed to be stupid enough to give her time to impress. That was it then. Edith didn't mind older gu

m a permanent marker. She had a head scarf tight around her head and an identical shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her gaze grim and empty, as if she was lost. She must have been the mother, Edith thought to herself. Her hand was tightly grasping the other woman's hand. She looked very much younger than the old woman, probably in her forties. She must have been the wife. Her face was emptier than the old woman's. It was a

woman. She felt dirty all over when she found out, as if she had been drenched in sin. But it was impossible to stop seeing him. After a lifetime of doing the right thing, the enticing clutches of dissipation washed over her spirit like how darkness befalls a room when the light goes out. They held her by the throat, suffocating her servitude to virtue. The sweeter

tare was saying. She had tried to guise herself by sitting at the back, but one can always spot a pimple even when it has formed under the chin. Edith's heart beat even faster at realising that she was caught. After so many months of holding onto a farce with someone else's man unnoticed, she was finally caught. She had always pondered on that possibility of one day getting caug

ted. The valour in her voice matched her distraught facial expression. No matter how fiery her approach was, she still looked dumfounded by her newest role as a widow. The

temples aching with fear. She sunk lower on her

k, look at me." This was confusing to many for no one knew what she was on abou

ard. Some people even had enough audacity to remove their jumbo sunglasses which were supposed to hid

r for a while. "What

r arm looking muddled. "Wh

an he was seeing behind my bac

d, but all remained still! One slight move and you might mi

the old woman, "pleas

ontrol Motheo's wife. He tried to force he

ing, the confrontation at that moment, at that time. It was appropriate rather, what she was doing. All members of the debauchery had to be present as she dived in for the jugular: Motheo and Edith. The irony of it was uncanny. It was the rule to t

et that woman out of here!" she howled, tears flying down from her eyes, her face finally showing th

e. Then began the secret phone calls or the hush tones when he was in another room on the phone- the message inbox that was always empty- obviously he received messages, but why was he deleting them? Then he became careless and didn't bother to try and smell less like her perfume. THEN! And th

d circumstance. A bewildering accomplishment by karma. Fury was her expressi

ooking fellow, leaned over and said in the kindes

ea threatening to make things worse. He did look rather friendly, without an agenda. His expre

bbish!" Motheo's wif

orcefully to her seat. She was a good moment from breaking down herself, puz

you migh

never experience her fate. It was easy for him to ruin her life, and now with the help of his wife, she would ruin his funeral. T

d any right to say anything. She'd eliminated any chance for Edith to ever be appropriate in life. In that moment, without a thought, Edith let her hand leave her side as she carefully reached for the zip on her left, un

ce, a chuckle attached at the end of her statement. "I

from the jacaranda trees. Edith was naked. Her nipples bare against the fresh morning breeze, against the sun's gaze, against the corroding stares from the audience. Everyo

ree instead. Like she could breathe, like her life could continue, even after Motheo's death, after the humiliation. Edith had had no one to mourn with her. What right did she have, she wasn't his wife? She'd learned of his death through various channels of hearsay. What right did she have to be notified of her lover's passing? To plan his funera

," realizing that along with Edith's perky chest, her belly pers

lour drawn from her face, flabbergasted. "

dn't look away any longer. She reached for her hips and quickly withdrew the bloomer

etending to be covered. For you know it all, you know everything about me: your husband's "small house". You've got me analysed, right down to my knickers! Heck what's the point of me hiding behind my clothes when you know what my vagina has been up to! You wretched old woman, I'm pregnant!" Edith clasped her chest, as if she were running out of air. "I'm carrying his child: that's what

. It was the man from earlier. He clasped it tight around her to make sure she was ful

lright," he whispered in her ear as he

ring into space, not once glancing at the

nnis, made her name once more prevalent...for other reasons. But alas, Motheo was eventually buried and sent to rest, the day ca