Page 77 of Payback
His words rush through me like a wave of emotion that threatens to swallow me whole. Shaking my head, I reply, “You could have just said that. I think we’ve reached a point where things are different, and I wish you would have trusted me enough to just ask.”
He rubs his lips together and nods in agreement. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have asked you first. You make me do crazy things, Allie Harris. You always have.” He lets out a little growl and kisses me on the forehead. “But seriously, if you want to leave, we can go find a bar and get a drink, just the two of us. My family will understand.”
His words are sweet and sincere, but I can tell that this trip means a lot to him. He wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to surprise me if it didn’t.
“Didn’t you hear me say I don’t want less?”
He smiles a small, shy smile as he wraps his arms around me. “Got it, no need to shout.” He lowers his head and kisses me gently on the lips. “Now come and meet my gran. She’s the best.”
I laugh and allow Roan to pull me inside of his gran’s house. Within seconds, I’m immersed in a melting pot of a brand new culture. I meet so many people that I forget everyone’s names as soon as I hear them. I’m practically force-fed foods called tomato bredie, bobotie, sosaties,chakalaka, andkoeksisters. The sweet-tasting umqombothi beer flows freely, only adding to the warm welcome from everybody. I hear all about the fun that Cape Town has to offer, and Roan’s mother makes plans to show us some sights tomorrow. She’s affectionate with her son and it’s adorable to watch her proud smile when everyone comments on his incredible soccer season.
Roan’s gran, whose skin is a shade darker than Roan’s, takes me over to a wall of photos to show me a picture of her son, Thando. Thando was Roan’s father. She explains that she and her husband, who is now deceased, were one of the rare multiracial couples in South Africa during apartheid. Roan’s grandfather was Italian, and because their relationship was illegal, they had to live apart the majority of their lives, living only for weekend visits behind closed doors. When Thando was born with lighter skin than hers, she was forced to tell people outside of her family that he was albino. It wasn’t until after apartheid ended in 1994 that Roan’s grandparents were able to be legally married. By then, Thando was off studying to be a doctor in England and meeting Roan’s mother, Diana.
Gran shows me more photos of the missionary doctor whom Thando met in the early 90s. The doctor was so taken by this local boy’s self-taught knowledge in medicine, he made it his mission to fund Thando’s education outside of South Africa.
We look through her husband’s journals next, which were written about liberation campaigns for South Africa. They discussed the work he did to free Nelson Mandela and fight against apartheid.
I shamefully admit that there was a good majority of this nation’s history that I wasn’t aware of. When I begin tearing up during some of the heartbreaking tales his grandmother shares, she simply holds my hand and continues. It feels important to be touched by her in this moment. To see her skin against mine as she recounts the history of her family. And when I look over at Roan and see his reaction to his grandmother embracing me, I know exactly why I am here.
I am in love with him.
And I am in love with his family. Hearing all of their history and witnessing Roan’s fraternal family accept Roan’s white mother and sisters is a beautiful testament to how inclusive they truly are, in their very bones. I am lucky to be in their presence.
When we leave, I feel Roan’s eyes on me as his grandmother pulls me close for a long hug on the front steps of her home. She steps back and holds my face in her hands, her light brown eyes glistening with unshed tears in the street lights as she whispers in her accent, “I’m glad the world has changed because it made it possible for me to see true love in my grandson’s eyes.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. What kind of response do I give to a woman who knows so much of the world and just revealed a truth I wasn’t even aware of yet?
I take a deep breath and feel a tear run down my cheek when I whisper back, “I hope you see true love in mine as well.”
She smiles a knowing smile and taps her nose in the most adorable way a grandmother can. She kisses my forehead and says something to Roan in Afrikaans as she gives him a hug next. He nods, his eyes sincere as he takes my hand and leads me away from the tiny, lemon-yellow house that’s so full of history and love I find myself hoping it’s not the last time I visit.
When we get back in the car, my heart feels like it’s grown two sizes because this is more. This is definitely so much more.
It’s ten o’clock at night by the time we arrive at my mother’s small apartment above the dance studio where she works. Allie’s eyes barely stayed open the entire drive here, so I know she’s beat. It was a long day of travelling and a full evening of family time that she was not at all prepared for.
We shuffle up the three stories to my mom’s flat.
“Mom, are you sure this is okay? We can get a hotel room.”
“Absolutely not!” she exclaims as she unlocks the deadbolt. “I only have you for two days, and I won’t lose a minute of it. The pull-out sofa is all ready for you.”
We walk inside with our suitcases, and I smile because it still smells like home. Like a strange blend of garlic and lavender. Mia and Ava head down the hall to their rooms, probably dying for some cell phone time, and my mother rushes around to get us towels and extra blankets.
Allie takes her turn in the bathroom first, showering the long day off of her body and changing into her night clothes. When she walks out in a short, sexy nightie, she looks sheepishly at me. “I need one of your T-shirts.”
My chest shakes with silent laughter, but I keep my mouth wisely shut as I dig in my suitcase and hand one over to her.
She takes it from my hand. “This is why it’s nice to warn your girlfriend about important trips where sexy nightwear might not be appropriate.”
I shake my head. “No way. The image of you walking out of the bathroom will keep me warm for months, mooi.”
She chucks my T-shirt at me. “Go get changed.”
With a happy sigh, I toss my shirt back to her and head to the bathroom. When I return a few minutes later, my mother is giving Allie a big hug.
“It’s good to have you here, Allie.”
“It’s good to be here,” Allie replies, pulling back and tucking her wet hair behind her ears with a shy smile.
