By Tashinga Wazara, Zimbabwe:
I have been sitting on my bed for the past two hours with a pen in my hand and a notebook on my lap. There are at least twenty pieces of crumpled up paper on the floor. I look at the notebook and read what I have just written. It goes something like, 'Hi Mike, I know we haven't spoken since that 'incident' at Jason's party. I really didn't want to have to bring it up again but I don't have a choice. I'm pregnant and it's yours'. I cringe when I read it and it makes me sick. I cringe because I am writing a letter to my own brother telling him that I am pregnant with his baby after we mistakenly had drunken sex. The memory of having had sex with my brother haunts me every day and I want to vomit every time I think about it. The fact that I'm pregnant, well, that just makes the situation even worse. I rip out the page I've just written from the notebook, crumple it up and throw it on the floor along with the others.
It has now become clear that I can't write the letter and give it to my brother. I just can't. The humiliation and shame is just too much. And even if I do give it to him, what am I expecting him to do with the news that his sister, the one who he has spent his whole life protecting from boys, is pregnant with his baby? Am I expecting him to be happy and to run to me and give me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek? The more i think about this, the more I'm convinced that telling him is not a good idea. I then think about what other options are available to me. The obvious one was abortion, but as much as this was an unwanted pregnancy, I could never do it. Then I thought about adoption. As I thought about it, I began nodding my head. Yes. I would give birth to the baby and put it up for adoption. At least that way he or she would have a chance at a better life and I would make sure I chose the best family to raise my baby.
There was, however, a little snag in my plan. How the heck was I going to carry this baby for a whole nine months under my parents' roof? And how was I going to convince my very African parents that I was putting up their first grandchild up for adoption. They would never accept that. Crap! Back to the drawing board. I then picked up my phone, which had been on silent, to check what time it was and I saw two missed calls from my boyfriend, and then it hit me. I had a solution.
I had been a bit distant towards him in the past few weeks because of my 'situation' and so he had been constantly trying to reach out to me to no avail. If he had been any other guy, he would have walked away. But Tom was different; he really loved me. I then called him and asked him if I could come over and see him that evening and told him that I missed him. He seemed to be surprised by my call and understandably so because the girl who had been cold towards him the past month and sending him one word answers was now telling him that she missed him. He agreed and told me to come to his house at 7pm.
On my way to Tom's house I passed by a pharmacy and bought condoms. I was going to tear his heart asunder with the best lovemaking he had ever had in his life. When I got to his house, I gave him a big hug and a longer than usual kiss. He knew what it meant. We spoke for a bit in his lounge but before long we were all over each other and we proceeded to the bedroom. As he kissed me and took off my clothes he told me how much he loved me and I told him I loved him too. We were now both naked, breathing heavily and he reached out to his drawer to get a condom but I stopped him and said, 'No baby, use these ones' as I took out the condoms that were in my handbag on the floor. 'They're studded. Trust me; they're way better than the smooth ones,' I said as I handed him one.
A few minutes later we were done and as he withdrew from me he looked down and said, 'Oh shit!' I looked at him, shocked, and I said, 'What's wrong baby?' and he looked at me and said, 'The condom broke!' I then got up and said, 'Oh no baby!' He looked slightly stressed and he said, 'You're going to have to go get the morning after pill.' And I replied and said, 'No baby, there'll be no need for that. I had my period a few days ago so I'm still in my safe days.' He then looked at me and let out a sigh of relief and said, 'Oh ok baby. Thank goodness. In that case, why should I even bother using condoms for the rest of the night?' and we both smiled and cuddled.
We had sex three more times that night and I left just after midnight.
What I forgot to mention earlier was that after I bought the condoms at the pharmacy, I opened the box and punctured small holes in the condoms that were invisible to the naked eye but would weaken the condoms sufficiently enough to make them break. I had read about it in a novel but I never thought it would work and so I was genuinely shocked when Tom then told me that the condom broke.
Anyway, my plan was now in motion. There was no longer any need for me to write the letter. The baby was going to be Tom's.
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