The intercom buzzes, interrupting my thoughts, and when I check the screen, it’s a delivery van. I go cold, remembering the last delivery of the doll with the hunting knife through its head. Still, things seem to have settled down. It’s even been a while since the last threatening phone call.

“Yes?” I ask through the intercom.

“I have a delivery for Ruth Richardson,” a man says.

“I don’t suppose you know what it is?”

“Documents,” he replies, which makes me breathe a sigh of relief as I press the button to open the gate.

Mandla and Zodwa are sitting at the dining room table as he eats lunch. Jezebel sits crouched at their feet, ready to scrounge whatever Mandla drops. Considering he insists on feeding himself, she gets more than her share of scraps.

When I open the door, the man hands me a clipboard. “Please sign to confirm receipt.”

He shoves a large brown envelope at me and makes a run for it when Jez decides that a visitor is more interesting than the peas and carrots raining down from above.

“Should we see what this is, Jez? Hm? Another offer for me to write my memoirs? Or a documentary request? Should we put some money on it?”

She whines in response as I reach for a knife to slit the envelope open. It takes me a minute or two to realize that it’s a legal document inside, and not the kind I was imagining.

“That son of a bitch,” I whisper, dropping the divorce papers on the table. “He did it. He actually did it.” It’s difficult to breathe past the rock of hurt that has wedged in my throat.

Wrestling off my engagement and wedding rings, I march to the front door, fling it open, and then throw them out. I mean for it to be a dramatic gesture, and for the pieces of jewelry to disappear into the long grass—where they can languish in the vipers’ nests, fitting, because the man who gave them to me is a snake—but instead, they clatter onto the gravel just beyond the steps.

The diamond of my engagement ring sparkles in the sunlight, mocking me with its cheeriness.

“Damn it.”

I grab the remote control and then march down the steps, pick up both rings, and then make my way out the electric gate and along the driveway to the overgrown pathway that leads to the dam. Winded by the time I get to the water, I have to take a minute to catch my breath. As I do so, I stare at the rings in my palm. The perfect rose stem profile of the engagement ring, its pinkish hue, brings back so many memories that it makes me well up again despite my fury.