Precious! “Oh my God.” I turned to Ruth. “I didn’t tell you but I ran into her two years ago when I got a flat tire outside the squatter camp.” It dawned on me then. “That was about two weeks before Mandla arrived. That’s how she knew I was back.”

Ruth looked pained but still didn’t say anything as Zodwa began speaking again.

“After I gave birth that day, I fell asleep and when I woke up again, my son was gone.”

I shook my head, trying to understand. “But why would Precious do that to you? Take your baby away and bring him to us?”

“She knew I didn’t want the baby. I was so traumatized after . . . what happened . . . that I didn’t want to be a mother. Mama knew that. And she knew about the rape. She was so upset when I told her. All I can think is that she knew she was about to die . . .”

I gasped. “She’s dead?” And then I wanted to smack myself for my own stupidity. Zodwa had told me before that her mother had died. This was just the first time I was putting two and two together.

“Yes,” Zodwa said. “Two days after Mandla was born. She had TB.”

“I’m so, so sorry.” That explained how terrible Precious had looked when I saw her.

“She knew she was about to die,” Zodwa repeated. “And that she wouldn’t be around to help me take care of the baby. She must have thought he would be better off without me.”

Zodwa went on then, describing how she was told that her baby had died, but how she wouldn’t believe it, how she’d searched for him at mortuaries and at orphanages until she met Lindiwe.

“Ruth had just taken Mandla home the day before Zodwa arrived,” Lindiwe said, cutting in. “He’d tested positive for HIV and so I knew that Zodwa was positive too.”

Oh, God. Zodwa was also HIV positive. Of course, she had to be since Mandla was.

Lindiwe kept talking. “Do you blame me for wanting that child to be with someone healthy who had the means to support him, rather than—”

“Lindiwe!” I was horrified by how matter-of-fact she sounded, and the degree to which she’d rationalized her deceit.

She shook her head stubbornly. “I did the right thing for Mandla. For him, I did the right thing.”

I thought Zodwa would protest, but she just sat there silently, a sail emptied of wind.

“How did you know Mandla was here?” I asked Zodwa. “How did you know where to find him?”

“Someone told me there was a black baby here, and so I came that day to check if it was true.”

“The day you saved Mandla from choking.”

“Yes.”

Ruth suddenly stood up, clutching Mandla to her. “Enough.”

“Ruth—”