by Kurt Ellis
They sat there in an excruciating silence. Kyle’s eyes followed the line of insects on the ground. He finally looked up, and into her big, beautiful brown eyes. They were almost sad. They were soft and comforting, and they seemed to welcome his heart. He lost himself in those eyes of hers. She smiled slightly. Her lips seemed to beg him for a kiss. He leaned closer towards her, and to his relief, she mirrored the gesture. Their faces gravitated closer to each other until he could feel the warmth of her breath burn his lips. Lips that already burnt with anticipation. His pulse raced, then stopped, then raced again, and then … they kissed, and Kyle tasted heaven.
The kiss was pure, sensual, and inebriating. Kyle brought his hand to her cheek and stroked the silkiness of her caramel-coloured flesh. Her hand plunged into his hair and stroked his scalp. He tasted her and felt a bit of their souls being exchanged. They kissed for what seemed like hours, but when their lips parted, it seemed over too soon. Kyle felt dizzy, drowsy, and deliriously happy. Amia bit her lower lip and smiled at him. She looked criminally exquisite then, and he craved another hit of that drug which were her full lips.
They spoke a bit more, and kissed again, before they realised that time had abandoned them. She had to go home. To her home, and not to Paula’s house where she had spent the previous night. Kyle was reluctant to see her go, so he offered to walk her home again. He thanked God that she said yes.
They walked, hand in hand, most of the time not saying a word. Not needing to say anything. Through Sherwood and into Sydenham they strolled, making their time together last as long as possible. She lived in a large white house on Duffy Avenue. The place was at least five times the size of Aunt May’s and stood at the top of a steep, narrow staircase. Kyle began to feel inadequate again, like he was not good enough. Until he looked down into her tender eyes. They stood there for the longest time, in silence, cherishing their closeness. Neither of them wanted to say goodbye.
Eventually, Kyle leaned forward and gave her another passionate kiss, before she made her way up the sharp cement stairs to the front door. Kyle turned and dragged himself up the road, his heart doing flick-flacks in his chest. His body was shivering with excitement and the urge to scream out in joy. He sneaked one last look back at the house when he reached the crest of the road and smiled when he saw her peering after him through a second-storey window. He could not resist blowing her one last kiss.
16
Amia watched Kyle walk, almost dance away up the street. She felt her body vibrate with happiness, and when she saw him turn around at the top of the hill, smile and blow her a kiss, she tingled with joy. She smiled and waved back.
“Where the fuck have you been, girlie?”
Amia started. She turned to see Barry in the doorway, glass in hand. He was her mother’s current boyfriend and, more importantly, drinking partner. And he revolted Amia like no other being ever could. She hated the way his bloodshot eyes would roam over her body, and the way that foul mouth of his would make crudely suggestive comments. Her skin crawled with repugnance whenever he was near. He reeked of alcohol through every pore, and she hated every single one of those pores, and she made sure he knew it.
“What the hell do you want?” she shouted. “I told you never to come into my room. Get out!”
“Okay. Okay.” He snorted a laugh and raised his hands in mock surrender before slowly turning and staggering out of the doorway.
Amia rushed forward and slammed the door shut with all her might. She sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest. It took just a few seconds in Barry’s company to make her skin feel as if cockroaches were crawling all over her. She hated this feeling and she wanted to be free of it. Free from this place. She desperately wanted to escape. She wanted … she wanted Kyle to hold her. She composed herself, locked her bedroom door, and then took out some of her books to study. These books were her means of escape, and she swore to herself that she would get out. That one day she would be free of all this.
17
Apart from a small problem with bees, the five-a-side tournament had been going along great. Some of the biggest local teams had managed to enter at least one side, and the football had been brisk, fast and attractive. Captain was extremely impressed by the turnout. His heart raced with excitement at the thought of the money they were raising. But there was so much to be done. Actually, the community centre also needed a paint job. And Sydenham Library desperately needed a new photocopy machine.
The tournament took place on Tills Crescent Football Field, on the border of Sydenham and Brickfield. The grounds were made up of three soccer fields. For the tournament, they were not making use of the first field, which was called Upstairs. Here, a few young boys had set up their own matches and ran around barefoot, kicking a peeling soccer ball. Between Upstairs and the other two fields was a brick building that housed the changing rooms. A passage with the two changing rooms to either side led from Upstairs and opened out to face the other two fields. These fields were known as Downstairs and were located at the bottom of a steep bank. Cement stands were built into the incline so that spectators could watch the matches unfold. Downstairs was where the five-a-side tournament was taking place. They had divided each of the two soccer pitches in half, so that four fields were created.
To the right of the fields, a tuck shop was selling chips, cold drinks and sweets for the children who were running and playing between the crowds on the sidelines and Upstairs. Here, they also sold ice-cold beers. Captain’s mother had a skottel braai going so she could make and sell boerewors rolls with spicy onion-and-chilli toppings.
The Godfathers were seated on the stands, with other friends and girlfriends. Nazneen was talking to Amia as if they were old friends while Kyle was playing the semi-finals. Captain thought Kyle looked a little tired. He had been playing for both the under-seventeens and the senior team from seven that morning. But still, he showed flashes of brilliance that made Captain positive he would one day see Kyle on television screens. He wished their grandfather was still alive to see Kyle play.
It was just after three in the afternoon when Jimmy came trotting over to him. “Captain,” he said, “we have a problem, ek sê.”
“What kind?”
Jimmy licked his lips. “Tyson and some of his brus are here. They are parked in the car park and they’re interfering with some of the people.”
Captain cursed under his breath as he got to his feet.
“Anthony,” Nazneen said. “Just leave it alone.”
Captain gave her a smile. “Relax, baby, I’m just going to talk to him. That’s all.”
“Anthony?” she repeated.
“Don’t worry. It’s fine.” With that, Captain and a few of his crew bounded down the stairs and began to walk across the fields to the car park.
“We need to be careful here, Captain,” Spider said. “We can’t cause shit to pop off, ek sê.”
“I know that, Spider,” Captain said.
The Godfathers were not carrying weapons with them at that moment, something that Captain thought might just be a blessing in disguise. There would be no means for this confrontation to get out of hand.
They squeezed through the gate that led to the car park and Captain could immediately see where the problem was. Tyson and a few of his friends had parked their VW Jetta in a spot that prevented other cars from leaving. They had their doors and car boot open and were playing loud music. The smell of marijuana mixed with beer caught Captain’s nostrils.
Tyson stood against the car with a Black Label quart in his hand, and when he saw Captain approaching, he gave him a golden smile. “Aweh, Captain, you come to join our party, bru?”
Captain smiled back. “Not quite, ek sê. I’m here to ask you ous to please move the party on.”
“How?” exclaimed one of Tyson’s cronies, an NBK called Eddie because of a resemblance to Eddie Murphy. “I thought this jol was open to all, ek sê.”
Captain counted about six other NBKs and saw the butt of a
gun in the belt of one of them.
“It is open to everyone, bru,” Captain responded. “But the jol isn’t out here, it’s there.” He pointed up towards the soccer fields. “You guys are causing flops with people trying to leave.”
Tyson smiled. “Are you serious? Shit, bru, my bad.”
“No problem. Why don’t you ous park the car off lukka, then shaaiser up and have a good time?”
“Nah,” Tyson replied to Captain’s invite. “We’ll just be on our way.”
Captain nodded and began to turn when Tyson said, “Oh, and I believe you met my bru Craig the other day.”
The back door of the car opened and the stranger from Carmen’s party stepped out. He was again wearing the orange-and-black jacket he’d worn that evening.
“Yeah, I did,” Captain said. “Lukka to check you again, outie.”
Craig did not respond, just glared at Captain.
Tyson chuckled to himself as if he’d heard a private joke, then slapped Craig on the shoulder. “Let’s waai, ouens.”
The NBKs climbed into their car and skidded off.
“We going to have a problem with that ou, ek sê.” Bruge was stating the obvious.
“I know,” Captain responded. “We just need to remain smarter than him.”
18
Amia could feel the butterflies in her stomach grow increasingly excited. He was just another guy, she tried to convince herself. Just another boy. He was no more special than any of the other guys she’d met before … But she knew she was lying. The truth was, she’d never been as happy as she was at that moment. The last few weeks had felt like an afternoon in heaven for her. Kyle was special. Kyle was … amazing. So sweet, and funny, and gentle. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. His neat handwriting covered the page.
To What May I Compare
To what may I compare the light in her eye?
Perhaps to that beauty that destroys the night,
On which all ancient ships and sailors did once rely
to return them home, and their lovers to their sight.
And to what may I compare the glory of her voice?
More hallowed than a Choir of Angels in perfect harmony,
And no Siren possesses the seduction of choice
that her breath holds over me.
And her lips? O, what of those sweet lips?
A kiss that burns the depths of a man’s soul
Yet a kiss too soon forgotten that it rips
a feeling in the heart, far colder than cold
So to what, her lips, her hand, her eyes, her kiss, her voice, her hair?
No man could … for the beauty that she is, is beyond compare.
Each time she read it – and she had read it at least a hundred times – her heart screamed out at her, “Let me love him completely!” But she resisted. Although he was troubled by his own, personal demons involving his mother and father, Amia found his naivety appealing, yet concerning. Kyle had placed her on a pedestal. As if she was some sort of divine being. But she was not. Nothing could have been further from the truth. And it terrified her greatly. It terrified her that Kyle viewed her as if she was some lead character from a romantic tale. Like a Juliet or a Helen of Troy. But she knew romance did not live in Sydenham, and neither did such romantic ideals … Yet there she was. And there he was, writing her sonnets and making her feel as if she was someone special.
Amia began to wonder if it all could be real. Could someone really be as sincere as Kyle, or was he just wearing a mask, like most men? Leon had also sounded sincere once. The more she thought about it, the more her internal conflict raged. A war between her trusting heart and her experienced brain.
No. She could not allow herself to love him. At least not completely. There were only two truths that she knew. The first was that Kyle had to be lying to her somehow. No man was that earnest and affectionate, not in her experience. The second truth was that once Kyle found out about her past, then that pedestal upon which she currently stood in his heart would come crumbling down. He would see just how tainted she was. She wasn’t stupid, nor would she lie to herself. And she wouldn’t allow another man to hurt her. She had already been hurt in every way imaginable. Like by her father, who, stinking of alcohol, would creep into her bedroom at night. She was still bemused by the fact that when he died, she’d felt a tingle of sadness. Tears had streamed down her cheeks, but were they tears of loss or tears of relief? She really did not know. Her father had been drunk and had fallen down the stairs that evening when she was eleven years old. Or at least, that was the story her mother told the police. Amia knew the truth. Amia had seen the drunken squabble. She had witnessed the push that had sent him tumbling down those cement steps with a sickening crack of his spine.
Maybe it was her mother’s search for penance that had led her to the church. Her mother had become embroiled in religious activities, perhaps searching for forgiveness and redemption for her sin – if killing that bastard was even a sin. That was where her mother had met Steven. A Capetonian who would eventually become Amia’s stepfather.
Amia had loved Steven, like a daughter should love a father, and he’d loved her back just the same. Loved her as if she was his own child. And she’d welcomed a new brother into the family. Sweet little Thomas. Amia had thought that this was the beginning of a happy family. The kind of family she had seen smiling in television adverts, the kind of family she imagined other people had. The family she’d always wanted.
She had been mistaken. Her mother became increasingly involved with the church, to the point where her obsession with religion bordered on being manic. She’d go to church every day, then come home and drink herself into a stupor. She’d pass out, but not before she had rambled on about the vengeful wrath of God and the need for all sinners to repent. Pretty soon she stopped going to church altogether. The priests and pastors were just evil and were doing the work of the Devil.
Steven had initially tried to help her, but she was in an unstoppable tailspin into insanity, neglect and depression. Amia witnessed many evenings when Steven would sit on the couch, head buried in his hands, weeping bitterly. Until he’d finally had enough. He filed for divorce and, before the ink was even dry, took Thomas and left.
He had asked Amia to come along. He had actually begged her, but for some reason she had decided to stay with her mother. A mother who did not notice whether she was there or not. And when she did notice her, it was only to sling emotional and verbal abuse at her.
And then there was Leon. Quick-talking and charming Leon van Wyk, who showered her with compliments and sincerely swore that he loved her. He’d fooled her into believing it too, but it was only to get her into bed with him. Once he had done that, he changed. He had cheated on her and ignored her. He became rude and arrogant, or rather, shed that mask of his and allowed the true Leon to be seen.
No, she vowed to herself. Never again will another man hurt me. Never again will I be made a fool of. Not even by Kyle.
19
“I can’t believe you’re so lazy,” laughed Kyle.
“I’m not being fucking lazy,” retorted Captain. “I’m just careful with my energy. This bloody walk is killing me. I don’t see why we couldn’t have driven.”
“Exercise.”
“Screw exercise. If I wanted to bloody exercise, I’d join a damn gym.”
Kyle and Jimmy laughed. Kyle was on his way to see Amia, and Captain was taking Jimmy for a haircut at the neighbourhood barber behind the Sparksport pharmacy.
Captain watched the way his cousin strode down the street, his head held up high, his shoulders back and a smile of happiness on his face. They chatted a while and playfully teased Jimmy a bit before Amia became the topic.
“I’m telling you, Anthony,” Kyle said. “The girl is amazing. I’m absolutely crazy about her.”
Captain chuckled. “I can see that. It’s good that you’re smiling, ek sê. I was getting tired of looking at that sour face of
yours.”
Kyle laughed. “I know, but she’s the one that changed that. I love her so much, I just want to be with her forever.”
Captain’s smile faded. “Wow, don’t you think you’re moving a bit too fast here, bru?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, the stekkie is fantastic and all. I’ve known her a while, and trust me when I say I can’t find a bad thing to say about her. But don’t get ahead of yourself, cuz.” There was silence, then Captain continued. “I know you, Kyle. You’re thinking too far ahead with that over-romantic brain of yours. Thinking love can conquer anything. Probably have your lighties’ names picked out and everything.”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Kyle went on the defensive.
“I’m just saying you need to be a little more realistic here, ek sê. More practical. This isn’t one of those thee, thou, that things from that crap stuff you like to read. This is real life. There’s no such thing as happily ever after here.”
“But what about you and Nazneen?”
“What about us? We’re no different. I’ve been with Nazneen for two years, bru. Faithful. I love her, but I know we have issues and problems, especially right now.” Captain took a deep breath. “And the truth is, we probably won’t end up together. But that’s a story for another time. Right now you have Amia as being a … a goddess in your mind, but she’s only human, ek sê. She shits like everyone else. You’re setting the stekkie up to fail.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Kyle sounded very annoyed.
Captain sighed, regretting that he’d brought up the subject, but feeling that he had the responsibility to speak the truth. “To you, Amia is perfect right now. But what happens when you find out that she isn’t this perfect being you imagine her to be … or want her to be? It isn’t fair on the stekkie, bru. She can’t live up to your expectations. You’re trying to live in a world of princesses and knights where love conquers all. And that’s fine, but all I’m saying is take a peek at the world around you once in a while. The real world. You have this idea of the perfect relationship based on the books you read, and I’m thinking maybe you’re trying to force your relationship with Amia into that box. And it’s not going to fit, bru.”