Tumi folded his arms across his chest, walking slightly closer to Edgar in the large hall between rows of books. The ornate wooden shelves and magnificent chandelier that hung above him gave the scene an added sense of gravity. Edgar could see that Tumi wouldn’t back down easily, and he questioned whether it was even worth his time to try and break through the barriers Tumi had put up. Tumi said, his voice low, “Something silly? The way those guys treat other people who aren’t as wealthy as they are is just something silly to you? Yesterday, they were ruining the day of the cleaner in our residence, taunting her. Tonight, they were over there sending that server back and forth because none of the wine was good enough for them. They think they’re better than the rest of us. They’ve practically said as much to me, and told me that I’m lucky to even be here at Ridgemont. I think you can guess what they mean…”
Edgar found himself laughing at what Tumi said. It sounded so ridiculous. “What are you talking about, Tumi? You’re a Moketla. Your family is at least equally as wealthy and successful as Hein’s. There’s no way he treats you the way he treats other people. And by the way, I was telling them off for being so fussy earlier with the server. And I had no idea this was a regular thing for them. If I’d known…”
“What?” Tumi interjected. “What would you have done? I’ve known lots of guys like you at Ridgemont before. Believe me, I’ve had to develop a thick skin to deal with all of the crap in this place. And don’t try and use my family to pretend like you know me. That’s what you did on the first day you met me, only wanting to get closer to me because I’m a Moketla. There are things about me that you don’t know. If things had been different in my life, I could have been exactly where those people are that Hein looks down on so easily.” Tumi’s eyes turned to his side, and dejection fell on his face.
Edgar decided that he had had enough. There was clearly no getting through to Tumi. He spoke, his voice more steady, “I tried, Tumi. I tried to gain your respect. If you think I only wanted to get close to you because of your family, then you’re being just as boneheaded and judgmental as you’re accusing me of being. I’ll get out of here and leave you to your pity party.” Edgar turned on his heel, feeling his body pulsating with anger. He was genuinely hurt by what Tumi had said. Of course he wouldn’t just have stood by as Hein and the others were being needlessly hurtful to someone else. The fact that Tumi could even think that about him was enough to make him instantly regret ever wanting to get close to him at all.
Edgar walked towards the door, ready to leave Tumi and any hope of being closer with him behind. But as Edgar turned the door handle, his blood ran cold. The door wouldn’t open. Edgar jiggled on the handle frantically, feeling Tumi’s eyes on the back of his head, panic rising in him.
“What’s going on?” Tumi asked, barely raising his voice.
Edgar didn’t respond, still trying to turn the handle to no avail. His heart was racing, and beads of sweat were forming on his chest. He suddenly remembered a moment from his childhood, another time when he was trapped and struggling with a locked door. He wanted to collapse into the ground, but he knew that Tumi was behind him. He finally responded: “The door is stuck. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Tumi walked over to Edgar’s side, saying, “Did you move the doorstop? I hope you didn’t let the latch slip.” Tumi moved right next to Edgar, their shoulders touching as Tumi took the door handle from him. “Let me try,” he said, annoyed.
Edgar stepped aside, feeling overcome with embarrassment. He hated the feeling of being boxed in, and Tumi’s frustration with him made it even worse. “I didn’t mean to,” Edgar said, and he could hear the voice of his nine-year-old self come from his lips.
“The latch slipped. Why did you move the doorstop?” Tumi said, not even looking at Edgar.
Tumi proceeded to take out his cell phone, and a look of dismay crossed his face as he looked at the screen. “Perfect. Battery critically low,” he said as he dialed a number and held the phone to his ear. Within a second, he looked at the dead screen and cursed under his breath. “Do you have a phone?” he asked Edgar.
“A what?” Edgar asked, feeling immediately stupid for asking such an obvious question. Nerves had gotten the better of him.
“A phone,” Tumi said, condescension dripping from his voice. “You know, the thing you call people with when you’re stuck in a room.”
Edgar foolishly felt his front pockets before remembering that he had left his phone at home. He hated the way it made his formal pants look when he had a phone in his front pocket, and avoided it whenever he could. He simply shook his head, afraid that he would have to take more abuse from Tumi if he fessed up to the fact that he had chosen fashion over preparedness. “There should be someone coming in here to clean up after the law ball or something, right?” Edgar said desperately.
“It’s the middle of the night, Edgar. Who knows if there’s any staff on duty tonight? We’ll be lucky if anyone even walks towards this side of the building. We might be stuck in here ‘til morning.”
Edgar felt his cheeks turn red, and sat down hopelessly next to the door. “I’m sorry, Tumi,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
Tumi didn’t respond, and began banging on the door and calling out for someone to open it for them. But it was useless. The library was at the far end of the building, and no one at the law ball would be able to hear them, especially not if there was music playing in the main hall.
They were stuck with no way out.
Chapter 8
Over an hour went by in complete silence. Tumi had nothing to say to Edgar, and he was still seething with anger. Why had Edgar decided to follow him into the library? Couldn’t he see that Tumi needed to be alone? Of all the people he could be stuck in that room with on that night, it just had to be Edgar Boatwright.
Tumi paced the room, feeling too anxious to relax. Edgar was seated next to one of the benches at the entrance to the library, seeming much calmer than he had before. For all of Edgar’s pomp and his know-it-all attitude, he had surprised Tumi by how panicked he had gotten when he saw that the door to the library was locked. Tumi had thought that he was the type of guy that nothing really got to, but this had been another side of Edgar that he had never seen before. Tumi felt sorry for him, and as his own annoyance was subsiding, he started to feel like he shouldn’t have been so hard on Edgar. Edgar had removed his jacket and bowtie, and was sitting with his hand on his knee as he stared at the ceiling. Tumi finally decided that it was no use pacing, and went to sit down on the floor near where Edgar was sitting, so that they could be close to the entrance and hear if anyone happened to pass by.
Edgar looked at Tumi finally, his green eyes still seeming vulnerable as they scanned Tumi’s face. He said, in his posh London accent, “I really am sorry if it seemed like I only cared about you because of who your family is. That’s not the case. At all. I admired the way you spoke up in class, the way you thought about the law. You were always ready to challenge Prof. Nkuna when she delved into the technicalities of cases. I just wanted to make a friend who seemed to care about the law as much as I do. I get why you were cold with me at the start. I hope you don’t let that cloud the way you see me forever, and you give me another chance.”
Tumi felt himself softening towards the guy sitting across from him, looking at the way his high cheekbones accentuated his soft, pale features, and how frazzled he was in the locked room. But he had to remember that Edgar was friends with Hein and the others. There was no excuse for that. If Edgar could put up with the types of things Tumi had seen that group of friends do, then he couldn’t be a decent person. “I do care about the law, Edgar,” Tumi said. “I care about it a lot. But I could never use it in a devious, underhanded way like you did in mock court, getting a witness dismissed because of an obscure technicality, when you know that she was instrumental in the case. I look at the bigger picture; this could have been real life, and there are so many cases like this in South Africa. Innocent peopl
e are hurt here every day, treated like less than human, and nothing happens to the people who hurt them because of technicalities in the law. If this were real life, you would be the cause of a corrupt man getting away with ruining the lives of so many people, facing no consequences because of legal loopholes. I want the law to be fair and for us to argue in a way that doesn’t distort the intention of the law. Do you get that?”
Edgar looked sheepish for a few seconds, but a stubborn determination returned to his eyes. “So you’re saying you want me to go soft on you? Believe me, Tumi, if you really want to defend the people you claim to want to help, and fight for their rights, no one is going to feel sorry for you after you leave Ridgemont. No one is going to suddenly feel bad about the things they’re doing and admit to committing a crime when they still have legal recourse. You have to be tough if you want to make the law work for you. Look at your mother; when she goes into the courtroom… I’ve studied her cases, read her articles. She doesn’t expect her opponents to back down.”
Tumi wanted to jump up immediately in anger, but he resisted. Was Edgar implying that Tumi was not a good enough lawyer? He thought about his mother, Koena Moketla, and the image that she portrayed to the world of the fearless, powerhouse lawyer. He had always admired her. When he was younger, he would sneak past her study late at night when she was preparing for cases. She sat at the desk next to the yellow light of the lamp, glasses perched on her nose, her dreads tied into a bun, her eyes so serious. She threw everything she had into her work. That was what had made Tumi want to become a lawyer just like her. He had felt the pressure to live up to the name of the family he had been adopted into, and wanted to impress his mother by carrying on her legacy. Now, all those years later, he wasn’t sure that he could ever be as good as his mother.
He sighed deeply as he responded to Edgar, “I’m not my mother. I’m just me. And I’m not perfect.” His eyes felt heavy. The pressure of the past few weeks was getting to him.
A few more seconds of silence passed before them before Edgar said, “I know I wasn’t really being fair with the argument I was making in mock court. And the truth is, there was a glaring hole in my argument that I thought you would have gone for. Do you remember the Eriksson v Viljoen case?” Edgar proceeded to explain how the precedent set by the case would have allowed Tumi to challenge Edgar’s argument. Tumi looked on in admiration. How had he not thought of that earlier? Edgar said, “Honestly, you were the one who mentioned that case in class a few weeks ago. I thought for sure I was just taking a chance with my argument and that you would come at me and let me have it. I tried to act so confident, but I was on shaky ground. But you seemed distracted, like you weren’t really giving it your all. Is something going on?”
Tumi thought about Angela Ngcobo, about the mixed feelings he was having about finally having the chance to reconnect with his past in only a few days. He couldn’t tell Edgar about any of it. He hardly even knew him, and he still felt like he couldn’t really trust him at all. Tumi mumbled, “It’s just been a stressful time. But don’t expect me to go easy on you next week for the next session. I’ll bring my A-game then. Believe me.” Tumi smiled at the challenge, and Edgar returned his smile.
“Good,” Edgar said, his face now seeming much less anxious than before. “It feels like it’s getting really late. It’s after midnight already. Should we just find a comfortable place to sleep and then come up with a solid plan in the morning of how to get out of here? I’m sure the cleaning staff will be in bright and early before classes start.”
Tumi nodded, and pulled his jacket from his shoulders. He began to place a row of comfortable chairs to make himself a bed, and Edgar did the same not too far from him. He used his jacket as a pillow, and lay down on the chairs facing the ceiling. It was not too bad to sleep on for one night, and Tumi felt strangely comforted by Edgar’s presence in the room. Even though Edgar hadn’t stopped challenging him at every turn, there was something easy about talking to him.
“Tumi?” Edgar whispered as Tumi felt himself almost drifting to sleep.
“Hmm?” Tumi responded.
“I just wanted to let you know… I think I’ll be seeing a lot less of Hein and the others after the way they acted tonight and what you told me about them. I only have about two months left at Ridgemont, and I think I should spend it with some better company.”
Tumi smiled, turning his back turned to Edgar so that Edgar couldn’t see that he was happy with the comment. He said, “Okay,” and felt himself drift into a dream.
He was awoken about an hour later by the cleaning staff, who seemed annoyed to see them, one of the women saying in Xhosa, “Not again…” Tumi and Edgar rearranged the seats that they had used to fashion beds for themselves, and put on their jackets.
Edgar gave Tumi a warm smile as they stepped out of the front entrance of the law building into the moonlit night. The law ball had ended and everything was quiet around the academic buildings. Edgar turned to Tumi, his red hair standing in all directions and his shirt creased. “I’m glad we had a chance to chat tonight, Tumi. I hope we can spend some more time together.” He reached out his hand to shake Tumi’s.
Tumi felt something unfamiliar stirring inside of him, and he reached out and shook Edgar’s hand. “I’m glad too,” he said, and turned around to walk to his car. As he drove back to Nova in the quiet night, he remembered the sounds of Edgar breathing gently next to him as they slept so close together the night before. He felt foolish for judging Edgar so quickly. There was clearly a lot more to him than Tumi had wanted to admit.
Chapter 9
It was late afternoon as Edgar sat on a bench at Donavan Square, the main hub of activity at Ridgemont University. Surrounding the square were academic buildings on the one side, the rugby field and swimming stadium at the far end, and pubs and restaurants just across a row of trees. It was an idyllic scene, with students strolling in conversation across the lush, green grass and the statues and water features adding character to the setting. But the tranquil beauty of the setting stood in contrast to the way that Edgar was feeling inside. He fidgeted at his neck, pulling at his t-shirt as he felt the discomfort of his allergies acting up. His stomach felt like a rock, and he had hardly been able to eat anything that morning. It had been three days since he had been able to use any of his credit cards, and he hadn’t been able to reach his father at all. All of the credit cards were in his father’s name, so Edgar couldn’t get any information from the banks. But no matter how many times Edgar called and left messages with his father’s secretary, he was completely out of luck.
As Edgar sat calling for the hundredth time, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight beaming down over Donovan Square, he heard the familiar voicemail message and spoke into the receiver: “Father, it’s Edgar again. I’m still not able to use any of the cards, and I’ve now burned through all of the emergency cash. Why are you not calling me back? The rent for my flat is due today, and I really need to talk to you. I’m starting to think that you’re avoiding me. That can’t be the case, right? I hope to hear from you soon.” He tried to keep his voice as measured as possible, but he knew his worry was evident in every word.
As he hung up, he saw a face from across the square that he had been trying to avoid. He tried to dodge behind his phone, but he was too slow, and he was greeted with an enthusiastic wave. “The elusive Mr. Boatwright,” Hein’s voice called out as he walked closer. Edgar was not in the mood to see Hein, especially not at the moment when he was being abandoned by his father in a foreign country without any money.
Edgar forced a cheery disposition, and said, “How are you today, Hein?” He stood up to hug Hein, putting his phone back into his pocket. Hein’s thick, dark hair tickled Edgar’s neck. He wore a tight striped blue and white shirt and white polo shorts with a brown belt. His shoes were a pair of his favorite Yves Saint Laurent, which he had claimed to buy “for a steal” of $800 in New York.
“I’m doing well,” Edgar said.
“Still recovering from my night of terror stuck inside the law building.” Edgar told Hein about being locked in the library and having to wait for the cleaning staff to let him out, but left out the part about Tumi being with him.
Hein frowned, adjusting his brown leather bookcase, and said, “Those cleaners are so lazy. They should have been there immediately after the law ball ended and you wouldn’t have been stuck in the library. Pathetic.”
Edgar tried to shrug it off, but he remembered what Tumi had said to him about the way that Hein and the others could be snobbish. “It all worked out,” he said. “I’m safe and sound now.”
“That’s good to see,” Hein smiled. “And now I get to take you to coffee. Are you free right now?”
Edgar thought about what he had said to Tumi, about how he had resolved to spend less time with Hein. He wanted to make sure that Tumi knew that he was nothing like those guys, even though they were fun to hang out with once in a while when Edgar wanted to party. But Edgar knew that they weren’t really long-term friend material. He couldn’t even imagine what Hein would say to him if Edgar told him about his credit cards being frozen. He responded to Hein meekly, “I’d better not. I have to study for mock court. My next session is in only a few days. Raincheck, okay?”
“No problem,” Hein said, not missing a beat. “How about we hit the town on Saturday instead. We can go to this new place that Sylas has been raving about. They apparently make the best martinis in town. We can order a car from my place.”
Edgar’s mind immediately ran to all of the prices of martinis at the exclusive clubs in Cape Town. He felt a rush of embarrassment, and said, “I’m busy this weekend. Sorry about that.” He tried to come up with a good excuse, but his brain was grinding to a halt.
Swift Justice Page 5