by T. M. Clark
3rd March 1998
Wayne drummed his fingers on the side of the car as Jamison pushed the intercom on the gate. Someone inside pressed the button to allow the gate to open, and Jamison drove up the driveway to park their car alongside a dark blue BMW under a carport in the front of the beachfront home. The front door was already opened when Wayne and Jamison strode up the steps.
Wayne looked Gabe over. He was the same height as him, and he looked as if he belonged on the cover of a fancy GQ magazine. Even his black shoes had a shine to them.
Gabe greeted them in a hushed tone. ‘At long bladdy last we meet. I told her you would come!’
Wayne liked Gabe instantly. ‘Nice to meet you too,’ he said, keeping his voice quiet. ‘This is Jamison,’ Wayne said in introduction as he shook Gabe’s hand, and Jamison did the same.
‘I’ll take you through. She’s sleeping, but should wake soon. It’s the pain drugs, they knock her for a six, but they lessen the headaches,’ Gabe said.
They passed through an open-plan lounge that combined with a dayroom in the front of the house. Wayne’s palms sweated, and he could feel his heart rate had elevated. The large room overlooked the sea, and was decorated to match the surroundings in whites and light blues, with a nautical darker blue flowing throughout. The white wicker chairs, with their overstuffed blue-striped cushions, seemed to invite you in, to enjoy the comfort and the view. He could see an antique chaise longue set up near the window, and Tara lay propped up on cushions, a light blanket covering her from feet to shoulders.
Tara.
Fourteen long years had passed since he had last seen her, and now she was there, in front of him. He snatched a quick intake of much needed oxygen, as his eyes travelled further into the room.
A willowy boy was sprawled in the chair next to Tara. His hairy right leg twitched as if he was keeping the beat to some music. Wayne noticed the set of headphones over his fair hair. He wore rugby shorts and no shoes, and was slouched at an unusual angle over the chair as only a teenager could manage and still be comfortable. His eyes were closed.
It had to be Josha.
He wanted desperately to rush up and hug him tightly. He had missed everything with Josha: his first smile, first step, and first day of school. He had a son who was a total stranger to him.
He took a deeper breath. Since receiving Tara’s letter, the haunting question had been, did his son know about him?
He had assumed that his son would be in school, that he would have a chance to speak to Tara before meeting Josha, yet his son was there, an unexpected gift he wasn’t sure he was ready to face just yet.
Jamison was right behind him, and had bumped into his back when he had stopped so suddenly.
For a moment more, Wayne simply drank in the sight, Josha’s eyes closed and his large foot tapping haphazardly.
He walked slowly into the room.
Josha didn’t notice the intrusion. He didn’t move from his position in the chair, his foot still tapping.
Wayne couldn’t stop his heart thumping in his chest.
Good God, when last had he been so nervous? He wiped his hands on his Wranglers.
Gabe tapped Josha on the foot.
The moment of truth had arrived.
Josha opened his eyes and jumped up. He stared at Wayne as he took the headphones off, leaving them dangling around his neck.
‘Josha, this is Wayne,’ Gabe said.
Wayne held out his hand as he looked at his son. He was tall, not quite the same height as himself, but he hadn’t filled out yet. He was almost thirteen. He was at the stage where his arms and legs looked too long for his body. His baggy T-shirt top didn’t hide the fact that his son stooped, as if conscious of his height and hating it. His thick blond hair was cut in a typical boy’s school cut, blunt fringe and short back and sides. Eyes as blue as the African sky stared back at him.
Eyes he’d stared at in a photograph for years, now connected with his.
Josha looked like Tara, the shape of his full lips, his pixie nose. The freckles that touched his face as he had been kissed by the sun. But he could see his younger self in Josha’s face too, the way he held his head, the cheekbones and dimples. There was no mistaking they were related.
‘Hi,’ Wayne said.
Silence could have shattered every glass pane in the room.
Wayne watched Josha opened his mouth to talk as realisation struck him, but no sound came out. Not even a voice-breaking squeak.
Josha stumbled backwards, the chair catching him in the back of his knees, and he thumped down into it.
Wayne put his hand back by his side.
‘Woah, it’s okay, easy, Josha. And that is Jamison,’ Gabe said.
Jamison just waved from where he stood.
Wayne frowned. Damn, this wasn’t how he’d dreamed of this moment happening. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, his voice betraying emotions he tried desperately to keep in check.
Josha sat frozen in the chair. ‘Um.’
‘You scared the kid,’ Jamison said looking at him.
‘N—o,’ squeaked Josha. ‘Sur—surprised. Not scared. I aways thought I looked like Mum, but now I see some of you in me, just old!’
‘Gee, thanks,’ Wayne said.
Gabe chuckled at Josha’s choice of words.
‘That’s okay. Give it time. Perhaps we both need time. It’s a shock for both of us meeting today, I’m sure,’ Wayne said. His mind reeling with the shock he’d seen on his son’s face.
He didn’t know who I was before he spoke to me.
Was it possible she never told him, or was it shock because he didn’t want to see Wayne?
He had never anticipated that Tara would have poisoned their son against him … panic swelled in his throat, and he swallowed it hard.
He needed a distraction to diffuse the situation. He needer to get his emotions back under control. Get the kid to talk to him. He stepped away, giving Josha physical space, hoping it would help. He switched tactics.
‘Will Tara sleep for long?’ Wayne asked, forcing Josha to focus on his mother instead.
‘She’s been sleeping a while already. She always sleeps when she comes back from the beach and her meds kick in. She should be awake in another fifteen minutes or so.’
‘You obviously know her routine well,’ Wayne said.
‘It happens when you spend your days at home with her. If she’s not at home she’s having tests, scans and things,’ Josha said, in a voice far too adult for a teenager.
Wayne wondered just how much Josha knew about his mother’s tumour. He suspected far too much, but then what reference point did he have to make a judgement like that? He knew nothing of his son’s abilities or his maturity, of how his life had been.
He was longing to ask Josha so many questions, but like a wild newborn colt, this long-legged teenager would bolt if pushed, of that he was sure, so he just played it cool instead. Buried the curiosity deep inside and attempted to make friends.
Wayne turned his attention to watching the gulls out the window as they rode the thermals and the winds. ‘A beautiful view you guys have here, peaceful, and great weather,’ he said.
‘The weather? You are going to try get a teenager to discuss the weather?’ Gabe said. ‘You seriously don’t have any clue with kids, do you?’
‘No, I have no idea.’ Wayne scratched the back of his head with his hand.
Jamison backed him up. ‘Ebony and I have a five-year-old and a newborn. Wayne won’t hold Joy because he says she’s too tiny, but in his defence, I have seen him attending tea parties hosted by Blessing. He just hasn’t had exposure yet to too many teenagers.’
Wayne laughed then, it was nervous and came out a bit loud, but suddenly Josha was laughing too.
‘It’s okay,’ Josha said. ‘Uncle Gabe warned me you were coming, but it’s all still a bit of a surreal moment.’
Gabe reached over to him and ruffled his hair, the affection between them obvious.
> ‘So-you-really-are-my-biological-father-as-in-Wayne-Simon-who died-in-the-SADF?’ Josha spoke as if the words were bursting inside him and needed to be said.
Wayne was taken aback, and had to process what Josha had said, then he worked it out, and replied, ‘My full name is Wayne Simon Botha, I was in the SADF but I didn’t die. And yes, I’m your father.’
Wayne stared at Josha. Damn, Josha didn’t look like a clone from when he was that age, but he could hear a younger him talking. A teenage him, from a time before Tara got pregnant and took Josha from him. Clever, taking his middle name and using that and not his surname. No wonder no one could find her.
But Josha thought that his father was dead.
Eventually, he said, ‘You know, I spent years looking for you, once I knew you were in the world. I searched for Tara before that too. I never stopped.’
Josha nodded.
Then every time the boy opened his mouth to talk, he shut it again, as if the words stuck in his throat, and wouldn’t come out past his thick tongue. Wayne knew the feeling.
Josha suddenly asked Jamison, ‘Are you Wayne’s bodyguard?’
Wayne smiled at his blunt question.
‘No. Does he look like he needs a bodyguard, kid?’ Jamison said. ‘I’m his business partner, but he was adamant that he would fly the chopper down to Durban at first light, and hop a plane to Cape Town. He was worried sick. So I did the only thing a friend could do, and came with him. He was in no state to do much, so I’m just here to make sure he’s going to be alright. This is a moment we have waited a long time for.’
‘Neat,’ Josha said.
Wayne relaxed a little. ‘And as Jamison mentioned, he has a newborn baby in the house who screams, constantly,’ Wayne said. ‘So Jamison was happy to take off for a few days.’
‘That’s not true, I don’t hear her screaming. Ebony takes good care of the girls all the time. Besides, Joy is a colicky baby, they all sound like that,’ Jamison defended his family.
Josha looked at Wayne. ‘You really have your own helicopter?’
‘Sure, we use it for game capture, mostly,’ Wayne said. ‘Do you like flying?’
‘I’ve never flown anywhere, so I don’t know,’ Josha said, ‘but I’d like to try it.’
‘Perhaps …’ Wayne stopped himself from making the invitation.
He had no right to invite his son for a trip to his farm, to fly with him in his helicopter.
He still had no rights to Josha at all and until he had discussed that with Tara, he couldn’t – wouldn’t – make promises to his son that he couldn’t keep. He wanted to be a better father than that.
Josha stood up to check on Tara. He tugged her blanket up a little, sat on the edge of the daybed and looked at Wayne again.
Wayne looked back at him. ‘I suspected you were tall, but seeing you in real life is different from how I imagined. You grow much more and you’ll be as tall as me.’
Josha straightened out his shoulders and seemed to uncurl from his stooped teenage position, sitting up taller. ‘I never knew you were so tall,’ he said at last.
Wayne smiled. ‘Well, I don’t know what your mum has told you about me, but I would like to get to know you and at the very least be your friend.’
‘Mum always told me you’d died. When she found out that she had the tumour, and she was going to have her op, she told me that she lied to protect me … you were not really dead.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you sorry? It wasn’t you who lied to me.’
Wayne could hear the hurt in his son’s voice, and the betrayal he had faced, having to deal with his mother’s lie.
‘I’m sure she had her reasons,’ Wayne volunteered.
‘Humph.’ Josha made the universal non-committal teenage answer.
‘Guess we both have lots to adjust too. I assumed you would at least know who I was,’ Wayne said, and he watched his son’s body language closely. It said that he was angry, but it also said that he was agitated. ‘That’s okay, we can work on details later. We have time. Lots of it.’
Gabe stood up from the chair he was sitting in. ‘You alright, Josha?’
Josha nodded, and he gave Gabe a thumbs up.
‘Good, then I think I’ll go ask Lucretia to make us some refreshments and bring through lunch for when Tara wakes up. Jamison, you want to come see the rest of the house?’ Gabe asked, providing Jamison an excuse to leave Josha and Wayne to become acquainted.
‘Do I have a half brother or sister?’ Josha asked Wayne once the others had left the room.
‘No. You don’t have any siblings. You are my only child.’
‘Are you married?’
‘No. Never married. I was always waiting to marry your mother.’ He looked over at Tara, then back at Josha.
Josha walked back to his chair. He flopped backwards into it, the wicker groaning under the impact. ‘Adults, I don’t understand them!’
‘You and me both,’ Wayne said.
Josha pulled a face, and Wayne smiled at him. It was easier talking to his son than he had expected.
Almost natural.
Silently he wished the last years hadn’t happened, that he could have been here earlier. For Josha, for Tara, for himself. Hindsight was a luxury he couldn’t afford, but he knew he should have fought for her right from the beginning.
‘I wish things had been different,’ Wayne said. ‘That I wasn’t meeting you under such awful circumstances. But know that I’m so happy to meet you. To get a chance to know you.’
‘Um – okay,’ Josha said.
Wayne moved into the other chair to face Josha. ‘I love your mother. She’s always been the love of my life but I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from my roots. To stand up to my mother. I guess in the end, I didn’t fight enough for what your mum and I needed.’
‘So you abandoned her—’ Josha said.
‘It was complicated. She moved away—’ Wayne sat quietly watching his son.
‘Why are you staring at me?’ Josha asked.
‘I don’t mean to stare, but frankly I’ve thought of not much else since I found out that you had been born. I still find it hard to believe that my son is almost thirteen years old. Your mother was lucky having you near her all these years.’
Josha’s eyebrows went upwards. ‘You didn’t know about me?’
‘No. I knew your mum was pregnant, but once she went away, I didn’t know if she had you.’ He thought a moment if he should censor the rest, then threw caution away. His son needed the truth. ‘I was told that she had an abortion, but I hoped it wasn’t true. Not until my own father, your grandfather Johnny, died, then I learned that you were alive and well, and that you have a birthday next month.’
Josha shook his head. ‘I’m not leaving her to live with you now that you know where we are—’
‘I don’t expect you to. I’m not leaving her either.’
Wayne crossed over to the bed and looked at Tara sleeping. She was still as beautiful as ever. He took one of her hands in his and slowly he brought it up to his mouth, kissed it gently. ‘I’m here, Tara.’
Her eyes flickered open.
‘Hi, precious,’ Wayne said, his voice coming out like a croak, his emotion raw and evident to anyone else.
‘Wayne. You came,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know if you would. I mean I wanted you to—, but I thought that you might not still be at the farm—’ she managed.
‘Mum, you got some visitors,’ Josha said, stating the obvious.
Wayne smiled, hearing his son. ‘I got your letter yesterday. And here I am.’
‘So Mum, this is Wayne. My dad who isn’t dead.’ Josha pointed out.
Wayne saw her tense.
‘You met already?’
Wayne nodded.
‘Ja, Mum. Don’t worry about me. Wayne and I are doing okay,’ Josha said from his chair.
Wayne bent over and kissed her softly on the forehead. ‘I’m with you for as long as you wa
nt me here, Tara.’
She slipped both her hands up onto Wayne’s cheeks. Wayne saw tears well in Tara’s eyes as she held his face. She touched his face as if trying to see if he was real, as if trying to understand the difference from the image of the boy she had in her mind, to the man he had become. ‘My Wayne,’ she whispered.
‘I promised, now and forever,’ he said, and kissed her. Then taking her hand in his, he reached out his other one, palm upwards to Josha.
Josha rose from his chair. He walked slowly towards his parents, and then he reached out and tentatively touched his father’s hand.
‘I love the both of you,’ Wayne said. For a moment the family stood together for the first time, each touching the other, connected for a moment, then Josha pulled his hand from Wayne’s.
Tara frowned. ‘So are you okay with Wayne being here, Josha?’
‘Ja. We’re cool,’ Josha said with a shrug of his shoulders.
‘I’m glad.’ Her eyes filled with tears again. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s so much for you, all on top of each other.’
Josha smiled. ‘You could have picked worse you know, he could have been a total loser …’
Wayne almost choked as he tried to swallow the laugh that wanted to burst from him.
Jamison, who had just come back into the room, wasn’t so quick, and his laugh came out loud and clear.
‘Mum, that’s Jamison, Wayne’s friend. Not his bodyguard.’ Josha filled his mum in.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she said politely to Jamison, but her attention was on Josha, and she barely looked in his direction.
‘I’m glad you’re alright with him, give each other time, sweetie. Time …’ A single tear slipped down her cheek, and slid down under her chin.
Wayne looked at Tara, still in awe that she was so beautiful. Time had improved her, her hair was now more golden than white, her nose had a few more freckles sprinkled over it, and her lips were fuller. Those of a woman.
Her body was still petite, and even in her day bed she had an air of confidence about her.
Gabe came back into the room, bearing a tray laden with food.
Lucretia bustled in after him. ‘You forgot these, Gabe,’ she said, holding out the condiments, the plates and the serviettes. She stopped when she saw Wayne.