The Peculiars

by Jen Thorpe

  ‘I guess my goal is to spend at least one night with all the alarms off. To see if I can sleep through the night. Or maybe just leave them off for a few hours. They say people are most likely to break in between the hours of three and four in the morning in any case. So if I just put them on during those times maybe. But then I would have to stay awake so late. I don’t necessarily feel less afraid when I’m at home just yet though. At least I don’t think I do. But it’s hard to tell.’

  ‘Okay, and have you found working with your partner helps? Tell us a bit more about that.’

  He looked over at Nazma and couldn’t actually say what it was that she did that had made him feel better. It wasn’t the forms they filled in. It was just something about her being there – understanding what was going on – that helped. Maybe it was just that she’d shared all of her stuff and it felt as though that gave him power in some way. They were both equally scared, which somehow made them less scared. She balanced it all out.

  ‘Definitely. I think it’s been the perfect partnership. It’s really nice to have someone to talk it all through with … to get to the bottom of it. And we get along really well, which helps.’

  He blushed. Simon snickered. The room turned towards him and collectively noticed his pallor.

  ‘Simon, do you have something you’d like to comment on?’ Ruby asked in a stern voice. ‘And are you feeling all right? You look a bit sickly.’

  ‘Just that it’s clear that there’s more going on than good partnership. Perhaps if we all got those perks, we’d all get better.’ His laugh was horrid and nasal. Johnson put his hand on Simon’s shoulder as if to stop him from saying more.

  Sam felt anger send electricity to his knuckles. ‘Pull yourself together, Simon. Just because you’re too grumpy and lazy to make any effort doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t genuinely want to get better or aren’t working hard at that.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re working hard. Excuse the pun …’

  Sam was standing before he could think about what he was doing and walked over to Simon. The rest of the participants shuffled uncomfortably. Some stood up as though they were going to run away.

  ‘I think you should just keep your mouth shut. All right?’

  Instead of answering, Simon coughed and spluttered again, and Ruby went over to him, encouraging him to put his head down and breathe. Sam reached into his pocket, clenching and unclenching his hand around the pocketknife. He knew for certain that he wasn’t going to use it, and also that he needed to calm down. Nazma looked at Sam with wide eyes. He hoped she understood he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed – that he wanted to protect her. That Simon had no right to badmouth them or the effort they’d put in. He couldn’t just tar their stories and time together with the insinuation that they were only in it for the perks. Sam raised his eyebrows and shrugged at her, mouthing the word ‘sorry’.

  ‘I think let’s take a ten-minute smoke and tea break everyone. Sam, Simon, could you stay behind?’

  Ruby looked at him, making sure he knew that it wasn’t a question. The others got up and went downstairs. Nazma cast him a glance but he couldn’t read her expression as she left the room.

  ‘What’s going on here, gentlemen?’

  ‘Simon is making inferences that I think are inappropriate and, quite frankly, rude.’

  ‘Well, if you weren’t having a bit of hanky panky with your partner there, you wouldn’t be offended.’

  ‘We’re not having … hanky panky! Or any kind of relationship!’ He hadn’t meant to shout and realised the rest of the group might be able to hear him downstairs, that Nazma might be able to hear him. He and Simon stared at each other, both unwilling to budge.

  ‘I need you both to calm down and to refrain from any more … aggravating behaviour in class. Simon, you keep your opinions to yourself. Sam, you don’t react, okay? We don’t have time for these types of diversions. You are upsetting the group and you need to think about them too.’

  They nodded, and Ruby went out to call everyone back upstairs. When Nazma walked back in she didn’t make eye contact with Sam, and they didn’t have any partner work that day. He tried to catch her eye whenever he could, but either she was avoiding him or he was imagining things. She rushed out as soon as they were allowed to go, and, in the stagnation of everyone’s slow exit, he wasn’t able to catch up to her. When he got out of the door, she was gone. Calling his mom on his phone as he walked up the road, he looked from side to side, hoping to see Nazma.

  ‘Hi, Mom, I can come over now if you’re free?’

  ‘Sam. How unexpected. I was just about to … I was just going to, you know, rest a bit.’

  ‘You’ve been messaging me all week, Mom, asking me to come, and now I’d really like to visit you.’

  ‘I know, my boy. But I’m just very tired.’

  ‘It’ll be quick.’

  ‘Okay, just for half an hour. You remember the code at the gate?’

  ‘Of course, Mom. See you now.’

  He got in and drove towards Bishopscourt, getting on the highway away from Observatory. The rain that had held off all day began to fall, and as he rounded the corner near Newlands it released a downpour. He could hardly see in front of him, and put on his headlights. Turning off just after Paradise Motors, he wound up a steep hill, surrounded by trees, to the gate of his mother’s house. He pressed the date of his father’s birthday into the keypad, and the large wrought-iron gates swung open. He cursed his mom for not replacing the gate. It was this slow opening process that made her liable to be mugged in the first place. Driving in and waiting for the gate to close, he lit a cigarette.

  23

  Ruby

  Dystychiphobia: Fear of accidents

  The rain was falling hard, the mountain obscured from view by dense ash-coloured cloud. Ruby missed the thunder and lightning of a Highveld storm that made you feel in awe of nature and glad to be inside. There was hardly ever lightning in Cape Town. It was so rare that when it did happen it made news headlines.

  Over chamomile tea, Ruby thought a bit more about how Sam had reacted. It was unlike his normally gentle demeanour. Opening the drawer in her office, she pulled out the folder containing the applications. She took out Sam’s and Simon’s, hoping there would be something in them that would reveal what she could do to calm the situation down. She reconsidered Sam’s application form, rereading the bit about his mom. Simon, the xenophobe, was very clearly stuck in his ways. Surely a fear of others was just a fear of oneself, of one’s own limitations. Maybe he was afraid of being misunderstood – of being disliked, disowned or displaced. Perhaps she could try to make him the centre of attention for a bit to make sure he felt included, make a bit of a fuss or something.

  She began to write her review of the previous sessions. There were only two more to go before the final one, where the participants would fill in a questionnaire to assess their progress. Next week the staff would need to plan that questionnaire, and Ruby thought they would have to be particularly tactical about it in order to make a good impression on the Ministry. She wondered whether it would even make a difference, and drummed her fingers on the table in lieu of scratching her head.

  The group was complex. They were becoming increasingly disruptive, and some had personal relationships with each other outside of the sessions. She knew the phobias study wasn’t going to be a hundred per cent effective – some fears were part of the very fabric of a person – but she was beginning to wonder if it would be as effective as they’d hoped. Obviously they’d never thought everyone could be fully cured, but in spite of all the distractions she hoped people would be able to take at least some good out of the process. These last two sessions at the Centre needed to work, or Cambada and Janet were going to whip the money right out from under her. They might do it anyway. Not being able to scratch her head was driving her mad. She called Mel.

  ‘Yes, Ruby?’

  ‘I want us to have a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss the
next study, the progress on this study, and the Ministry. We’ll need to plan the evaluation questionnaire too.’

  ‘Okey-dokey. Must I order some cakes and things? Do you want a health one?’

  ‘Have a look at the budget, Mel, and exercise discretion. But don’t make a particular effort for me with the cakes. Maybe just get a packet of apples that we can all share as well as whatever cake you’d like.’

  ‘Apples, got it. Anything else?’

  ‘Not for now.’

  Hanging up she wondered how she would get them out of the situation with the Ministry. It seemed hopeless. She hadn’t kept her mouth shut about Cambada, and now this study wouldn’t work, and the Ministry was going to stop their funding. She stood up, untied her ponytail, and bent forward to touch her toes, feeling the stretch in her neck and hamstrings. She imagined what her life would be like after the Centre closed down. Worst-case scenario, she would have to go and work for a corporate. Best-case scenario, she could become a swimming instructor.

  Releasing her neck and shoulders, swaying from side to side, she felt how much tension she was holding in them. Then she stood up quickly and began to research Cambada online, looking for anything other than the obvious corruption scandals and failure to perform. Something juicier: a friendship with an opposition party member, an alternative identity, a third nipple. Ruby needed dirt – something that could be used as a bargaining chip. Dirt that would make sure Cambada was in her pocket.

  Half an hour later she still hadn’t found anything. She debated calling Jeff to ask him to run a security check or two, but decided against it. She didn’t need her whole family dragged into it and facing ministerial sanctions, or for Jeff to lose his job. You could probably go to jail for that sort of thing.

  Stretching her neck from side to side, she looked out the street window, rubbing her succulent plant, its furry texture pleasurable on her fingertips. She watched as Jericho yelled insults at some passers-by. He gesticulated wildly, the rain falling around him, swallowing the sound of what he was saying. She turned and walked quickly down the stairs and out onto the street.

  ‘Hey, you!’

  He turned towards her with a sneer, looking aggressive. His hair was wild, the rain clustering on the tips, and his blanket was smeared with what she hoped was mud, though from the smell that seemed unlikely. His eyes were red, with popped blood vessels, his lips flecked with thick saliva.

  ‘What do you want today, princess? Come to fall in love with me? I don’t have time. I’ve got a date with Monroe later.’

  She felt her own hair getting wet, and the water stung the old scratches on her scalp. ‘Not today, thank you. I’ve got bigger fish to fry in this weather.’

  ‘Mmm, I love fish. But I prefer it grilled. Especially snoek.’

  ‘The bones get me down. In any case, I came to ask you about something you said to me the other day.’

  Jericho’s aggression turned to interest. As though he had become a distinguished gentleman, his eyebrows rose, and he pursed his lips with an academic air. The effect was ruined by the torrents of water pouring down his face, forcing him to blink regularly. She noticed the yellow in his eye colour.

  ‘And what was that? You know I can time travel, and I might not remember everything. Sometimes parts of me get left behind. Sometimes parts of me go to someone else and their parts come to me. I used to have breasts. In fact, I am actually living in the future now and this body is just a shell—’

  ‘Fascinating. I hope the weather is good there.’

  ‘In the future there is no weather. The oceans rose up and I only survived because I was on the top of Devil’s Peak. Everyone else except the quagga died. So now in the future it’s just me and the quagga. We just look out over the very close ocean and everything is the same. I eat grass. They eat grass. We are united …’

  ‘Great, Jericho. But focus. I want to talk about the past. Can we go and stand under the cover of the stoep?’

  ‘Thanks for asking, but no. I’m having a shower right now, so it’s a bit awkward for you to be talking to me. It’s like I’m naked.’

  ‘But you’re not naked.’

  ‘So you want me to get naked?’

  ‘No, focus!’

  ‘I am focused. You’re the one asking a man to get naked in the street. Perhaps you should focus.’

  ‘Come on, Jericho. Please. I want to know more about what you were saying. I’ll let you piss on the wall next week. No questions asked.’

  ‘A bribe … I like it. How far back would you like to go? I was born just after the sinking of the Titanic. Well, originally born. This time I was born around the fifties. But my original birth was just after the sinking. Well, my other birth, after that time I was born as Nostradamus’s brother.’

  ‘Last week. Not last century. Can you remember what you said to me last week?’

  ‘Last week was an ordinary week. I spent most of it sitting there beneath the stoep. On Monday someone gave me a boerewors roll from Spar. It was delicious. So juicy. That was the highlight of last week. So you’ll need to be specific, because our conversation, if there was one, was not a highlight. Because, my week revolved around the boerie.’ He made a lewd gesture that made her doubt he was talking about sausage any more.

  ‘You said to me that there would be financial trouble then death for me.’

  ‘Oh. Very interesting. What was the cause of that? Sounds scary.’

  ‘Do you remember it or don’t you, Jericho?’

  ‘What was my name when I told you?’

  ‘Nostradamus … your long-lost brother.’

  ‘Yes, he does like to visit my body from time to time. He was also a time traveller. That’s how he knew there would be a man on the moon, and could tell that the earth wasn’t flat, and all of those other things. I told him. But did I get any credit? No! Bladdy selfish. In any case, I can’t be held responsible for what he says when he’s here. But I could ask him, you know. If you were willing to assist.’

  ‘What do you mean, assist?’

  ‘I would love another boerewors roll. That would be incredible. I think if I eat the boerewors then Nostradamus will remember it and want to come back to my body. Hy hou van vleis.’

  For all his bullshit, Jericho’s stories were gripping. She looked up at the sky as the rain continued to fall. She was asking favours from a madman as though he were the oracle. She felt her wet clothes clinging to her body. I’m becoming mad myself, she thought.

  ‘Let me just get my umbrella because I’ve already showered, and I don’t want to get any wetter. Then I’ll go get you a wors roll and we can chat.’

  She ran inside to get the office umbrella and her wallet, Mel eyeing her suspiciously.

  ‘Be careful with him. You never know his moods. One minute he’s Michael Bublé, next minute he’s Marilyn Manson.’

  Ruby walked back out into the rain, ready to head to the Spar, but Jericho was gone. She couldn’t see him on either end of the street, and the mist was moving up from the river, making the view hazy. She ran down the road, eyes searching every face. The cafés were full of Nordic-looking tourists in bandanas, their breath and coffees steaming the windows. A car screeched to her left, and she jumped out of the way, but a second later its brakes screeched again. Before she turned her head she knew it was screeching for him. She felt it in her core.

  ‘Stop! Help him!’ she screamed, and ran towards the car, and towards Jericho, lying on the pavement, his usual thick spit replaced by maroon blood oozing into the gutter.

  Dialling for an ambulance from her cell phone, she waited by his side, holding the umbrella over him. The driver was still sitting in the car sobbing. Jericho looked up at her.

  ‘I was going to meet you at the Spar for my roll, and this tannie bumps me over. Just my luck. Now Nostradamus will never come. Sorry man! I hope they know how to braai in heaven. Well, at least they did the last time I was there so there is a chance.’

  ‘You’re going to be okay. Just relax, t
he ambulance will come.’

  ‘Nee man, Ruby, you shouldn’t worry so much. I’ll just be reincarnated.’

  ‘Pull yourself together. You’re not going to die.’

  ‘If not today then another day. Just like that man you know.’

  ‘Which man? Which man I know is going to die?’

  ‘The interesting one. He lives in his past. He is so worried because of his past. The interesting one is going to die for sure. Or perhaps just die inside … But we all die eventually.’

  Jericho lay back, looking up at the rain as it fell around them. It was washing blood from his leg into a pool around her ankles as she crouched. She felt guiltily relieved for the wellington boots she was wearing, and then sick about thinking that. Sweat ran down her face even though the air was cold. The ambulance was taking forever. The only wound she could see was on his leg, and she wrapped her scarf around it.

  ‘Jericho, don’t freaking die, you asshole. You are part of the furniture around here. Who will piss on our wall?’

  ‘Ag, Ruby, it’s not the end of the world. That’s only in December, don’t panic. We still have a few more months to go. I just wish I could see my family. They’ve been lost in the forest for so long.’

  ‘The forest?’

  ‘I mean the jungle. The concrete jungle. It’s rough out there. Funny how I’m thinking of them now, when I haven’t thought about them in ages. I guess it is like they say – your life flashes before your eyes. Big J, Mommy, Daddy, Aunty Olive … Jissus. I feel a bit sore now, hey.’

  She heard the sound of sirens, and he stopped talking, though his eyes still moved around, blinking every now and then. The paramedics finally arrived and lifted him into the ambulance, while one of them administered a sedative to the driver who had knocked him down. Ruby gave them her number so they could call her with his hospital room number, and in a flash of lights he was swept away. People stopped to stare at the scene but slowly resumed their daily activities, uncovering their mouths and absorbing their shock. By the next day, they’d probably forget that it ever happened.