Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

by Eva Mazza

  Somebody shouted, “After your morning shag, I hope!” It was Larry, of course. He’s such an asshole. Jen freed her hand from John’s and crumpled up Brigit’s speech. She threw it at Larry. It bounced off his head and landed at his feet. Everyone laughed.

  “No, Larry, John chooses to mount his tractor until twelve thirty, which is unequivocally lunch time.” More raucous laughter. It felt good. Jen was on a roll. “John likes to have a cooked lunch, don’t you, darling? Because being a farmer and working the land works up an appetite. And before you allow your dirty minds to wander, it’s not sexual; that appetite’s usually for chicken and a salad, or fish and chips.”

  John stood there, mouth gaping. Where was Brig, Jen wondered. She began to feel unsteady on her stilettos. “We have many hobbies, don’t we, John?” The guests seemed to be hanging on every word. “You love to gym, cycle and run, and I enjoy complimenting you on the results of your gyming, cycling and running.” Only light laughter from the guests. “My aim was to look hot in these pants, I confess.” The guests were silent. “Clearly Brigit, they’re a huuuge fail. Where is Brig?” A sea of faces turned in unison to look for Brigit.

  John stepped forward.

  “I haven’t finished, John,” Jen said firmly. “Everyone needs a good laugh and I’m glad I could oblige.” A few claps. Then her eyes locked on Lecherous Larry and his group of friends. “You guys need a laugh, thanks to your buddy, Jooste. It ain’t easy watching shares plummet. I guess it’s the same for me, I took a gamble on these very expensive pants and boy, did I lose.”

  Total silence.

  Frankie signalled to her to wrap it up. Jen reached out her hand to John, but he ignored the gesture. Okay, if that’s how you want it. “Well, they say that growing old means becoming set in your ways. For John, his passage to sixty will be a breeze, as he has been set in his ways for the last twenty-four years. As for me? Well, it seems you’re right, John; our marriage contract guarantees that I’ll be by your side or in the kitchen until rigor mortis sets in.”

  Boom!

  Jen couldn’t remember much after that, except for her friend Frankie standing in front of her, hands on her hips.

  “Jesus, Jen,” she spat. “What got into you?”

  “John pissed me off!” she said defensively.

  “No shit? Reminder: It’s his birthday!”

  “Ya, well I don’t enjoy being the butt of his jokes.” Her breath caught in her throat. Why doesn’t Frankie get it?

  “Maybe you should’ve tried laughing. You’re obviously insecure about shit or you would’ve just taken it for what it was, a little comic banter.”

  She looked at Shelley for support. “Come on, I was hysterically funny.”

  “Sorry, darling. I have to agree with Frankie” Shelley shrugged. The rest of the group looked on, saying nothing.

  “Why?”

  “All I know, is if I had said what you said, Frans would throw me out.”

  “Did none of you hear what John said?” Jen’s voice was shrill.

  “You overreacted. And then you got mean.” Frankie turned and walked away.

  “Some of us’ve lost millions on Steinhoff shares. You wanna talk about insensitive!” That was Anne. She hated Jen and the feeling was mutual.

  “I didn’t know. Sorry!” Jen lied.

  As if that wasn’t enough, Brigit had marched up to her mother, spewing under her breath, “You couldn’t have stuck to the speech we wrote, could you?”

  Sounding like a belligerent child, Jen said, “We didn’t write it. You did!”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mom! I give up with you.”

  She felt the tears well in her eyes. What had she been thinking? And what now? Too embarrassed to face their guests, she opened a bottle of the farm’s renowned Chenin Blanc and crept, unnoticed, into their bedroom, locking the door behind her.

  The party continued despite her absence. The music blared. She could hear the guests clapping and laughing. As she got drunker, so the music seemed to get louder.

  Jen vaguely remembered Gladys knocking on her door to tell her she was off to bed and that she would be in to tidy up in the morning.“Thank you, Gladys,” Jen managed to say cheerfully before she heard someone shout over the music, “I feel like a fucking thirty-year-old!” It was John. The guests cheered. She knew she was in deep shit, but at that point she was too drunk to care. Anyway, she was feeling very sorry for herself. Her absence didn’t seem to matter to him, or anyone else. The Stellenbosch ranks had closed in; so, she sucked the last drop of wine straight from the bottle and passed out.

  Four

  Brigit, beyond furious with her mother, had grabbed her overnight bag and her keys from her childhood bedroom and stalked out of the party, hoping to miss the revellers. She was intercepted by Lee on her way out. All she bloody needed; she had successfully avoided him thus far.

  “Brigit!” He moved in to kiss her cheek, but she pulled away. He pretended to ignore her paltry behaviour. “I’ve been trying to get your attention the whole evening. Brilliant party you organised.”

  Brigit smirked. “Yes, really brilliant, Lee. Mom’s speech was a total disaster.”

  Lee laughed. “No, it wasn’t.”

  Brigit stared at him, disbelief in her eyes.

  “Okay! She stuffed up a bit.” He whispered conspiratorially, “I think she’s drunk.”

  Brigit was in no mood for jokes. “Well, fuck her!” She could see Lee flinch. Stellenbosch kids were brought up to respect their parents.

  “I can see you’re taken aback, Lee. But seriously, fuck her! I’m out of here.”

  Lee tried to stop her, but she knew he knew better than to interfere. She’d take the N1 home. It wasn’t as dangerous as the N2 at this time of night.

  Once home, she caught the lift to the tenth floor of her apartment. Keys ready, she unlocked her door and stormed in, dumping them and her bags on the floor. She stomped into the kitchen to pour herself a gin and tonic, furious with her mother for ruining the party, for her at least.

  The alcohol had the desired effect. She kicked off her shoes and went through to the lounge and sank into the leather sofa that Jen – ever the frustrated interior designer – had bought her as a house-warming present. Her mother had been determined to have a hand in decorating Brig’s apartment.

  Her mind wandered to the night’s events. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. She had to concede that it generally was difficult for her mom to please her, but she had really tried with Jen this time. Even if the party had been Brig’s idea, Jen’s keenness to help was graciously accepted, although Brig had been clear that she was in charge of the evening’s proceedings. Brig had arranged the invitations and the disco and had delegated the catering and of course the décor to her mother. She had wanted her dad’s birthday to be perfect, and tonight her mum had sabotaged the whole affair.

  Brigit rose from the sofa. She needed her pyjamas. It was late, and she was exhausted. She had intended to sleep over at the farm, having anticipated a late night. Now she had to drive back to Stellenbosch for tomorrow’s Sunday lunch. It was, after all, John’s actual birthday. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but after what had happened, she really didn’t feel like seeing Jen. It’s not about you, Brig, she reminded herself. It didn’t seem fair to hurt her dad’s feelings by cancelling. She’d have to go. Well, at least Lee won’t be there, she thought. Everyone was used to Brig ignoring her mum, but she couldn’t ignore her godfather, that would seem rude.

  Just then a message from him came up on her cellphone.

  “Want to know if you’re back safe.”

  She answered with a thumbs-up. She should’ve answered, you were just in my thoughts.

  “Party’s still going strong. You shouldn’t have left, Brig.”

  Fuck him! She was angry with him too. Angry with the world it seemed. She thought back to her chance meeting with Lee only yesterday. She had bumped into him in the city and they’d had a spontane
ous lunch at a nearby pub. Although godfather and goddaughter were not that close, Brigit knew that he had always adored her, and she loved him dearly too. It was raining heavily, and he had offered to give her a lift to her apartment. He was curious to see her new place and he had asked if he could come up for a quick look around.

  They had been drinking, so they were both more relaxed than usual around each other. Lee took off his shoes on instruction from Brigit, who was very protective of her cream carpet. He showed himself around her small but very chic home, complimenting her on the décor. Jen's unsolicited generosity and help with the interior had resulted in an apartment worthy of being photographed for HOUSE&HOME magazine.

  When Lee returned from his walkabout of her bedroom and study, she invited him to sit on the sofa next to her. He did, and looked up at the framed photograph dominating the opposite wall.

  “Great picture that!” he said.

  It was a black and white print of a naked woman, her face in shadow.

  “Thanks. A photography student took it for his final-year project. He was awarded a first, so he gave me a copy.”

  “So, it’s you.” There was a moment’s strained silence, then Lee asked if she had any of her dad’s wine lurking in the apartment.

  “Of course, I do! But shouldn’t you rather have a coffee? You’re driving back home and I’m sure you’ve exceeded your quota.”

  “Tonight is poker night with the boys,” he said. “I’m not driving home. I’ll leave my car at work and shuttle back with them.”

  “Ah! That’s why you look so smart.” He seemed pleased with the compliment. She wondered if Frankie shopped for him. He looked dapper in black ankle pants and a linen shirt with the top button unfastened to reveal a few stray chest hairs. His five o’clock shadow gave the impression that he hadn’t had time to shave, yet she knew his whole appearance had been carefully considered. He was one of the few of her dad’s friends who still advertised his marital status by wearing a thin gold band.

  On returning with a glass of red wine for him and a gin and tonic for herself, she found him standing at the glass doors to her balcony, admiring the view.

  “Here you are, Uncle,” she joked, handing him his wine.

  “Great view you have here, spoilt brat!”

  “I’m paying the rent. I’m not relying on Daddy’s generosity anymore.”

  Lee had smiled. “Well good for you.”

  “I’ve got to say, I scored a luck. This flat was going at such a great rate. Something about an overseas investor wanting a tenant who would look after it as if it were her own.” They looked at the skyline in silence. Then Brigit said, “You see that building over there?”

  “Which? The Finance Building?”

  “Yes.”

  He took a sip of his wine after clinking his glass with hers.

  “Allegedly it has a decadent gentlemen’s club on the top floor!” Brigit said matter-of-factly.

  Lee spluttered, nearly choking on his wine. “Really, how do you know about ‘gentlemen’s clubs’? Are you employed there?”

  “Ha ha. Wish that my life was so interesting. Nobody can really confirm it, but being in media, we get to hear just about everything. It’s apparently quite the place to go to. If you have money, you can buy discretion, drugs and a no-strings-attached fuck.”

  Lee pulled a face. “That word doesn’t sound good from your mouth.”

  “Sorry,” Brigit said sarcastically, “but I’m a grown woman.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He suggested they sit down.

  They sat opposite one another this time.

  “So, Brig, no boyfriends?” he asked.

  Brigit didn’t answer immediately. She wasn’t sure whether to share her secret with him. “I’ve been nursing the wounds of a three-year relationship with my lecturer.”

  “Three years! So, you were seeing him while you were at university?”

  Brigit confessed, “Yes. As you know, it’s completely unethical for both to fraternise. He could’ve lost his job and I could’ve lost my place at university. So, it was a long, secretive and exciting relationship until I graduated.”

  “Well, surely now you can date in the open? Or is he married, or old, or both?”

  Brigit laughed at Lee’s multiple-choice question. “None of those. He has commitment phobia; dating a student suited him. It meant a no-strings-attached relationship. The minute we could date openly, he lost interest. Apparently, he’s a seasoned seducer of students.”

  She remembered how flattered she was by him. “All the students seem to flaunt their sexuality in the same way. But you, your beauty and your own sense of style is way beyond your years, Brig.” Shit! She had just turned twenty. She was ripe for the taking.

  “Everyone adored him; they still do, I guess. So, I was flattered,” she continued. “And I was smitten. He made me feel so adult, I’m kind of spoilt now. Young boys are just so pathetic with their stupid hard-ons and their pre-coital banter!”

  His blue eyes softened. Those eyes. Brigit thought they were her godfather's most endearing feature.

  “I’m sorry, my darling. This is something that you obviously spoke to your mom about. She does know, doesn’t she?”

  Brigit could feel her jaw tighten. “You are joking, aren’t you? Mom and I are notoriously not close. Also, she is such a prude when it comes to relationships and the ‘right’ thing to do.”

  “I think you should be a lot more forgiving of your mom,” Lee said softly. “She loves you dearly.”

  Brigit snorted. “I know I sound like a child, but I have mommy issues. My therapist thinks they’re actually daddy related but I’m not buying into her theory.” Then, as an afterthought, “While we’re on the subject of parents, you won’t tell Daddy about Pierre?”

  “Who’s Pierre?”

  “The lecturer! He’d kill him.”

  Brigit had kept Pierre a secret. She had no girlfriends she could confide in and anyway she knew the consequences if it ever got out. As for John, she would never have told him, even now. John would kill any guy who broke his baby’s heart.

  Lee laughed. “Now you’re the one joking. I’m not going to say anything to anyone; especially about spending time here with you this afternoon. It feels kind of inappropriate.”

  Brigit smiled at him. All men were boys, no matter their age. “I know that you feel uncomfortable, but why should you? If Mom met your son for lunch…” She burst out laughing. “Not a good example. Mom would never meet Clive for lunch or go to his apartment for an aperitif. Okay, your secret’s safe with me.”

  Brigit walked unsteadily into the kitchen to get Lee another bottle of red, returning with the bottle and a glass for herself. Ever the gentleman, Lee took the wine, opened it, then poured her a glass, handing it to her as he spoke. “Shit, Brig, take it from me. It’s so difficult, this parenting stuff. And as for marriage, that ain’t easy either. It’s no wonder kids might come out of it a little scathed. But you must know that your mom and your dad – both of them – have your best interests at heart. They really do.” Brigit frowned. “They do,” he iterated.

  By the time six o’clock came, they had drunk the entire bottle of wine and Brigit was plastered. She had moved back on to the couch and had snuggled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Thanks for listening,” she slurred.

  “Pleasure my girl.” She had felt Lee’s awkward attempt at a feel-better pat on her shoulder. It made her giggle a little. “Can you not call me ‘my girl’? I’m an adult.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. But you called me Uncle!” He grinned and then his face became serious. “Hey, I’d better get going.” He glanced down at his Rolex. “I’m going to be late for the guys. Last poker night before your dad turns fifty-five.” He was about to stand but Brigit was up before him. She hitched up her peasant skirt and straddled herself across his lap. Drunkenly, she placed her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him.

  He turned his mouth away fr
om hers.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Please don’t do that, Brig.”

  “Why?” she asked. “It’s what I want.”

  “I don’t think it is what you want. And it’s not what I want.” He spoke to her like her father did when she was a child.

  She climbed off his lap. “You don’t want me?”

  “Brigit, you’re young enough to be my daughter.” Brigit rolled her eyes at him. “Do you want more reasons? I have a whole list for you. Christ, I held you in my arms when you were born. I’m your godfather! Your dad is my best friend and I respect your mom enormously. And you. I respect you.”

  Brigit felt foolish. Lee held her chin and turned her face towards him. “Look at me, Brig. Please don’t think this is easy for me. I’m flattered. I’m a man, an old man. And you’re gorgeous. But don’t forget I’m married. Can you imagine the hurt we’d cause all round if any of… this happened?”

  Lee left the apartment quietly. Brigit lay on the couch, embarrassed and humiliated, even though he had tried not to make her feel that way. Except for their brief encounter at the party, she had managed to avoid contact with Lee. Knowing that it was only polite, she texted him back, making light of her temper tantrum: “Glad it’s going strong. I know I shouldn’t have left, but it’s what I’m known for, so best I don’t disappoint.”

  The thought of Sunday’s lunch exhausted her. I just can’t face an argument with Mom and, knowing me, there will definitely be a fight. What was the point? Her father’s birthday would be ruined a second time. She resolved to cancel with him first thing in the morning.