Mr Not Quite Good Enough
Page 10
She opened the white picket gate and the squeak brought an elderly woman leaning on a cane to the front porch. Gorata thought it had to be Mma Olson.
“Can I help you?” the old woman said in a shaky voice.
“I’m a friend . . . A friend of Ozee’s.”
“Orapeleng is not in. He’s off to work. Works even on a Sunday, the poor boy.”
Chinua came out from under the yellow rose bush at the side of the path and rubbed against Gorata’s leg. She picked him up and pushed her face into his fat, furry body to hide the tears she couldn’t stop.
Why was she crying? Ozee wasn’t here. It meant he was at the petrol station. She just needed to drive back to Soweto and find him. That was nothing to cry about. Still, she couldn’t seem to control all of the emotions running through her. They were seeping out all over poor Chinua.
“Are you okay, my dear?” the old lady asked from the porch. “Maybe you should come in for some tea.”
“No . . .” Gorata put Chinua down. “No, thank you . . . I need to go . . . I . . . I’ll talk to him later . . . It’s fine . . . It’ll be fine.” Gorata turned and stumbled out of the gate, her eyes still swimming with tears.
She turned and walked to her car, paying no attention to the other car that had parked down the street. Someone had got out and was walking towards her, but she was blinded by tears and kept her head down.
“Gorata?”
She stopped and looked up. It was Ozee. She was confused. He was supposed to be at work. How could he be here?
He was next to her before her mind could settle or her tears could dry. “Gorata, are you okay?”
She wiped her hands across her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine. I came . . . I wanted to say something . . .” Gorata struggled, not knowing what to say really.
“I’ve just been to your house. Kelebogile said she thought you might be here,” Ozee said.
“Yeah? I read something and it made me think straight. You know sometimes that happens, right? You read something and it just makes you see things in a completely different way.” Gorata couldn’t seem to get her words in the order she needed them to be.
Ozee stepped forward. He was so close, but he didn’t touch her. He spoke in a voice only just above a whisper. She leaned forward ever so slightly to hear clearly.
“Love is it,” he said. “And if you had it and you lost it because of pride or secrets or disrespect – clean up the mess. If love is there, everything else can be fixed. Because love is all there is.”
Gorata stepped back, her eyes wide. “Yes, yes! That’s it! You read it too! It’s Bra Kee.” She couldn’t believe it. What a coincidence that the same newspaper column would remind each of them that they needed to get their priorities in order. “Is that why you were looking for me, because you read it too?”
Ozee shook his head. “No,” he said. “I didn’t read it. I wrote it.”
Gorata was confused. “What do you mean, you wrote it? It was in Batho Ba Mzansi. Bra Kee wrote it.”
“Yes, Bra Kee wrote it.” Ozee smiled.
“What? You mean . . .” Gorata tried to figure out what he was saying. “You mean you wrote it and Bra Kee wrote it, so that means . . . what exactly? Like . . . that you’re Bra Kee?”
Ozee nodded his head. “I told you I had another job, a part-time job. I’m a writer. I’m Bra Kee.”
“But . . . why work at the petrol station? Bra Kee is the most famous columnist in Joburg. Why waste your time filling tanks and washing windscreens?” Gorata asked, still not believing what he was telling her.
“Do you think if I sat up here in this Victorian mansion looking out over Melville I’d get any feel for what the people are thinking, what they’re feeling? I’d be writing a bunch of nonsense. That job at the petrol station is a great place to find ideas for the column.”
Gorata thought about all the heartache she’d been through. She had been attracted to him the first time she met him, but his job had put her off. He could have told her then, and everything would have been easier. But even when they finally got together, he didn’t tell her. If he had, she wouldn’t have thought he was some criminal. She wouldn’t have thought it was over between them. Everything wouldn’t have gone all black.
Suddenly she was angry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know you – and Bra Kee’s identity is a secret. Only a few people know who I really am. I was going to tell you after running into Henry in your office, but then you refused to speak to me or let me see you.”
“So he knows you’re Bra Kee?”
“Yes, Henry is one of the people who know.”
“It could’ve made things so much easier if I knew,” Gorata said.
“Maybe. But I wanted you to know me, not Bra Kee. Bra Kee would have gotten in the way of these.” He touched his chest and then very gently touched hers. Then he grabbed her up in his arms. “I thought I’d lost you. Why did you run away?”
“I think I just went nuts. I jumped to the wrong conclusions. Mostly I was trying to protect my heart, I guess.”
She kissed him and then he pulled her to him and kissed her back and she was so thankful. Suddenly she was filled with hope again: the blackness was replaced by yellow sunshine and a bright-blue sky. He took her hand and led her back through the gate towards his flat.
Mma Olson stood almost where Gorata had left her. “Oh, so you found Orapeleng?”
“Ee, Mma, I found him.” Gorata looked up at Ozee and smiled.
Mma Olson’s voice became stern. “Now, Orapeleng, I don’t want you becoming like all the other wayward young men. You’ve always been sensible. I don’t want all sorts of young ladies moving back and forth from your place.”
Ozee laughed and looked at Gorata. “You won’t need to worry about that, Mma Olson. This is the only one, she’s special, and her name is Lady Gorata.”
“Oh . . . A lady then, how nice,” Mma Olson said, smiling. “You must bring her round for tea one day so I can get to know her properly.”
They walked around the back of the house. Chinua followed them, meowing the whole way like the band in a parade of three. They climbed the stairs and while Ozee unlocked the door, Gorata turned and looked out over the garden.
Something lying in the corner of the small balcony suddenly caught her eye. She bent down and picked it up. It was a sea shell, just big enough to sit in the palm of her hand.
“How’d this get here?” Gorata asked.
Ozee opened the door and turned back to her, giving her a kiss on the lips before looking down at her open palm. “I don’t know, where’d you find it?”
“Here on the balcony,” Gorata said, pointing towards the corner.
“Who knows?” Ozee took her hand and led her inside.
Gorata smiled. Who knows? Finally, she knew the answer to that question – she did.
About the Book
Synopsis
Gorata Kwadiba has a plan. By the time she turns thirty in two years’ time, she wants to have made her mark as a public relations officer, and to have married a successful man. Ozee certainly doesn’t fit into her plans. However charismatic and handsome he is, Gorata can’t get over the fact that he’s a petrol attendant. She wants a man with drive and ambition. But Ozee is persistent and Gorata finally agrees to go on a date with him. It doesn’t take long, though, for Gorata to realise that there’s more to Ozee than his charm and good looks.
About the Author
LAURI KUBUITSILE is a full-time writer living in Botswana.
She writes for both children and adults and has 14 published books, among them two other novels for Sapphire Press, Can He Be The One? and Kwaito Love. She was the 2007 winner of the BTA/Anglo Platinum Short Story Contest and the recipient of the Botswana Ministry of Youth and Culture’s Orange Botswerere Award for Creative Writing in the same year. In 2009 and 2010 she won first position in the Pan-African children’s writing competition, The Golden Baobab.
Kubuitsile is married
and has two teenage children.
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Are You a Writer?
Are you a writer? Do you want to get published? Write a truly South African romance novel for our new romance imprint, Sapphire Press – only 30 000 words. E-mail sapphire@kwela.com for more information, or to let us know if you liked this story. Alternatively, send us a letter to Kwela Books, PO Box 6525, Roggebaai, 8012. You can also fax us at 021 406 3812. Feedback will be given on publishable manuscripts only.
Imprint Page
Sapphire Press is the romance imprint of Kwela Books,
an imprint of NB Publishers,
40 Heerengracht, Cape Town, South Africa
PO Box 6525, Roggebaai, 8012, South Africa
E-mail: sapphire@kwela.com
Website: www.kwela.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/Sapphire.Press
Copyright © LA Kubuitsile 2011
All rights reserved
No part of this electronic book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying and recording, or by any other information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher
Cover image by Greatsock/Corbis
Cover design by Hanneke du Toit
E-book design by Full Circle
Available in print:
First edition, first impression 2011
ISBN: 978-0-7957-0389-8
Epub edition:
First edition 2011
e-ISBN: 978-0-7957-0390-4