Cliché

by Ryleigh Sloan

  My gran’s garden came into view along with the subtle scent of roses that gave me a familiar feeling of warmth and pride. No matter where I bought roses from, none smelled as sweet and as fragrant as Gran’s and I challenged anyone to walk by them without smiling at their beauty.

  Kevin’s deep chuckle brought me back to the present and he pointed to the window. “She still does it, huh?” A bright green card with Sunday bold and centred leaned against Gran’s bedroom window.

  “Yeah, she does. I keep trying to get her to put the wrong day up but she won’t have any of it.”

  Kevin raised his sunglasses and looked at me with mock reproach. “God, you’re an awful human being.”

  I grinned. The card system was a suggestion from the on-site Sister, her thinking was that should (God forbid), anything happen to one of the elderly people living alone, a neighbour walking by would be alerted if the day on the card was wrong. I guess my joke was kind of cruel but I thought it was funny.

  Gran was waiting at the door and I swear if her ninety-one-year-old legs could still manage, she’d have run and jumped on Kevin. As it was, he was charging down the path and squeezing Gran so tight I feared for her bones.

  Kevin stepped back from the embrace and then grabbed her to hug her again. She giggled and the sound made my heart compress. My gran laughed all the time, but she never giggled. Kevin was the only one who could make her sound like a young girl, but somehow it only brought home to me that she was in her nineties and we were on borrowed time with her.

  “You okay, dear?” Gran and Kevin were both staring at me. Gran, a mischievous glint in her eye, winked at Kevin. “She’s getting jealous. Don’t worry, dear. I won’t steal him from you. He couldn’t keep up.”

  Kevin threw back his head and laughed. “I think you might be right there, Granny Jo, but I’d be willing to sacrifice myself trying.”

  I covered my face with my hands and spoke through my fingers. “Will you two stop? Just stop.”

  Kevin locked up my gran’s house and slipped his arm through hers. “I see what you’re saying about the jealousy thing.” He shot me a look over his shoulder while I failed miserably to act disgruntled.

  I held out my hand for Gran’s bag and we made our way back to my car. Kevin drove and Gran sat shotgun so she wouldn’t have to bend her knees so much.

  “So, what have I missed since I’ve been gone? Claire tells me you were invited to the M.O.T.H ball?” We pulled up to the gate and I handed the exit tag to Kevin from the back seat. I had the perfect view from where I leaned against the door: Kevin’s strong jaw, the faint crinkles at his eyes from behind the dark glasses, and his dimple. Oh Lord, that dimple when he smiled. My gran updated Kevin on her social life, which at this point was a heck of a lot fuller than mine. He interrupted her every now and again to ask her questions or comment. They chatted and smiled and laughed while I remained silent, watching them, two of my favourite people catching up and genuinely enjoying each other’s company.

  “So let me get this straight. Mr. Carter has been walking you home from book club for the last three weeks?” Kevin asked.

  Gran’s cheeks flushed pale pink, knocking ten years off her. “That’s correct.” She smiled.

  “I think I’ll have to have a word with him. Find out what his intentions are.”

  Gran swatted Kevin’s arm and that youthful giggle so at odds with her wrinkled skin burst from her lungs. Then she squeezed his knee affectionately while craftily changing the subject to how many blankets the knitting club donated to Babies of Hope last week. Kevin continued to listen as though hearing about plain and purl was the most fascinating thing he’d heard since the documentary on The Book of Joy by Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama, which he’d been going on about since he’d watched it a couple of weeks ago, and the thing was, he really was listening because he really cared.

  I, on the other hand, stared absently out the window. It’s not that I didn’t care, it’s just that I’d heard the whole story on the phone a couple of nights ago and my gran’s animated voice punctuated by Kevin’s on occasion was lulling me into a peaceful daze filled with mindless thoughts and a warm glow.

  We stopped in front of the curb at Primi, and both Kevin and I got out to help Gran onto the pavement. Then she and I slowly made our way to the restaurant while Kevin parked the car.

  “When are you two going to make it official?”

  I covered a sigh. Gran was the only person who knew about our arrangement. She’d cornered me at our last Christmas lunch, and a few cunningly asked questions along with a stare that would be more at home in an interrogation room than a living room, and I’d spilled like a torn garbage bag.

  “Gran, don’t start that again. We’re happy with things the way they are.”

  “That’s until you’re the best man, or should I say woman, at his wedding and drowning your sorrows on tequila at the reception.”

  “I don’t drink tequila.” My smirk was met with a frown.

  “I’m serious, Claire. He’s moving up in the world. Mrs. Donagan from number seventeen said she saw him in an interview with that pretty blonde who starred in—” She snapped her fingers while she tried to grasp the name. “Oh, I forget now but the point is he’s over there and you’re over here. You can’t keep this arrangement up forever. Besides, I think I deserve great-grandbabies.”

  I found it funny that Kevin being in an interview warranted more serious consideration than his Oscar nomination, but I kept that to myself. As we walked into the restaurant, my dad stood and walked towards us. He kissed Gran and pulled the chair at the head of the table out for her to sit and then kissed me on my cheek. Everyone else was already there and seated, chatting amongst themselves. My elder sister, Kim, looked at her watch with raised eyebrows as if we were late when in fact we were right on time. I ignored her pointed look and snide comment when I made my way around the table to greet my brother-in-law, Adam, and my mother, but when she looked at Kevin derisively when he entered the restaurant and made a scene of digging in her bag when he tried to hug her hello, I seriously had to bite my tongue.

  “You look gorgeous, is this new?” I was momentarily distracted by my mom fingering the light fabric of my coral sundress, her fixed smile telling me she’d been witness to Kim’s obnoxious behaviour. Kim was the only member of our family who hadn’t welcomed Kevin with open arms. He’d come into our lives when he was five and I was three; when my mother’s best friend Linda started fostering him. After a four-year battle with the legal system, Linda finally won the right to adopt him as a single mother, a victory not only for Linda and Kevin but for South African adoption overall.

  Kim could never get over the way our dad treated him like he was the son he never had—she resented the attention Kevin received almost as much as she resented the virtually instantaneous bond Kevin and I had forged. Because of this, she’d always treated him like the inconvenience she believed him to be.

  My dad pulled Kevin in for a tight embrace, patting him on the back then indicating for Kevin to take a seat opposite me. I realised I hadn’t answered my mother’s question when she rubbed a hand along my arm.

  I brushed at the material. “Yes, I got it on sale last week.”

  “The colour is stunning on you.” She leaned in to tuck my hair behind my ear. “Try to ignore her, she’s only trying to get a rise out of you. This lunch is for Kevin.”

  I squeezed my mom’s hand. Of course she was right, today was all about welcoming Kevin back, even if it was only for a month, and I loved my family for making him feel like he still had somewhere he belonged, still had roots.

  Linda had died in a car accident nine years ago when Kevin was nineteen years old, leaving him to take care of his fifteen-year-old brother, Brandon. It had been tough for Kevin initially. Brandon had only been with Linda for six months when she’d died and because of Brandon’s antics, Kevin and Brandon hadn’t exactly gotten along in that time. Kevin had resented the stress Brandon had caused Lin
da, but Linda sat Kevin down and firmly put him in his place with words that went a long way to changing Kevin’s attitude.

  She reminded Kevin that he’d had it easy before he’d come to her, living with an elderly couple until they couldn’t keep up with having a young child around the house anymore. Brandon hadn’t had it so easy, unfortunately, and had found himself shunted from foster home to foster home with people mostly taking him in for the government grants more than to care for him. They’d barely seen to giving him a warm place to sleep so he’d learned early on to fend for himself. The habit of stealing to survive wasn’t an easy one for Linda to break but she’d been making steady progress before she’d died.

  However awful, losing Linda was the catalyst that brought the brothers together. Brandon got his shit together and he and Kevin developed a bond that proved you didn’t need to be blood to be family. My parents had offered to help Kevin in whatever way they could. They’d even offered to take Brandon in so that Kevin could remain at The University of Stellenbosch but Kevin had taken on the role of guardian seriously. He left USB and enrolled at the University of Pretoria where he studied veterinary science part-time so he could be there for whatever Brandon needed. Before Kevin could put his degree to use, he was approached by an agent who’d found his video on YouTube and had suggested Kevin move to America. Kevin immediately turned down the offer but when Brandon got wind of it he’d insisted Kevin go, saying that Kevin had already sacrificed enough for him.

  As if reading my thoughts my mom asked, “Where’s Brandon today, Kevin?”

  Kevin looked up from the conversation he was having with my dad. “He’s driving back from Stella. He competed in the TOTPAK national championships.” His voice was full of pride and I had the urge to reach over and touch him. I didn’t, of course. I didn’t have much of a poker face and my family knew me too well. Keeping affection to a minimum in front of them was for the best, I didn’t need the added complication of having to explain our arrangement to family.

  “How wonderful.” Mom’s tone was just as proud. “How did he do?”

  Kevin’s smile could have lit a small country. “He came first.”

  “Oh, how wonderful,” my mother repeated and clapped her hands, her gold bracelets jiggling and adding music to her enthusiasm.

  Our conversation was momentarily paused by the waiter coming to take our drink orders. My mother ordered a bottle of champagne to celebrate Brandon’s victory and I ordered a glass of rosé.

  “So, Kev. You must be bummed you missed the championships then?” Kim’s voice, sickly sweet, dripped from where she sat next to Adam. Adam was a good guy and there were times when I felt a bit sorry for him. Being married to Kim must be like swimming in shark-infested waters with a flesh wound, but for the most part, I just wished the guy would grow a pair. Right now, his nose was buried deep in his menu which told me Kim was up to something.

  “I wanted to be there, but Brandon and I spoke about it and decided it would be best for me not to attend.” With all the press coverage Kevin was getting lately, Brandon didn’t want the distraction. I knew it hurt Kevin a bit but he understood Brandon’s position. Loving someone meant putting their needs before your own sometimes. The waiter returned with our drinks and we ordered the appetisers.

  “Yeah, it must be a tough choice between getting in some playtime with a hot actress and family.” Kim’s smile was all sugar and spice but the spice behind the sugar held as much bite as a ghost pepper.

  Kevin picked up his glass of water and took a long sip, hopefully coming up with a way to tell Kim to eff off. He set his glass on the table and opened his mouth to speak when Gran interrupted.

  “Kim, if Kevin missed his brother’s championship, there’s no doubt it was for a good reason.” She patted Kevin’s hand. “That aside, if Kevin chose to stay away because he wanted to entertain all his past co-stars, that’s his business, not yours. Personally, if I were sixty years younger and in Kevin’s position, I’d be the Hollywood Whore.” She took a sip of water. “Just because you don’t know fun from a trip to the morgue doesn’t mean you get to be a brat.”

  The sip of red wine my dad took sprayed across the table, splattering all over my dress and making it look like a scene in a crime movie but my ruined dress was so worth it when I saw the look on Kim’s face. She turned pale, then pink, then a deep shade of purple that clashed horribly with the orange top she had on. She stood from the table, knocking her chair to the floor in her temper and drawing attention that till this point we’d managed to avoid. Without another word, she scooped up her bag and stormed out of the restaurant, Adam muttering goodbyes as he hesitated then charged after her. Kevin stood as if to go after her but Gran tugged gently on his arm.

  “Let her go,” she muttered to no one in particular. “She was just going to give me indigestion anyway.”

  Chapter Three

  It was pure pandemonium. Eleven boys aged seven to thirteen peeled out of the minivan, voices decibels louder than was completely comfortable on the ears. When they caught sight of the off-road bikes and quad bikes lined up next to the dirt track, the level of discomfort to my eardrums increased tenfold. My cheeks hurt I was smiling so wide. The sight of the boys, so excited and carefree, was almost enough for me to forgive Kevin for waking me up at stupid-o’clock on a Saturday morning. When I looked at the boys, all of who’d suffered more pain in their short lives than most people saw in a lifetime, I marvelled at the resilience of every single one of them.

  Some of the boys had come from the streets, having lived alone and by their wits for months, sometimes years before they were found and taken to the Walter Forest Home for Boys—a home Kevin was chairman of and had been funding with investors since he started making serious money as an actor. Others were removed from abusive homes. The stories Kevin told of how some of the boys begged to be taken away from their daily hell made my skin crawl but it was the stories of the ones who clung to their abusers, begging to be left with the person who inflicted atrocities no one should ever have to endure that made my heart break. The level of unconditional love a child must have, to beg to stay with the person who harmed them in ways I didn’t even want to think about, made me want to weep for days.

  There was a time where I’d seriously considered becoming a child psychologist, but then I realised I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t strong enough. Watching these boys, however, gave me hope. Each one of them had a real chance at a greater future and if they never forgot what happened to them (who could), at least they could move forward and make more good memories than the bad ones lurking in the darkest corners of their minds. Today was all about adding to the good memories.

  A small hand wormed its way into mine and I looked down at its owner. Israel’s green eyes stared widely, his hesitant smile white on his mocha face. “Miss Claire. Are we gonna all get a turn?” I bent down so we were eye to eye. Israel was smaller than the average seven-year-old, his growth stunted by lack of nutrition.

  “You’re each getting your own bike to ride today, so no turns. Just riding as much as you want to.”

  Kevin ruffled his short curly hair. “Yeah, buddy. You get to go as long as you want, okay?”

  You’d swear we’d given the kid the password to Aladdin’s cave, his smile stretched so wide I could see every one of his molars. The other boys were already staking claim to whichever bike they wanted to ride. I straightened up and headed over to the bikes with Israel in tow. “Which one do you want?”

  Israel led me along the row of bikes, pausing and deliberating his choice as though it were his last meal. I waited patiently while he led me from bike to bike, finally settling on a cobalt blue one with a silver stripe down the side.

  “Great choice. It matches my bike.” I pointed to the trailer hitched to the back of my car. My blue off-road, the same colour as the one Israel had picked, was secured next to Kevin’s lime green one—both gleaming in the sunlight, the cleanest they were going to be until they hit the dirt.
/>   “Wanna come with me to get my helmet out of the car?”

  Israel looked at his quad hesitantly, worried someone would snatch up his ride if he walked away. I whistled, the piercing pitch cutting through the excited chatter of the boys.

  “Hey, guys, Israel called dibs on this one okay?” I touched the handlebars of the quad.

  “I’ll make sure no one takes it.” Sawyer approached, his scrawny legs at odds with his broad shoulders. He was the eldest of the boys and took his role of “big brother” seriously. The whole exercise was unnecessary, the boys all respected the universal hands-off-I-claimed-it law, but Israel was new to the home and hadn’t yet got to the point where he trusted his “brothers”.

  I smiled gratefully at Sawyer. “Thanks, buddy.” He blushed, fidgeting with his cap, positioned backwards on his head and kicked at the dirt.

  We headed to the car, me to retrieve the helmets and Kevin to get the bikes off the trailer. We’d had the bikes for three years now and stored them at my parents when we weren’t using them. We used to store them at Kevin’s place but since he sold his home and moved to the States, my parents’ garage was the most convenient place to keep them.

  A grey Fortuner came down the path, kicking up clouds of dust that had me lamenting the end of my clean bike. Brandon climbed out of the cab and headed over to us, twirling his keys around his finger. Instantly, I felt Israel’s hand grow clammy and his grip got tighter. I looked down to find him wide-eyed and looking like he was about to throw up. The terror on his face had me looking back to Brandon, half expecting him to be wielding a gun or a knife. As I gave Brandon the once-over, taking in his Red Sox cap, sunglass-covered eyes, and neatly trimmed beard, a wide smile broke out over Brandon’s face but I raised a hand, signalling for him to stop as the grip Israel had on my hand turned painful.

  Brandon stopped immediately and removed his glasses and cap, then ran a hand through his hair. He lowered onto his haunches, smiling kindly at Israel while Kevin came to stand next to us, placing a reassuring hand on Israel’s shoulder. “Israel, this is my brother, Brandon. He’s going to teach you guys a few tricks today.”