The Blessed Girl

by Angela Makholwa

  I spritz on a light, floral perfume and do my make-up as natural as possible, ending with a slick of neutral lip gloss.

  I get to Pigalle restaurant just as Mr Emmanuel is about to take his seat. He’s got a big smile on his face (the same one he has for Iris, I expect). I feel myself heating up with rage again and force a smile as I sit down opposite him.

  ‘No kiss today? You’re breaking my heart, baby.’

  I stand up and give him a small kiss on the lips.

  ‘Much better. I’m in a fine mood. You’ll be glad to hear that you have a lot to do with it.’

  ‘Really?’ I say, unenthusiastically.

  ‘Of course. I kept thinking back to the weekend we just had. That thing you did to me on Sunday morning … can’t get it out of my mind.’

  I smile but if I had a knife, I’d stab him right here. I look at the table knife next to my plate … hmmm. Wouldn’t it be sweet?

  ‘Look, I don’t want to get you too excited but I might be able to whisk you off to the US for a week or two in July. Imagine, you and me in Miami … LA … the works! We might even do Vegas! What do you say?’ he asks, beaming.

  Vegas? Isn’t that where they do those quickie weddings? Well, I suppose I could forgive him. Though I’m not ready to show it just yet.

  ‘Vegas? Hmmm … I’ve always dreamed of going to Vegas one day.’

  ‘My kinda girl. But, like I said, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’re a few deals that I need to get out of the way before I can confirm our itinerary, but once I lock down this Russian thing I’ve been working on, I think we’ll be able to take the time off.’

  In spite of my excitement, I can’t help but notice he hasn’t asked me if I’ll be available or if I need to clear my diary. He just automatically assumes I’ll be ready and eager to go along with his plans. So much for respecting my intelligence and business acumen.

  Just when I’m starting to doubt him, he asks, ‘By the way, I know you’re a busy woman, so naturally I’ll get Louise to send you the dates well in advance. Okay, sweetheart?’

  The corners of my mouth lift.

  So now the PA will be dealing with me directly? Just like a proper wife? This is serious!

  ‘To be honest, I’m glad you just said that. June and July can get very busy for me but I’m super excited for your plans.’

  He smiles.

  ‘Right. Shall we order?’ he asks.

  We decide on our meals and have a sexy little conversation. We always do. Mr Emmanuel is very sensual. I can already see that his mind is drifting towards our bedtime activities. I need to rein him in. This is an important evening.

  ‘So, baby … something’s been bothering me. You and I have become very close over the past few months …’

  He stops eating and looks at me.

  ‘Yes?’ he says, slowly.

  ‘I’m a bit concerned. It’s kind of a double-sided thing. On the one hand, I am falling for you – seriously and deliriously falling for you –

  ‘Aww, baby,’ he says, his voice loaded with affection.

  ‘– and on the other hand, my conscience is killing me. You and Iris … are you still an item? What is really going on? Are you just passing time with me? Are you serious about her? Because sometimes when I talk to her, I sense that maybe you two have broken up, but I’ve been just too nervous to raise the issue with either of you.’

  He places his cutlery on the table and interlaces his fingers.

  ‘Look … Bontle, when I first met you that day, the day you were wearing that tight black dress and sexy stilettos … and you smelled like heaven, I thought: she’s too gorgeous, out of my league. Of course, there was also the matter of Iris … But when you started having a conversation with us, me and my partners, it was over for me. You had me, hook, line and sinker. I mean, look at you. You’re the total package. Beauty. Brains. Amazing in bed. You’re every man’s dream girl.’

  I smile. It’s all true but I still want to know what’s going on.

  ‘So what about Iris?’

  He shrugs. ‘To be honest – and I have to be honest – I’m confused. I’m caught between two lovely, gorgeous women …’

  And his wife. What a circus!

  ‘Have you been seeing her lately?’

  ‘Not as much as I’ve been seeing you.’

  Cop out.

  ‘I just thought,’ I say, trying to sound like I’m working it out, ‘that with Iris so happily in love, you two weren’t … you know, involved any longer. But obviously I made a mistake.’

  I’ve never seen someone’s face darken so quickly. Mr Emmanuel’s whole body language changes from suave, two-timing cheat who can’t decide between two beautiful women to bull who has just seen red.

  ‘She’s in love? What do you mean? Do you mean, with me?’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, sweetheart,’ I say innocently, ‘I thought you knew. I mean, it’s not a secret or anything. I went to a party they threw a few weeks ago. I might even have his picture …’ I take out my phone, unlock my PIN and scroll through my pictures with Mr Emmanuel leaning forward in his seat, face like thunder. I hand him my phone when I get to the pictures of Iris and Selaelo together at the party, each shot more intimate than the last. Mr Emmanuel scrolls through them. He scratches his beard.

  ‘When were these taken?’

  ‘Not that long ago. The day before you came to my house for dinner.’

  He’s making mental calculations. He must have seen her before he came to see me, or maybe he was only planning to see her tomorrow for the first time. I don’t know anymore. It seems like he’s been juggling us like an expert all this time.

  ‘Who the hell is this? I’ll kill the bastard!’

  He’s not even talking to me. He’s talking to her, to the pictures. I’m not even here for him.

  Shit. He really does love her.

  ‘He’s a lawyer. His name is Selaelo Maboa. She’s been dating him for a while. I’m sorry, Mr Emmanuel. I thought it was over between you two. I thought … I hoped you were spending all this time with me because you had made a clean break with her.’

  ‘But who the hell is this guy? And who is he to Iris?’

  I’ve just told him. Hasn’t he been listening?

  I shrug. ‘I don’t want to upset you more than I’ve already done …’

  ‘Woman, just tell me the truth. You started this – so finish it. Who is this man? And who is he to Iris?’

  Now I’m beginning to feel a bit scared. He looks like he could hit me.

  ‘Baby, I’m sorry. I really thought …’

  He bangs his fist on the table.

  ‘Tell me the fucking truth!’

  The man is literally frothing at the mouth.

  ‘He’s her boyfriend. They’ve been seeing each other for a while. They might even be getting engaged.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Really, Mr Emmanuel? Really? Is that what you’re saying to me? Then go back to your fucking Iris. I hope you two haven’t given me any diseases with all your multiple lovers! You deserve each other!’

  I stand up, grab my bag and storm out of the restaurant. I’m shaking with rage.

  BOOK 3

  The Wheels Come Off

  Ntokozo

  I was so shaken by that meeting with Mr Emmanuel, I couldn’t sleep at night. First out of rage, and secondly because I was honestly worried he’d try to break in and kill me or something. If you’d seen that look in his eyes! Well, what did I expect from that three-timing bastard? Acting like Iris is his Alpha and Omega. Wanting to assault me because I’m laying down the bare facts about his supposedly perfect girlfriend. The two of them deserve each other. Mxm! After the incident Mr Emmanuel left me a series of angry messages, calling me a conniving bitch. Luckily none of them mentioned me giving back his car.

  After about two weeks, the tone of the messages changed. He started pleading with me to take his calls, but by then I was fed up with him and decided to block him.
Meantime, Papa Jeff has been sending me one loving message after another, dead-set on making a comeback, but I think I’m tired of all these old men. They’re just a bunch of psychopaths, aren’t they? I should leave them to cash in their retirement funds, and start dating someone my own age. Seriously. I’m wasting my youth on people who still reminisce about the summer of 1985. People who were middle-aged when the internet happened. Sies, man. I should have more respect for myself.

  Mama Sophia called me the other day saying that the municipality is wrapping up our contract. Apparently they’ve agreed to process our last payment but they’ll be readvertising the tender because they are not happy with our services. Can’t say I’m devastated. That whole thing was just a massive nightmare. At least I can look forward to another payment, even though I’ll have to share it with Teddy and his shady politicians.

  I’ll be seeing Ntokozo for the first time this entire year. I can’t believe it’s already May and he hasn’t once suggested meeting. I wonder what’s happening in his life. I guess his new business venture is taking up all of his time. I asked him if we could see each other a couple of times two months ago but he made excuses on both occasions. Anyway, finally he called me. He sounded a bit stiff on the phone but I’m in such a good mood I know we’ll be laughing like old times as soon as I get him to unwind. I really miss him.

  It’s a Friday so I help myself to two glasses of wine as I while away time before our six o’clock meeting. We’re going to the pizzeria in Hurlingham again. Man, he looks good when he walks in.

  ‘Look at you! My fabulous husband!’ I exclaim.

  He looks a bit taken aback by my exuberant tone, but then he stands up and gives me a hug.

  I squeeze him tighter. ‘Come on. That’s not how you greet your wife!’

  He smiles and looks at me questioningly. ‘Well, someone is in a good mood today.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I be, babe? You are the first man who ever loved me. You even went so far as to introduce me to your parents; bought me a wedding ring. Oh, Ntokozo. You’ll never know how much you mean to me.’

  He’s still looking a bit off. Hmmm … maybe I should dial it down a bit. But I feel happy and excited. Must be the wine. Okay. Let me try and calm down before he thinks I’m on drugs or something.

  ‘Bontle, are you okay?’

  I laugh.

  ‘Of course I’m okay. Shoo … Mr Grumpy. Aren’t you happy to see Umam’Khathide?’

  Ntokozo frowns.

  ‘Look. I actually have something important to talk to you about. Do you want to order something to eat or drink? Iced tea? Appletiser?’

  I laugh again. What is wrong with this boy? Why is he being so serious?

  ‘No, no, no. It’s six o’clock in the evening. I need some wine. A glass of Chardonnay.’

  ‘Bontle – I can tell you’ve been drinking already. Listen, I need to talk to you about something serious.’

  I look at him … isn’t he cute though? Why did I leave this man? ‘You are so sexy! Look at you.’

  ‘Bontle, I’m serious. I’ve been wondering if I should say this or not, but it’s quite important. It’s a promise I made to you and I have to be open with you.’

  ‘Okay, okay, okay. Sheesh! Let me have a small glass of wine, then we can talk.’

  He rolls his eyes.

  Whatever. He’s so boring.

  Ntokozo orders himself a cup of decaf coffee and asks the waiter to bring me a glass of their house wine. He’s so cheap. Now I just want to go home where I can have a decent drink.

  ‘Bontle, I’ve met someone. It’s still fairly new but I’m really happy. I think it’s something I want to pursue. You know. See where it goes because it’s … um …’ he nods to himself ‘… it feels like … something. Like it has potential.’ The words gush out of his mouth like a harsh spray of water.

  Fuck.

  This is what he wants to talk about? The nerve.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  He shrugs.

  ‘I thought you’d be relieved …’

  I raise my hand and order another glass of wine from our waiter.

  ‘You bastard,’ I whisper, ‘you put my life on hold for two and a half years then you come to me and expect me to be happy you’ve met someone? What do you want me to do – throw a party for you?’

  ‘Bontle, come on. Be reasonable.’

  ‘Reasonable, my arse!’ I scream. ‘What do you want me to do with this information? Is that why you’ve been too busy to see me?’

  ‘You’re acting like a child. You’re the one who’s been pushing for the divorce. It’s what you’ve wanted all along. What’s changed?’

  I gulp down my wine, and stare at him.

  What’s changed? Fuck. How about everything? I have no prospects in life. Papa Jeff, who took me out of my marital home, unleashed his Rottweiler of a wife on me. Teddy saddled me with a useless tender and Mr Emmanuel almost hit me because I told him his girlfriend had a boyfriend. So what’s changed in my life is absolutely everything. Nobody loves me. Nobody ever did. Not even Ntokozo.

  I look at him. I feel like bolting out the restaurant but for some perverse reason, I’m curious about this person who’s come to claim him.

  ‘So, what’s she like?’

  ‘Who? Oh, Phindi. She’s incredible, Bontle. I swear, you’re going to like her. She’s sweet, smart, very focused. She’s also a doctor and she’s interested in joining the Careways venture.’

  ‘Where did you meet her?’

  ‘It’s a funny story, we were at …’

  I’ve tuned him out. Another doctor? Hmphh! And he wants to involve her in his business. This is just too much. He won’t survive with another doctor. Where’s the fun in that?

  I’ve ordered another glass of wine and I’m thinking back to this one time when Ntokozo and I had just come out of a dinner date. It was in the early days of our marriage. We came across a riotous office party and decided to gatecrash. Ntokozo was nervous at first, but I told him it would be fun and it was, we ended up having the best time of everyone there. I remember how happy, drunk and carefree we were when we eventually left, high, giggly and having made new friends. He’s still talking but I can barely hear him and find myself smiling at the memory of that evening.

  ‘Babe,’ I say impulsively, cutting him off, ‘we should totally go out. You and me. Tonight. What do you say?’

  ‘Bontle, did you hear what I just said? Are you high or something? Why are you acting the fool?’

  ‘What? Me, high? You’re the druggie around here. I’m fine. Shoot me for wanting to add some spice to your life. You’re so serious all the time. You never just hang loose. Let go! Look at you, Ntokozo. You’re thirty going on eighty. Life is not just about saving lives, running hospitals and dating “focused people”. If you drop dead tomorrow, would you really say you’ve lived your life to the fullest?’

  He just looks at me and shakes his head. ‘We can’t all live a frivolous life. We can’t all be about Instagram, fancy cars and fancy holidays. Some of us actually want to do something meaningful with our lives.’

  He’s been stalking me on Instagram? Sneaky bastard, after all his condescending speeches about how social media is a total waste of time and something he’d never engage with. So I guess then he’s seen all my posts. Me with the Teddy Bear, Mr Emmanuel and Papa Jeff … well, not them but perhaps their wristwatch or a nice pair of shoes.

  I flush deeply but then I think, so what? I’ve got one life to live and I’m damn sure I’m having a better time than Ntokozo is, tending to broken bodies all day and having serious discussions about the state of healthcare in South Africa with Phindi in his free time.

  I wag my finger at him.

  ‘Listen, wena, Ntokozo. I did not come here to be judged by you. You may think you are Mr Perfect, Mr Holier-Than-Thou, but you know nothing about the real world. I am living my life to the fullest. I have been to places that you can only dream about. I have done things that you, with your degree
s and fancy titles, can never experience. So before you start looking down on me, telling me I have a frivolous life, look in the mirror and ask yourself: what have you done with your life? What have you done for yourself? Are you happy, or are you pretending to be happy? Working long hours for peanuts? You still live in an apartment your parents bought you donkey’s years ago! Ridiculous!’

  He looks at me, his bottom lip trembling with rage. Then he stands up abruptly, takes his wallet and cell phone and says: ‘I’m done here. I’m sure you can take care of the bill, since you can clearly afford it.’

  Mxm! Let him go. Of course I can afford the bill. He’s a cheap date after all.

  The Next Morning: 6 a.m.

  My head is aching; my mouth feels like the Sahara Desert. After I fought with Ntokozo yesterday, I came home and drank a bottle of Chardonnay all on my own. And then I had some vodka. I’ve felt better. I go to the fridge and drink two litres of water straight, without even stopping for air.

  Gosh. What in the world happened last night? I remember Ntokozo telling me he’d met someone, and then I started hurling insults at him. What’s wrong with me? Did I really just shut out one of my last remaining friends? I have to fix this.

  I send him a text. I know it’s still very early in the morning but at least it will show how contrite I am about last night.

  Hi, Ntokozo. I’m so sorry bout last nite. I was drunk. 4give me. Pls. I’ll call.

  He normally starts his day at around seven. Today is a Saturday, so I hope he’s free. I don’t think he’s going to want to see me but I’m hoping at least to speak to him and apologise. I really need to make things right.

  I keep myself busy by cleaning. I play some music, but it depresses me. Norah Jones. Not good for days like this.

  I take out the vacuum cleaner and hoover the bedroom and guest room. Then I get a mop and make a thorough job of getting the kitchen tiles spotless. After that I clean all the kitchen cupboards, before moving on to my wardrobe. I pack my shoes in their boxes in neat, alphabetical order. Next – laundry. Once I’m done with that, I feel exhausted, and decide to take a shower.