Life After Death

by Brian Ndingindwayo

  On a more serious note, the question she would have wanted to ask was: who has sent this driver? Not now of course. She loosened her grip on the bag. It was too rude with them having carried bags and held doors for her.

  There was nothing to fear. The car was already negotiating homely-lit driveways. Neon light burnt ahead of them, in outrageous blue: Riverside Hotel.

  The driver helped her carry the bag when she disembarked. She wanted to give him a tip. He disappeared as she searched for small monies in her wallets. She yelled at his back. Another man was already hurling her bag on his shoulder.

  ‘Ms Chuma?’ he asked. He was also in uniform.

  ‘Sure. But why don’t you leave my bag, man? I have seen too many uniforms and sleek cars today. It’s beginning to frighten me.’

  They stepped onto the lush carpet in the lobby. Curiously warm in here. She tried to speak to the Receptionist. The man who was carrying her bag just hustled along. It appeared as if it wasn’t necessary to ask directions from the lady behind the desk.

  ‘I will take you to your room,’ he said. They waited for the lift.

  He left her at the door to the room. Natasha was quick this time. The man recoiled from her money. He called it an insult, and more. ‘I’ve already received my money,’ he explained.

  The room wasn’t locked.

  She dumped her bag on the double bed. How can they give her a room without keys? She made straight for the phone. A stylish, immobile and cordless handset at the end of the room…There was a paper on the side table. She glanced at it casually. Vocational plan. She picked the directory.

  She lifted the receiver. Then, she thought she heard a shower running in the room. She turned. It was from the bathroom, actually. Even worse! The man had led her to the wrong room.

  ‘I should have known that he was too clever.’

  At the end of the bed was a male diesel watch, she realized again.

  She rose. She pressed her ears to the keyhole. Confirmed. There was someone bathing in there.

  ‘Who’s in there?’ she called.

  The shower stopped. And then, ‘Sipeyiye.’

  She didn’t want to believe what she was hearing. She yelled again, ‘Sipeyiye who?’

  ‘Sipeyiye Mohyi.’

  She walked across the lush carpet slowly, now more sure of herself. She perched herself at the end of the bed. She rested her laps on the elbow. The dress fell gracefully in the curves of her laps. She waited patiently for him to come out.

  Chapter 31

  Sipeyiye took his time. His heart beat acutely. He eventually came out, though. Natasha was sitting on the edge of the bed, composed. Her eyes didn’t follow him as he walked across the room. He crossed her line of vision. She’s as still as a grave, he thought.

  ‘Well, how are you?’ he asked.

  No answer. Her eyes took up his. He rolled his martial art suit. He put on vaseline.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  Sipeyiye almost panicked when he heard her speak.

  ‘You like parties?’ he asked comically. He smiled wryly at her.

  ‘Sure, I do’ She said it slowly. Very slowly.

  He laughed raucously. He slumped himself on the quilts. He quickly checked himself. He grabbed the phone.

  ‘Two cups of coffee. And if you can still make it, curried fish cakes as well.’ He said in the phone.

  He picked up his Chinese suit from the built in wardrobe. He crossed the room, and pulled on an ironing board. As he waited for the iron to heat up so that he would iron his trousers, he said, ‘I sent a taxi. Reasoned you might need it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Her teeth were clenched. From his vintage point, Sipeyiye had the advantage of observing her without being observed himself.

  ‘And you sent the potter to carry my luggage too.’

  ‘Reasoned you might not be able to carry your own bag, too. Am a genius myself, see?’ He smiled again, pretending to mock her.

  ‘No that’s not all,’ she insisted, ‘You found me a flat.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You found me a job.’

  ‘I did.’

  She rose. She nearly matched his height. ‘And now you want your pound of flesh, no mistake?’ And then Sipeyiye didn’t know what to say to that one.

  ‘I repeat, Sipeyiye, what do you want from me?’

  Sipeyiye was relieved by the knock at the door. He intercepted the tray as it came in. He put it on the table. He pulled the table close to her.

  ‘There, I’m a gentleman,’ he offered. ‘I don’t know what you’re on about at. I hope we never fight over this again.’

  ‘Go ahead, and have your coffee, Sipeyiye. I’m out of this place.’

  She rose ceremoniously. She left. A faint clip of the door. Sipeyiye looking at the damn door. He picked the phone.

  ‘A girl wants to change rooms,’ he said in the mouthpiece. ‘Tell her all the rooms are occupied.’

  The woman on the end protested. ‘Who’re you?’

  ‘The editor of the Truth. And in case you still want to come to work tomorrow, you will do what I tell you.’ He felt sorry to speak to a woman like that. He added, and cheated. ‘My wife is running away from me. A small squabble. She’s just in one of her moods. I’m just not about to let her embarrass me on a big party like this.’ The woman laughed infectiously. He was relieved. He smiled.

  He looked at his watch. 8:15. Good, he will be thirty minutes late. What do they call it? Fashionably late. But his eyes caught the tray at the table. He settled down to eat. He ate the two shares. Not that he hadn’t called for room service when he checked in at 4. When he left, he was worse than someone hungry.

  He got into the hall at 8:50. Everyone was settled. He made a point of making sure everyone would see him. Dolly Parton was playing. The easy beat of Tomorrow’s Forever wafted into the air. There was a tidal wave of Mr. Sipeyiye. They had reserved his place where he wanted it.

  The centre of the room had been cleared for quicksteps. Two-gether. Black dinner jackets and bow ties. Silk and high pointed shoes. All a far cry from his Chinese suit. Others sat at round marble tables, swirling vodka, Amarula cream and champagne…Old Mutual was fifty. And we made it to the top. His journalists and cameramen were snug at a front table doing their job. Taking little of the drink and dance. More pictures and words.

  He spotted Natasha. There goes his heart again. Stop it, he told himself.

  ‘Your seat there, Mr. Sipeyiye,’ a lady said. Sipeyiye knew where his seat was supposed to be. He crossed the room amidst chants of Mr. Sipeyiye. Good party, this…he admitted. He liked this movie star thing. They will probably find a place at the first page of the Truth.

  And then he bowed and planted a kiss at Natasha’s brow.

  ‘Dear,’ he said. There was horror in her eyes. But then this was a respectable party. You don’t want to act as if you’re only coming from, he recalled the CV, Chipinge.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m late.’ Opposite them set another couple. Sipeyiye couldn’t make out. The wife wasn’t bad. He offered his hand. The wife braced it eagerly.

  ‘Mr Sipeyiye, we were beginning to fear you might not turn up,’ she said.

  ‘You should have known that’s highly unlikely. I’ve got an errand here.’

  ‘How’re you, sir?’ He bowed to the man. He took the man’s hand. It was less enthusiastic. Sipeyiye shook him vigorously.

  ‘Are you the Director?’ He stole a glance at Natasha. If she’d have her way, she’d go, and probably wipe his kiss imprint on her forehead.

  ‘Actuarial Scientist, actuall,’ he said haughtily. Sipeyiye wasn’t impressed. If he had come before the Age gone by, he was to earn more than the Director. Now they were working as Accountants’ Assistants.

  ‘I tell you what, Mr Sipeyiye? This is going to be a great party.’ He said.

  There came many others, hovering over their table. Each time Sipeyiye would make sure. ‘There, my fiancé. If it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t be her
e today.’

  Natasha wasn’t left with a lot of options, but to shake hands with each of them. But with time she thought it had become too much.

  She said her thanks to the actuarial scientist who was still enjoying his party. The actuarial scientist looked shocked.

  ‘What’s it?’ he asked. He liked company.

  ‘Nothing serious,’ she said. ‘A headache.’

  ‘She probably needs some looking into,’ the wife. Sipeyiye immediately knew how most actuarial scientists spend their hard earned money: on their wives.

  ‘No,’ Natasha objected. ‘Some lying down will do. And you guys, let me not spoil this for you.’

  She rose and left. No word to Sipeyiye.

  ‘Mr. actuarial scientist, see you tomorrow if the champagne doesn’t destroy you.’ He realized he didn’t know his name. It was too late to ask. The woman laughed with gusto. The man flinched.

  Sipeyiye followed upstairs. His heart was beating again. Too much adrenaline! He got upstairs to their room. ‘Our room,’ he muttered.

  Natasha was hurling a bag out. They were supposed to knock into each other. Lucky enough, Sipeyiye didn’t have an anger to match her’s.

  ‘May I know where you’re going? At least I will be able to explain in case something happens.’

  She carried her bag. She waited for him to clear out of the doorway. A full grown up girl. Spilling breasts heaving up and down. Translucent lips, ripe and ready. Faint make-up on the face, the pretty woman shining through.

  It wasn’t that either he liked best. It was the young face and the maturity in the face. It was the defiance in her. The refusal to respect authority when it was there. It increased the price and the will. Not that either. He wanted a mother. He needed a shepherd for his soul. Many questions crossed his mind. Earnest questions like, where was I?

  On second thoughts he left the door. He followed her to the lift. They waited as it clipped up. 6…4…3. A drunken couple descended. Natasha talked to them. He held the button. Sipeyiye kept quiet until a couple had disembarked from the lift. He said, ‘I’ve already talked to the administration. They’re just short of rooms here.’

  ‘I’m not looking for any rooms.’

  ‘Wherever you’re leaving to Ms Natasha. Let me just make sure.’

  They emerged at the lobby to the horror of the receptionist. She stared at them without a word. People don’t leave hotels in the evening. The best they can do is to check in.

  A strong wind buffeted them at the door. Sipeyiye protested. ‘We’d catch cold here.’

  ‘Who asked you to follow?’

  They walked together on the dimly lit driveway. Once a guard met them on the way.

  ‘Who’s it?’ he roared.

  ‘We want to meet the road there,’ Sipeyiye replied. The guard’s temper cooled when he saw the woman.

  He was happy when he saw the relief on Natasha’s face. Now they continued walking. He wanted to walk close, but there was this bag between. Once he thought of changing sides, but he was afraid to behave as a teenager. And there wasn’t the least chance that he would be allowed to carry the bag.

  Now they had come to the road. They crossed it and waited on the other side. Sipeyiye willed no car to come. He was afraid a car would come. No car came. The road was engraved on the steep slope. Just behind them a deep valley showed. And there was the thick smell of urine around them. Mosquitoes buzzed around them. Each time a fly landed on him, Sipeyiye would stomp exaggeratedly.

  ‘Too many mosquitoes here,’ he yelled. ‘I will go back.’ He knew Natasha was afraid. A lady has got to be afraid. ‘I’m going,’ he said again. ‘Come, I will carry the bag. I was lying I will find another place. It’s dangerous here.’ There was more reasoning in his voice. He didn’t wait for an opinion. He just snatched the bag and crossed the road. There was faint protest of, ‘My bag. Please bring my bag.’

  But he was relieved to see her follow. He went back to the hotel. She trailed behind. He was confident too that the cold was biting into her, because he was beginning to feel it himself.

  They came back at the lobby. The girl at the switchboard was overwhelmed. Sipeyiye said a flirting good evening as he passed. She smiled back. He was disappointed when Natasha’s expression didn’t change.

  Chapter 32

  They came back to where they had started.

  Sipeyiye neatly put the bag in the locker and locked. Natasha crossed the room and settled in the settee.

  ‘I will talk to Kathy,’ Sipeyiye suddenly blurted.

  ‘There are things I can’t understand here,’ Natasha suddenly said. She was restless.

  ‘I guess you’re not alone in that.’ Sipeyiye answered.

  Sipeyiye grabbed the phone by the mouthpiece. ‘Look here, I’m the last person who should be doing this to you. But feelings overpower us. And I can’t just pretend there is nothing I’m feeling for the rest of my life.’

  ‘You’ve got feeling, that goes beyond having people arrested, Sipeyiye?’

  ‘Love is a strong emotion.’

  ‘And what do you know about love?’

  ‘That I love you, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re proposing, aren’t you?’

  ‘At least, I’m beginning to get to you.’

  ‘You’re not. And right now, I’m leaving.’

  Sipeyiye sprang across the room. He seized her hand. She struggled, tiny and weak in the strong grip.

  ‘I will have you arrested for indecent assault, Mr. Mohyi. I will scream.’

  ‘Go ahead and scream.’

  ‘If I were you, I would stop joking. I can ring the police, Sipeyiye.’

  He dragged her across the room. ‘I will phone the police. You will tell them I love you, that’s right?’

  ‘I’ve told you, you abuse that word.’

  He picked the phone. ‘Police!’ he shouted in the mouthpiece. Then gently,’ Natasha would like to speak to you.’

  He handed the phone to her. She recoiled from it. He thrust it in her hand. ‘There, won’t you speak to your dear friend?’

  She took it lamely. “Actually…Actually,’ she fluttered lamely. ‘It was nothing really. I will hang up.’

  ‘What?’ she screamed. She thrust the earpiece close to the ears.

  ‘I never knew that was you. He never said. How’re you Kathy?’

  She listened. She smiled.

  ‘Really?’ She was still stiff.

  ‘Thanks, hey. I think you want an explanation of what is happening here.’

  ‘I will tell you. Sipeyiye is sitting on the bed. He is wearing his wonderful suit. He has now turned around to look at me. I guess he’s happy. Tell you what: he’s smiling? Goodnight, Katharine.’

  She hung up.

  ‘Well.’ She crossed the room. She sat in the settee.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She said we too aren’t going to smile for the rest of our lives. She’s speaking from experience.’

  ‘That’s a lie. Of course we’ll. What do you think?’

  ‘We got an option. We smile now, and cry tomorrow. Or we never smile at each other again. In that case, we’ll both and understand and you will leave this place now.’

  ‘I don’t understand you.’

  ‘The circumstances we’re meeting are wrong. I wish us to both understand that it’s impossible. The night that surrounds the plush bed might suggest we do. We can’t. We’ll play ourselves cheap. And when the light shines here tomorrow, we might realize behind us, there might have been nights darker than today. It’s not only on this bed that you have made people sleep, Sipeyiye. You have also made it for Chikurubi - dungeon and hard ground. That possibility, pleasure and pain, side by side, scares me.’

  ‘I will take your points one by one.’ Sipeyiye crossed the room. He sat on the armchair. Natasha occupied the other end. ‘One, Dumka. Two, Dumka Three, Dumka. And why won’t I tell you the truth?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That was all becau
se of you.’

  ‘Impossible.’ Natasha gushed out.

  ‘When we met first time, you were already in it. And I guess you were already vying for the Editor. It’s your politics, you men. And please don’t let it include me.’

  ‘Dumka was a good guy. He had enough money. Oh yes, he was willing to spend it, too. Was…’

  ‘That’s blackmail. Talk of yourself. I hate people who try to make move by using other people.’

  ‘It’s not everything that you hate that won’t do. Neither is it that everything that you love, will happen. No, what I meant is, it’s not every time that people say when they are in love. And right now from the way you look at me I know you love me.’

  Natasha shied away. She directed her gaze to the ground.

  ‘At least you’re beginning to prove to me that you’re a woman. And Natasha, do you know what time it is now?’

  She cast a glance at her watch.

  ‘What’s it?’

  No answer. He took the unresisting wrist into his hand. The hand was thin, but firm.

  ‘11:45!’ He shifted and sat in another settee. His heart raced. ‘I don’t think we’re going to find any lift to town. Not now, and never.’

  ‘What makes you believe that?’ She was a little unsure of his proximity. The eyes betrayed her.

  ‘The reason is I’m sitting here. I think I’m the happiest man in the world. I would like to freeze time. I don’t care for another life, even after death. I want to stay here at your side and listen to your heartbeat. That’s a reassurance. Even a confirmation. The world is real. God loves me.’

  ‘Can you feel my heartbeat, for sure?’

  ‘I can, and it beats in unison with mine. I’ve had it every day of my life. I just didn’t know it was yours.’

  ‘What about if you’re lying to me, Sipeyiye?’

  He looked at her with naked curiosity. ‘Hearts support life. It’s hearts that bring us here today. I quote, “‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish.”’

  ‘That’s the Bible you’re quoting, Sipeyiye.’

  ‘At the right time, too.’ She was looking the other side. He stole inches across the settee.

  ‘Now there’s something I want to know.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where did you get this beautiful body, Natasha?’

  ‘Beauty is a complex subject. It lies in the eyes of the beholder. And the other thing I have learned to believe: never believe a man when he says you got a good body when you got six walls right around you. They lie. At their best they will be making advances.’