“I don’t know,” I say to Dave, and I pour myself a rum and diet Coke. “I really don’t.”
I don’t want to talk to Dave at all. I want to think about how fantastic it felt to be in JayRay’s arms again and I need to untangle his insane idea about Iris. My brain cells are occupied. I don’t have time for Dave’s domestic issues.
Yes, I had been filled with fear at the thought of losing my family, but as soon as I found them at home, it was like they didn’t matter anymore. JayRay was the only thing that mattered and I had to come up with an alternative plan to his.
“If you’re going to stay with us, you need to get some therapy,” Dave announces loudly and I turn around quickly.
“What? What do you mean if I stay with you?”
“You’re not being a mother or a wife, and you haven’t been for a while. I kept giving you leeway, making excuses for you. I told myself that you were busy building a career and said that things would be different if I gave you some time, but it wasn’t that. It’s you. And if you want us to be a family, then you need to see a therapist about your issues and we both need to see a marriage counselor.”
“What issues?” I’m genuinely stunned and I sit down and drink half my rum and diet Coke in one go. “What are you talking about?” The girls are playing Minecraft and Muffin is yapping and I’m going to lose my mind. I try to think of a way to stop Dave from talking but he’s like an oncoming train.
“Your intimacy issues. You’ve never let me get close to you. I don’t even know who you are. You prefer being on the road to being home. You prefer working to hanging out with us. You don’t seem interested in the kids, and you aren’t the slightest bit interested in me.”
“Dave…” I don’t know what to say. It isn’t like I can tell him it isn’t true, because it is true, all of it.
“You see, you can’t even reply. You never talk about anything meaningful. Do you even think about life and what we’re doing here or things like that? Or how much you love the kids, if you even do? Do you think about our marriage? We never talk about anything.”
Maybe Dave’s right. Maybe I don’t have anything to offer anyone. Look at JayRay and me. What did we talk about? We bitched about the roadshow vendors and we had sex and got drunk. Maybe that was all I’m good for, have sex, get drunk, and work. Maybe I’m more like a man that way, while Dave is like a woman, needing to talk about his inner feelings and what’s going on with the kids. Either way, I can see I’m going to have to make more of an effort with him and with the girls.
“Dave,” I try again, “I realize I have been in my own world a lot recently. I feel guilty about being on the road as much as I am, but I love it. I need it. I love you and the girls, too, and I need you, more than you can know. I think about you all the time when I am away.”
I look at him. I put my glass down and I really look at him. I look at his earnest, kind face, and I know that I do love him. I love him for giving me everything I ever wanted, an extraordinary home, a family, a stable, supportive environment.
After those long lonely years, struggling to survive my mother’s rejection on the one hand, and my father’s icy cruelty on the other, all I wanted, growing up, was the noise and excitement and easy affection that I saw in other people’s normal lives. I wanted the cotton batting of family love to protect me from the emptiness that hollowed me out. My dreams came true and I got my family, but it didn’t protect me in the way that I had hoped. Most of the time, I still felt like I was empty inside: no bones, no blood, no organs. Hollow. Dave tried to save me from that. In the beginning, he made me laugh but I stopped letting him. I became more and more like my father.
And I realize, sitting there, that I’m just like my father. I go over to Dave and put my arm around him. His shoulders feel odd and unfamiliar, and I want to ask him, who are you? But I rub his back and try to find my way back to some kind of familiarity.
I’m shocked by his ultimatum and I can’t help but think that if my family had any idea how rotten to the core I am, they’d boot me out, brush the dust off their hands, and get on with their lives. They don’t need me, but I need them. For fuck’s sake, Leonie. You’re like a psychotic fucking pendulum, caring, then not, then desperate again. I am my own worst mistake.
“I didn’t realize how bad I was getting,” I admit and at least that’s partway honest. “When I come back from my trips, I am tired out and you guys seem to have everything in a groove. It’s like you don’t need me and I don’t try to make myself fit in. I admit, I’ve been lazy and I’ve let things slide. It isn’t up to you or the kids to make me feel needed. It’s up to me to be a part of this family and I haven’t done that. I realize that now. And I will go and talk to someone, I will. I am tired of being me. I am tired of keeping you and the girls at arm’s length. I never wanted to treat the girls the way my father had treated me. I want to love them and make them feel loved and wanted and needed. I’ll fix it, Dave, I will, okay? Will you let me?”
He nods. “You can start by apologizing to the girls. Be a mom to them, not some kind of aunt who tries to win their love with gifts from Crapmart.”
I try to hug him but he moves away. “No. You don’t know how much you’ve hurt me, Lee.”
I put my hand on his arm. “I will make it right, you’ll see. I’ll go and see the girls now. I am very sorry about Muffin. That was fucking careless of me. I’m sorry about that and I am sorry I missed the day with you and the girls. I am sorry about everything. I’ll make it up to you, you’ll see.”
He doesn’t reply and I go into the living room to face my daughters.
14. BERNICE
DIRK COMES HOME THREE DAYS LATER. By this time, I have called the hospitals, the police stations, and anyone I can think of. I would have called Chrizette, but I don’t have her number. It is odd, when it comes down to it, how little I really know about this man I love.
I had Theresa call his horse-racing friends, but they hadn’t heard anything.
Theresa came over for a while and she visited with me and we sat there, knowing there was nothing we could do, nothing but wait. I couldn’t even watch Miami Vice.
When Theresa left, she patted my hand but she didn’t say anything. What could she say?
And at last, Dirk comes home. He stinks of alcohol and cigarettes and he’s covered in bruises. I guess he’s started smoking again; at least he won’t be bugging me about that.
One arm is broken, one eye is swollen shut, and he has stitches in his lip. He hasn’t shaved in days and when I look at him, I hear James Sonny Crockett saying: Things go wrong. The odds catch up.
Betty and I exchange a glance. We heard him at the gate and we stood together on the verandah and watched his car crawl up the driveway with none of his usual, exuberant style. He staggered out, slamming the door behind him. His clothes looked as if he had slept in them or perhaps he slept under a tree.
He looks up at us. “Betty,” he calls out. “Run me a bath, make a big pot of coffee and some sandwiches.”
Betty turns to do as he says but I stop her.
“Who are you to tell Betty what to do, hey? You disappear for three days. I thought you were dead. But never mind that, Betty doesn’t do what you say, you are a guest here, have you forgotten that?”
“Ja, of course. I am sorry.” Dirk climbs the stairs with the weariness of an old man and lowers himself onto the small verandah couch.
“I will make coffee,” Betty says quietly to me and she disappears into the coolness of the house.
I look at this broken man. I try not to breathe in his foulness.
“And so?” I ask. I’m still leaning against the railing, watching him.
“Ja, you were right. She is seeing someone.” Dirk starts crying. Clearly not for the first time. “How could she do that? The mother of my children. And never mind that, it is who she is seeing.”
“And who
is she seeing?” I ask, knowing full well.
“Gerit Venster.”
“And who is he, when he’s at home?” Of course, I know but I can’t tell Dirk that.
“He is … ag man, it’s a long story.”
“If you want to stay,” I say and I sit down next to him, “I suggest you tell me everything.”
“I belong to a group, we call it the Volksraad. It is our parliament, our government, the real one, the one that should be in power, instead of the blacks who are ruining this country.”
I stay silent and I keep my hands folded in my lap. I don’t look at him, I look out, straight ahead. I watch the evening lights start to flicker in the city below and I wait for him to continue.
“We just wanted to keep our language alive, our culture alive, our history and traditions. We started it after Mandela came into power, and it was big. Huge. Ten of thousands of us. But over the years, a lot of people have emigrated and others, it seems, decided that black South Africa wasn’t as bad as they thought it would be, and they left the group. There are only about three thousand of us left now across the whole country and the organization is mostly online. The leader is a guy named Gerit Venster. He thinks Hitler is the bee’s knees. You should see him, he even looks like Hitler. His hair is stuck down with Brylcreem and he shapes his moustache the same as Hitler did.”
“And Chrizette is having an affair with him?”
“Ja.” Dirk is crying again. “I went to see her and I confronted her and she admitted she is sleeping with him, and that they have been seeing each other for nearly three years.”
Longer than we have been together, I want to say but I don’t.
“That’s longer than you and me,” he says and I nod.
“I had no idea.” He looks utterly bewildered. “How could she? How could he?”
“What happened next?”
“She told me that the kids love him. They’ve loved him from the start. They knew all along. The bloody kids knew. What a fool I’ve been. Anyway, after three years with Gerit, she says she suspected me of having an affair and she gets me followed and then kicks me out.”
“I will have you know,” he says, “I only ever had one night stands before you and I never had sex with any of them either. I was faithful to her, but she cannot say the same. They both betrayed me.”
“But if she and Gerit were having an affair all this time, and the kids love him so much, why didn’t she ask you for a divorce long ago?”
“You just don’t get it, do you? For the sake of morality, that’s why. Gerit didn’t want to betray our church and our way of life, neither did Chrizette. None of us did. But Chrizette said that once she had the evidence of my affair, that she and Gerit figured the whole thing was broken anyway.”
“Ja, you are so right. I don’t get it. And I never will. So what happened next?”
“As it turned out, there was a meeting of the Volksraad the night I left you to confront her. It was the perfect opportunity for me to set the record straight. We have a strict agenda and one of the issues tabled is that you can report a fellow member if you have evidence that they have betrayed the code. There weren’t a lot of people at this meeting and it seemed to take forever for us to get to that part. And when we did, I stood in front of Gerit who sits behind a huge desk, like a judge. He has a gavel and he wears a black gown and a hat in the Voortrekker style and all of a sudden, he looked ridiculous, so self-important. Anyway, I stood there, and I didn’t say anything.
“Eventually he asks me what is it that I want to say, and can we please move on. Because he knows. Of course he does. I turn and face the room, there are maybe eighty people there, and I shout that he is an adulterator and a fornicator and a man who breaks up families and he should be kicked out. ‘He is a disgrace,’ I shout and I wait for the people to tell him to get out but no one says anything and I turn back to Gerit and I grab him by his stupid gown and I pull him across the table. I throw him on the floor and I start to donder the shit out of him. And then, everyone runs up and starts punching me! Me! Gerit was the one who made them stop; they listened to him.
“He calls the meeting to a close and he tells them he needs to talk to me. By now, my arm is killing me, my face is covered in blood, some of my ribs are broken, and I can hardly breathe.
“They leave and Gerit sits on the floor with me. He is in much better shape than I am. I hardly started on him when they climbed on me. And he tells me, ‘Look, admittedly it’s not ideal what happened, but then again, nothing is.’ He says that maybe we were married to the wrong people to start off with and that ‘this is God’s way of putting things right.’ Something occurs to me and I tell him that since him and Chrizette were screwing each other before you and I even met, that I will sue her for desertion and take her for all her money. The bastard laughs and says Chrizette is ready for that. Her lawyers are all lined up. She’ll give me a million bucks and that’s it. A million rand. Worth shit these days. And I will only get it once I sign the divorce papers. And Gerit’s going to adopt my kids once the divorce comes through. And here’s the kicker, literally. He chucked me out of the Volksraad because I instigated a fight. Apparently, according to his rules, we are now allowed to fornicate, but hitting each other is out of the question. Ag, fok, they can have it, they’re a bunch of self-righteous bastard hypocrites. I was the only one who tried. I was the only one who said we should make a real statement, blow up the fucking ANC, do something. But no, they said that was too extreme.”
He looks at me. “You don’t seem very surprised by any of this,” he comments.
“I’m processing what you’re saying. I thought you were dead, or that you had gone back to Chrizette.”
“Never,” he cries and he wraps himself around me as best he can, but he stinks like a filthy wet dog and I untangle him.
“Maybe after you have brushed your teeth,” I suggest.
“Ja, of course. I am sorry about the state I am in. I admit I was not exactly sober when I went to the Volksraad, which was stupid. I started drinking after I spoke with Chrizette and I was shit-faced when I confronted Gerit. But the nerve of that guy! He said he doesn’t want me to see my kids. He said they don’t want to see me either and if I try to see them, he’ll make sure that I’m taken care of. Him! Take care of me! I tell you. And my kids! What did I ever do to deserve this from them? I was a good father. I was a good husband.”
He gazes off into the distance. “Everything has changed. I thought the Volksraad would bring back the past and make things right. But they are useless wankers, good for nothing except to talk big time out their arses. It’s all gone. Everything I stood for. Nothing has any meaning any more.”
“You may still have one thing,” I point out and he looks up at me.
“I know I still have you, and I am grateful for that. And I am sorry I disappeared.”
“I said you may still have one thing.” I study my hands. “What makes you think I am willing to put up with this rubbish? Look at you, crying like a baby. Do you think I care about Gerit or Chrizette or any of them? Do you think I care about your kids? I only tried with the kids because of you. I never wanted kids. I don’t care about them and frankly, from what I saw, you don’t either. You hardly spoke to them when they were here, and you say you were a good husband and father. I won’t comment on that any more.
“But I will say this. I loved you. I took you into my home. I made the children welcome. And you treated me like crap. You ran out on me. You ran after Chrizette like a love-struck schoolboy. I was worried out of my skull. I thought you had died in an accident. I couldn’t think of a reason you didn’t contact me. You left and you got drunk and now you have come back to me crying. Here’s what I have to say. Leave now, go and think about your life, and if you can think of a reason why I should take you back, I might do it. But for now, I want you gone.”
He looks at me, his mouth ag
ape. “You can’t be serious,” he says.
“I have never been more serious in my life.”
He puts his head in his hands for a moment and then he looks up at me. “I am sorry. Of course, you are angry. I know I must look weak to you. I must look like a loser and a hypocrite. Please, don’t hate me. Please let me come home.”
“This is not your home. You left me. And now you must go.”
“No,” he says and he pulls me to him. It’s awkward, what with that broken arm and he smells disgusting. And yet, with the return of his arrogance, so returns the flicker of my lust for him. Despite myself, I lean into him, ever so slightly, but it’s enough so he knows he has won.
“I am sorry,” he says. “This will never happen again. Me losing it, I mean. You are my world and I will make it up to you. It will be like this never happened. You’ll see. I am going to make you happy.”
He reaches under my dress and tugs my panties down and he pushes me back on the sofa and although it only lasts a minute or so, it seems that for once he doesn’t need Viagra. I lie underneath him and hold him close.
Happy? What does that even mean?
15. LEONIE
“IRIS?” I ASK AGAIN. “Seriously, just to double check we’re talking about the same person. You do mean that Iris?”
“Give it up Leo, yes, that Iris.”
We’re in Vancouver, at The Marketplace for Gifts, Garden and Home, and I look over at Iris who’s helping set up a stand. Iris has her standards and she is showing a newbie the ropes, the exact ropes. Iris is the Executive Director of the Canadian Trade Show Association, the CTSA, and she has a manual on booth presentations and regulations. The newbie’s eyes are glazed as she watches Iris read from the booklet and point out items of supreme importance.
“That should be an exciting roll in the hay,” I comment. “Oh, James, put your penis here, no James, a little more to the left, wait, straighten up a bit, now a bit deeper, yes, thank you, James, now you’ve got it, well done.”
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