Rotten Peaches

by Lisa de Nikolits

  “Remember one of the many times when you wanted me to fuck you?” Dirk asks. “You were like a bloody machine, woman, always wanting more sex. You got back from your TV stint and you were all me, me, me, and look how hard my life is and why can’t we have real sex and whine, whine, whine. And you told me that JayRay said, as a parting shot, that he had some big evidence on you that would change your life, but that you were going to ignore it. I got on your computer and found his email address. I knew you wouldn’t be in my life forever, because you are a bitch and a user. You use people and you spit them out. I swore to myself that I would be ready for you. You treat everybody like shit but I wasn’t going to sit back and let it happen to me. Even Betty couldn’t put up with you in the end. No one can.”

  It’s tough listening to him and not being able to say anything, not being able to get up and leave. How dare he? The tears come and I swallow them down, hoping he won’t see how much he’s affecting me. He thought all those things about me, back when I thought we were in love. He never loved me. He was the one who used me and I want to shout that at him, bang my fist on the table and leave. But I can’t do that. I have to sit quietly and let his sewer filth wash over me.

  “And what’s more,” he continues, “you cost me everything. You cost me my family, my nationality, my pride, my place in the Volksraad. You took all that away from me. I don’t just want your money, although that will certainly help. I want to watch JayRay bring you to your knees too, double whammy, so you’ve got nothing left, just like me.”

  “And you emailed JayRay and you both set this up?” I looked at my half-brother. “Tell me, what have you got? Bring it on.”

  “I have evidence,” JayRay says, and he sounds pompous and ridiculous, “evidence that we will release to the press, unless you agree to pay us the sum of one million dollars each, that your father was not my father. Your father, your true biological father was a black man. You, therefore, are a black person.”

  Leonie, sitting next to JayRay, gives a snort of laughter. “JayRay,” she says, “look at her. She’s pure white, a white princess. That’s not true.”

  Clearly JayRay hadn’t looped his partner in on the goods. Another trusting, loving relationship.

  JayRay takes a birth certificate out of his pocket, as well as a photograph.

  I take them from him, my hands shaking, and I study the photograph.

  “These are only copies, of course, and you can keep them,” JayRay says. “Look at them. That’s a picture of your real father and there’s his name on the original birth certificate. Your mother lied and had an affair with a black man and you are the resulting child. Why your mother put your real father’s name on the certificate when she was married to my dad is beyond me, but she did. And a year later, your new rich father paid to have it changed to his name. Apparently you can do shit like that in South Africa if you pay the right people. But my father got to it first.”

  “I was fucking a kaffir?” Dirk turns green and he wheezes like he can’t breathe. His face is the colour of a lizard’s underbelly and his throat jerks like a cat about to toss a fur ball.

  “It would be more accurate to say you were trying to fuck one,” I suggest and I turn back to the picture. “You didn’t actually succeed.”

  “No wonder I couldn’t get it up. I knew it! I knew there was something wrong with you. No wonder! My dick knew better than me, my dick knew you were not pure.”

  “David Okoro,” I say, studying the picture. My birth father had a sensitive, fine-boned face with high cheekbones and a sensual mouth and I can see myself in his shape of his wideset eyes. I put the photograph and the birth certificate into my purse.

  “You say you want a million dollars for this?” I asked JayRay. “A million dollars to keep this a secret?”

  He nodded.

  “And Dirk, you want a million dollars or you will tell everybody I funded the bombing of the Voortrekker Monument?”

  He nods and I chuckle.

  “You guys are hilarious,” I say. “You crack me up.”

  “I’m not sure I follow the joke,” JayRay says, and his face is pinched and hard.

  “I will explain it to you. Firstly, how happy am I that we do not share a father. I could not be more delighted that we do not have one drop of mutual blood between us. I know all about my biological father. He was a musician, and my mother had a fling with him while she was married to your father. She married your father because she had nothing and she was poor and that was what she did, she lived off her looks. She married my father for that reason too. And he, by the grace of his good and kind heart, loved me like a real father would. My mother met my biological father on a shoot. He was a model and a jazz musician and they had a brief affair. But he didn’t have any money and my mother would never have left your father for him because she needed someone who would take care of her.

  “My biological father died years later, working in the mines. You want me to be ashamed of him? Ashamed of who I am? I am not ashamed. Tell the world. Tell whomever you like. And if you don’t, I will, in my next book. There are many other things that you don’t know about me and my family, but you can read about them when the book comes out.”

  I discovered the truth about my birth father from the second to last letter Marika had written to my mother. At first, I didn’t want anyone to know. My old-school White South African values made me feel ashamed, as if it was something that needed to be hidden. But the world is a different place today and it was interesting how quickly I adapted to this new truth. I felt, for the first time in my life, as if I was properly explained. The strange colour of my skin tone when I blushed. The texture of my hair. It was a relief to finally know the full truth about myself. According to Marika’s letter, my father, Ruan, had never known. It was the one secret my mother withheld from him. But he would have known before he died because he had read Marika’s letters. I wondered what his reaction would have been.

  My first conditioned response had been to hide it, run from it, pretend it never existed. Was that how my father had reacted? In all probability, yes. But to his credit, my father never changed his manner or affection for me, not one iota. I just wish it had encouraged him to embrace Rosie and admit to the world that he was her father.

  I look at JayRay. “I am not buying what you are selling. But thank you for the picture and my birth certificate.”

  “I want them back then,” JayRay stands up, threatening me, and I gesture to my phone on the table. “This has been recording everything. And you clearly said I could have them. You said these are for you and I thank you for that. As it stands, none of you have anything on me and I should have known it. In a way, I did know it, but I wanted one last opportunity to look Dirk in the eye. And, bonus, I got to see you JayRay and I got the chance to tell you that your smoke and mirrors and con man plans are no more than a bad magician’s trick that everyone can see through. And Dirk, as far as your demands go, I will take this copy of the document that you so kindly brought along for me. And I will give them to the police who along with a recording of this conversation. You know, I thought about alerting the police to this meeting and have them arrest you and take you home to stand trial for terrorism on home soil.”

  Dirk grips the table and starts searching the room, as if expecting to see the police streaming out from behind the pillars and kitchen.

  “But,” I continue, “I realized that taking you home was much too good for you.”

  Dirk visibly relaxes and he folds his arms and leans back in his chair.

  “Because here, in America, you have nothing.” I continue. “No friends, no family, no livelihood. No past and certainly no future. Remember how you loved watching that movie Stander? How he was such a hero to you, a high-profile white cop, robbing banks in Joburg and getting away with it? And he ended up dying alone in Fort Lauderdale, all by himself. Shot like a dog by the police. He died in the
street with no one. And you will die in the street, all alone.”

  “And you will die on your farm,” Dirk says, full of spite and he smiles. “Yes, I heard you moved back there. How long do you think you will last? They’ll come for you. You think you’ve got a future? You’re more stupid than me.”

  “But at least I will die on my home soil. I will die in my bed, on my farm. Of course I will take every measure to stop that from happening but if it does, then so be it. But you are here, a drunk, alone in a place of exile.”

  I gather up my papers and my phone.

  “And that,” I say to JayRay and Leonie, “as they say, is that.”

  I walk away and I don’t give the losers left at the table a second glance.

  I’m going home to Betty and SunnyBoy and the farm and I’m going to give myself the chance to be happy. And if not happy, then at least at peace with the choices I have made. Yes, Pa, I say silently. I will live with the consequences of my actions.

  45. LEONIE

  DIRK POURS THE REST OF THE WINE into his glass, downs it and leaves. JayRay and I watch him waddle out into the night, his hands paddling through the air as if he is wading through water.

  “What the fuck did she see in him?” JayRay says. He gets up. “That fucking bitch. Come on Leo, let’s blow this pop stand before I lose my shit in here.”

  He’s right. We can’t afford to draw any attention to ourselves, I’m already wanted by the police and dollars to doughnuts, Dave contacted Ralphie and told him how I was connected to JayRay. Which would implicate JayRay in what happened to Iris.

  The waiter brings the bill. “That fucker,” JayRay says, “he stiffed us.” He passes me the bill. “Fuck,” I say. “Will any of your cards work?”

  “Yeah. Maybe. But that’s big bucks for us to lose right now. Maybe we can duck out. You get up and make like you’re going to the washroom. Then dig in your purse like you can’t find something, and walk out like you’re going to get something from the car. I’ll go and order a drink at the bar and I’ll be right behind you.”

  I do as he says. I slip out and no one notices me leave. I go the car and wait. And I wait and wait. What the fuck? Where is he? I sit down on the kerb and text him. Where are u?

  Nothing. I don’t have the keys for the car, he does. What’s going on? Has he dumped me? Why wouldn’t he? What will I do? Are u ok? I text again. Then I see him, he’s walking fast, keys in hand.

  “What the fuck Leo, you’re like my fucking nanny,” he says. “I lifted a fat juicy wallet. Now we’d better get the fuck out of here.”

  I get in the car and he does a quick three-point turn and heads southwest. “What about our stuff at the hotel?” I ask.

  “Fuck it.” He’s gnawing on a finger. “Shut up Leo, I’m thinking.”

  I glare at him and turn away. We drive for an hour and a half and he pulls up at a strip mall in El Campo. It’s ten p.m. and a bunch of teenagers are drinking and partying outside a 7-Eleven. I go in and use the washroom and buy a Coke and a Hershey bar. While I’m paying, I see a job posting for a night shift Sales Associate.

  Cultivate a G•U•E•S•T in Mind Culture.

  Focus on the wildly important.

  Be a leader.

  Be committed to the guest.

  I’m studying the poster when JayRay walks in. “Maybe I should apply,” I say and I point.

  He ignores me and goes to the washroom. When he comes out, his hair is wet and he looks like he had a whore’s bath. He grabs a bunch of Cokes, chips, chocolate bars, and cookies. He pays and I follow him out.

  “So you’re not talking to me?” I ask. “A bit childish, wouldn’t you say? I realize another one of your big Bernice dreams just went bust but that’s not my fault. I knew that bitch would never deliver.”

  JayRay stops. He digs in the bag and pulls out a Coke and he fires it at the wall of the 7-Eleven. “You drive me fucking crazy!” he yells. “My whole life is fucked up because of you!”

  The partying kids fall silent and watch us, bemused, slightly bored. I notice that one girl, with purple hair and a face full of piercings, is watching me intently.

  “You are the reason everything has gone wrong!” JayRay fires another Coke at the wall and the Sales Associate comes out from behind his desk and watches us through the glass.

  “Stop it JayRay,” I say, “everybody is watching us. They’ll call the cops soon.”

  “I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. Let them arrest me. Let them free me from you, you poisonous fucking bitch. What did I ever do to you? I hope they take you away.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a bag of Chips Ahoy Oreo Créme Filled cookies. He tears the bag open and throws the cookies at me, one at a time. The kids and the 7-Eleven Sales Associate are mesmerized. I dodge as a cookie hits me on the cheek and I wonder if JayRay’s lost his mind.

  He runs out of cookies and he empties the rest of his purchases on the ground. He jumps on the bags of chips and they make a loud popping sound.

  “Sir?” The Sales Associate has finally emerged from behind the glass door. “Sir, you are creating a disturbance and creating a mess on the forecourt. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  JayRay replies by sitting down on the pile of chip bags. He puts his head in his hands and screams. I fold my arms and wait for his histrionics to subside.

  “He lost a winning lottery ticket,” I explain to the Sales Associate and the kids.

  “That blows,” one of the kids says and JayRay starts crying. “We’re so fucked,” he sobs. The girl with the purple hair goes over to him and hunkers down next to him and puts her arm around him. She hands him a bottle of Wild Turkey and JayRay takes a big slug. The girl helps him to his feet and she leads him out of the gas island to sit on the kerb. JayRay is still crying. The Sales Associate vanishes inside and comes out with a long-handled dustpan and broom.

  “We have to go,” I tell JayRay and I shout so he can hear me over his muffled sobs. I go over to him and dig the car keys out of his pocket.

  “We’re late for a family wedding,” I tell the girl. “Can you help me get him into the car?” I dig through the wallet JayRay scored in the Steak 48 and I pull out a twenty. “Can we keep the booze?” She nods and a boy comes over and they haul the sniffing JayRay to the car and load him into the passenger seat.

  “Man, you’ve got a shit-load of stuff,” the boy says and I want to belt him for being so nosy. “Moving back home,” I say vaguely. “Thanks for all your help.”

  The girl kisses JayRay for longer than she had any right and I look away. She wipes his face with her T-shirt. I fire up the car and start reversing before she’s fully closed the door and as I spin out, I give her the finger.

  JayRay drinks out of the bottle, moaning to himself and muttering less than kind things about me. But we’re in this together. We have been, from the start. I was wrong to think he’d leave me. He needs me as much as I need him. He finally passes out and I drive through the night.

  I drive us all the way to Mexico. It takes one night and one day and the whole way, I try to tell myself I’m living the dream while next to me, JayRay is silent, swollen-eyed and sullen.

  ***

  Two years later, my life finds me working the night shift in a pharmacy in Mexico City. JayRay’s buddy got me the job soon after we arrived. JayRay has yet to get a job. He says he’s keeping his options open, looking for the right thing.

  We change our names and dye our hair and it’s a whole different ball game only it’s the same old shit.

  JayRay’s buddy, Brett, isn’t what I imagined. He’s an aging catalogue fashion model and when he’s not on set, he’s pumping iron or working on his tan. He encourages JayRay to go to the gym with him and JayRay does, to shoot the breeze and hang out.

  “I’ll put in the work when I have to,” he’s fond of saying, while he pats his smooth belly. He’s happy t
o lie on the beach with Brett and he soon turns butterscotch.

  “You’ll get wrinkles later,” I say but he just laughs at me. Life’s a beach for JayRay and he’s perfectly happy to roll from one day to the next, living off me and Brett. I figure Brett has a crush on JayRay. Why else would he be so supportive of him?

  I tell JayRay and he shrugs his tanned shoulders. “What’s not to love?” he grins, his teeth white and even, his eyes beautiful and clear.

  While I, tired, out of sync with life, and pale as a ghost, live among the moths of the darkness, dispensing drugs under the watchful eyes of my own personal security detail who is armed to the teeth in case the addicts try to make any fast moves.

  The pharmacy is a tiny fluorescent-lit cave, situated on a busy main street and I grow accustomed to the sounds of sirens, shots, car tires, and shouts. My security guard acts as an interpreter and I have no idea how I would manage without him. I rely on my computer to translate prescriptions and I’m learning Spanish and I’m doing pretty well. I get a lot of practice time, there are long hours when no one comes in at all, and I sit with my book and my earbuds, repeating words and phrases.

  I often think about Dave and the girls and how much better off they are without me. About a year after JayRay and I started our new lives, I couldn’t help myself and I used the pharmacy computer to go on Facebook. Dave has remarried. He married Denise, Sam’s mother, no surprises there. They even have a new little kiddie of their own, so sweet, and there are great big smiles everywhere.

  I never belonged with them. Strangely, I do belong here, in this no-man’s land, but it is more about my aloneness, than being in Mexico. And most of the time, JayRay’s like an annoying roommate who makes a mess and sleeps a lot and is noisy when I’m trying to sleep.

  Although, he still only has to touch me and I melt like candlewax under a flame. It’s annoying how my body responds to him and I wish it didn’t.