Love's courage. Mokopi Shale

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СКАЧАТЬ He shuts down his computer and leaves the office.

      * * *

      Lesego is staring at her watch. It says 17h30 and she still hasn’t called Joy. She is tempted to switch off her phone, but can’t bring herself to be such a coward. She opens the phone, goes to Messages, then New Message:

      Hey, girl, won’t be able to m . . .

      She deletes the message and sighs, wondering how to do this. Just then the doorbell goes. She isn’t expecting anyone and wonders if it’s robbers checking to see who is home. A little alarmed, she answers the intercom, “Yes, who is it?”

      “It’s me. I’ve come to pick up your stand-upping ass.”

      “Shit!” Lesego says out loud. Now that she has answered, she can’t pretend that she isn’t home. She rolls her eyes in exasperation.

      “I know you’re in there,” Joy says. “Open up!”

      Lesego opens the gate for her friend and her stress levels immediately go up. She feels trapped and short of breath – she has to take deep breaths to calm down. She thinks of her wardrobe – tracksuit pants and a tank top are hardly suitable for a night out on the town. She looks at her reflection in the mirror, but she doesn’t look ill so she can’t pretend to be. What can she do?

      There is a knock on the door and when she opens up, Joy gives her a great big bear hug. This is too much for Lesego. She bursts into tears and just sobs and sobs, much to her friend’s horror.

      “Hey . . . Hey . . . What’s up, baby? What’s all this?”

      “Tshepiso robbed . . . Gave her my last cent . . .” Lesebo blubbers incoherently. “So sorry . . . Keep disappointing you . . . Everyone wants too much . . . What to do? Shit! Life sucks . . . Don’t have a rich husband or daddy . . . So sorrrrryyy . . .”

      “Okay,” Joy says, confused. “All I got was that life sucks and that you want a rich daddy.”

      “No!” Lesego wails. “Well – yes, actually . . . Then I’d be able to live a carefree life!”

      “Look, I don’t know what this is all about, but I’m going to get you some sugar water or something while you pull yourself together. Whatever this is must be terrible because you’re doing the ugly cry . . . You know, the one where your face goes all deformed . . . The one where the crier has no pride or concern for what she looks like while she cries . . . Yeah, you must be in anguish. Man! You should’ve called me. I’m here for you, you know? You selfishly hang on to your problems and you won’t let your friends help. That makes me really angry,” Joy remonstrates as she stalks into the kitchen.

      “I know . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me . . . Well, I do. It’s called pride . . . Stupid, selfish pride.” Lesego continues to sob, her head in her hands.

      When she finally looks up, she sees Joy with a glass of water, and bawls even more when she sees her friend’s stern and disappointed expression.

      “Here, drink this,” Joy says more gently.

      Lesego gulps down some air, trying to breathe, and then drinks the water.

      “Now tell me what this is all about,” Joy demands, and slowly but surely the whole sad story comes out, with much sniffling and embarrassment.

      “So you were too ashamed to tell me you’re broke? Even though you own your own house, your own car, single-handedly put your sister through school, and still manage to look this good? You were embarrassed in front of me, a girl whose car was bought by Daddy, who’s still renting and has a mountain of debt? I don’t understand that!”

      Lesego uses one tissue after the other as her friend continues.

      “Actually we can take whatever money we have, hire some DVDs or watch the stack you have, cook a good dinner, buy some cheap booze like we used to at varsity and hang out together. I just wanted to see you, Lesego, not force you to spend money you don’t have.”

      The lecture sparks a fresh torrent of tears.

      “Well, I obviously can’t deal with this on my own,” Joy suddenly says, pulling out her phone. “Time to bring in the cavalry.”

      An hour later Lesego’s living room is lit with candles, there is old-school music blasting from her stereo and her girlfriends are swarming all over the house: Boitumelo in the kitchen, cooking and mixing killer cocktails, Lebogang at the radio, Joy as the main entertainer. Constant laughter and light seem to fill the room and Lesego wonders why she didn’t just do this to begin with.

      Chapter 2

      2

      Lesego wakes up from being too hot. It is broad daylight. She is tired but happy. She hasn’t received any frantic SMSs or calls, and had a rejuvenating night and day with her girlfriends who left last night to look for real parties and hook up with their men.

      Lesego wonders what to do with herself. Her house is sparkling clean, her laundry is done, she doesn’t like gardening because she finds the wild look more natural. So, what to do?

      She gets an SMS. R600,00 has been deposited into her account by Mr Khumoetsile.

      Lesego calls her father. “Papa, can you afford this?”

      “Yes, of course. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have given you the money if I couldn’t. I have to take care of your nephew and mother, you know. But I thought you should do colour prints for your presentation, and you need money for petrol, and you may want an ice cream.”

      “Wow, you’re the best dad in the world . . . So the money cleared early?”

      “Yes, I checked my account on the off chance, and God and the ancestors were with me.”

      “Okay, let me go to town then. Thanks a lot, Daddy. Say hi to Mom and Tiro.”

      “I will. Bye.”

      Lesego decides to do her favourite thing – go book shopping!

      * * *

      Trawling the mall is Lesego’s best; she pops in at clothing stores, pervs over shoes and clothes, stares at passers-by . . . Eventually she steps into Exclusive Books and goes to the fiction section first because it tends to be cheaper. But nothing looks exciting . . . She wanders over to the health section and realises she has read most of the books there, and the others have little appeal. She decides to try the reference section; maybe she can find something to help her jazz up her presentation.

      She strolls down the main aisle, looking at various titles. Hello, speak to me; I have money and I want to spend it, she thinks. When she reaches the middle of the aisle, a title catches her eye: The History of the Batswana. Yes! she thinks as she reaches out for it – at the same time as a well-manicured, masculine hand reaches for it. They pull the book out together and turn to look at each other while still holding on to it.

      When their eyes meet, they both feel an electric shock going through their system. The two stare at each other for a few moments, looking each other up and down. Lesego’s gaze has the highest to go – she sees a fine specimen of masculinity: the most soulful hazel-brown eyes, set in a well-chiselled СКАЧАТЬ