Moxyland

Lerato

‘What are you doing?’

Mpho raises his head from his arms to look up at me. It’s fairly obvious he’s been crying. It’s bad enough I have the whole family memorial ceremony ahead, but finding him here, camped outside my apartment door, just upped the ante on a day already heading straight for shitty territory.

‘Waiting for you,’ he says, getting to his feet.

‘Well, I’m here now. Sooooo, I guess you can go.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I mean, what’s the point?’

‘We could—’

‘Talk? That would be based on the assumption we have anything to talk about.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘That’s because you don’t listen. I told you it was a one-time deal. I’m not up for a serious affair. It was just fun, Mpho. Good times. And now the good times are done. Excuse me, you’re kinda blocking the door.’

‘Jesus. Do you have to be so hard?’

‘Yeah. Sorry.’ I start to move around him, but he takes me by the elbows.

‘Yeah, me too. You obviously care. Otherwise you wouldn’t be such a bitch about it. It’s really sad, Lerato.’

‘Not as sad as this, this last-stand psychoanalysis thing you’re doing. Nice try, Mpho. But you, what we had? I don’t give a shit. For really really real. I’m already seeing someone else. And he knows how to get me going.’ I run the tip of my tongue over parted lips. ‘If you know what I’m saying. Now get out of my way.’

He lets go of me and steps aside, his face tilted to the floor, not even looking at me. I swish past him into the apartment and he turns to make the long slow walk back to the elevators.

Before the door slides closed, he calls back bitterly, not looking round, ‘Congrats on the promotion.’

Jane pokes her head out of her room, looking disapproving and happily scandalised at the same time. ‘You really can pick them. He’s been sitting outside for two and a half hours.’

‘He’ll get over it. What he needs is someone as sweet and dull as he is.’

‘I was about to take pity and let him in.’

‘You should have. You two might have hit it off.’

‘Oh thanks, Lerato.’

‘Come on, you know that’s not what I meant.’ That’s exactly what I meant, but I don’t want to upset the peace. It’s only a couple more weeks max that I’ll have to put up with Jane’s fustiness.

‘It was more like, you know, when was the last time you had a date?’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ve got one tonight, for your information.’

‘Oh yeah? Me too. Unfortunately, it’s dinner with my sisters. Obligotainment.’ I open the fridge to see if there’s anything to snack on in the interim. It’s another hour and a half before I’m supposed to meet them at Simon’s Town station.

Jane gives in. ‘All right, mine too. I’m meeting my boss.’

‘Oh really? You got something going on?’

She flushes, the swathe of pink swallowing up her freckles. ‘No, I’m handing over some files. We’re talking career prospects. You know, where to go from here.’

‘Mmm-hmmm.’ There’s nothing in the fridge. Unless I feel like eating a wodge of butter.

‘And you?’ she asks.

‘And me what?’

‘I heard you’re getting bumped up.’

‘It’s not a big deal. More of a step sideways than up.’

‘Lead software designer, though. You’re young to take that on. Twenty-three?’

‘And three-quarters.’

‘What?’

‘Sorry, you know how little kids say that. Puffing themselves up. Always looking forward to the next year.’

‘Well, it sounds like it’s going to be a good one for you.’

‘I think it’ll be all right. Hey, do you want to get baked?’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, you know, I could do with something to take the edge off. You do smoke, right?’

‘The legal stuff.’ She snickers. ‘Mostly. You know, you’ve never asked me before.’

‘I thought you were too stuck-up.’

‘And I thought you were a ruthless bitch.’

‘Now you’re saying I’m not? Nice. Insult me in my own home.’

‘What did you think about the terrorist thing?’ she asks, while I roll a neat joint of corpissue Dormor, sprinkled with a touch of sugar, which is decidedly not pre-approved.

‘The gallery? I saw Toby’s cast. It was pretty retarded. Not the cast, I mean; the attack.’ Jane is quiet and then she says, ‘It frightened me. That they could be so bold, you know? So arrogant.’

‘It was supposed to, Jane. It’s a big splashy press release. They want you to think that your happy little status quo isn’t as safe and cosy as you assume. Of course, there are better ways to do it.’

‘What do you mean?’ I take a toke and hand her the joint.

‘I’m saying if I was a terrorist, I’d up the stakes. Billboard smears? Art galleries? Retarded. They’re not terrorists. They’re idiots. You give them way too much credit.’