Читать книгу Her Forever After - Nani Khabako - Страница 5

2

It was deadline day. The magazine was being put to bed in just two hours and Tumi was still waiting for one junior to submit an article, an important piece.

Only God knew why she was both a writer and subeditor at this publication, but after the last subeditor left amid a fury of profanities, it was decided she would help out until a replacement could be found.

Six months later she was still doing the job – without pay.

Tumi was not the submissive sort, but she didn’t have the stomach to fight the big guns over what would even­tually be only a measly salary increase.

It was a well-kept secret that magazine staff were not that well paid. The job seemed glamorous to many who didn’t know that behind the shoots, events, interviews and fashion spreads were endless hours spent putting everything together into something consumers would rush to pick up from the stands.

She’d been with Pri-Chic for the last five years, and in that short while she’d worked herself to the top of the writers’ pile, contributing features, opinion pieces and a column every month. She didn’t mind all this; she truly loved her job. She just wished other people had the same drive as she did, and it irritated her no end when young writers failed to produce copy on deadline. It was a sure-fire way of seriously damaging one’s writing career. But hey, who was she to make such dire pronouncements – only one of the most respected writers in the magazine industry.

Tumi worked from a small office in a strange corner within the single-level building. She’d done her best to make it homely, adding her favourite dark-brown leather two-seater couch and two cream-coloured ottomans. But oh no, there was nothing glamorous about the world of magazines; it took endless passion, creativity and doing everything all over again in an entirely different way with each issue.

Tumi decided to have a quick chat with her mother, to persuade her to take her up on her offer of paid-for swimming exercise classes. She had the distinct impression that her mother would rather ingest a python than go anywhere near a large pool of water. Silently she vowed to continue her attempts to find some sort of physical activity that would keep her dear mom around for many years to come, although she’d already gone through yoga, Pilates, power walking and aerobics. Okay, maybe that last one hadn’t been too realistic on her side.

The junior’s copy finally arrived and Tumi bade her mother goodbye with a promise to visit on Sunday afternoon. It was then that she took the time to look through her e-mail messages. Among the spam, job applications, fan mail and outraged tirades was an e-mail from Mandi. She felt her heart starting to hammer wildly; even through technology he had that effect on her.

Hey, Tum

(She’d always hated that nickname, yet he insisted on using it.)

I haven’t had any response from you since my e-mail two days ago.

I hope you’re not ignoring me, because I’m not above showing up on your doorstep. And we both know you don’t want that. Besides, I don’t think we’ll get any catching up done if I’m forced to go that route.

So be a good girl and meet me for drinks tonight.

Primi Piatti, 8pm, Waterfront?

Till then.

Mands

Oh, the nerve!

Knowing how relentless Mandi was, he wouldn’t be above pitching up on her doorstep if she didn’t meet him for drinks. The manipulative twat knew very well that she had no desire to see him, but he insisted on pushing himself into her life.

Now she’d have to worry about all the arbitrary things she detested about the dating scene. Things like what to wear and how to act, because she definitely wouldn’t be intimidated by him. He may be the top political correspondent for the African News Network, he may travel the world, he may be one of the most prominent figures in the media world, but she’d show him she’d hardly been selling mealies in the streets while he was doing all that!

* * *

“You’re absolutely pathetic.”

Tumi rolled her eyes at Tatum. She was in no mood for her friend’s crap, especially not tonight.

“I’m just trying to reach a balance between sophisticated and sexy without looking like I tried.”

“A thong and a shawl. That should work.”

“Tate, you’re not helping!”

“I’m not here to help. What kind of friend would I be if I shoved you into the arms of your destroyer, if I assisted you on the path to your doom, if I became the vehicle that took you to your untimely demise?”

“Are you quite done?”

Tatum was enjoying this a little too much, Tumi thought. She herself was in a frenzy, trying to look presentable for Mandi.

Meanwhile Tholaphi simply continued with her intolerable texting, a habit she’d failed to quit even after two semi-interventions by her friends. Tumi supposed when one had such a busy schedule, juggling modelling and drooling millionaires, it required a considerable amount of time on the phone.

Tatum was the more obvious close friend in Tumi’s life, an accountant with a wicked sense of humour and the most gorgeous four-year-old son one could imagine. She was short and petite, in a nutshell: cute. She was the friend you called when the world seemed to be crashing down on you. And if you failed to call, you could be sure she’d come battering down your door with whatever she thought you needed to pull you through the worst.

However, what a lot of people did not know about Tholaphi was that behind the ridiculous beauty lay a deep, complex and very intelligent woman. She was the most social of the trio, the one who dragged them to industry events and called them meter taxis when it became obvious they could no longer keep up. She was also studying law, and hoped to specialise in criminal justice. It was just like Thola to pursue a dangerous and exciting career.

Tumi took a minute to think about the look she was aiming for this evening.

She wanted to come across as sexy enough that Mandi would regret breaking her heart, classy enough to look unattainable, sophisticated enough to reek of success, and all that mixed with a touch of “I’m so over you” superiority.

“I can tell you right now that you won’t be able to go through with your plan. This is Mandi we’re talking about.” Tholaphi finally lifted her head from her cellphone for long enough to contribute that much.

“Well, we’ll just have to see about that!”

“Do you miss him sometimes?” That was classic Thola, the hopeless romantic.

Tumi quickly concealed a pained look before answering in an offhand way: “Goodness, Thola, really! It’s been like seven years.”

“But you never talk about him. When I bring him up, you recoil and . . .”

“That means nothing,” Tumi interrupted her friend.

“It means maybe you’re trying to be okay about something you never really got over.”

“Or maybe it means I truly am over it and I have no desire to rehash an embarrassing chapter in my life.”

Tatum kept quiet. She knew her best friend well enough to know which topics got her back up. As darling as Tumi was, there were some parts of her life she simply refused to discuss in a rational way.

In the end Tumi decided on a pair of high-waisted, tailored navy pants which fitted her so snugly and made her butt look so good it was sinful, combined with a deep-red blouse with ruffles cascading down the front.

Tumi finished off the outfit with small studs and a pair of killer Luella gladiators, which were oh so hot because of their black colour and bright-red soles.

She looked herself over and approved of what she saw. The outfit was probably a bit too dressy for drinks, but she was a career woman on the go, a woman who couldn’t be expected to rush home to change for some unimportant meeting – or at least that’s what she wanted it to seem like.

Although, looking at her reflection, she couldn’t help but see the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide on a daily basis. She quickly pulled herself together and went off to meet a ghost from her past that had never stopped haunting her. A man she definitely did not want to see.

She couldn’t help but think back to when things had been different and they had still been students.

Tumi had hoped her second conversation with Ma­ndi would involve a whole lot more words, but it hadn’t been so. She’d had a whole speech planned. But standing next to his hunched figure, as he looked critically at some or other ancient text, she began to think it was a bad idea to try and extend an olive branch.

“Do you want me to hand your part of our assignment in for you?”

“Sure.”

It was not going well. Why wouldn’t he say anything more than the bare minimum?

“I think you’re bloody rude,” she had suddenly blurted out.

And then he’d done something completely unexpected. He had laughed out loud. A husky, soft laugh that revealed dimples he surely had worked very hard to disguise. Tumi had immediately been taken aback. She found herself mesmerised by the beauty of him, and almost breathless with the desire to touch him.

When she next spoke, she didn’t sound like herself at all.

“What’s so funny?”

“You’ve a lot to say to me, Tumi. And you seem determined to drag it out for both of us. Just spit it out.”

And as if she’d been waiting for his permission, she let him have it.

“Well . . . I think you’re rude. You walk around here like you’re the shit, like the sun rises and sets on your chiselled torso only. You speak to no one unless a question is asked of you. You treat your fellow students with indifference and when they try to change that, you treat them with disdain.”

“That all?”

“I think you should try and be a bit nicer and friendlier, because although some of us may be beneath you, there might come a day when you need a friend.”

He seemed to consider seriously what she’d said, though not with shame and regret, as she’d hoped.

“Do you want to be my friend, Tumi?”

That question had taken her by surprise. She didn’t know how to respond. Was that why he got to her so much? Did she secretly wish they could be friends? And how the hell had he seen through her?

If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that his indifference offended and unnerved her. She was, much to her chagrin, quite intrigued by him.

“Well, I’m not one to impose myself on people who don’t want me around,” she had said, making sure she didn’t seem too eager to accept his concealed offer.

“I want you around,” he had replied quietly, not altogether meeting her gaze but listening intently for her response.

Before she could manage an answer, he was looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought she was going to collapse right where she stood.

“Really? I mean, uhm, that’s to say, why?”

And in the midst of her confusion, before she could even process what was happening, he had kissed her. So thoroughly, so completely, so familiarly.

There had been no prelude to the more intimate part of the kiss; there had been no careful coaxing or hesitant approach. He’d just stood up from where he sat, wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her till all the breath in her lungs was out. And even then he did not stop.

She had to remind herself to breathe because she was becoming light-headed. It seemed like an eternity, probably more like five minutes, before he stopped.

And while she recovered, a small smile formed on her lips.

“I’ll see you after class,” he’d said quickly before rushing off.

It had been decided in that instant, Tumi thought as she pulled up in the parking lot. He’d wanted her for himself. He’d decided she was his. He’d claimed her, and before she could protest, before she could make any feminist proclamations, she had been his. In every single way that a woman could belong to a man.

A whirlwind in her life. The same whirlwind that now threatened to throw everything into turmoil.

* * *

As soon as she entered the restaurant, she knew where Mandi was sitting. It was as if some vibration made her acutely attuned to his whereabouts. Or maybe she’d inhaled too much of her own Coco Chanel.

He looked so different, yet also so similar to the young man he had been, only now he was a fully grown man of the world. He had that same ease about himself, the same self-assured elegance that set him apart from the rest of the crowd.

He was looking intently at a glass of what seemed like expensive liquor. She was surprised by that. Mandi had always been a man of simple tastes; he detested any unnecessary opulence, although that might have changed, given his recent status and success.

He was wearing a crisp white shirt and fitted jeans that were too dark to be blue and too light to be navy. A beautiful golden watch was his only accessory. And goodness, was he beautiful!

Tumi quickly took another look at herself in her compact mirror. She still had the same huge dark eyes, attributed to her Swati background on her father’s side. Her braids were tied back and her caramel skin was flawless as always. There was absolutely nothing she could do to change how she looked now. She had to be confident in herself and get this meeting over and done with.

She carefully made her way towards him, making sure to appear calm, composed and unmoved.

“Mandi.”

It was a pity her croaky voice refused to cooperate! She couldn’t afford to let him know how much he unnerved her.

“Tum.” He stood up with the elegance of a panther. It seemed he was doing the cool act very well, if indeed it was an act. “Please sit. I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a virgin daiquiri.”

How presumptuous of him to think he could order for me, thought Tumi. Never mind that she would’ve ordered the same thing anyway. She couldn’t even begin to wonder how he knew what her favourite drink was. Or maybe he assumed she still didn’t drink and had ordered the likeliest choice.

“I’ve upset you.”

“No, you haven’t, but seeing that I’m now twenty-eight, I can order my own drink.”

“My apologies. I only meant to be civil.”

He didn’t seem the least bit sorry to Tumi. Then again, she was probably picking a petty fight just to get a reaction out of him. It would make her feel better if he didn’t look so unaffected by her presence. She looked good, for Christ’s sake! But she supposed that when a man had had affairs with countless gorgeous socialites, he wouldn’t be affected by little old her.

“So I’m here, against my will. What do you want?”

She really didn’t mean to sound so rude. She hadn’t known she would be so angry until she laid eyes on his perfect and infuriating form.

“Just to talk.”

“About what?”

“Us.”

“That was over a long time ago.”

“I know you’d like to believe that. You’ve certainly acted like I don’t exist these past few years. But you should know by now that I’m not the kind of man you can discard and forget at will.”

He certainly didn’t waste any time spewing up his nonsense! Was this tactic the latest in the player handbook?

“I beg your pardon! You make it sound as if I wronged you.” She wouldn’t let him get away with turning the tables on her and actually implying that she’d played any detrimental part in their relationship.

“That’s hardly relevant now, is it? Please sit, you’re causing a scene.”

She looked around the restaurant and saw that she was indeed doing that.

Tumi sat down and tried her best to drink the delicious daiquiri he’d ordered for her, but it wouldn’t go down her tightly constricted throat. He was doing it again, toy­ing with her emotions so masterfully. Mandi was the same heartless bastard he’d always been, she thought.

“You look beautiful, Tum. More than I’d hoped.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“And you seem to have developed quite a venomous tongue.”

“Or maybe you simply never knew me at all.”

“Maybe.”

He almost looked saddened by that. Tumi couldn’t un­derstand why this conversation was going the way it was. She’d expected a few excuses to explain his horrible be­haviour, but he was acting like the aggrieved party.

Before she could probe this point, he changed the subject.

“How’s your mother?”

“She’s fine.”

“And work?”

“Why are you back here, Mandi?”

“I got the job at the African News Network.”

“I know that! You could be based anywhere in the country, on the continent even, but you chose to come to Cape Town, where I live, where we’ll surely run into each other as our jobs are related.”

“This is my home too. Don’t act as if I planned my return to ruin your life.”

“Didn’t you? It was really nice seeing you again, Man­di, but I must go.”

“We’re not done with our drinks.”

“I think we are,” she said, getting up and walking away as fast as her feet could take her.

Tumi prayed she wouldn’t burst into tears and make a complete fool of herself. She couldn’t believe that some part of her had hoped he’d take responsibility for what he’d done and maybe apologise for breaking her heart.

But it was clear he wasn’t capable of that kind of respect. Mandi was obviously bored and needed some amusement while in Cape Town. Well, he could forget about her; she was no one’s distraction!

* * *

By the time Tumi arrived back at her flat, she was seething.

Mandi had a damn nerve to think he could waltz back into her life and act as if nothing had ever happened between them.

As she took off her heels and plonked down on the bed, she couldn’t help but remember the day when everything had turned sour between them. The day Mandi had ruined everything.

They had been dating for a year. Since the af­ternoon when he’d kissed her out of the blue, they had simply fallen into a relationship. One that Tumi never would have imagined herself having.

Though Mandi continued being closed off most of the time, though he remained reluctant to share anything about his past, he became the best and sweetest part of her life.

He began picking her up from res in the mornings. They would walk together, she babbling on about every­thing and nothing, and he seemingly enthralled by anything she had to say. He’d made her feel like the most important thing in his life. He’d been attentive and thoughtful, finding ways to make her day easier or just leaving her little notes written with his own brand of straightforward sweetness.

The other students wondered about the strange pairing. The bookworm who was always laughing and sharing a joke with everyone else, and the solitary intellectual who was sexier than any man deserved to be. But it worked for them.

During that time, Tumi had been the happiest she’d ever been in her life. She remembered how they would sneak off to a deserted part of the campus where they would sit talking and teasing each other. In the end they’d done everything but make love, something which was only due to her fear of being caught and expelled for public indecency.

Mandi was one of the most free-spirited people she’d ever met. He did what he wanted whenever he wanted to do it. He spoke to people who interested him and saw no point in conversing with anyone else. He studied hard but let go in the most surprising ways when they went out. It seemed he couldn’t get enough of her.

But it had all been a lie.

A year to the day after they’d made their relationship official, Tumi took Mandi to meet her mother in Kha­yelitsha. Margareta seemed to be thrilled to find that her daughter had met a good, intelligent boy who was dedicated to his studies and treated her with respect.

It had always been difficult to pinpoint Mandi’s origins. He wasn’t straightforward Xhosa or Zulu or any other culture. But he was distinctly township, streetwise and smooth. Tumi had worried about this, thinking her mother wouldn’t accept him as her boyfriend.

Margareta made no secret of the fact that she didn’t think the local boys were good enough for her smart and well-behaved daughter. But everything had gone smoothly that afternoon. They had eaten delicious Sun­day food with all the trimmings. Her mother had even engaged Mandi in conversation and assured Tumi before they left that she was happy with the way her life was going. She had kissed her daughter and told her she loved her, after which she proceeded to tell Mandi that he was a smart boy and that she was glad she’d finally got to meet him.

Since that meeting, Tumi had been sure her relationship with Mandi was secure. So she was caught completely off guard when, after a week of acting distant, he suddenly declared he was no longer happy and wished to break off with her and concentrate on his studies. He even suggested that she do the same!

She had begged him over and over again, through phone calls, e-mails, SMSs and even in person, to change his mind. But he told her he’d moved on. That her “in-love act” was getting wearisome and that she was making a fool of herself.

Tumi couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so devastated. She’d cried for weeks. She’d spent hours reading motivational books, and many nights talking on Tatum’s couch, and even more nights out partying with Tholaphi. But none of this had helped. She had never really recovered from that heartbreak. For the first time in her life she’d trusted someone. She’d opened up her heart, her very soul, and he had taken her innocence. And between that time and now, she couldn’t remember a night when she hadn’t thought of Mandi with equal measures of bitter anger and shameful longing.