Читать книгу 150 Stories - Nataniël - Страница 47

It was a cold and windy night and I was back in town.

I was walking down the road, walking against the wind, bulging in my Levi’s, rippling in my sweat shirt.

I was on my way to the flat when I said to myself, Stop! Where are you going? The night is young, make it yours!

I turned at the corner. There was a party at Accommodation and Ladies’ Bar.

I could hear them, laughing, drinking, like the world was theirs.

I pushed the doors open. I walked up to the counter. I said, Howzit, man!

O fok, skree die barman, Dis papgesig!

I said, Hey buddy, no jokes. Gimme a Scotch.

On the rocks? he said.

I said, Cool.

It was time to make my move. I turned around. Two girls were sitting at a table. I walked up to them. I said, Yoh. Wanna feel my fan belt?

They looked at me. No thanks, they said, We’re gay.

Ek dink, OK, ek ook. Ander tafel.

Sit twee queens met kuiwe.

Hi, I said, I’m Stevie.

Hi, they said, We’re involved.

I turned around. I said to myself, Handsome, this is a test. Step outside, take a breath, come back and do what you have to.

Uit by die deur. Hier onder ’n straatlig staan die beeldskone meisie. Haar rok is so kort, lyk of sy twee keer smile.

Ek sê, Wat maak jy hier?

Skep lug, sê sy. Het al twee gehad.

Ek sê, Whiskeys?

Mans, man, sê sy, En dis nou eers nege-uur.

Ek sê, En waar’s die dokter?

Werk, sê sy, Dis mos al wat hy ken.

Ek sê, Nou wat maak jy met ander mans? Ek kon mos sien hoe kyk jy na hom.

Aan my sal hy nie vat nie, sê sy, Ek’s mooi gebore.

Sy gaan sit op ’n bankie teen die muur.

Maar vir jou’t hy darem goed bewerk, sê sy.

Ek sê, En nou’s ek hier en niks gebeur nie. En ek’s dan mooi.

As jy dit nie glo nie, glo niemand dit nie, sê sy, Jy was te lank verskrik. Die bang sit in jou oë. Mens ruik jou kop vir myle. Dis vol van daai watse goed.

Ek sê, Gedagtes.

Ja, sê sy, Dit maak jou desperate. Mense soek nie dit nie. Hulle’t lus vir pret en TV.

Ek gaan sit ook op die bankie.

Ek sê, En jy?

Hou my besig, sê sy, Kop is leeg.

Oop gaan die kroeg, uit kom ’n man. Hy wikkel sy sleutels.

O, smelt my ys, sê die meisie, Hy’t ’n Mazda.

En floep! val sy in sy arms.

Ek sê, Waar gaan jy nou?

Sy loer so oor sy arm.

Mooi met gevoelens, ore met blomkool, dis alles dieselfde, sê sy, Moet net nie dat die dokter hoor nie, hy sal uitfreak!

En daar sit ek langs die pad.

Ja, loop! skree ek, Loop soos al die ander! Ek bly net sit! En môre by die werk bly ek net sit en ek lek my seëls. En dan gaan sit ek by my flat! En dan kom sit ek teen die muur! Ek bly sit teen elke muur in die wêreld!

Iemand gaan my raaksien.

Epilogue

Last night the world witnessed something wonderful.

From different parts of the globe came reports of the sightings.

Some say it was a man, some say it was a woman. Many claimed they saw it in a dream.

It had an unusual face, said one woman, But it was beautiful, I keep seeing it.

It was as if I’ve known it all my life, said an elderly man, I know it will come again.

Several groups believe it to be a long-awaited sign of peace. They described it as an angel of many colours.

I knew he was real, said a young boy, I saw him. It was Superman.