Читать книгу Banking on Love - Sibusiswe Dhuwe - Страница 4

1

Quite simply, Lulu didn’t know what to think. In fact, she didn’t want to think at all. But it appeared she didn’t have a choice – Precious’s voice was floating up the stairs: “Open the door, makhi. My hands are full.”

Four years ago Lulu’s neighbour Cristobel, a youthful divorcée, had decided to open her house to two other women to share costs, and Lulu had recommended her best friend, Precious, a stage actress, as a tenant. It had all worked out, Precious had moved in and now they called to each other over the low wall or strolled into each other’s homes at will, happily referring to each other as “makhi” at every turn. The thrill of being neighbours had never yet worn off, but today Lulu found herself groaning as she heard Precious’s lilting call through her window.

Lulu grabbed a colourful kimono-style wrap that had been part of a limited edition, shuffled into her fluffy slippers and unlocked her door. Precious was gliding up the stairs, artfully balancing a box of what looked like pastries and a small cardboard carton holding two takeaway coffees. Her short, ruffled Afro shone in the bright morning light and her smooth golden-brown face oozed energy and good cheer.

From what Precious was wearing, it was obvious she had come over straight from her yoga class. Lulu left the door open, walked back into her room and threw herself face down on the bed.

“I brought breakfast in exchange for the lowdown on last night, makhi.” Precious breezed into the sunny integrated living area and set her offering down on the small dining table.

Lulu followed her movements in her head. It wasn’t a big place, so she didn’t need to see Precious to know every move she made. She knew the very second her friend popped her head around the door.

“Eh-eh? Makhi? What is this? Babelas?”

Lulu groaned into her duvet and grabbed her head with her hands as if to contain all the thoughts that were buzzing around in there.

“Worse than that, makhi. I don’t even want to think about it, much less say the words.”

“Yoh! What could possibly have happened that’s so catastrophic? I thought this ship was well on its way to a safe harbour.”

Lulu groaned again and turned herself over to peek at her friend through her fingers.

Precious sat down on the stool she had pulled from under the vanity table. “Okay, this is bad. I can see you slept with your make-up on. Uh-oh! I’m scared now.”

Lulu lobbed a cushion at Precious, making her laugh. “Oh, come on, tell me, I’m dying here. How did it go with Mr Moneybags Molefe?”

“It was fine, fine,” Lulu muttered. “You know how those dates go . . . We met up at Doppio Zero, had a lovely dinner, went to his club, had drinks, danced a bit, socialised with his friends, then he tried, as usual, to get me to go home with him, I reminded him of my rule, he tried to get me to break it and we did the usual persuasion-refusal routine. Eventually I got in my car, drove to see Dumi . . .”

“Oh no!” At this point it was Precious who covered her eyes and groaned.

“. . . aaaaaaaand . . .” Lulu tried to continue.

“I don’t think I’m going to like what’s coming next,” Precious interrupted. “I know it’s crazy, but the thought I just had is confusing me so much that I don’t feel well. I have to lie down, and the bed is just not going to do it.” Precious proceeded to stretch herself out carefully on the carpet at the foot of the bed. “And?” she prompted.

“Oooh, I can’t say it,” Lulu whispered huskily. “It still isn’t making sense to me.”

“What is it, makhi? You’re killing me here. Have mercy, spit it out.”

Lulu took a deep breath and shut her mind off from the words she was about to say. If she didn’t keep seeing the flashbacks, maybe the words wouldn’t keep making her feel like curling up into a ball of confusion and shame. “It was crazy, I don’t know how it happened . . .”

“Nkosi yami! I’m literally very nearly dead.”

“I-slept-with-Dumi.” Lulu’s words came out in a sudden rush.

“Oh! O-o-o-oh! Oh! . . . I don’t understand.”

There was utter silence. Only the birds outside remain­ed unaware of the bomb that had been dropped; they continued to sing into the flat through the open windows.

Finally, Precious spoke. “But makhi, he’s gay, angithi?”

“Huh?” Lulu couldn’t think straight.

Precious jackknifed into a sitting position. “Makhi, you said Dumi was your gbf?”

“What? Mina? Hhayi khona!” Lulu also sat up.

“But you told me,” her friend insisted. “You said, ‘Nothing is happening with Dumi. He’s my gbf.’ ”

“Eish, Precious, here you go again! I said, he’s like my gay best friend. Our friendship wasn’t going in the direction you thought it was and I’ve never heard him talk about dating any women and okay, I kinda thought maybe he just wasn’t ready to come out, but I also didn’t want to make assumptions.”

“Well, you did anyway. But how come? You spend so much time with him, I would’ve thought you’d know by now.”

Lulu sighed. “Maybe I’m too close to him and well, he’s not your typical guy . . . He’s so particular about his clothes, his food, his surroundings. He loves to shop with me, he does everything in a style that I don’t see a regular guy doing. I just . . .” Lulu slumped back onto her pillows. “I just assumed. Oh, kill me now.”

“Why?” countered her friend. “Because you made an assumption or because you slept with Dumi, the best-dressed, most stylish man I’ve ever seen?”

“Don’t remind me. I feel like crying right now, it’s so weird and upsetting.”

Precious gasped. “Was it bad? Was he hopeless?”

Lulu tossed onto her side and clutched her middle as if to give herself a comforting hug. “Oh my gosh, I can’t explain. It was amazing! I’ve never felt so alive, and yet I don’t even want to think about it. When it was over, neither of us said anything, then I just kind of picked up my clothes, got dressed and left.”

For the first time in years, Lulu saw her friend rendered speechless. Precious rolled to her feet and walked out of the room. She paused at the door and announced that she was going outside to do some deep breathing, she would be back and Lulu had better have her story straight with all details accounted for.

Lulu was too restless to keep her position, plus lying on the bed only made her prone to vivid flashbacks that made her cringe. She padded on bare feet to the small en suite and proceeded with the facial cleansing routine she had neglected when she had slunk into her flat in the wee hours.

* * *

“So, are you going to marry him?” Precious prodded.

“Pardon?”

“Your born-again-virgin vow after Thabo: you said the next man you sleep with is the man you’ll marry. That’s your rule, right?”

“Yes, that’s my rule.” Lulu had changed into a pair of leggings and a slouchy shirt after a lightning shower and emerged to find Precious, back from her deep breathing in the garden, sitting at the dining table and sipping on one of the coffees she’d brought in. Sighing, she settled herself across from her friend. “Precious, I haven’t even begun to process this. Can we talk about it later?”

“Hell to the no, sister! If I give you time, you’ll give me the sanitised version. I want to pick up on the nuances while the tracks are still fresh, so start talking. Here, have a sip of this cappuccino first. Wonderful illy, your favour­ite,” Precious coaxed. “Start from when you decided that Mr Moneybags wasn’t the man for you.”

“I never decided that. I had fun and all on the date, but you know how he is, kind of really into himself.”

“Look, that’s a given, men are generally all about themselves.” Precious rolled her eyes. “I thought we’d accepted that and moved on.”

“Do you want me to tell the story or do you want to talk about life in general?” Lulu asked.

Precious made a zipping motion across her lips and leaned forward with an enquiring expression, but before Lulu could speak, she put a finger up, made an unzipping motion, took a sip of her coffee, then zipped up again. Lulu couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so silly.”

Precious held her silence.

“Okay, so the date went fine and even though Mr Moneybags is into himself quite a lot, he’s also into me and I know he fits the criteria, but somehow he doesn’t move me.”

Precious opened her mouth, then thought better of it and closed it again.

“What? Nothing to say?” Lulu laughed. “omg! You’re so greedy for a story. Anyway . . .”

The phone rang.

“No! Don’t answer it!” Precious jumped up, waving her hands in the air.

“I have to, it’s Her Majesty,” Lulu groaned. “If I don’t answer it, she’ll just march in here and her mood isn’t going to be any the better for having been made to exert herself.”

Precious subsided glumly. She heard Nothando’s voice clearly as Lulu pressed the button for speakerphone.

“Button, I’ve made breakfast. Come and tell me all about your date last night.” The line clicked silent.

Lulu grimaced and dropped her head on the table in dismay.

“You don’t have to go,” Precious said. “She’s not your boss.”

“Ja, ja,” Lulu sighed.

“Eish!” Precious reprimanded her. “You really have to find a way to stand up to your sister. She’s only a couple of years older than you.”

Again Lulu sighed. “Hheyi, you’ve been my friend long enough to know how this goes. Who needs that kind of drama? By the time news of any mutiny gets around to mama, it’s another story altogether. Those two against one will never be fair, not in any universe.”

“Yoh!” Precious clapped her hands together and threw them apart in surrender. “Me, I’m scared of uSis’ Thando myself, to be honest, so I wish you luck and I shall depart forthwith, having been deprived of a fresh and juicy story.” With another melodramatic gesture Precious got up and marched away. She turned as she got to the open door of the kitchenette. “And don’t worry, makhi, I won’t tell The Coven . . . yet.”

“Jesus, save my soul!” Lulu cried out in her best Nigerian movie accent, hands on her head. “Don’t be so cruel.”

Precious cackled all the way down the stairs.