Читать книгу Into the Sun - Takalani M - Страница 6

GUNDO

The funeral went as planned. It was a beautiful send-off for my younger brother and my only son. People from the community showed up. My family too. My marriage to Diana had turned me away from my family and I only realised it this week. Diana loves money and she thinks the humble village where my parents stay is beneath her. While we were married, we hardly ever visited. But she was happy to send my son here to get out of her way. It pains me to think of it now.

My aunt was left speechless when Diana showed up on Friday evening and worked with the women from the community. I watched her for a little while as she took charge and directed the younger girls. She did her part and stayed up the whole night, leaving my family without anything bad to say about her. They all know that Diana stepped up and stood in for Khuthi’s mother, Mashudu, who we still cannot get hold of. Her three sisters were here though. Once they hear from her, they will inform Mashudu that I did my best to trace her.

For the past few months, Diana has been more like the woman I fell in love with. She reminded me why I had married her in the first place. We started sleeping together again a while ago. She is still as sexy as the days before she had our daughter. I’m still attracted to her physically, but the sex was just that – sex. We had agreed that it would just be some adult fun, no strings attached. But I wonder if this display of helpfulness at the funeral was not an attempt by Diana to get back together with me. It has made me realise that our sexual encounters will have to stop. I don’t want a relationship, much less a union, with her ever again.

Since Khuthi’s death I’ve been starting to feel anger towards Diana. Her cracked relationship with Khuthi is the reason he was often sent to stay in the village with my parents and my relationship with my son suffered as a result. Yes, I chose him over Diana. I chose my son and divorced Diana, but not before the damage had been done. Perhaps I am angry at myself for not divorcing her sooner. And now I’m angry at myself for getting involved with her again, even if it is only supposed to be harmless fun.

Diana wasn’t the only one working hard last night. Thandeka was here, working in the kitchen with a group of young women. I don’t really know her, but she has a soft spot in my heart for some reason.

Strange!

Maybe I am just touched by how she wept about her daughter the night we met. Also, her returning the money that I gave her, just because it was too much for her.

I huff out a low laugh.

Who does that?

She is obviously not from around here. Her skin, her hair and the way she dressed last night did not really scream village. She didn’t wear a black dress like the night I met her. She looked different last night, even acted differently. She was weirdly cold when our eyes met. I don’t understand why. Not that I care. But I have been thinking about her a lot. I wonder why? My heart is shut to love. She looks too vulnerable anyway – I would never take advantage of that. Also, I am leaving for Joburg in a few days.

I should just let it go.

‘Hey, Gundo …’ Diana greets from my bedroom door. I didn’t realise that I left it open. She is wearing a long pencil dress that hugs her figure perfectly. A black headwrap completes the look.

‘Hey,’ I say.

‘I am super exhausted.’ She sighs, throwing herself on the couch next to my bed.

‘You should rest before driving back to Joburg.’

‘No. I think I just need a massage.’ She raises her head and winks at me. I know she wants more than just a massage and I am not going to give it to her in my parents’ house. If anyone walks in on us or hears us, I would be interrogated about sleeping with my ex-wife without intentions of remarrying her.

I am never marrying her again. And that is why I have to put a stop to our casual sex.

‘You deserve one,’ I say, playing dumb. ‘You should book a spa day.’

She rolls her eyes at me.

‘I was thinking about hiring some of the people around here, you know? There were a lot of women here last night who want jobs in Johannesburg. They want to get out of the village. Some lady jokingly asked me for a job and others also cried for one … and it got me thinking … How about we don’t renew the contract for our cleaning company and hire a few of the ladies from around here? It could save us a lot of money.’

This is an awkward time to be talking about work. But she is good with money matters.

‘How are you going to get people from here to there? Won’t they be our burden?’

‘That shouldn’t be our problem. I will leave the message with your aunt to pass on to a few of the ladies I was working with last night. Whoever is interested will find her way to our offices. And remember, back in the office I already have more than four CVs of people who want cleaning jobs. I think we shouldn’t renew the contract.’

I wonder if she is giving the local ladies a chance because she wants to score points with my family. Is she really planning for us to remarry?

‘Fine, you can go ahead.’

I’m hoping she will leave now. I just need some time alone. As if she heard my plea, she stands up from the couch. But then she gives me a lustful smile and starts walking towards me.

‘Diana, please, no.’

I’ve just buried my son, for goodness’ sake.

‘A lot on your mind? I understand,’ she says while turning to the door. I watch as she walks away, hips swaying. She knows very well the sight of her behind is usually enough to turn me on.

She doesn’t leave; she shuts the door and turns back to me. ‘Let me make it better, Gundo. Let me make you forget.’ I stand up and walk towards her. She smiles, showing her pleasure at her power over me.

Her smile turns to a frown as I take her elbow and escort her out. ‘Diana, I want to be alone.’

* * *

The first week after the funeral was the worst for me. I received many condolence messages from my business associates. Every text message reminded me of how much I am going to miss my son. I am not looking forward to packing away his belongings. If it wasn’t for Ciara, I would stay here a little longer. My girl needs me.

Diana kept her word and explained Khuthi’s death to Ciara. She brought our daughter to the funeral so that she could get closure. It was terrible seeing my little girl cry her eyes out. But it was good that she was surrounded by family – Aunt Angie stepped in to comfort her. I hope that she will eventually be okay.

This is my third week in Venda. We had to do the ritual after the funeral. It wasn’t the first time that I’d attended such a ritual ceremony, but it is different when it is done for your own son and brother in your father’s yard. Uncle Sathiel organised the two black goats – one for Khuthi and the other for Ronnie – and my two cousins were picked by the traditional healer to throw the bones of each goat in the corner of the yard. Nothing fazed me. I grew up with the knowledge that if such rituals are not performed, the deceased will be restless and disturb the family’s peace. I want my boy’s soul to rest in peace.

My father requested that I help with shortlisting and placing managers to take over Ronnie’s duties. I have a PR empire to run in Johannesburg, I am not going to manage travelling back and forth to take care of the restaurants and lodges. And our father doesn’t seem to trust Rudzani with this task.

We found two guys who seem promising. I will oversee everything from Johannesburg if – only if – there is ever a need.

Thandeka never showed herself these past weeks. I didn’t see her again, after the funeral. Things were a bit hectic during the first week but I still didn’t see her during my second and third week, even when I took a walk around the village. She was nowhere to be found. I didn’t want to go so far as to visit her house. What would I say to her? Especially after the cold look she gave me at the funeral.

I am packing my bags in the car, with a heavy heart. This is crazy, but I am disappointed that I’ll probably never see her again.

‘Can I give away Khuthi’s toys?’ Aunt Angie asks. There is a box filled with his toys in the garage, including his favourite roller skates and skateboard. He must have skated in the yard as the roads here are of uneven gravel.

‘Yeah.’ He has the same items back at home. I bought him duplicates to avoid travelling with all these toys every time he visited his grandparents.

‘Everything is going to be fine,’ my aunt says sadly. How many times have I heard that in the past three weeks? Still, I don’t see myself getting better anytime soon.

‘Uhm, Aunt Angie … have you seen that girl that sells eggs recently?’ I ask before I can stop myself.

‘The last time I saw her was weeks ago. She delivered eggs that could last us a year. You should take a few trays before you leave. You wanted to purchase some from her, right?’

I definitely don’t want to buy eggs, but my aunt doesn’t need to know that. What am I going to do with dozens of eggs?

‘Oh, yeah, but I think I am running late. Let me get to Joburg before it gets dark. I am going back to the office tomorrow.’

* * *

Even something as simple as getting to the office early reminds me of my son’s death. I arrived an hour before my normal time. During the times Khuthi was living with me, I would drop him off first, then Ciara, before coming to the office. This wasn’t the case today. I only dropped Ciara at school, which is around the corner from our office park.

Staying at home was messing with my head – I had to return to work and get my life back to normal. I have to keep my mind occupied. Hopefully there will be no further triggers.

I switch my laptop on and set it on my table. There is a stash of old newspapers in my in-tray that I start paging through for interesting headlines I might have missed while I was away. When I hear my personal assistant, Betty, settling on her chair just outside my office, I pick up my phone and ring her. ‘Morning! Can you please get me coffee?’

‘You are in early, sir. I didn’t place your breakfast order with the cafeteria.’

‘No. Get me coffee from the kitchen. I am skipping breakfast today.’ I have no appetite.

‘Sure thing. I’ll get someone to bring it to your office right away.’

Email alerts go off when I connect my laptop to the wi-fi. Endless pings fill the room. Phew! It is going to be a long day. I scroll down, searching for urgent matters to be attended to. Most emails are not meant for me to action. I am just copied in emails going back and forth between teams.

What a relief that there is nothing urgent that I need to do today. I still need to gain back my strength. I still need to get my head around things.

‘Betty, where is my coffee?’ I ask my PA over the phone.

It shouldn’t take anyone thirty minutes to bring coffee to my office. That is just unacceptable.

‘We have new –’

Someone knocks before the door opens slowly. A lady in black jeans and a black T-shirt blankly nods at me without actually looking at me. She mumbles a greeting as she hurriedly pushes the tray to where the coffee table is. She knows that she kept the boss waiting; that is why she is doing her job with such urgency.

I can’t believe my eyes, because this lady is the beautiful woman I met in Venda.

I hang up.

‘Thandeka?’ I huff out her name with a chuckle and she twirls around to meet me. Her eyes widen.

‘Oh!’ she exclaims. The sugar jar drops from her hand, landing on my black fluffy rug.

‘Oh no …’ she says and covers her mouth with both her hands.