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Floor
-And certainly, God is not the DJ-
By Skeelo Khumalo
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wasn’t sure what day it was any longer, nor did I care. Why should I?
I Every day was the same as the next. They all ran together like a
never-ending throbbing headache, but no amount of aspirin would
relieve the constant pain.
There was a time when I led a full, rich life. I mattered, at least to some
people. I loved and was loved in return, I had a family, lots of friends, a
home and all the typical luxuries to enjoy, including the usual
responsibilities and obligations that seem to go hand in hand with all
these blessings. But sadly, my good fortune is long gone now.
-1-
I could hear the old lady, who I decided to call my grandmother, bustling
around the kitchen, banging pots and clattering cutlery. I wondered what
she was making. She was an amazing cook. It was too bad I could not
eat much these days.
Outside I could see people walking their dogs. There were couples
wrestling on the grass carpet, children playing. I wished I could be out
there, walking, feeling strong and healthy. At times it was too much for
me to try to accept the fact that this was I had become.
My guardian angel came into the room. She was tiny; like a doll, with a
shock of white hair and a wrinkled face.
But apart from her outer appearance, I knew that her heart wasn’t
wrinkled but soft and kind, and that it had the ability to heal the wounds
to mine. Sometimes just being around her made me feel as though I was
going to be all right.
-2-
She pressed her lips together. That's the only reaction I saw before she
put her arms around me and gently hugged me against her.
We didn't say anything for a moment, then she leaned over and kissed
my forehead.
"My daughter is coming with her husband and their twin sons today,"
she added.
I nodded. "Gogo?"
"Are they going to be okay with the fact that I am staying with you?" I
could feel my heart beating a little faster.
I could feel myself relaxing. I was not sure if it was the intravenous
painkillers that were being fed into my bloodstream, or maybe it was
because I was going to meet my grandma’s family. It was still very hard
for me to admit that my life depended on a stranger, but nevertheless it
was a fact that could not be denied.
I blinked and stared outside, watching people walk by. I used to do that
a lot when I was healthy. Billy and I used to walk around the
neighborhood, picking up sticks or counting the cars driving past. We
would sometimes take a ball to the park and play, or just run around and
chase each other. He was a fun kid.
-3-
"Are you all right, my son? They’re here. I don’t know if you want to see
them?" she asked, leaning down to look me in the eyes.
Julia Chula, grandma’s daughter, and her husband Dave were sitting at
the kitchen table, Julia sipping water while Dave busily flipped through a
newspaper. He looked fit and healthy; even though he
was in his forties his hair was still black, without any hint of grey - unlike
me. I knew that I had aged.
Julia was beautiful, almost regal, not at all like the picture I had of her in
my mind. She reminded me of Angela, my adorable wife. The memory
was so painful that tears came into my eyes, and a pang of grief tore
through my body.
“How are you doing, my man. I hope you’re getting better every day.”
Not sure of what else to say he got up to shake my limp hand, then
returned to his chair.
Julia’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came. She finally forced
a smile.
-4-
She came over and gave me a kiss on the forehead, then leaned back
to look at me. I wondered what she saw. Probably a man who looked
old, whose old self had died. My skin was pale and rough, my hair was
turning grey and thinning. Not the kind of guy you’d want to hug and
kiss.
"You look fine!" she remarked brightly, but I was aware of the falseness
in her voice.
I suddenly realised that Julia was not at all happy about the fact that I
was living with her mother. Maybe she already told her mother, which
was probably why the old lady had been crying. But Julia was good at
pretending: she was trying her best to act as though everything was fine,
but her face contradicted her actions. Perhaps she didn’t want her
husband to know how she really felt.
"I'm sorry, so sorry… but things will be fine very soon," she said brightly.
I tried to hug her but I felt so limp and weak, like a piece of cold
spaghetti. She gave me a hug then she went out and closed the door. I
could hear the couple’s children screaming in the other room, and Julia
raised voice, telling them to be quiet.
-5-
My wife and I had also been in the car, but Angela didn’t even make it as
far as the hospital. That was my fault.
We were on our way home after a party. I didn’t think then that I’d had
too much to drink. All I knew was that it was late, and I wanted to get
home. If I had known how everything would turn out, I would never have
broken the golden rule of not drinking and driving. But I hadn’t, and now
it was too late for regret. And too late to mourn the fact that my life was
also coming to an end.
My eyes were smarting with unshed tears, but I could not cry anymore.
The time I had left wasn’t going to be spent on tears. It was the only time
I had left to think about the next life, if there was any.
I was lost in thought when I heard Julia shouting at her mother, "I can't
believe you are taking care of him after what he did!"
Her mother murmured something; I couldn't hear her words, but I heard
Julia’s loud response. "I don't care, Mom. He's an alcoholic. He
murdered his family!"
So that was it. I wondered why Julia still hated me. Her hatred made me
hate myself even more. I listened for more angry words, wondering
where Dave was.
Grandma was saying something I couldn’t hear, but again I clearly heard
Julia’s angry reply.
-6-
I could hear my grandmother now. "He doesn't have much time left,
Julia. Why can't you try to have some pity or understanding for a
change?"
A few seconds passed without any answer from Julia. The old lady
came into my room and closed the door. “Are you okay?" she asked
softly.
I didn't expect an answer: I could see the expression in her eyes. She
left the room quietly and a few minutes later I heard the dinner
preparations. The noises seemed to be coming from far away; my ears
felt odd. I had no intention of joining them at the table - I wasn’t hungry
anyway. Instead, I watched what was going on outside. There weren’t
many people around now; it was close to suppertime. I remembered all
the meals Angela, Billy and I had shared. We'd eat at the coffee table,
just the three of us cuddled up on the couch. It was very casual, but we
loved it. How I missed that.
Grandmother came into my bedroom again and stood in front of me. "Do
you want to eat with us?"
I shook my head. I felt dizzy. Tired. "I think I'm going to sleep; could you
help me get into bed?"
After doing what had to be done, she tucked the blanket up under my
arms. Just moving from one spot to another in bed was exhausting.
-7-
The scene changed; it was my last night in the hospital. Doctor Simon
told me I was going to be discharged the following day because my
medical aid could not provide any more cover. He was holding a
newspaper, and asked me whether our home had been insured. I
wondered why he wanted to know.
After telling him that I wasn’t, he gave me the folded newspaper and left
me alone. I almost collapsed when I saw the photograph of the house
that had burned down. It was mine. Or should I say, it had been ours.
According to the article, the fire had been caused by a heater that had
not been switched off.
I had nothing left: my family, car, medical aid, house and furniture; they
had all vanished into thin air. What else did I have left? Only pain and
thoughts I couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard I tried. That was
when my life turned into a living hell, and I spent my time thinking
endlessly about the events that had led me there.
“My dear son, it’s our time to go now,” I heard her say.
-8-
“Don't be afraid. Your wife and your son are waiting for us.”
All my pain had gone. I could not believe that I was standing on my own.
I turned around and saw Billy and Angela standing at the door. I was so
shocked and trembled so much that I fell back onto the bed.
“I’m dreaming. No… this must be a dream. I know that you and Billy are
dead.”
I looked from her back to my son. They both seemed so… serene was
the only word I could think of.
“Go where?”
“I’m taking you to our new home, and you’ll be staying with us.”
She stopped in front of me, her brown eyes wide and clear. She
wrapped her arms around me. I felt warm and safe for the first time after
a long time.
“I'm so sorry Angela. I won’t drink alcohol again. Please forgive me for
everything.”
“You don't need to ask for forgiveness now. Just know you are loved,”
she said, turning back to the door.
I looked back at the window; I could no longer see the streets. The lights
were so bright that I was blinded. I suddenly realized that I was dying,
but at the same time I was scared.
-9-
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