8

The Cape of Good Hope

The beep of the monitor by his bed woke him up. It was a small white room
he was in, sterile, and its window opening out onto the city skyline. He had
not forgotten about his arm, which throbbed deeply. His right hand was
heavily bandaged; he jabbed the air where his thumb should have occupied.
On his left arm were needles stuck in from the drip which hung beside the
chair on which Tanya sat chewing her nails. The sun was wafting in bright
from the windows, sliding and falling onto the bed covers in narrow slits. The
light, bouncing off the white, was blinding.
There were in a private clinic in Melville. Tonde had no idea how had it
gotten here. In his memory were fragments of memories as his consciousness
returned to him – the skid of tires, a car veering, the face of Naidoo
nonchalant behind sunglasses, Mateo nursing his hand, a door swinging open,
crushing onto the ground. The cross, and the entwining pythons.
“We’ll need to file a police report,” the doctor saying, frowning down at him.
A nurse stabbing pricks into his skin, another closing up the blood vessels. He
remembered feeling faint, as if floating on stagnant stream, looking at the
doctor and the nurses from afar, from behind the striations of the bathroom
window at home, back home.
How he’d lifted himself from the tar and dragged his reluctant body to the
doors of the emergency room, to the red fluorescent cross, the banner of
salvation, he could not remember. Maybe they’d wheeled him in on a gurney.
How had Tanya got here? Was he the one who had called her out here?
The point was he’d been saved from bleeding out. They were treacherous cuts
these, when not done properly. One could die horribly, wasting away in a
puddle of his own thick crimson. The nurses had sewn him up, chocked him
full of drugs, and fluffed up the pillow. And maybe he’d decided to call
Tanya. At the time it would have seemed wise, necessary. Almost instinctual.
Now, as he spied on her while she alternated between twiddling with her
braids and biting her nails, he ran through all his decisions of the past two
days which had lacked afterthought.
She jumped when she became aware that his eyes were on her.
“Christ sake warn a girl.” She swatted his abdomen underneath the covers
with her jacket.
“You look like all those mothers from the movies.”
“I wasn’t here all night. I snuck out to meet my lover in the thick of night.”
“You’re so sweet.” He laughed, sticking out his tongue.
“Well, you look like you’re coming from a bad wedding. You’re surely
dressed for it.” She laughed briefly and became solemn again.
“Tonde.”
“Yeah?”
“What’s going on?”
He looked away. She grabbed his face and turned it towards her, and their
eyes met, transfixed.
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“How about you tell me where your thumb’s gone?” She leaned closer to him,
and her face was caught in the rays so that half seemed to be the overexposure
in a photograph, the shoddy work of an amateur cameraman.
“I heard they’re going a rack a piece on the Black Market.” He laughed. She
said nothing. She was looking out the window, at the clouds which gathered in
the sky, puffy like the membranes of upholstery.
“I’m worried,” she said, finally.
“I’m sorry Tanya. It’s just one of those. I’ll fix it.”
“You lost a finger, for crying out loud.” Her voice took on an unfamiliar
frailness.
He stood up in bed, struggling, before he remembered the confines of his
limitations.
“Look,” he began, placing the good arm on Tanya’s shoulder. Her head was
lowered, two fingers dug into the temples.
“I’ll come to your place tonight. And I’ll tell you everything. I need to figure
everything out myself, before I can tell you what it is everything is.”
She did not move.
“I promise Tanya.” He said.
She looked up. Tears had smudged her face; she looked like a distraught child.
Tonde leaned over and kissed her on the lips. She smelled of baby powder,
and dahlias (?) and rainy days.
“They asked me for your ID, you know? The time you were unconscious on
your death bed.” she whispered, because he was still near, stubble grazing her
cheek.
He drew back.
“Your name is Sipho and unfortunately we left all the wallets at home.” She
threw her head back and let out a soundless laugh, like abrupt outtakes of
breath, and he laughed in turn.
She then said, suddenly: “Be careful. Don’t die on me. Please.”
“I won’t. And if I do it’ll be from one of your sex experiments.”
“I take my liberties. I thought you were a liberal.”
“Not that far.” He said.
They grew quiet for a minute, looking into each other’s eyes and making
faces. Tanya looked at her watch.
“I have to go,” she said. “I have a presentation at ten and Danny will kill me if
I don’t show. I have all the cue-cards.”
“I also need to be somewhere.” Tonde replied.
“You’re hurt.”
“No more than anyone else is.”
“Tonde--”
“I’ll live. Let’s make a dash for it now before the nurse returns” He was
already out of bed.
The VW hit the road, Tanya behind the wheel, Tonde on the passenger seat. It
had served him long, this car. From the beginning, he could say, for it was the
one that had made him meet Tanya.
The VW went through Braamfontein. It was the early hours; all around
students wore trainers, and yoga pants, and tracksuits. Virgin Active was
already open, although the restaurants were shut. They passed through, across
the layover, into Vrederdop.
“There’s some medicine for you in the glove compartment” Tanya said.
Tonde opened the compartment and saw the poorly rolled up joint of
marijuana and the lighter. He cupped the flame and lit, then opened the
window. As he puffed he observed himself in the mirror. His hair was in need
of a wash. He took a couple more puffs then passed the joint. There he was, in
the car….
Dj Kent’s Sunrise from the radio as the Merc speeds down the ocean line. She
in the passenger seat, a chiffon over her braids. Thick sunglasses. White sand
sprawled alongside the seaside road. From there, the blue expanse… Godly,
the speaking of something supernatural. The Cape of Good Hope. Swimsuits
dotting the sands. The sun setting. Orange light marking the skyline.
“Chris never lets anyone else drive this. He must like you.” A warm hand on
his thigh.
“I like him too.”
In the large yard, the woolly dogs. The white woman and the white man
playing with them.
“Always good to have you out.” The white man smiles.
The orange rectangle on the summit of the Table Mountains. In the
background, a lone old white woman. She resting her head on his shoulder.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Makes one believe in God.” She stares out, motionless.
“I have you for that.”
They were at Tonde’s place.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” Tonde said.
“What exactly?” Tanya smiled.
“Capetown. How we met. A lot.”
“I don’t like it.” She frowned.
“You ever talk to Jimmy since then?” he asked, holding the car door open.
“No.” she frowned. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. He’s just gone missing. I’m worried.”
“Ok.”
He slammed the door shut and watched her drive off before he lugged himself
inside.
Regina had her curtains drawn and window ajar, spilling onto the walkway.
The durawall stuck too close to the house. Tonde had always been annoyed by
that.
“Two days, you haven’t slept here.” Regina said from inside. Her voice was
taut and strained; she was bent over, sweeping.
“Busy busy” he said.
“Only bad kinds of busy that take place at night.”
He ignored Regina and continued to his room. There he changed into fresh
clothes and picked up his wallet. Under the night stand was a drawer. Tonde
opened it, pushed aside the pile of receipts, broken zippers, pen clips to reveal
a small box made of wood. It was varnished, shining. From inside he took out
his gun, a stylish Smith and Wesson piece and tucked it into his trousers.
When he left his room, Regina was sweeping the yard. She struggled to
straighten up. Her eyes went for Tonde’s hand, the one heavily wrapped in a
once white bandage. She shook her head and her arms rose to rest on her
waist.
Tonde brushed past her and took to the street. In the road he hailed a taxi. The
kombi picked up again. It sped out of Brixton, sped through Fietas, lingered in
Braamfontein and stopped finally at MTN Rank. It was crawling with people
and vendors and rubbish as usual, and Tonde walked along the lines of kombis
for the one he wanted that headed for Soweto.