I wasn’t really buying his story. Blaming it on alcohol seemed an easy way out.
“You’ve lived out here a long time?”
“Over twenty years. We started out in the city, in Johannesburg.” Janiceberg he pronounced it. “I held down an office job, if you can believe it. Journalist, newspaper writer. We had an apartment.” Another slug of gin, and Chris reached around to hold his side for a few seconds, as if he had a sore back or a pulled muscle. “A conventional arrangement suited her. But the truth is, I don’t know how to live an ordinary life. Excitement, adventure—I needed those things in my life. I’ve always been blessed or cursed, depending on your perspective, with restlessness. ‘Christian, you are a seeker!’ my father always said.”
“Christian, not Christopher?”
“Right, my father was quit
