Emotional Attachment
999 Words
After browsing a few chill spots, I found myself at a tavern called Thole’s Place. Each side of the venue had bright lights that turned the night into a summer day. Groovers roamed in the street between the moving cars. Others were coming in, others were going out. Meat savor accompanied the smoke that came from the braai stand. The smoke invited one to dance as if in front of a crowd under spotlights. I parked the car in front of the tavern behind a silver BMW 325i. Here they call it Gusheshe, ithemba lamarhumusha. These are the kinds of cars I don’t prefer using in my line of work. The engines are perfect, but they draw attention and subject one to suspicion. These are cars that gangsters use. While I admired the car, I almost hit a group of girls who were standing nearby. That became my icebreaker for them for me.
“I’m looking for Amanda.”
“Amanda, the dark-skinned one?”
“Amanda, yes. Where is she?”
“She is inside. Are you, her man?”
“I’m her secret admirer. I just want to buy her something. A rose, maybe some chocolates…”
“Chocolates, roses for Amanda?” she chuckled, “You must be crazy in love.”
At this point, everyone laughed in stitches but one of them left us seemingly to go look for her.
“What‘s wrong? Amanda is a great woman, mos.”
I knew the answer that would follow before they could utter it because they say: If you want to know a girl’s flaws, praise her in front of her friends. This proved to be true as every one of them told me how Amanda liked her booze. And how they were way better than her. They got too friendly, and before I pulled the socks to swallow me, a sparkle of glittering eyes greeted me with the refreshing voice of a songbird. My heart pumped to the rhythm of her light steps as she twirled her small waist towards me. Why couldn’t I make her mine?
“How are you, baby girl?” I asked, worried about her fate.
“I’m fine, Leremi. How are you?”
“You know me…”
“Of course, you are Gift “Leremi”, the striker of Young Killers.”
“Wow, you watch local football?”
“Yes, we go to the stadium every weekend with the girls.”
“They seemed not to recognize me.”
“They are acting. They know you. They are all your fans.”
“I’m not that good of a player ‘thou.”
“Girls don’t care about football, Gift.”
“Oh, okay… I hear you now.”
It’s not good for your target to know you by name. Let alone calling it in front of everyone, but again, I’m famous here. I played football in the area. I dreamed of turning pro, but the township is not a place for dreams. No support for good deeds, the gangsters are role models. We end up drinking alcohol and doing drugs. I took out 200 rands and gave it to the girls:
“Guys, can you please buy us some beers?”
They took the money and proceeded inside while we remained outside conversing. Minutes later, her friends came back with the beers. We chatted and drank outside. Amanda’s eyes were getting sleepy, and her voice was wobbly. I drew her small waist closer and hugged her to put a whisper in her ear.
"Let's chat in the car."
“Is this your car?”
“Yes, Amanda, this is Red Lily and Red Lily. That is Amanda,”
She chuckled and leaned towards me, with her head on my chest, and her buttocks against the car. I faced her, and the car was at her back.
"This is strange. You know I feel safe around you?" she said.
“Let’s get inside,” I said.
She went to the other door and held its handle, “Okay. Can you open for me?”
I leaned towards it on the inside, “Not a problem,” I opened. You can say anything to me, you know. I can keep your secret."
“What did you see? Why do you think I have a secret?” she asked.
The light of her beautiful smile suddenly faded away like the moon in a cloudy sky.
“Don’t worry about it if you don’t have anything to say,” I said.
A nip of gin lay on her seat. I let her take a sip. Her eyes lit up again like a true person of booze, umntu wotywala as locals would say. I invited her to take another sip and another, and another, until she talked like a SAFM:
"You know my stepfather forces himself on me..."
"Oh God!"
"My mother knows, but she acts as if she doesn't know. She always leaves me in the house with him and visits neighbors or goes to church," tears dropped from her eyes, "because her man feeds us."
"Wow, that's the saddest story I've ever heard, Ami."
“I don’t know what to do,” she said before breaking into tears.
“You can’t continue to live like that, Amanda. It’s wrong.” A hard lump squashed my heart.
“What do I do?” she said, wailing.
“Just run away if you can’t have them arrested because your mother is also part of this. How can a mother sell her child like that?” I hit the steering wheel in agitation.
When tears rolled down her eyes, I sobbed too. I hoped that whatever happened at The Point was better than her situation at home. I held her shoulder with my left hand and rubbed her back. She held tight to my arm, now calm, and ended up falling asleep on my shoulder. I took her to The Point.
- Writer
