The Good Life - Bikozulu
7 months ago, 29 Nov 09:43
“He’s rich and old,” I tell my friend Gina. “You mean rich but old?” She asks from the carpet where she’s seated between my knees. I’m helping her undo her braids. She’s in this team natural group where they occasionally meet in a garden to drink rosé and talk about children and men, which they say is the same thing; talking about men and children. I was in that group but I left – keeping natural hair was putting too much pressure on my life. Now I’m rocking a wig as I decide what I’m going to do with my hair next. “No, I mean rich and old,” I tell her. “There is no but. He’s 58 but he does boxing every week and likes climbing mountains and kayaking and such like things.” Gina is flipping through Netflix with a remote that looks like something from a gynae’s tray. “He’s super-smart,” I press on. Her hair smells of coconut leaves. “ The other day we were talking about if I’d get it on with another girl, then we started talking about his own sexual orientation and he said he’s a “humoursexual,” and I asked ‘What the hell is that?’ and he said he only sleeps with people he can laugh with…”. “Is he married? He must be married,” Gina says. “No, he says he isn’t.” “How do you know? Is he a monk?” Gina’s 4-year old son walks in from the kitchen. She’s a single mother. He wants to eat a cupcake. His mother tells him there are no cupcakes but she will bake some soon. Gina sometimes bakes cupcakes when she’s bored. They are mostly nutty cupcakes. Her son disappears to go back to play. “He said he’s divorced.” “Why is he divorced at 58? Is he divorced from wife number one or wife number three? When did he get divorced?” she asks. “Well, we haven’t gotten there yet.” “Faridah, come on, babe…” We met at a polo tournament where I was a KYM for the PR company I work for. I saw his back before I saw him; he had on white brogues and he was standing by a banner for malt beer trying to light a cigarette with his back turned to the afternoon breeze. Who wears white brogues? A cocky man no doubt. His back stretched the blue polo shirt he was wearing. I caught myself thinking, “Now that’s a back on a man.” He stood there sucking on his cigarette with his eyes in a squint. I didn’t see him again until the evening event when I spotted him leaning at the mobile bar with a leggy woman, picking on groundnuts. He looked like he was flirting with her. The next time I saw him was at 10pm when I was trying to reverse my car after the guests had left and my boss had given me shit for something I didn’t do. I was exhausted, so I reversed the car into a small ditch, ...
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