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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Mystery
- Subject: Life Experience
- Published: 03/23/2019
STAY AWAKE
I stepped away from the sink for a minute and rushed to neaten table 5 before the next customer could come through. The table was not at all messy. The Couple had the courtesy of binning the disposables and tidily leaving the plates and silverware on one end of the table. With a gentle force, I attempted a reach to one of the glasses on the table. It had a seductive touch of lipstick on its rims; an interesting message the little smear of red told. And I couldn’t help but smile at the fatuous thought while biting my bottom lip.
Rumour had it that more men would suggest the restaurant to their ladies for either a day or night dates. When I fished for more information from my antisocial co-worker Njabulo, he just smirked and walked off with his quiet whistle. Something was going on. And mother always warned me never to involve myself in any workplace matters because they have a tendency of leaving the innocent guilty.
I startled at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. My head was still down because I’d felt that touch before and I recognized it. My feet began to sweat in my black converse boots when a warm breath touched the walls of my ears and derived the words, “Meet me in the kitchen”. By the time I’d raised my head, no one was there but the smell of mint bubble gum in my nostrils.
I carried the tray and began to walk to the kitchen while studying the sage swinging door I was approaching and thinking to myself that if it were a human being, how close to death will it be. And then I’ll gaze mindfully as I passed through it and would be grateful on its behalf that it isn’t human. My absent mind returned at the detection of feet storming out as I walked in. It seemed to me that I was in for a long privy mouthing.
I’d clung onto the tray as though it were my source of balance, my nerves had gotten a hold of me. She turned to me and said, “Oh my, that was quick”.
I think she’d expected I’d drag to attend to her summoning, but I couldn’t get myself into any more trouble than I thought I was already in.
“Yes Ma’am”. I answered coyly.
She leaned backwards to find balance from the cardboard and told me to put down the tray. She must have known how intimidated I was of her, and she’d use that to her advantage.
“When I hired you”. The first sentence of the mouthing I’d speculated begun. “you’d given the impression of an extreme hard worker, but for the past few weeks you’ve been in meetings with me more than any of my staff members”. She said, brushing the top of the cardboard with the tips of her fingers. She’d put on an interrogation officer act knowing what that will achieve for her, and yet again I’ll find myself begging for my job. It made her feel like some sort of a saviour when she told me that she’ll give me another chance. But she wouldn’t have to if she didn’t focus so much on finding every fault in me.
“I guess same time, at your place?” I asked under my breath.
“Yes Hloni”, she confirmed, moving her skinny wrinkled index finger on her left eye brow. It irked me to think of that apartment, even more disgusted at the fact that I’d felt powerless. I’d lost my power to a woman who’s basically a stranger to me. I couldn’t say no to her like I could to mother when she said something I didn’t agree with. I’d turn into a complete zombie before her.
“I’ll be having my girlfriends over” she informed me.
“Again?” My expression changed.
“Don’t you worry honey…”. She mocked me. “Mama’s always got that flat ass” she spanked me, then looked at me like a master of perverts. “And please…” she continued. “My name is Josephine, not Ma’am. But it is aunty Jojo for you” her voice lowered. She’d let me go after having said this, And I’d caught Njabulo staring at the door I’d emerged from like a sniper awaiting their next target.
I walked up to him. He attempted to walk away from me. I then hastened and grabbed him by the neck of his T-shirt and swung him to face me. “I know you’re hiding something from me man”. The veins of my hand began to bulge. “Do you know something? Something that you shouldn’t know, or maybe something that I should know. Which one is it Man?!”
He looked a bit shaken by my behaviour. Probably because he’d never perceived me an aggressive type. But I wasn’t aggressive at all, I just needed clarity. He kept his eyes to the ground, never at all looked at me, like he was afraid or ashamed. I let go of his clothing and stepped back. Luckily, it was only the couple at table 5 that witnessed the little clash, but I was more concerned about Njabulo and what he’s hiding from me than anything else.
He gave a smirk again but uttered some words this time. He’d said, “Once, a man was as alone as a leper” and then carried on with whatever work he was doing. These words were to my mind as a tic is to a warm. As I stood there dwelling on those words, I heard, “You still haven’t gotten used to him, have you?” some blabber of a co-worker said, passing by with her tray. I’d heard them skinder about Njabulo several times, but I’d rather not involve myself in any workplace matters. I guess mother’s words weren’t in vain after all.
“No man, not another one!” Miss Josephine shouted from the Kitchen. Someone had been careless with her cutlery, that’s one thing for sure. She’d never scream like that unless a glass or plate breaks. And from my knowledge I didn’t think she was the woman for this kind of business, as she failed to understand that such occurrences were normal with this line of work. Some things just do not require one to go to school for; simple common sense is enough.
I looked at my wrist watch, 6 O’clock was dragging. And I struggled to get anymore work done as that night’s date was all I was thinking of. So what thought do I distract myself with this time, I asked myself. And my active imagination led me back to the lipstick-printed glass from earlier. I’d promised myself that I’d never think about her, because she was better off without me. But she spoke to me in a language only she and I understood. I could have misread her, but many women walked in wearing lipstick and drank off a glass. I’d seen how messy they’ll leave it, but she came in there and drank off a glass too and left a neat single print on it. A print I’d known its meaning.
When I saw her walking in with another man, my heart sank. Pretty normal, isn’t it? Especially when you’re still very much in love with someone. Even so, I had to gather myself and serve the 2017 Spier Chanin Blanc wine to my lady and her man. Yes, she was still my lady even though we weren’t together anymore. And I know she picked that wine, because she was a wine lover. Not a heavy drinker, just that she’d prefer wine over any strong drink. And that guy didn’t give an impression that he’d make such a pick. Not judging, just that only a quarter of men would pick wine over a beer. And if he is in that quarter, then my chances of getting my woman back were as big as a mustard seed.
But it felt good to know that she was still missing me and had the courage to let me know. When it came the time for us to depart, she’d kiss the collar of my shirt or one of my cheeks and then tell me she already missed me. For as long as the mark remained, I’d be reminded of how much she misses me. That’s how I knew the message from the glass with a smear of red.
The time was nearing, and I had to call mother to let her know that I’ll probably be home at midnight if not the next day. She was absolutely understanding; what mother wouldn’t be of their child’s education. My staying out most nights were for reasons of studying with varsity friends, I’d tell mother, and hoped she’d never know that I had been lying. Better that, than finding out about the disgrace I was doing.
I’d felt tainted from the touching of their hands. Matured women all over me, with lipsticks wrongfully applied. Why can’t they just leave youthful things to youngsters, clearly their time had run out. And not even the amount of money they possessed could improve them. They disgusted me because they used my desperation to fulfill their obnoxious egocentric immoral desires. I would walk into that apartment, sit down and begin to think of strategies to apply to the pleasure I’d be giving them - women old enough to be my grandmothers. Instead of thinking about how I can mend things with my lady and make passionate love to her.
It is no made up story what measures many youths take to make a mere living and somewhat better their survival. Even the word of the Lord warns us of the briers of this world. And it is sad because they come in all sorts- unexpected sorts. Each one would let me know how they’d want me to please them. Sometimes they’ll all agree on the same thing, and that’ll save me time and energy, at least. Then the woman with the wrinkled finger would call me to the kitchen the next day to due to me my payment. She’d chose the Kitchen for our meetings as it seemed less suspicious, but I bet the sage swinging door heard and saw everything.
I’d saved my job_ again. I’d lay with my manager Josephine, and when I became too much for her, she recruited. But now I’d had enough. I’d lost my girlfriend because Josephine “mistakenly” sent pictures of us together to my phone which were intended for her unfeeling friends, and my lady bore witness to them. She’d told me that if I would be with another woman whilst I was still with her, she’ll leave and never come back, no matter the circumstances or reasons. And I’d fought for her, and still she wasn’t coming back.
I looked at the small brown envelope before me, her hands still held it. “This is for being a good boy,” Josephine said. I’d felt disrespected and unclothed of my humanity. I was naked even with clothes on my body. I’d felt like a murderer whose victims were haunting him.
“No”. I shook my head. “You’ve destroyed my mind. I can’t let you have my soul too.”
The brown envelope still stretched out, she looked at me and giggled.
“You’re too serious for a young man” she ridiculed me. “What could I possibly want from your soul?"
I’d be behind bars if I’d shifted an inch towards her in that moment. And so, I saved myself the trouble and silently turned around and walked away. On my way out, I bumped into my blabber colleague, or 2 minutes former blabber colleague, and as I had known her to be, she’d smiled and fished for information from me. I’d admired her persistence, but I wouldn’t dare give her something she and her blabber mates would enjoy over tea.
“Where’s Njabulo?” I asked, shifting away from the gossip she’d wanted from me.
“Oh, he’s probably gone for his check-up”. She replied disappointedly.
“A check-up?” I’d became surprised. “Is he sick?”
“Yes” she responded. “He is sick in the head”
I cracked, but noticed she wasn’t laughing. Infact, she seemed displeased with my response.
“Are you serious?” I composed myself.
“Yes, Njabulo has autism spectrum disorder” her tone sympathized with him.
“That explains why he couldn’t look me in the eyes nor defend himself when I went onto him the other day”. I’d felt some sort of regret.
Before I could give away more than I already had to the blabber before me, I said my goodbyes and left the place. The only thing that was on my mind as soon as I walked out of that restaurant was my dearest mother- The Wisest woman I’d ever come to know. I couldn’t go home empty handed, especially after not sleeping at home. And so, I had to bribe her with something, just so she doesn’t ask too much questions about my “Study session”. Not only was she wised up, but full of knowledge too.
I finally walked home, holding in my hands a plate of dumpling and tribe I’d bought from the corner house that sold African food in my area. A crowd of people were standing outside my yard, and two police vans were parked opposite it- across the street. I hastened my pace. Arriving, I’d been welcomed by the news of my mother’s passing. When the police officer shared with me the description he was given by an eyewitness of the criminal, he’d described Njabulo. I refused to believe it could be him who’s slain my mother, because he had no reason to.
I sat there, tears pouring out of my eyes. The same police officer handed me a small brown envelope. This one I didn’t refuse to take. I opened it and took out a letter, and it read; “BE CAREFUL OF A SMALL BROWN ENVELOPE, FOR MANY ARE MEN WHO HAVE BECOME AS ALONE AS A LEPER BECAUSE OF IT. YOU TOOK MY WIFE FROM ME LIKE ALL THOSE MEN YOU’D SEE COMING TO THE RESTAURANT AND WOULD NEVER BE SEEN AGAIN. YOU’D BECAME FORTUNATE, BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER BOUGHT YOUR DEATH. TOO BAD YOUR LADY COULDN’T WITH HER LOVER. SO, I GUESS YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME, THAT EVEN THOUGH I HATH TAKETH, I HATH GIVETH TOO”.
Right at the bottom it concluded, “The sage swinging door never keeps a secret. XoXo”
I had to accept that my shame had caught up with me. And after mother’s funeral. I went to the police station to drop the case. Njabulo wasn’t a murderer, Josephine was. She victimised him the same way she did with me, but he couldn’t get out. He didn’t seem to believe that he could. I’d suggested better medical attention for him, because I know people of his condition aren’t harmful. The feeling of great loss coerced him to turn out into an animal.
And as for Josephine, it was like mother had foreseen all this when she told me to never involve myself in any workplace matters because they tend to make the innocent guilty. She was right, the innocent Njabulo is now stained with her blood on his hands. I’ve lost a part of me that I’ll never get back, While the real murderer and thief roams the streets. I hope I can be able to forgive her one day when she comes to finally ask for forgiveness, because I know she will. as the saying goes, “No evil goes unpunished.”. but until then, I will be making the best of my reunion with my lady.
Stay Awake(KELEBOGILE JULLET SERATHI)
STAY AWAKE
I stepped away from the sink for a minute and rushed to neaten table 5 before the next customer could come through. The table was not at all messy. The Couple had the courtesy of binning the disposables and tidily leaving the plates and silverware on one end of the table. With a gentle force, I attempted a reach to one of the glasses on the table. It had a seductive touch of lipstick on its rims; an interesting message the little smear of red told. And I couldn’t help but smile at the fatuous thought while biting my bottom lip.
Rumour had it that more men would suggest the restaurant to their ladies for either a day or night dates. When I fished for more information from my antisocial co-worker Njabulo, he just smirked and walked off with his quiet whistle. Something was going on. And mother always warned me never to involve myself in any workplace matters because they have a tendency of leaving the innocent guilty.
I startled at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. My head was still down because I’d felt that touch before and I recognized it. My feet began to sweat in my black converse boots when a warm breath touched the walls of my ears and derived the words, “Meet me in the kitchen”. By the time I’d raised my head, no one was there but the smell of mint bubble gum in my nostrils.
I carried the tray and began to walk to the kitchen while studying the sage swinging door I was approaching and thinking to myself that if it were a human being, how close to death will it be. And then I’ll gaze mindfully as I passed through it and would be grateful on its behalf that it isn’t human. My absent mind returned at the detection of feet storming out as I walked in. It seemed to me that I was in for a long privy mouthing.
I’d clung onto the tray as though it were my source of balance, my nerves had gotten a hold of me. She turned to me and said, “Oh my, that was quick”.
I think she’d expected I’d drag to attend to her summoning, but I couldn’t get myself into any more trouble than I thought I was already in.
“Yes Ma’am”. I answered coyly.
She leaned backwards to find balance from the cardboard and told me to put down the tray. She must have known how intimidated I was of her, and she’d use that to her advantage.
“When I hired you”. The first sentence of the mouthing I’d speculated begun. “you’d given the impression of an extreme hard worker, but for the past few weeks you’ve been in meetings with me more than any of my staff members”. She said, brushing the top of the cardboard with the tips of her fingers. She’d put on an interrogation officer act knowing what that will achieve for her, and yet again I’ll find myself begging for my job. It made her feel like some sort of a saviour when she told me that she’ll give me another chance. But she wouldn’t have to if she didn’t focus so much on finding every fault in me.
“I guess same time, at your place?” I asked under my breath.
“Yes Hloni”, she confirmed, moving her skinny wrinkled index finger on her left eye brow. It irked me to think of that apartment, even more disgusted at the fact that I’d felt powerless. I’d lost my power to a woman who’s basically a stranger to me. I couldn’t say no to her like I could to mother when she said something I didn’t agree with. I’d turn into a complete zombie before her.
“I’ll be having my girlfriends over” she informed me.
“Again?” My expression changed.
“Don’t you worry honey…”. She mocked me. “Mama’s always got that flat ass” she spanked me, then looked at me like a master of perverts. “And please…” she continued. “My name is Josephine, not Ma’am. But it is aunty Jojo for you” her voice lowered. She’d let me go after having said this, And I’d caught Njabulo staring at the door I’d emerged from like a sniper awaiting their next target.
I walked up to him. He attempted to walk away from me. I then hastened and grabbed him by the neck of his T-shirt and swung him to face me. “I know you’re hiding something from me man”. The veins of my hand began to bulge. “Do you know something? Something that you shouldn’t know, or maybe something that I should know. Which one is it Man?!”
He looked a bit shaken by my behaviour. Probably because he’d never perceived me an aggressive type. But I wasn’t aggressive at all, I just needed clarity. He kept his eyes to the ground, never at all looked at me, like he was afraid or ashamed. I let go of his clothing and stepped back. Luckily, it was only the couple at table 5 that witnessed the little clash, but I was more concerned about Njabulo and what he’s hiding from me than anything else.
He gave a smirk again but uttered some words this time. He’d said, “Once, a man was as alone as a leper” and then carried on with whatever work he was doing. These words were to my mind as a tic is to a warm. As I stood there dwelling on those words, I heard, “You still haven’t gotten used to him, have you?” some blabber of a co-worker said, passing by with her tray. I’d heard them skinder about Njabulo several times, but I’d rather not involve myself in any workplace matters. I guess mother’s words weren’t in vain after all.
“No man, not another one!” Miss Josephine shouted from the Kitchen. Someone had been careless with her cutlery, that’s one thing for sure. She’d never scream like that unless a glass or plate breaks. And from my knowledge I didn’t think she was the woman for this kind of business, as she failed to understand that such occurrences were normal with this line of work. Some things just do not require one to go to school for; simple common sense is enough.
I looked at my wrist watch, 6 O’clock was dragging. And I struggled to get anymore work done as that night’s date was all I was thinking of. So what thought do I distract myself with this time, I asked myself. And my active imagination led me back to the lipstick-printed glass from earlier. I’d promised myself that I’d never think about her, because she was better off without me. But she spoke to me in a language only she and I understood. I could have misread her, but many women walked in wearing lipstick and drank off a glass. I’d seen how messy they’ll leave it, but she came in there and drank off a glass too and left a neat single print on it. A print I’d known its meaning.
When I saw her walking in with another man, my heart sank. Pretty normal, isn’t it? Especially when you’re still very much in love with someone. Even so, I had to gather myself and serve the 2017 Spier Chanin Blanc wine to my lady and her man. Yes, she was still my lady even though we weren’t together anymore. And I know she picked that wine, because she was a wine lover. Not a heavy drinker, just that she’d prefer wine over any strong drink. And that guy didn’t give an impression that he’d make such a pick. Not judging, just that only a quarter of men would pick wine over a beer. And if he is in that quarter, then my chances of getting my woman back were as big as a mustard seed.
But it felt good to know that she was still missing me and had the courage to let me know. When it came the time for us to depart, she’d kiss the collar of my shirt or one of my cheeks and then tell me she already missed me. For as long as the mark remained, I’d be reminded of how much she misses me. That’s how I knew the message from the glass with a smear of red.
The time was nearing, and I had to call mother to let her know that I’ll probably be home at midnight if not the next day. She was absolutely understanding; what mother wouldn’t be of their child’s education. My staying out most nights were for reasons of studying with varsity friends, I’d tell mother, and hoped she’d never know that I had been lying. Better that, than finding out about the disgrace I was doing.
I’d felt tainted from the touching of their hands. Matured women all over me, with lipsticks wrongfully applied. Why can’t they just leave youthful things to youngsters, clearly their time had run out. And not even the amount of money they possessed could improve them. They disgusted me because they used my desperation to fulfill their obnoxious egocentric immoral desires. I would walk into that apartment, sit down and begin to think of strategies to apply to the pleasure I’d be giving them - women old enough to be my grandmothers. Instead of thinking about how I can mend things with my lady and make passionate love to her.
It is no made up story what measures many youths take to make a mere living and somewhat better their survival. Even the word of the Lord warns us of the briers of this world. And it is sad because they come in all sorts- unexpected sorts. Each one would let me know how they’d want me to please them. Sometimes they’ll all agree on the same thing, and that’ll save me time and energy, at least. Then the woman with the wrinkled finger would call me to the kitchen the next day to due to me my payment. She’d chose the Kitchen for our meetings as it seemed less suspicious, but I bet the sage swinging door heard and saw everything.
I’d saved my job_ again. I’d lay with my manager Josephine, and when I became too much for her, she recruited. But now I’d had enough. I’d lost my girlfriend because Josephine “mistakenly” sent pictures of us together to my phone which were intended for her unfeeling friends, and my lady bore witness to them. She’d told me that if I would be with another woman whilst I was still with her, she’ll leave and never come back, no matter the circumstances or reasons. And I’d fought for her, and still she wasn’t coming back.
I looked at the small brown envelope before me, her hands still held it. “This is for being a good boy,” Josephine said. I’d felt disrespected and unclothed of my humanity. I was naked even with clothes on my body. I’d felt like a murderer whose victims were haunting him.
“No”. I shook my head. “You’ve destroyed my mind. I can’t let you have my soul too.”
The brown envelope still stretched out, she looked at me and giggled.
“You’re too serious for a young man” she ridiculed me. “What could I possibly want from your soul?"
I’d be behind bars if I’d shifted an inch towards her in that moment. And so, I saved myself the trouble and silently turned around and walked away. On my way out, I bumped into my blabber colleague, or 2 minutes former blabber colleague, and as I had known her to be, she’d smiled and fished for information from me. I’d admired her persistence, but I wouldn’t dare give her something she and her blabber mates would enjoy over tea.
“Where’s Njabulo?” I asked, shifting away from the gossip she’d wanted from me.
“Oh, he’s probably gone for his check-up”. She replied disappointedly.
“A check-up?” I’d became surprised. “Is he sick?”
“Yes” she responded. “He is sick in the head”
I cracked, but noticed she wasn’t laughing. Infact, she seemed displeased with my response.
“Are you serious?” I composed myself.
“Yes, Njabulo has autism spectrum disorder” her tone sympathized with him.
“That explains why he couldn’t look me in the eyes nor defend himself when I went onto him the other day”. I’d felt some sort of regret.
Before I could give away more than I already had to the blabber before me, I said my goodbyes and left the place. The only thing that was on my mind as soon as I walked out of that restaurant was my dearest mother- The Wisest woman I’d ever come to know. I couldn’t go home empty handed, especially after not sleeping at home. And so, I had to bribe her with something, just so she doesn’t ask too much questions about my “Study session”. Not only was she wised up, but full of knowledge too.
I finally walked home, holding in my hands a plate of dumpling and tribe I’d bought from the corner house that sold African food in my area. A crowd of people were standing outside my yard, and two police vans were parked opposite it- across the street. I hastened my pace. Arriving, I’d been welcomed by the news of my mother’s passing. When the police officer shared with me the description he was given by an eyewitness of the criminal, he’d described Njabulo. I refused to believe it could be him who’s slain my mother, because he had no reason to.
I sat there, tears pouring out of my eyes. The same police officer handed me a small brown envelope. This one I didn’t refuse to take. I opened it and took out a letter, and it read; “BE CAREFUL OF A SMALL BROWN ENVELOPE, FOR MANY ARE MEN WHO HAVE BECOME AS ALONE AS A LEPER BECAUSE OF IT. YOU TOOK MY WIFE FROM ME LIKE ALL THOSE MEN YOU’D SEE COMING TO THE RESTAURANT AND WOULD NEVER BE SEEN AGAIN. YOU’D BECAME FORTUNATE, BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER BOUGHT YOUR DEATH. TOO BAD YOUR LADY COULDN’T WITH HER LOVER. SO, I GUESS YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME, THAT EVEN THOUGH I HATH TAKETH, I HATH GIVETH TOO”.
Right at the bottom it concluded, “The sage swinging door never keeps a secret. XoXo”
I had to accept that my shame had caught up with me. And after mother’s funeral. I went to the police station to drop the case. Njabulo wasn’t a murderer, Josephine was. She victimised him the same way she did with me, but he couldn’t get out. He didn’t seem to believe that he could. I’d suggested better medical attention for him, because I know people of his condition aren’t harmful. The feeling of great loss coerced him to turn out into an animal.
And as for Josephine, it was like mother had foreseen all this when she told me to never involve myself in any workplace matters because they tend to make the innocent guilty. She was right, the innocent Njabulo is now stained with her blood on his hands. I’ve lost a part of me that I’ll never get back, While the real murderer and thief roams the streets. I hope I can be able to forgive her one day when she comes to finally ask for forgiveness, because I know she will. as the saying goes, “No evil goes unpunished.”. but until then, I will be making the best of my reunion with my lady.
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