Being Kari. Qarnita Loxton
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to Mama to help. Time for you to be a grown-up.”
My brother stared me down, daring me to disagree. This is the way Dhanyal always makes things happen. He doesn’t ask. There is never a question. He knew how to get me. Siblings are eternally expert at each other’s soft spots. Dhanyal knew when he’d made his mark. I was nodding my agreement before he even stopped talking.
7
From Dhanyal’s house I drove back to Di’s kitchen. I was the only common thing in these parallel universes, and I didn’t feel like the same me. I sat at Di’s kitchen counter again. Same as the night before but different. The kitchen was spotless – not a thing out of place. Alan and the girls were away, this time sleeping silently somewhere. There was red wine in big glasses. My face was wet. My bum wasn’t. But I was still a wreck. And instead of just Di, now the whole of LSDoK were perched on bar stools around the counter. Sorry for me. I hadn’t expected all of them – suppertime was long past but they’d waited anyway.
“Oh my God, Kari. What a totally terrible Valentine’s Day.” That was Shelley. How was it that only a few hours of being called “Karima” made “Kari” sound odd? Ouma would hate me being called Kari. She always said, “The name your parents give you is precious, Karima. It’s the first gift you ever get. And your name even means precious!”
But Karima doesn’t feel right any more. I am Kari. I like being Kari.
I was glad to be back but hell I needed to sleep. It got to a point where I couldn’t reply I was so tired. I just smiled a small smile back at Shelley, then fixed my eyes on the wine glass again. The red wasn’t so bad.
“How did it go? With your mother? And your brother? Tell everything! How did it feel staying over there?”
Shelley asked one question after the other without waiting for me to answer. She always says she can read colours and auras which, I imagine, is an unexpected but useful skill in a decorator, but sometimes she can be altogether friggin’ blind. I was wholly incapable of talking but she waited, her bright blue eyes staring at me. I knew Shelley wouldn’t stop until I said something. At least she hadn’t asked about Dirk. Yet.
“My brain is so full, Shell. So much happened and nothing happened. I’ll tell you the whole story again . . . They made like it was normal for me to be there,” I said eventually. But everyone here knew it couldn’t have been normal and everyone there had known it too. I tried to give Shelley something but I didn’t know what else to say. “I did what my sister-in-law Shireen said I must do, mostly serving tea and food to all the people,” I said.
I kept quiet about what that one aunty had whispered to the other. There were too many questions Shelley could’ve asked after that.
“How are things going with those new clients of yours? The ones who moved here from Joburg?” Lily asked Shelley, taking pity on me, giving us all some respite from my silent self. Owen, the “o” in LSDoK, said nothing as the rest chatted on. Our brother-from-another-mother just sat quietly next to me, one foot resting next to mine on the steel bit of my bar stool, as if to make sure it wouldn’t suddenly fall over. It helped in an odd way, his foot holding my bar stool down. Owen can talk. I’ve seen him at work in full sales mode, after all. But he only got a small “o” because, while we love him, he doesn’t talk nearly as much as the rest of us about the things that matter. Otherwise, he is the best boy-friend you can have. He isn’t gay (why do people think only gay guys can have girl-friends?), so if you ask he can tell you honestly if your bum looks hot or not, and he doesn’t drink too much, which means he can hold your arm steady if you need it. He is smart (can check your alarm is working when your husband is away), and he is cute but not too handsome so we can pretend he is one of our husbands if we need to and the husbands won’t get pissed off. He has guy friends but he doesn’t drink enough or watch enough sport to be just one of the boys. Owen is dating Lauren, a super-duper-bitch-on-wheels of a lawyer who travels a lot, so he reckons all our chat is research into the creaky wheels of a woman’s mind. Lauren never tells him anything, so we help him make up what she thinks. Apparently the sex is amazing. Doesn’t matter. We do love Owen. I really should suggest we upgrade him to a big “O”.
“Have you heard from Dirk?”
Tired of the local estate gossip, the blind and apparently now also deaf Shelley was getting ready to ask me some more questions. Lily and Di stood up together and started clearing glasses away, as if they had made some kind of secret society decision.
“Let’s get you into bed, Kari,” said Lily. “You should probably stay here with Di. Too late to go home now – unless you’re up to dealing with Dirk?” Her sleek black bob swung into her face as she turned to look first at me and then at Di. “I spoke to him earlier,” she added. “Told him maybe you would stay here if he didn’t hear from you.”
I love Lily.
“I’m definitely not ready for Dirk.” The only upside to the day had been that I hadn’t had any time to think about my husband. “Is it okay? Can I stay here?” I asked Di, who was already nodding her agreement. I didn’t need more than that. I dished out the goodnight hugs and bolted for the guest room, where yesterday’s rejected yoga kit was waiting for me to turn it into a pair of pyjamas.
In bed I could hear the others talking in low voices. Owen was saying I should stay at home on Monday if I didn’t feel like work. Thank God I work with Owen so I won’t have to fake an excuse to a boss. And Shelley was still wondering out loud how I had managed to deal with Dirk and a funeral on one day. Lily said she would call again in the morning. I heard Di putting the dishwasher on.
I could only think of Dirk.
I love you, he’d said. Don’t leave me.
8
Sunday was busy – for my phone.
07:15 AM Dirk: Hi, are you ok? How is it going there? I love you.
10:00 AM Dirk: Haven’t heard from you but talked to Di, she says you still there. Can I come around? Love you.
12:30 PM Dirk: I am so sorry about everything; can you call when you get a chance please? I have to go back tonight but I would like to see you or at least talk before I go. Please, I am so sorry. I do love you. Please can I come to you?
02:35 PM Dirk: Are you getting my messages? Please can we talk before I go? Or can I see you? My flight is at 9. It’s the latest one I can get and I will only be back on Friday afternoon. Just let me know that you are ok. Xxx
11:40 PM Dirk: Just landed. Hope you sleep well. Love you x
Also four missed calls just before his flight left at nine. Three voicemails. I ignored them all. I’ve been hiding in here the whole day. Di comes to check on me, bringing food I can’t bring myself to eat. I knew he would talk to Di and Lily again, and they would tell him to just wait. Usually I would reply to Dirk the instant the messages arrived. Usually he’d only be replying to my messages. Usually he’d say that messages are for basic information only, not for chat; chat could always wait until we saw each other. Voicemails? You had to be kidding. Now his messages have love and kisses in them.
I did nothing. Another day, I’d have killed for them.
9
06:30 AM Dirk: Hi, I am thinking of you, sorry we didn’t get to talk yesterday. Please ring me. Love you x
I usually hate Monday mornings. This one felt like the Mother of all Mondays. I am in Denial and it’s not a fucking river in Egypt.
I woke up at five, a good two and half hours before my usual wake up. I could’ve gone home last night but in the same way I couldn’t face Dirk, I couldn’t face our empty house. Di must’ve seen it in my eyes.
“Stay another night at least, no need to rush off,” she’d said, delivering supper to the bedside table and fresh towels to the bathroom. I ate the cold pasta this morning, picking out the ham bits (go figure: I can drink wine but I still can’t