‘No man, I’m not perfect,’ Kari said and laughed, gathering her hair into a high pony right on the top of her head, fastening it with a black stretchy band she pulled off her wrist. Her curls spilled over the top of her head like a frothy dark chocolate fountain. No make-up, bare feet, brown legs in denim shorts. A white T-shirt, Fearless Female printed in black stamp script, skimmed the frayed edges of her shorts. She looked hardly twenty. I felt ancient and overdone in my long floral Poetry dress, too much make-up. Trying too hard. I felt grateful for my new Wayde-inspired shaggy red hair, at least. I’d stopped GHD-ing like I used to and it had become a loose mess I quite liked. Everyone in ABS had commented on it.

  ‘I had to get organised in London when I was on my own with Adam so much.’ She looked over at the kids; Stacey was directing the boys to build animals for a zoo. ‘Becoming a mother forced me to grow up, not just think about myself all the time.’ She stared at Adam. ‘Think I should give them supper? I made chicken strips, baked potatoes and veggies,’ she said, eyeballing her son as if she could see a food fuel gauge on his face. He looked happy to me; I wouldn’t have had the urge to feed him.

  ‘Jeez, no, it’s too early,’ I said, though I didn’t know the time. ‘Let’s sit on the balcony and drink a glass of wine before the kids notice they are playing by themselves.’ I pointed to the table on the balcony, set up for a perfect view of the beach and the red-, blue-, yellow-, and green-painted wooden beach huts Lily had mentioned, the False Bay mountains curving from our right. Fine. These Capetonians, they had views for days. ‘We can take them to the play area down there and feed them when Di and Lily get here. When are they getting here again?’ I knew Kari would know their exact movements.

  Kari frowned as she looked at her watch, a neat gold Casio digital snug on her thin wrist.

  ‘No, that’s too late. It’s just gone five and I usually give Adam supper then, so that he can be bathed and in bed by seven, seven-thirty latest. Lily said she would get here by seven ’cause she has to get Chiara first, and she’s bringing Sarah and Kate. Di will only make it closer to eight after she closes up the shop.’ Di had swapped her free Friday afternoon for a free Saturday morning. All those arrangements and none of them requiring anything from me. ‘How about we feed the kids, take them for a play after, and then get them into bed before the others arrive? We can have a glass of wine in peace then? Mom’s reward.’ She smiled. When did Kari get so bossy? The old Kari would’ve gone with the flow, not so stuck on routines. I’d tried the Gina Ford baby routines – fair enough, I’d had the nannies do them – when the twins were babies. It seemed to work to keep everyone sane, but when they became toddlers and it was up to me to keep the schedule going, I’d let it mostly slide. I’d become tired of living to routine. I am tired of living to routine.

  ‘Okay, fine,’ I said to Kari. ‘You sound like the expert … But I’m drinking at least two glasses of wine as soon as they’re all in bed.’

  25

  ‘Can you believe it, girls? We are out – by ourselves,’ I banged my fist on the table, ‘on a Friday night! Here’s to us! And to Chiara for babysitting!’ I raised my half-litre of Tiger’s Milk lager towards the side windows of the restaurant that faced our apartment, shouting over the noise. It was some time close to eleven, the families having eaten their dinner and long gone home. It was just us and the Friday night crowd settling in. I could feel the energy kick up another notch, the bar getting busier; rounds of shots would surely start soon if my old waitressing instincts were still working. Kari, Lily and Di raised their glasses to mine wearily (it wasn’t the first time I’d made this toast tonight) and I cheers’d against their wine glasses too hard, sploshing some of my beer onto the table.

  Made me laugh.

  Kari also.

  ‘Flowers,’ she said, and mopped some of the beer with serviettes left on the table from dinner. ‘What I can’t believe is that you’re not lying under the table yet – all that wine earlier and how many of those beers in already.’ Kari laughed more, her eyes a little glassy, her cheeks a little red. I wasn’t the only one feeling herself some Friday night freedom. Was there a touch of ‘that’s enough’ in her voice? I was imagining it, getting mixed up with Di’s voice when I’d ordered the beer before this one. I never drink beer, but hell, I’m tired of doing what I always do.

  ‘I’m no sissy,’ I answered her, necking the beer in my glass to prove my point, ‘but I mean, akshully,’ I heard myself slur just the tiniest bit, ‘it’s worth a celebration. When last have we all been together like this? No kids, no husbands, no nobodies, no worries, no shop …’ I saw Di give Lily a look. ‘Yes, Di, just us having a laugh like in the days when we all used to be friends. When it wasn’t only the three of you talking to one another. Do y’all rememba?’ My voice was coming out with a funny American-easy accent, all the better to disguise the truth. ‘The days when Kari ain’t got no Tupperware of kiddie foods and Lily cried for a hus-band and you weren’t the bitter as he-yell Lesbeyoncé coffee to ma cream.’ I smiled my biggest smile and drank the rest of the beer, leaning back against the seat of the booth we were in. I felt the beer bloating my stomach, the Rock Star burger I had now threatening to make its way back onto the table.

  Kari laughed some more.

  I definitely was not the only one making the most of a Friday night out. Lily shook her head with a laugh, but Di stayed poker face. ‘Lighten up, Princess Di-annah. Don’t go all gaga on me. Lesbeyoncé is just a joke – you can be into whatever floats your boat, don’t bother me, gurl.’ I said, wagging my finger in Di’s face, which made Kari laugh even louder.

  ‘Where’s that waitress with the bill? She’s taking her time. We should get back to the apartment,’ Di said to Lily, ignoring Kari and me. ‘These two are living their best lives, as my Sarah would say. But if they puke all over the flat and wake up their kids, you and I will have puke and babies to sort out the whole night.’

  Lily started waving at a waitress; I don’t think she was ours.

  ‘Don’t you rain on my Friday … Why must we go back now? I want to hear more about what’s happening in ABS that I don’t know about. What about this friend who owns the apartment we’re in, huh? I’ve never heard you mention it though we talk just about every day. Like e-ver-y day.’ I said the last part to Lily, dragging the words out. I looked back at Di. ‘I know there’s a shed-ton more you don’t tell me, that you tell these two. Some kind of friend you are.’ I felt my mouth pull into a sneer.

  During my first beer, Kari and Lily had teased Di about her dating escapades. Her Tinder-scapes from real life, they called it. The apartment was where she met up with the dates, since she couldn’t bring them home with Alan and her kids across the garden. She didn’t want to Tinder in the area we lived in; she said Muizenberg was far enough from home so she had no risk of bumping into a date at the mall or at school. They’d joked that she would ‘ride for a ride’. I felt stupid thinking that all Di was doing in her life was working at the shop, looking after her girls, hating on Alan and Anna. And moaning at me. But apparently not. Since she and Andile had decided to take a break, she was trying out everything and everyone. Andile wanted to make a comeback, but Di said she thought he was just the guy she had had to get under to get over Alan. I’d thrown a whole beer down my throat at that; this side of Di was a total stranger to me.

  ‘Come now, Shelleeey, don’t be so … We lovvve you.’ Kari leaned over the table towards me. Sloppy attempt to hug, bumping against Lily as she tipped herself in towards me. ‘Di was only telling Lily the sex stuff, but then Lily told me, and I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know, so I messaged her a brinjal and a peach emoji with a tongue a couple of times and she was forced to talk to me.’ Kari giggled, a naughty version of Adam’s laugh.

  ‘But why does no-one tell me? I like to talk about sex!’ My voice came out in a wail. I’d only found out tonight that there was a whole different spin on emojis that turned them into sexy bits. Chiara told Lily, obviously, and apparently Di in her Ride-or-Di phase was completely fluent in it.

  ‘’Cause you said offside things about the size of Andile’s whatchamacallit and you would definitely say very offside things about Di seeing girls. Like that she is Lesbeyoncé.’ Kari’s tongue was loose with truth serum. Lily started waving her hand to hurry the waitress who was already on her way over with the bill.

  ‘Okay, Kari, I’m gonna get the bill. You need to go to the loo so long?’ she asked. But Kari went on as if Lily hadn’t spoken:

  ‘And me and Di can complain to each other about money – like, we complain a lot – without feeling like losers.’ She tried to high-five Di but Di was popping her eyes at Lily as if to say, ‘Make it stop.’ Kari would not be stopped. ‘Like, honestly, you don’t understand the money pressure – you’ve got Jerry rolling in it. We don’t usually say anything to Lily either ’cause then she soema offers to pay for everything, but she’s orraait because I can tell her to back the fuck off. You never take a hint or listen to anyone.’ Yup, Kari was gone. The flowers had died.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, I’ve got the bloody money. You’re starting to sound like Owen,’ Lily grumbled as she looked up from keying her pin number into the credit card machine. Dinner out was her treat, she’d announced as soon as she’d arrived at the flat with Chiara.

  I let a little burp escape.

  ‘Well, shit friends we all are, hey. Can’t talk to me about sex; can’t talk to me about money. Religion? Politics?’ I saw Kari screw up her face as if she was thinking. Was it my beer goggles or her wine glasses that made us see things so clearly? ‘Fine, it’s dodgy when Jerry the Jew and Free Palestine Shireen are around. What’s left to talk to poor – sorry, not poor, shoot me for that – old Shelley about? And just so you know,’ I added, ‘I’m not on the bones of my ass, but it’s pretty damn hectic having your own and your best friend’s savings riding on an idea that you cooked up. Jerry didn’t make his money by chucking it into the water; he’s not going to clap his hands if I do it.’

  I gave Di a look.

  ‘Sorry, Di, I called you my best friend … didn’t mean it.’ I rolled my eyes.

  Kari started to look a little shame-faced at having told the truth. I loaded up and shot the messenger.

  ‘And you? Our kids are at the same school, but you’re in the thick of the moms and you never even invite me. Or am I too shit a mother with my wild twins, while you’ve got it all waxed with perfect little Adam? You coulda told me you were struggling to get preggers again; I coulda told you about the IVFs.’ I was pissed. How could there be so much going on I didn’t know. The bullets bounced off Kari – I’d forgotten how the two of us had the deepest conversations when we were drunk. She became less sensitive and I became more.

  ‘Ja, but, Shelleeey, I like to talk the medical stuff with Lily. She’s my bestie from forever, you know. Plus, we don’t have money for a lot of IVFs.’ Kari made a lunge hug to Lily.

  ‘Jesus, let’s get going.’ Lily stood up, made moves to help Kari stand up. Di started making the same moves on my side.

  ‘Why, Lily, why, Lily, why must we go? I want to hear more from Kari. And I haven’t even made a toast to you and your amazing stepdaughter, Chiara, who is so kindly babysitting for us. Or have we toasted? Doesn’t matter … we can do it again. Plus, we haven’t talked about all the fighting with Owen and your family drama, though everyone knows I am queen of fighting with my husband and his family …’ Earlier, when I was tipsy but not yet drunk, I’d told them about me and Jerry and the Herzlia story. They all thought I should consider the school. It made me drink another three beers.

  I was shouting, making everyone look at me, even with the noise in the restaurant. Di pulled me up, forcing me to stand. She put her arm around my back to steady me. ‘Give me twenty minutes to get her settled, then you bring Kari,’ she said to Lily through tight lips, before she frog-marched me out the restaurant, down the stairs, and out into the warm night air. As we crossed the road, the sudden movements turned my stomach. I vomited in the street. At least my hair was short, so I didn’t need a best friend to hold it back. Di made sure I was done before she took me up into the flat, into the bedroom where the twins lay sprawled together. She left me on the cold tiled en suite bathroom floor.

  ‘No-one wants to tell you anything, Shelley,’ she whispered, ‘because sometimes we just want someone to listen. We don’t need the fucking Spanish Inquisition judging us, telling us what to do with our crap lives.’

  I heard the bedroom door click as she closed it behind her.

  Smell the coffee, Shellbell

  •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

  Rolled. Bombed. Dumped.

  26

  Saturday, 3 March

  He was late for our afternoon shift at the shop.

  I knew to expect that he would be late. But he was freshly showered and the Pina Colada Coconut Vanilla Dessert was pushed back, something clean smelling in its place, an almost freshly squeezed citrus scent that took its place in the air. It was a smell that went perfectly with my instant forgiveness at his lateness. I wish I had that smell in a bottle; I’d dunk myself in it after last night at Tiger’s Milk. This morning had been supremely awkward; or, more accurately, I was awkward with everyone and they were awkward with me. Di, Kari and Lily seemed fine with one another. Kari made the kids breakfast and issued a solemn apology to everyone over coffee.

  I pretended not to care. I might have tried to laugh. I wanted to forget the words that had stung me; I was supposed to be the thick-skinned one.

  We all fussed over our kids in the apartment that was too small for all of us, getting them organised for surfing with Wayde. Kari and I moved extra slowly with our heavy heads, the littlies a whirlwind of excitement at our feet.

  For them, it was a successful morning, as all had got up on foam surfboards, riding white water onto the sand. As Wayde had promised, they were so close to the beach I could stand ankle deep in the water and take close-ups with my phone. I was so determined not to sit on the beach with the others that I didn’t notice whether or not the water was warmer than in Blouberg. Wayde seemed convinced it was.

  If I were that way inclined, I would’ve got down on my knees and thanked God, I was so grateful when the morning was over.

  It would be better now. I was back at the shop. Kids with Jerry. Unlike with ABS and with my husband, I had nothing to feel awkward about with Wayde.

  ‘Sorry, I had to stop at the shop quickly. A little party tonight to celebrate my first paycheque.’ He passed me the smoothie he’d promised me when I left Muizenberg.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, taking the smoothie, trying to forget about the awfulness with ABS and Jerry for a moment, ‘but maybe I’d rather have what’s in your other hand, thanks very much.’ I raised my eyes at the plastic Tops bag. I could see a bottle of whisky and a six-pack of soda through the red plastic. Not too late for hair of the dog. A tub of something sat on top of the soda.

  He laughed, lifting the bag to give me a better look.

  ‘I’m celebrating! Okay, my mother is celebrating.’ He looked a little embarrassed, and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the back before he released his hand. ‘She’s pretty happy that I’ve got a steady job, so she’s doing a little supper thing for the two of us at home to celebrate my first paycheque. Well, my first half-paycheque, ’cause I haven’t been here a full month yet.’ He waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, he prompted my confused face. ‘Friday was the second, right? Pay day?’ I knew that; I just couldn’t get my mind around his having been here less than a month. It felt longer. Also, I couldn’t imagine him having dinner with his mother. A mama’s boy seemed completely at odds with the sexy surfer barista boy in my shop. Suppose we are all different at home. Maybe he couldn’t imagine me being a wife with Jerry – if he even imagined me at all.

  ‘Oh yes, of course, congratulations!’ I said. For all the sexy tats and tight abs, tousled hair and white teeth, he suddenly seemed so young in that moment. Like a teenage boy who was both embarrassed and happy that he had done something to make his mommy proud. I remembered my first proper pay-cheque and how grown-up I’d felt, the accomplishment oozing out my pores at saying, ‘Look, Ma,’ as I pushed my ATM slip at my mother. I had been sixteen. Wayde was twenty-two. He was a late starter, then; no wonder his mother was happy. I pushed her out my mind.

  ‘And the whisky? Doesn’t seem like a mom drink?’

  ‘Ha,’ he laughed, ‘that’s for me.’ He seemed proud to be drinking whisky. ‘My mom doesn’t drink at all any more so there’s nothing in her house. I had to get something to ease the pain, and she’s even paid for it as a present to me. It won’t be a late night with her – two whiskies for me max and then the evening is done.’ He never mentioned a father, for him or his brother. It was always just his mother. I laughed with him when he talked about how early his mom went to bed. He’d told me before – WhatsApp bites – about Shana, his mother. I haven’t seen any photos, but she sounded intense, on his case about everything. And hectic with his younger brother, putting the kid through all the extra activities you could for a three-year-old. I thought I was extreme with the surf lessons, but that kid had swimming, horse-riding, jujitsu, piano and golf. No surfing. Wayde said she wanted to be sure she did better as a mother second time round – better than her first round where she got knocked up as a teenager. Wayde said she constantly compared him with the young guys she interviewed at work. Together we imagined them, poked fun at short-haired, sharp-suited types straight out of varsity, all of them with a five-year plan to kickstart once they finished their graduate-placement programmes. I bet him my newest Louis Vuitton that all of them were boring as hell. I didn’t say it to Wayde, but it’s why I liked Jerry so much when I met him. He didn’t fit the mould; he was the opposite of all that suiting and planning. I just told Wayde that being the opposite of the suits didn’t mean he was doomed; not having a five-year plan wasn’t the end of the world. Five-year plans were old-fashioned – even I knew that young people didn’t do that any more. Unfortunately, Wayde’s five-year plan was his mother’s favourite subject. Poor woman. I can understand how a mother worries about her child, but I could’ve saved her the trouble. Give up the nag, woman. Wayde’s only plans involved five-day wave forecasts. I’d wanted to, but I didn’t ask too much about her, especially when I heard his younger brother was only three years old. I didn’t want to know how close in age Shana and I were. And of course I didn’t want to remind Wayde how close in age Shana and I were. All I ever said to him was that he had plenty of time to find his way. Life was meant to be lived to death, not planned to death.