I ask for two boxes of their best pizza. Maria and I will have a feast tonight while watching television and lying next to each other in our bedroom. The waiter brings the food after a good twenty minutes. Rudzani settles the bill and leads the way to his white Mercedes-Benz. Leather seats and all. I like it.
It is sad that I cannot share what has happened with Maria. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She is infatuated with Rudzani.
I have to admit I had a good time after my little outburst. He talks a lot, knows a lot, and seemed interested in everything I had to say. He doesn’t sound like a boss that makes everyone walk on eggshells.
Rudzani parks at the address I gave him, in front of the old building that accommodates thousands of people who came to Joburg to hustle – including me. I know what he is thinking as he stares at it: It doesn’t look safe at all. Maria and I are already working on a move.
‘I had a great time. Thank you,’ he finally says after what seems like forever. ‘I apologise for being a jerk at first. I just wanted your attention and … I know I went about it the wrong way. I had a lot to offload about the funeral and everything. You were a great listener, just like I thought you would be.’
‘Thank you for the pizza.’
‘Would –’ He shakes his head and keeps silent. I stare into his eyes, searching for this monster that he is hiding from me. It is not there. Instead, I see hurt, sorrow and disappointment.
‘Thank you for the pizza and drinks,’ I say while unbuckling the seatbelt. I jump out of the car and join a crowd of people rushing into the block of flats. The queues to the elevators are always long. Stairs are better. It takes me ten minutes to get to floor seven. There is no need for a gym.
Maria is lying on the bed when I enter our room.
‘Pizza?’ she says with a grin. ‘I was craving some.’
She sits and grabs a slice from a box. I do the same and settle on the bed next to her. A smile wants to creep onto my lips, but I shake it off.
‘Where did you go?’ she asks, her face on the small TV in front of us.
Should I tell her the truth about the dinner date which turned into just-drinks and a chat? A chat that I ended up enjoying?
Why do I feel like I am falling for a man that I know will squash my heart, chew it and spit it out like a piece of gum? I know that very well but my heart has decided to have a soft spot for him, all of a sudden.
‘I had to meet with the boss … for some work …’ I say but luckily we are disturbed by a noise from outside the window. Every night there is something happening in the street outside our block of flats. Weekends are the worst. We both jump up from the bed, go to the window and stare down. Men are fighting outside – why, we don’t know. A crowd surrounds them and minutes later the police are flooding the scene.
‘We need to move,’ I say.
‘We do,’ she responds and shoves a piece of pizza into her mouth.
* * *
I don’t know what I want now!
It has been a month since that meeting with Rudzani and we haven’t spoken ever since. Okay, I have seen him walking out of the second-floor boardroom now and then, but all he does is greet, smile and rush to the elevator. Always.
That is what I wanted, right? The answer should be yes but my heart is shouting no. Where are the instances of him flirting with women? Did he just change overnight?
The only new thing that I’ve found out about him, is that he is actually the owner of the company! The staff around here call him ‘Mr R’. I knew he must be one of the bosses because he works on the fifth floor, but I didn’t know the company belongs to him! He could have really fired me … But he didn’t.
I push the trolley to go set up the boardroom for the creative and PR teams. I love their brainstorming sessions. I always find myself eavesdropping and making quiet comments and suggestions on my own. I find their job fun.
It is nine-thirty, so I have ample time to set up the boardroom before they start at ten.
I push the door open and force my tray in.
Everybody turns towards me.
Hawu! What time is this meeting?
‘Come in, Thandeka,’ Phuti, head of the PR team, says from the front. ‘The meeting only starts at ten. Don’t mind us.’
‘Sure,’ I nod and start setting up the tea station quietly so as not to disturb them.
‘So, the boss lady gave us a budget to use for the boss’s birthday. What do you think we should do? And please do not tell anyone. It is a surprise.’
‘Are we buying alcohol?’ one guy enquires.
‘If we get a sponsor. We are not allowed to use petty cash for booze.’
‘Let’s have a braai on the rooftop. Township tshisanyama vibes for the boss. He loves that kind of thing.’
‘Tshisanyama on a Thursday? Mr R will be rocking a suit,’ Brian chips in.
I laugh quietly. He is right. Rudzani is always in a suit or dressed somewhat formally.
‘We will have his PA book him for a golf meeting or something and call him to come to the office to handle an emergency when we are ready for him,’ Phuti explains.
‘I like that,’ someone else says.
‘Please guys, he deserves this. He hasn’t been himself since the death of his son,’ Phuti says.
I almost drop a mug. My clumsy hands failing me again.
It is his son who passed away? Kanjani? I thought the son belonged to the elder brother. Oh my God, Rudzani! My heart is aching for him. All this time I thought he was mourning his brother. How could I be so stupid? He really needed company that other day and I was so harsh on him.
‘Let’s make it happen,’ Phuti says before the door flies open.
‘Are you having secret meetings behind my back?’ Rudzani asks with a grin. He always manages to put a smile on his brave face. Despite this dark cloud that is surrounding his family.
‘No, sir. The invite said nine-thirty, so we thought to start. We didn’t discuss much,’ a white lie comes from Phuti’s mouth.
‘Let me get tea, we need to keep this meeting to just thirty minutes. I have to rush somewhere after this,’ he says while walking towards the tea station, where I am still preparing.
My throat dries up as he walks closer to me. I feel guilty for pushing him away the other day. It is a month ago, but I still feel bad. He really needed a shoulder like I did the whole year. We all need that one shoulder to cry on even if it is just once.
‘Thandeka, how are you?’ He picks up a mug.
‘I am fine. How are you?’ I whisper.
‘I feel good,’ he says while pouring tea into his mug.
Everybody stands up from their seat to join the queue to my trolley. This is my cue to leave. I hurry out to the corridor, chest tight and painful. I close the boardroom door and lean on it before taking the deepest breath. I feel terrible.
I wonder if Maria knew the boy was his? Why didn’t she tell me? She is not even around for me to ask her. I can’t bother her with a phone call about this either: She has enough of her own problems with her mother suffering a heart attack and her having to take time off to go back to the village.
Maria was quick to tell me all the bad things about Rudzani. But losing a child is the worst feeling