* * *
The café was busy, filled with just-off-the-clock professionals and small groups of chattering students. Rethabile spotted her sisters at a corner table and hurried over to join them.
Rebecca jumped up to greet her, squealing with delight. “Thabi!” She flung her arms around Rethabile. “It’s been so long!”
Rethabile held her sister at arm’s length so she could see her properly. Tall, slender Rebecca was dressed – shudder – like a student, in tattered jeans and a statement T-shirt. “It’s been three days, sweetie. Didn’t I buy you a dress? Why don’t you ever wear it? Have I wasted my money?”
Rebecca collapsed into her chair. “It’s for special occasions.”
“Good to see you, Thabi,” said Reneilwe. “Take a seat. Ellen’s on her way.”
Rethabile always got a shiver when she saw her twin. It was like looking in the mirror and realising that she had been dressed by her grandmother.
Reneilwe had very short hair in contrast to Rethabile’s luxurious weave. Today she wore a stylish shift dress, but she had managed to ruin it by adding a conservative beige cardigan and flat shoes. They shared the same petite, curvy frame, with breasts Rethabile thanked God for every time she encased them in sexy lingerie. She showed off her cleavage every chance she got, but she was pretty sure her twin’s cleavage had shrivelled up from lack of exposure.
“So . . .” Rethabile snatched Rebecca’s menu and began flipping through it. “What’s going on?” She let her eyes drift across the page before raising them to her sisters’ faces.
They remained silent. Reneilwe had put on her inscrutable sphinx expression. Rebecca stared into her coffee cup.
“Come on, guys,” groaned Rethabile. “I know something’s up. Is everyone okay?”
“Everyone’s fine,” said her twin, smoothing the front of her cardigan.
Rethabile’s eyes narrowed and she turned to her younger sister, who looked as if she wanted to disappear into her chair. “Are you in trouble? Are you pregnant?”
Rebecca choked on air. “Thabi! No!”
“Stop being so melodramatic,” said Reneilwe.
Just then Ellen, tall and ebony-skinned with piercing eyes, arrived in a wave of fruity perfume and cheery greetings. She and Rethabile had been friends since primary school.
“Hey, Thabi,” she said, hugging her warmly. “You look gorgeous, as usual.”
“Not as gorgeous as you! How’s Cape Town?”
“Spectacular!” Ellen seemed to be in a good mood, so whatever the three of them were about to say couldn’t be all that terrible.
They placed their orders, then Rethabile folded her arms on top of the table and glared at the others. “Enough stalling,” she said. “Start talking.”
The three of them exchanged glances. Reneilwe cleared her throat and took charge. “We want to talk to you about something,” she began. “Because we love you and want what’s best for you. We’re coming from a place of sisterhood and compassion, okay? This is not an attack.”
“We’re just worried about you,” Ellen added.
“And we love you,” Rebecca blurted out.
Reneilwe silenced her with a look. “I already mentioned that.”
Rethabile stared at them in confusion. “Ha ke utlwisise.”
Ellen, who was sitting next to her, reached out and took her hand. “We’re a little concerned about the patterns you’ve been displaying in your relationships.”
“Unhealthy patterns,” Reneilwe clarified. “Unhealthy choices that are bad for you and only cause you to suffer.”
For a moment Rethabile was completely nonplussed. Then, slowly, the confusion began to clear. “Oh, I see. This is an intervention. Like for a drug addict or a suicidal person, except I’m not suicidal or on drugs.”
“Not the usual drugs, but still,” said Rebecca. “I mean, love is a drug, right?”
Rethabile stared from one to the other in amazement. “Are you serious? You lured me here to discuss my love life?”
“It’s not a love life, Thabi,” said Reneilwe. “That’s the problem. It’s the same cycle over and over, flings and infatuations, but nothing solid that you can count on.”
“That’s not true!” cried Rethabile, snatching her hand out of Ellen’s grip. “I’ve had solid relationships. Just because they didn’t work out . . . ”
“Let’s talk about Ras.” Reneilwe’s voice was as calm and steady as ever. “Would you say he was your boyfriend? Were you in love?”
“Of course,” said Rethabile. As soon as she said it she knew it wasn’t quite true, but there was no way she was going to admit that now. “We were two consenting adults in a mature relationship.”
“I guess he didn’t get that memo,” quipped Ellen. “Let’s not forget that after you went out a couple of times, he never called you again.”
Rethabile bristled, stung by the reminder. “He’s been busy.”
Her twin heaved an impatient sigh. “You don’t even know his real name.”
“Nonsense!” Rethabile rolled her eyes and thought back. She had loved the idea of a stage name and always called him Ras, but there must have been a moment . . . sometime . . . when she had thought of asking his name.
Ellen and Reneilwe exchanged a knowing glance that only irritated Rethabile further. “Who cares about his name, anyway?” she exclaimed, exasperated. “The chemistry was amazing! We had a real connection. Kismet!”
“What’s kismet?” asked Rebecca, turning to Reneilwe.
Rethabile clicked her tongue in annoyance. “The point I’m trying to make here is that Ras and I had something special. I felt it!”
Her twin gave her a patient nod. “I’m sure you did feel something, Thabi. You’re a very emotional person. I’m sure you had fireworks and magic and all that jazz. But think back a few months. Remember André?”
Rethabile cringed. How could she forget? After a whirlwind fling with the smouldering French artist, she had almost packed everything up and run off to Europe with him. Then the magic had worn off and she had realised that it would be difficult to live with a man who barely spoke English. She had also remembered the tiny detail of her conservative Sotho parents, who wouldn’t exactly have given her their blessing.
She sighed. “What about him?”
“Remember how incredible you thought he was?” Reneilwe leaned across the table. “Now let’s go back a year or so, to Thulani. Remember him?” she asked her twin.
“Ugh.” Rethabile gave a theatrical shudder. “I’d rather not.”
“That’s only because you found out he was a con artist,” Ellen pointed out. “But at first you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.”
“You said he was exciting and passionate and romantic,” added Rebecca.
Rethabile frowned. Why did those words sound so familiar?
“It was exactly the same thing you said about André,” said Reneilwe.
“And Ras,” said Ellen.
Right. That explained it. Rethabile didn’t like where this was going. She got the sinking feeling that her friend and sisters might have a point.
“Are you starting to notice the pattern here?” Reneilwe’s tone softened. “You meet