My Favourite Mistake
By Dumisani Zungu
Copyright 2011 Dumisani Zungu
Smashwords Edition
License Notes:
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 1
Rachel was awake but still in bed when her fiancé, Steve, came in with a tray of coffee. It was a little treat that he surprised her with once or twice a week. She looked at him through sleepy eyes and smiled as she sat up.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the tray.
“I aim to please,” said Steve.
He kissed her forehead and stepped back, looked at her and smiled. He was a good looking man and he knew it. He was the kind of man that women fawned over. He was the kind of man who’d arrive at your door in the middle of the night and make you let him in just by looking at you with pleading eyes.
He walked over to the wardrobe and opened the door wide so Rachel could help him choose a tie. An array of ties hung on a rail.
“Which one,” he asked, knowing she’d pick one that he would have chosen himself.
“That one,” said Rachel. She chose a textured turquoise to go with his dark blue suit.
“Great! Now, are you gonna get up and get ready for work or call in sick and I’ll make a plan to come home at lunch time,” he said, flashing a naughty grin as he deftly weaved his tie into a knot. Rachel laughed and said if she allowed him to tempt her once she’d soon be on a slippery slope and lose her job. This was music to Steve’s ears because he often joked that she’d make a great housewife, like in Desperate Housewives, except that she wouldn’t cheat. He’d initially thrown in the latter comment without giving much thought to it but it had got Rachel so worked up that since then he purposely teased her with it.
“Well babe, I’ll leave you to get ready and go do manly things downstairs before I leave for work”.
“When you’re done doing manly things please call the plumber. The kitchen sink’s leaking”. Rachel smiled proudly after saying this because she knew well that by ‘manly things’ he meant channel-hopping across the business channels for whatever men found riveting about 0.005 percentage point moves in stock markets. Steve was aware that he was useless around the house so he conceded defeat. As he was walking out, Rachel added:
“And remember you have a fitting for your suit at 2’Oclock.”
“Oh! I forgot. We’re getting married”.
Rachel wanted to scold him for making light of such a serious matter but couldn’t help it and laughed.
Steve left the room and she slipped out of bed to begin her morning routine. She parted the curtains and the light embraced her with new energy, adding extra lustre to her natural glow and accentuating her beautiful features. Rachel was a tall and strikingly beautiful woman. She’d won several beauty titles in her teens and early twenties. A brief runway stint followed but she gave it up after University to concentrate on ‘real life,’ as she always put it when asked whether she’d ever model again.
The wedding was days away now, and the excitement was mounting. The bedding felt smoother as she made the bed. The Persian rug felt softer under her feet. The white walls came alive in the morning light and for the first time the bedroom décor looked perfect. It had taken time for them to settle on a colour scheme but the pale grey, light shades of blue and bright coloured accessories finally united to provide the picture she’d always had in mind.
Later, Steve came back to say goodbye but Rachel was in the shower so they exchanged adieus over the whisper of the shower.
Steve admired his house from the car, while he waited for the gate to slide shut. It was a relatively big house with four bedrooms and a sizeable lawn. When he moved into Blue Valley, the suburb was supposedly the hottest place to buy property in Johannesburg. Estate agents enthused about how Blue Valley was at the centre of everything and virtually on the doorstep of Sandton. The hype hadn’t swayed Steve. He’d seen an old house with a lot of potential. So he bought it, demolished it, and built the current one which, at the time, he thought was his dream house. He now had bigger dreams for the future. He was a senior manager at QIT, an international technology company, and it was as good as settled that he’d be promoted to director in the not so distant future. He was good at his job and got along with most of his colleagues.
******
There was a clink of perfume bottles in the bathroom, followed by the soft thud of the door of the vanity cabinet closing. Rachel rushed out of the bathroom, with both hands putting final touches to her hair.
She’d undressed in a rush to get into the shower and her work clothes stared back at her from across the floor. In her single days, she hadn’t had a problem leaving a mess behind when she went out because no one would know, but things had changed now that she shared a house with Steve. She picked them up and threw them in the laundry basket.
Her mobile phone rang. The screen flashed Cindy’s name, and Rachel knew she’d be raked over the coals for her tardiness and steeled herself before answering.
“Hi Cindy. I’m almost done,” Rachel rambled in an attempt to prevent an inquisition.
“I’m not gonna shout at you only because it is your bachelorette,” purred Cindy through the line.
“Thanks. I was afraid you’d bite my head off,” said Rachel, grabbing her purse and, after a sweeping survey of the room, heading out the door.
“Whatever! Just hurry before we get too drunk to care!”
“Whatever! I’ll be right there.”
Rachel put her phone in her bag as she made her way down the stairs. The sound of her high-heels against the tiled floor in the living area reverberated impressively without a TV or radio in the background, making her feel like quite the madam. Indeed, after six months of living in the house with Steve she still marvelled at how good it felt to be madam of her own household. Soon their children would be playing in the lawn.
The bachelorette was set to take place at Cindy’s house, which many of the younger women in their circle of friends held in awe due to its beauty and the advanced technology in it – Cindy could control anything from the washing machine to curtains with a few taps on a small computer tablet. She laughed off excessive compliments on the furniture or technology by saying that it paid to marry a much older guy with lots of money and then bump him off and enjoy the spoils. This sort of talk was shocking to many a new acquaintance. But her close friends knew that Cindy hadn’t murdered her husband, that they’d had an amicable divorce, and that he’d happily transferred the house to her when he left the country. Besides, Cindy was a corporate lawyer who earned obscene amounts of money and didn’t need to be taken care of – although she demanded it.
This was the famous house at which Rachel arrived now. She searched carefully for a spot to park as Cindy’s driveway was more than full, and many other cars were already parked on the pavement outside the house. Her car moved stealthily along. The house itself was teeming with activity, with several gals filing out of the front door to escape the noise inside so they could speak on their mobile phones.
Eventually, Rachel found a nice piece of lawn not far from the front gate. She switched off the engine, grabbed her purse and headed for the gate. She took quick but measured steps so she wouldn’t be out of breath when she made her entrance. While walking up the driveway and saying hello to acquaintances, a thought flitted through her mind. She wondered what Steve’s friends had in store for him for tonight. She knew they were a wild bunch and imagined strippers would be the primary entertainment. Boys would be boys but she trusted Steve enough to know he wouldn’t do anything too wild.
On entering the house, thoughts of her future husband were blasted away by shrieks of her now tipsy friends who were delighted to see her.
“How are you?!”
“You look great!”
Rachel mumbled “fine” and “thanks guys”. But she herself was too excited to say anything sensible. Luckily, Cindy came to her rescue.
“I see the guest of honour has arrived,” cooed Cindy in her confident tone. She took Rachel by the hand and told her she needed a drink immediately.
Cindy continued: “I wanted to ask you if there was anything specific you wanted on the menu for tonight but you left the office so quickly this afternoon that I decided to get creative and order whatever.”
“Sorry about that but I’m sure you know my taste by now. I had to rush home to get dolled up you know,” said Rachel, regaining her composure.
“And it shows,” said Cindy with a knowing smile.
“Thank you.”
“Well, I don’t think we need to be too strict about the programme for the evening. It’s a buffet and the drinks have been flowing since forever. When the stripper, oh sorry the exotic dancer, arrives the girls will scream and that’ll take care of that so we’re ok.
“Great. And I’m sure there’ll be no sharing of embarrassing stories from my youth”.
“Of course not,” said Cindy, adding, with a chuckle: “we’ll only go over the dirty stuff!”
After the ice-breaker with Cindy, Rachel’s eye made its way round the room. It settled on Lee, one of her close friends she hadn’t seen in a while. Lee had got married and moved to a suburb far from where her friends lived – another golf estate. Rachel put one or two pieces of finger food on her plate and was about to call out to Lee when she was accosted by CJ, a colleague from work whom she didn’t particularly like. Their firm was not big enough for comfortable discrimination when it came to invitations. In any case bachelorette parties and weddings demanded that one be happy enough to tolerate the most unpleasant colleagues.
“Congratulations,” grinned CJ. She was one of those people who never seemed sincere.
“Thanks. I’m glad you could make it,” said Rachel, lying through her teeth.
“I hear Gideon’s designing your wedding dress…”
“Yes. He is,” replied Rachel, curious what would come next.
“Wow. The girls at work have been talking about it you know and I wondered if it was true. I mean I wouldn’t be able to afford Gideon you know on a paralegal’s salary. But I guess your fiancée is paying for it.”
Rachel was surprised at CJ’s boldness, and was a bit nettled that her colleagues had concluded that Steven was paying for her dress. It hurt to think that no one had supposed she’d pay for the dress out of her own savings. After a long pause she told CJ that she was paying for the dress herself.
“Of course, of course,” said CJ rather hastily, continuing: “I didn’t mean to suggest anything.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Rachel calmly. This invited CJ to enquire further.
“So do you think you’ll carry on working you know after the wedding? I hear you might be doing the housewife thing”.
“Really? Who said that?”
“It’s just talk you know. I didn’t realise it was a big deal,” squirmed CJ.
“Who’s been saying that,” demanded Rachel.
Lee inadvertently came to CJ’s rescue when she at last noticed Rachel and came to have a chat. CJ retreated sheepishly, though glad she’d extracted some detail from the bride-to-be that she could spread among her friends at work.
Rachel was speechless for a moment. Not only was her fiancé supposedly paying for her wedding dress but it appeared her colleagues gossiped about her relentlessly and thought, or hoped, she’d leave the company after the wedding.
While the behaviour of her colleagues was reprehensible, there was an aspect of the situation for which Rachel was responsible – intentionally or not. She eschewed the company of paralegals like herself. She was ‘buddy buddy’ with people like Cindy, who were in management. The snub made some of the other paralegals angry and jealous, which fuelled the rumour mill. News that she’d landed a prince charming and was altar bound exacerbated the jealousy harboured by some of her peers. A general feeling of “what the hell makes her think she’s so special?” drove the vicious cycle or rumour mongering.
Rachel and Lee walked outside. And it seemed they couldn’t have chosen a better moment as the sun had just disappeared for the day leaving behind a wonderfully golden horizon. The swimming pool and the estate dam in the distance mirrored the gilded skyline. A breeze swept past, bringing the revellers welcome relief from the heat and seemingly announcing the beginning of a pleasant evening.
“Beautiful, isn’t it,” said Lee.
“Yes,” said Rachel, eagerly adding: “But I don’t want to waste time talking about sunsets. I want to know about your married life. How’s it going? What should I expect?”
After a soft laugh, Lee said: “Don’t worry I’m sure you’ll be fine. As for what to expect. I’d say expect challenges because men always change after you’re married. Little by little they’ll stop doing the sweet things that melt your heart and expect you to be this ‘Wife’ who manages to do it all – washing, cleaning, dishes!”
“But I thought you guys were happy,” said Rachel, concerned that her friend might be unhappy, and wondering if she was after all making the right decision.
“We are happy. I guess what I’m trying to say is marriage is work, not more work than any other kind of relationship, but your expectations going into it have to be realistic if you’re gonna at least survive the first couple of years.”
“My friend I think I’ve got that covered. I’m twenty-eight so I’m under no illusions about men. Having lived with Steve for a while before the wedding has helped.”
Lee nodded agreement, not wanting to spoil Rachel’s outlook by carrying on about how hard it all was. It was, after all, generally wonderful to share your life with someone you loved. Rachel picked up on this, and continued:
“But I know that he’ll probably pick up new habits once we’re married. That’s not really a concern for me. The thing is I love him so much that I sometimes think that something will happen to mess things up.”
“That’s natural Rachel,” Lee said, gently caressing Rachel’s arm. “I think it’s normal to worry a bit when you’ve got a good thing going. It’s some sort of built in reality check I guess.”
“You think so?”
“Yes,” replied Lee, “I say stop worrying and enjoy every moment!”
Rachel felt better for having opened up to Lee. Lee was considerate and compassionate, and it helped to hear her expert opinion on life after the honeymoon.
Before the conversation could go any further, delighted screams proclaimed the arrival of the entertainment. Rachel was not shy or prudish but the knowledge that the stripper would be focused exclusively on her made the impending show more daunting than thrilling.
True to form Cindy discovered Rachel and Lee in their little corner outside and dragged them inside.
The exotic dancer was wearing a policeman’s costume. As soon as Rachel entered the living room the music started and the dancer began moving his hips sideways and back and forth. And, as the beat quickened, he launched into energetic thrusts and gyrations. His audience’s pupils widened, hearts quickened, shrieks got louder.
“It’s raining men! Hallelujah,” sang the disco diva. And all the ladies sang along.
He ripped off his shirt with stunning ease, the trousers miraculously coming apart at a mere tug. Eventually he was left with a g-string, cap and boots. Then he reached for Rachel and thrust his bits at her, to the delight of the crowd. He went on to grab her one hand and make her slap his arse. Rachel did her best to make it look like she was having the time of her life when in fact she was a bit overwhelmed by the goings-on. But the rest of the girls were loving the show. A final touch was a well calculated yank of the g-string which tantalised the crowd to crescendo, as it appeared he might reveal everything.
******
Steve’s friends joked that they needed to mourn the loss of his freedom. The ‘mourning’ had to be done in the manliest way possible, and what better setting than their haunt of old, the Delicious Lolly. They had committed sins imaginable and unimaginable in this strip club. The dancers knew most of them by name.
Queen, who’d just taken the stage, knew them well – especially Steve and Eric. She deliberately took no notice of them for the moment and began her dance number. Tina Turner’s Private Dancer boomed from the speakers and complemented and guided her rhythm. She hooked her leg on the pole and threw her upper body backwards, sending her impressive hair cascading to the floor, licking it for a second and snapping back as she dexterously manoeuvred to swivel around and land in a semi-squat. She slid up and down the glistening metal pole, rubbing it with her back. This position was a vantage point from which to survey her audience. She gave Steve and his friends a deep and inviting look full of the meretricious gravity which only exotic dancers and prostitutes can manage. The boys were enchanted, and exchanged satisfied glances and smiles.
“You’re gonna miss out on all this pussy man,” exclaimed Eric, his eye firmly on the dancer’s well groomed crotch.
“It’s time buddy! And I’m ready for it,” said Steve confidently.
“And you’re doing the right thing big brother,” added Mike, Steve’s younger brother and conscience.
“Don’t worry Stevie, I’ll pick up the slack for you,” said a grinning Eric, lightly punching Steve on the shoulder, and indicating the dancer with a furtive dart of his eye. Steve stifled a smile. Eric then moved away from the group to lavish attention on the dancer.
“I pity the woman who’ll marry that guy,” said Steve.
“I pity the woman who’s marrying you,” said Mike. The other guys chuckled, and after feigning a long face Steve joined in the laughter too.
“I’m not that bad!”
“Stop preaching for once and give your brother a break,” pleaded one of the guys, a tall and burly character. Mike raised his hands in surrender.
Meanwhile, Eric had been chatting to Queen. This of course wasn’t her real name. She’d become so popular early in her career at the club that the owner crowned her “Queen of the Delicious Lolly.”
Eric came back with exciting news for Steve. A lap dance had been secured and the dancer was open to negotiations if Steve wished to sweeten the deal.
“I’ll take the lap dance but there’ll be no negotiations. I’m now a changed man,” said Steve to rapturous approval. Queen came to fetch him and they went off to their booth, with his friends’ suggestive whistles and chuckles following them.
A while later Queen was slowly undulating in front of Steve. Every now and then she’d caress his stubbly cheek with her delicate fingers and immaculately manicured nails.
“So you’re really doing it,” said Queen.
“Yes I am”.
“So what do you want from me tonight,” asked Queen, adding: “your friend said you might want some fun since you’re about to enter holy matrimony.”
“Tonight I’m being a good boy. I’m getting married and in fact I’m going on the straight and narrow from now on…,” said Steve.
Queen laughed and said she knew his type; he’d be back a few weeks after the wedding. Steve said he’d better go before she tempted him any further and stood up.
“Do you love her?” Queen asked this question when Steve was at the exit of their little booth so he took a step back.
“Yes, I think so. I like her and we’re happy together. We’re a perfect fit,” he said, for the first time actually contemplating the depth of his feelings for Rachel. He looked at Queen, puzzled by her question and trying to process the issues it stirred up.
Steve had asked Rachel to marry him because he thought that at thirty-three it was about time. He also had great affection for Rachel and knew they made a great team. She was a superb home maker and he needed someone to take care of him and his home. He had not given much thought to what being married would actually entail and what demands might flow from the vows. But nothing was going to stop him from getting married.
Chapter 2
They rolled around on the bed. Steve’s hands danced nimbly up and down Rachel’s back in a charged motion which produced a delicious static that prompted a more urgent kiss, with her hands eagerly sliding up the back of his neck to pull him even closer. Yes!
However, this stolen moment of passion could go no further. With a regretful moan, Rachel pulled away and said:
“We’re gonna be late”.
“I know. I wish I didn’t have to go,” Steve said.
“Look at it this way, you guys will be free to say nasty things about me at least once before the wedding”.
“Nonsense my family loves you. It’s just this thing between my dad and Mike. Damn it!”
“Sorry my love. Tense dinners are never great”.
“If you want to call lectures and screaming matches tense…”
The moment was lost and they both rolled off the bed. Somewhat dejected, Steve fixed his clothes: the shirt was patted into shape and the belt buckle returned to its rightful place. Rachel, who hadn’t decided what to wear to dinner with her mom, sat at the dressing table, combing her hair while looking at Steve’s reflection in the mirror.
“Maybe your father’s accepted that Mike really wants to be a painter. He can’t lecture him everyday”.
“I feel partly responsible, you know. First it was football at school and then the corporate thing. I’ve always had dad’s approval, but Mike’s never had it… Anyway don’t worry about it. Have a great time and say hi to your mom”.
They kissed and he left the room. It was clear to Rachel that the constant fighting between his father and brother was taking its toll on Steve. But Mike was a grown man and Ben would soon have to realise this and allow Mike to live his life as he saw fit. Otherwise, the internecine battle would end very badly. Rachel remembered that she knew some people in the art trade, and made a mental note to get in touch with them and introduce them to Mike. It would lift some weight off Steve’s shoulders to see his brother’s career progress.
The jingle of her mobile phone interrupted her thoughts. Her expression darkened when she saw that it was her pest of an ex-boyfriend, Dennis. She didn’t answer it. When would Dennis get the message that there was no hope? And what made him think she’d take him back? She’d done all she could to keep that relationship going but he was married to his career and heaven knows what else. His reasons for calling were even more preposterous: “I heard you were getting married and couldn’t bear to see you make the worst mistake of your life. We belong together!” A text message came through; Dennis again, professing undying love as before. Rachel thought Dennis couldn’t handle the fact that she’d moved on so he selfishly indulged in an “if I can’t have you no one can” sort of attitude. She didn’t appreciate it, and sent back a message to that effect, adding that she didn’t want him to contact her again.
******
Dinner was almost ready and the table set. Julia now made minute adjustments to glasses and cutlery. She stopped, took a step back, and surveyed the scene. All was as it should be. A smile lit her face, and she looked up when she heard the shower up stairs stop running. Her husband, Ben, had finished showering. Great. She took a look at the clock and knew that soon everyone would be gathered round the table. This was the source of more satisfaction but the smile slowly faded and trepidation became apparent in her demeanour when she thought of the situation between her youngest son and his dad. She quickly pushed this out her mind though as tonight was special. Family dinners seldom took place now that Steven practically had his own family. But everyone had agreed on some sort of ceremony tonight, seeing as it would effectively constitute a kind of ‘last supper’.
Julia was in her late fifties and favoured a mature and elegant wardrobe of blouses, jackets and dresses. Tonight she wore a little black dress, low-heeled shoes and a pearl necklace. Her once black hair was now streaked with grey, and she’d never bothered to dye it as it was apparent to everyone that the new do suited her. A little cardigan, in case it got chilly later, hung on the chair back at her place at the table.
“Hello,” boomed Steven from the entrance hall.
“Hi,” cooed Julia, all smiles, extending her arms to him for a hug.
“Where is everyone?” Steve looked around as he asked this question.
“Your brother’s in his cottage and your dad will be down in a moment. I didn’t make a fuss about help because I wanted peace you know.”
“I see. Never a dull moment,” said Steve with a grin.
“Don’t be silly now. The situation is serious,” Julia chided playfully.
“I know. I’ll go get Mike.”
******
Dinner had got off to a good start, Ben and the boys lavished praise on the chef. But of course it was all true because Julia was an excellent cook.
“Mom, this chicken is great. Please give Rachel the recipe,” teased Steve.
“I’ll pass it on to her when I die. In the meantime, you two can always come home for dinner,” said Julia warmly.
“How is Rachel,” asked Ben
“She’s good. She sends her love, as you know she’s having dinner with her mom tonight.”
“Good, good. I like her. She’s a very grounded and sensible girl. And it’s a very good thing you’re doing Steven, getting married and settling down.” After saying this, Ben shot his other son a sidelong look. The look was not loaded with reproach but Mike felt the sting anyway.
“Yes. It is wonderful,” added Julia, “I also wish Rachel were here tonight. But it’s not like she’s going anywhere. Everyone ready for dessert?”
“Yes dear! That would be great,” enthused Ben, smiling at his wife.
Ben was in a good mood, and his sons exchanged significant glances to confirm that they were not imagining this. It’s not that Ben was a perpetual stick in the mud, but he had a unique way of vacillating between cheerfulness and graveness that was at once recognisable to members of his family. He was either dark and brooding or full of beans and willing to engage. Everyone knew the tide was in if he sat in his reading chair, poring over a newspaper or book. Julia hardly noticed, giving him space to battle his demons and happily enjoying his company when he’d vanquished them.
Ben had gone to help Julia with the dessert, and from the sound of it they’d forgotten what they were supposed to be doing in the kitchen as they were apparently having a full on chat. Steve and Mike relaxed a bit and dared to touch on the inflammatory subject of Mike’s art. Mike was very excited about his new job at a local gallery. It didn’t pay much but was an opportunity to meet the right people in the industry. It also went a long way towards making him feel normal because all artists, he was discovering, had walked over coals to get some sort of career going. Steve listened attentively as he found Mike’s take on life fascinating. He’d also secretly funded Mike’s last exhibition at an art fair in Cape Town. He asked his brother how things had gone in Cape Town.
“Oh! It was great! And actually I forgot to tell you. The gallery wants to exhibit those paintings!”
“Wow! That’s great man. Soon you’ll be rubbing shoulders with sophisticated art types. Don’t forget your roots brother,” teased Mike.
Mom and dad caught the last bit of this conversation as they brought in dessert.
“What’s going on,” enquired Ben, with expectant eyes.
“Mike’s paintings will be shown at the gallery where he works,” enthused Steve.
“That’s great news,” said Ben, nodding approval.
“Oh! Darling why didn’t you tell me,” cried Julia, dashing to Mike’s side of the table to give him a hug. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you!”
“Will they pay you good money for your paintings?” asked Ben. A silence fell.
“They’re not buying the paintings dear, just exhibiting them. But he will get money if someone buys one of his paintings,” explained Julia.
“That’s it? That’s what we’re celebrating – if someone buys one of the paintings!”
“It wouldn’t kill you to be supportive for once dad,” spat Mike.
“Supportive!” exclaimed Ben.
“Ok, Ben, calm down. Mike, your dad’s just concerned about your future that’s all,” appealed Julia. A tense silence fell once more.
Then Ben began:
“Supportive! You’ve got to be joking Michael! Just look at your brother he’s got a proper job, which you don’t seem to want…”
“There we go again. When are you gonna realise that Steve and me are two different people with different plans for the future. I’m not Steve!”
“Please stop shouting,” interjected Julia, herself shouting.
“Julia I think it’s time we went ahead with what we discussed…”
“Ben, please,” said Julia, half pleading, half admonishing.
“He has to learn,” charged Ben, continuing: “Michael, your mother and I have discussed this and she’s been telling me we shouldn’t but as your father I think it’s my job to prepare you for the world. From now on you’ll have to pay a market related rate for the cottage”.
Mike’s eyes opened wider; his lips parted but he said nothing. Steve was also rigid with surprise. This was a turn of events that neither of the brothers had expected. They knew their father disapproved of Mike’s choice of career but this was a step quite unanticipated. Mike was not so much stunned by the idea of his paying rent but more by the fact that his own father now saw him as a burden. This split open old wounds of always coming second to Steven in their father’s eyes.
“If we have to be cruel to be kind so be it,” said Ben, in a softened tone.
“Excuse me,” said Mike. As he stood up, the plates and cutlery made a loud noise as if it were all breaking into pieces. He stormed out of the room.
“That wasn’t necessary,” hissed Julia, with as much dignity as she could muster.
“The boy has a degree in advertising, which we paid for in addition to this art of his. And we did that so he could get a job! He’s twenty-five years old. He needs to stand on his own two feet!”
“I know that but he’s not like you or Steven. He’s sensitive and forcing him to pay rent in his own home is…is not right…”
******
The following day at breakfast, Rachel sat enthralled as Steve related the drama of the night before. They sat on the patio as they always did on Saturday mornings. Rachel insisted on this quality time because Steve usually spent Saturday afternoons with his friends, and even when they came to their house it made no difference as she felt she had to give them space.
Rachel was concerned about Mike and asked Steve if Mike would consider leaving his parents’ cottage and finding a place of his own. Steve said that his mom would probably sweet talk him into staying, not that Mike would want to move out. Steve didn’t think his brother was ready for that. He only hoped that Mike’s art career would take off so there’d be peace again in the family. Rachel mentioned she knew some people who could help Mike and would let Steve know once she’d re-established contact with them. Steve thanked her and added that he believed his brother was a good artist, but admitted he didn’t know much about how the art industry worked. He then invited Rachel to gloat about her lovely night with her mother.
“I won’t gloat. Don’t be silly. But mom’s been great, and for the first time I’m appreciating the fact that she took over the role of supervisor with the wedding planners and all that. All I have to do is approve stuff; I feel rather special.”
“Like the princess you are,” he said caressing her face. The charm worked; she smiled brilliantly.
“Otherwise we had a great time,” said Rachel, still beaming.
******
Later that afternoon Rachel stretched out on a couch, trying her best to enjoy some “me” time. She reached for her Mojito, took a sip, and set it back on the coffee table. Her other hand held up the seating arrangement for the wedding reception. However, she wasn’t so much contemplating the arrangement as she was the increasingly bizarre behaviour of her ex boyfriend. His latest professions of love unnerved her. The surfacing of an old flame, especially one as given to theatrics as Dennis, was certainly not a welcome development. But, she reasoned, he’d get the hint and leave her alone. She’d stopped answering his text messages and he hadn’t sent any the whole day so perhaps there was nothing to worry about. Her mobile rang.
“Hi Mom!”
“Hi Rachel, I’m at the gate. Please open for me,” Dinah said gravely.
This was strange. Why was Dinah sounding so serious and why had she arrived at Rachel’s unannounced? These questions ran through Rachel’s mind as she keyed the gate’s combination into her cell phone. She heard the soft rumble of the gate as it unlocked and opened.
“Hi Rachel,” said Dinah, with hardly a smile. Not darling, love or anything – this was serious.
“Hi. What’s going on Mom?”
“I’ve had a visitor,” said Dinah, intently looking up at her daughter. The two were an interesting pair: Dinah was much shorter than her daughter, owing to the fact that Rachel had inherited her height from her father. But the beauty had clearly come from Dinah.
“What visitor,” asked Rachel, her face in a knot of concern.
“Dennis came to see me...”
“Oh God! I don’t believe him!”
“Rachel, listen to me.” Dinah took Rachel by the arm and led her to the lounge where she sat her down. Dinah continued: “I know how you two felt about each other. Now tell me, and be honest, has anything gone on between you and Dennis since…”
“No!” Rachel interrupted so suddenly and with such passion that Dinah was startled.
“Ok. I see.” Dinah’s tone was now less interrogative; her shoulders relaxed; her eyes became less probing and her general body language more relenting.
“I can’t believe him and I can’t believe you for asking me if I’m cheating on my fiancé!” Rachel expressed the latter part of this sentence in a half whisper. It was inconceivable to her that she could cheat on Steven.
“I had to ask. After what he said, I…”
“What exactly did he say?”
“He didn’t accuse you of anything. He said he still loves you, can think of nothing else etc. you know Dennis. He asked me to plead his case to you, which I won’t do. But I needed to be sure that you aren’t having second thoughts or anything like that.” The last statement became a question at the end when Dinah raised her eyebrows in a manner which begged an answer. Rachel smiled and a short laugh escaped her lips.
“Mother,” she said, putting her hands over Dinah’s and looking her squarely in the eye, “I’m not having cold feet and I’m not having a liaison with Dennis. Steve and I will get married in six days and I’ve never been more committed”.
“Good.”
“As for Dennis, he had his chance but he decided the grass was greener elsewhere. And as much I thought I loved him I now realise that so much of that ‘love’ was infatuation. What I have now is real. Don’t worry Mom, I’ll call him and deal with him. He’s called and sent lots of silly messages over the past few days. I guess I can’t ignore him forever.”
“Forever for you is six days. So I think you’d better sort this out ASAP. We don’t want him interfering with your wedding”.
There was an elegance and strength about Dinah which Rachel admired. She felt that any problem, big or small, could be easily dealt with when her mother was around. After Dinah left, Rachel sat down to consider Dennis’ audacity. Why did he go and appeal to Dinah when she’d explicitly told him there was no hope? She’d put up with his nonsense for so long that he probably thought that all he had to do was present himself and she’d accept him with open arms. That ship sailed long ago, she thought wryly. Her mother’s warning regarding possible interference with the wedding awakened her initial fears and brought her mind to more urgent subjects. How was she going to get rid of Dennis? Should she tell Steve?
******
“QIT: Writing the Future,” read a huge sign at the top of a gleaming glass building which housed the headquarters of the information technology giant where Steve worked. The QIT building was a tall and imposing figure in a community of dwarf office complexes in the Blue Valley business district. Dennis had signed in as a prospective employee, presenting himself for an interview. He lay in wait for Steven whom he knew would emerge from the building at any time as most employees of the company were now trickling out and going home for the day.
With background knowledge, you could tell why Rachel had been attracted to Dennis, at least physically. He had Steve’s kind of athletic body structure and features but he lacked the charisma. There was something menacing about him at the present moment. Dennis didn’t quite know what he wanted to say or do to Steve. He knew only that he wanted Steve to understand that Rachel was not his to marry.
Dennis’ renewed passion for Rachel had been stirred not by a sudden recognition of the true nature of his feelings after much introspection but by a recurring feeling of dispossession because he’d lost out on some business deals and fallen on hard times. He wanted to punish everyone he thought had taken from him what was rightfully his. Hearing that Rachel was getting married made him want her again. It also revived the fear that he might never know the security of being with a woman like her and he felt compelled to act lest he should lose his chance forever. All of these feelings masked themselves in the guise of love, so Dennis felt justified in his pursuit. He sat in his car, his eyes fixed on the building’s entrance.
The sliding doors swished open and Steve strutted out. The sight of Steve triggered an adrenaline rush in Dennis; his pulse raced and his palms grew sweaty. He charged at Steven, who was nonchalantly throwing his briefcase in the back seat of his car.
“You can’t fuckin’ marry her! She’s mine. You understand,” thundered Dennis. Steve was surprised. He wasn’t sure if the guy was talking to him but the stranger was staring him in the face.
“Dude, what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Rachel. We’ve been in love for years and you can’t marry her”.
“What the fuck! Get out of here. You’re crazy, man.” Steve waved him away. Dennis seemed disturbed and he came across as so erratic that Steve couldn’t take him seriously, but he was annoyed nonetheless. Steve turned slightly and reached for the door of his car. But to Dennis justice had not been done and he lunged at Steve, punching him in the back of the head. Steve answered with a right hook but it didn’t land as nicely as it could have because security guards were suddenly pulling them apart. They’d watched Dennis’ spirited approach and sensed trouble.
“Let go of me you fuck!” Dennis lashed and kicked, but the strong guard had a firm grasp on him and pinned both his arms behind his back.
“She’ll never love you the way she loved me or fuck you the same way…”
The last comment infuriated Steve and he wanted to smash Dennis’ face in but the second guard gripped him tighter and held him back. “Fuck you,” roared Steve, as Dennis was being dragged away.
******
Steve was still extremely angry when he came home. He clutched the bump in the back of his head and went straight to the freezer and rummaged for ice. Rachel was behind him the whole time demanding to know what was going on. For a while, all he did was spit obscenities as he wrapped a bundle of cubes in a dishcloth.
Exasperated, Rachel threw her hands up in the air. “Well?!”
“This,” Steve pointed to the bump, “is the work of your… Dennis punched me earlier.”
The energy with which Rachel had pursued and questioned Steve vanished in an instant when he said Dennis’ name.
“He punched you,” she stated rather than asked.
“Yes, and he seems to think you and I have no business getting married because you two are in love!”
“It’s not true,” said Rachel.
“Damn! I could kill that guy.” Steve paced around the kitchen and then marched out to the lounge. Rachel followed him.
“He came to my work Rachel and attacked me!”
“I’m sorry Steve,” she said, her voice cracking as she battled to contain her emotions.
“What kind of sicko does this kind of thing?” He glared at her.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t know he was gonna do this”. Tears were streaming down her face and she sat down on a couch and covered her face with both hands. Steve stopped his ranting and after moment went and sat next to her. He put his arm around her and pulled her to him.
“I’m not angry with you. I’m sorry for going on about it like that. He’s your ex, yes, but it’s not your fault he’s gone mad”. He gently stroked her back and Rachel took a deep breath, lifted up her face and said:
“He’s been sending text messages and calling. He even went to see my mother so I feel really bad for not telling you”.
Steve was quiet for a while and then replied: “It’s ok. You didn’t know he was gonna attack me. It’s not your fault. But next time tell me so I know what you’re dealing with. His timing is so crap as well but I guess he does want to stop us from getting married,” he mused, trying to lighten the mood.
“Your family will think I’m a loose woman who’ll get you killed”.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” said Steve, smiling and still holding her. He managed to get a smile from her with this one.
Rachel apologised again and said she’d been sure she could handle it. And Steve assured her it was all right and, in any case, it would take more than a mad man to stop their wedding from taking place. At least now they knew what to watch out for on Saturday. If Dennis showed up he’d simply be refused entry.
******
The wedding day came and Steve was not his usual cocky self. He looked humbled and nervous. No man is ever the picture of confidence at the altar and some men experience a general feeling that their agency, at least for the duration of the ceremony, is suspended because they have to do what a priest says: repeat after him and kiss the bride at his command. Potential for embarrassing moments is high.