Love's courage. Mokopi Shale

kitchen.

      “I know . . . I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me . . . Well, I do. It’s called pride . . . Stupid, selfish pride.” Lesego continues to sob, her head in her hands.

      When she finally looks up, she sees Joy with a glass of water, and bawls even more when she sees her friend’s stern and disappointed expression.

      “Here, drink this,” Joy says more gently.

      Lesego gulps down some air, trying to breathe, and then drinks the water.

      “Now tell me what this is all about,” Joy demands, and slowly but surely the whole sad story comes out, with much sniffling and embarrassment.

      “So you were too ashamed to tell me you’re broke? Even though you own your own house, your own car, single-handedly put your sister through school, and still manage to look this good? You were embarrassed in front of me, a girl whose car was bought by Daddy, who’s still renting and has a mountain of debt? I don’t understand that!”

      Lesego uses one tissue after the other as her friend continues.

      “Actually we can take whatever money we have, hire some DVDs or watch the stack you have, cook a good dinner, buy some cheap booze like we used to at varsity and hang out together. I just wanted to see you, Lesego, not force you to spend money you don’t have.”

      The lecture sparks a fresh torrent of tears.

      “Well, I obviously can’t deal with this on my own,” Joy suddenly says, pulling out her phone. “Time to bring in the cavalry.”

      An hour later Lesego’s living room is lit with candles, there is old-school music blasting from her stereo and her girlfriends are swarming all over the house: Boitumelo in the kitchen, cooking and mixing killer cocktails, Lebogang at the radio, Joy as the main entertainer. Constant laughter and light seem to fill the room and Lesego wonders why she didn’t just do this to begin with.

      Chapter 2

      2

      Lesego wakes up from being too hot. It is broad daylight. She is tired but happy. She hasn’t received any frantic SMSs or calls, and had a rejuvenating night and day with her girlfriends who left last night to look for real parties and hook up with their men.

      Lesego wonders what to do with herself. Her house is sparkling clean, her laundry is done, she doesn’t like gardening because she finds the wild look more natural. So, what to do?

      She gets an SMS. R600,00 has been deposited into her account by Mr Khumoetsile.

      Lesego calls her father. “Papa, can you afford this?”

      “Yes, of course. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t have given you the money if I couldn’t. I have to take care of your nephew and mother, you know. But I thought you should do colour prints for your presentation, and you need money for petrol, and you may want an ice cream.”

      “Wow, you’re the best dad in the world . . . So the money cleared early?”

      “Yes, I checked my account on the off chance, and God and the ancestors were with me.”

      “Okay, let me go to town then. Thanks a lot, Daddy. Say hi to Mom and Tiro.”

      “I will. Bye.”

      Lesego decides to do her favourite thing – go book shopping!

      * * *

      Trawling the mall is Lesego’s best; she pops in at clothing stores, pervs over shoes and clothes, stares at passers-by . . . Eventually she steps into Exclusive Books and goes to the fiction section first because it tends to be cheaper. But nothing looks exciting . . . She wanders over to the health section and realises she has read most of the books there, and the others have little appeal. She decides to try the reference section; maybe she can find something to help her jazz up her presentation.

      She strolls down the main aisle, looking at various titles. Hello, speak to me; I have money and I want to spend it, she thinks. When she reaches the middle of the aisle, a title catches her eye: The History of the Batswana. Yes! she thinks as she reaches out for it – at the same time as a well-manicured, masculine hand reaches for it. They pull the book out together and turn to look at each other while still holding on to it.

      When their eyes meet, they both feel an electric shock going through their system. The two stare at each other for a few moments, looking each other up and down. Lesego’s gaze has the highest to go – she sees a fine specimen of masculinity: the most soulful hazel-brown eyes, set in a well-chiselled face, a long, well-shaped nose and the most luscious lips ever to be placed on a man, together with her favourite – a goatee. Eish, she thinks to herself, if it gets better than this, I’m going to turn into a hussy and get the brother’s details. Her gaze travels down unashamedly over a gracefully masculine neck with a small Adam’s apple, broad and muscled shoulders in a T-shirt that clings to well-developed pecs and a six-pack to die for.

      God is great! Your wonders amaze, oh Lord, you are worthy of praise! Lesego continues to exult to herself as her gaze continues down to what looks like . . . Oops! This has gone too far, girl! she reprimands herself in her thoughts. The brother has a face, and what a face. We must do this journey again, from the bottom up . . . Oh, what a ride!

      At the same time, Kenneth is doing his own checking out and his thoughts are also running riot . . . Perfect skin, caramel brown, a high forehead – a sign of intelligence; please God, say it’s so! Thick eyebrows over beautiful, large chocolate-brown eyes framed with the longest lashes he has ever seen. A dainty nose, high cheekbones, a wide and totally kissable mouth, a small chin and long, thin neck that flows into delicate, uncovered shoulders above a generous chest exposed to perfection with a heart-shaped bustier-type cotton top in a yellow that offsets her complexion – NO BRA!

      Lord have mercy on the weak! Kenneth gasps to himself as he swallows hard. His gaze continues over a flat stomach with just a bit of skin showing over the top of her tight blue jeans that show off her shapely and well-rounded hips above firm thighs . . . Then he forces his gaze back up again.

      They both realise they have been unabashedly checking each other out and instead of being embarrassed, the two give each other a cheeky grin.

      “So, how are we to settle this?” he asks her flirtatiously.

      “You could be a gentleman and just let me have it,” she responds.

      Eyebrows slightly raised, but seriously tickled, he responds with a naughty smile. “Well, normally I am a gentleman, but I really need this, so I think you should let me have it.”

      They both flush with desire and their eyes begin to glaze over. Their breathing becomes erratic while they stare at each other’s lips as they speak.

      Lesego shakes her head to clear the haze. They are practically engaged in mild foreplay right here in the middle of a bookshop, for heaven’s sake. “Okay,” she says, “what must I do to get you to let me have the book?”

      Slightly disappointed that she has become all serious, he says, “Well, this is the last copy and I honestly think I need it more than you. But I can let you have it if you promise to let me borrow it when you’re done.”

      “But we hardly know each other; how do I . . . ? Oh, okay, you want my number,” she says with another cheeky grin. “You could’ve just asked. Anyway, I would’ve found a way to get yours.”

      His eyebrows shoot up – he’s obviously impressed with her boldness.

      “I just have a series of questions I’d like you to answer before I give you my number,” she continues. “If you answer reasonably, I’ll hand it over gladly.”

      “What? An interview? You must be kidding.”

      “Hey, you’re the one who said you were a gentleman.”

      “I never said any such thing.”

      “Look, you could ask them to order another copy, but that would