#3 Letho noKhayone
It is so hot in this bus. I’m so glad we’re nearing our next stop. Khayone is sitting next to me, busy reading the news on her phone. It took a while but I’m used to it now – she uses transit times as a chance to catch up. We’re different though, because if I was the one reading, I would be giving her running commentary as I read. While she reads, I usually people watch. And because she likes the isle seat, I take the window seat and switch between looking at her beautiful face and staring out the window. She has a dimple that usually comes out when she has a naughty smile on her face. Oh that beautiful smile. I love her.
The bus passes Letho and some friends of hers. What is she doing here? “Hayibo,” I say in shock as the bus passes. How did she even know I was here. Then I remember a conversation we had a week ago, so I calm down. She looks as the bus passes. I don’t know why because the windows are tinted, you can’t see inside. I look at her as she signals her friends and they start walking in the buses direction. The bus uses the circle to make a u-turn back to the where Letho and her friends were standing. But they don’t turn back. They just stop and continue talking. What is she doing here? Now wondering why she’d come here without telling me. I spoke to her just two days ago.
There is something about this place. I love the vibe that Vilakazi street has. Khanyone is still keen on doing a tour of the Mandela house. I’m glad I convinced her to stay in Johannesburg for a day. It’s different to Cape Town and I think this experience will shed more light about where I come from. Khayone is amazing. Her ability to be sensitive to other people has taught me other dimensions of being considerate. I was not surprised when this tour around the city was a bit triggering for her as well. So I’m surprised she still wants to see the Mandela house. I read that the tour is not long, about an hour. So we plan to meet at the restaurant for lunch when she’s done. I’ll have a drink and read while I wait for her.
She loves holding my hand. There isn’t enough space in this bus for us to hold hands and walk. But she doesn’t need to be next to me to hold my hand. She gets out first and helps me down. I didn’t need the help but I took it – more hand holding. We walk hand in hand down the street. I’m glad she’s holding my hand because my vision is blurry from the tears. Khayone the joker has me stitches. We’ve had to stop a couple of times because I was laughing so hard, I would throw my head back and forth like an escaped jack-in-the-box. Her jokes are seldom jokes that you laugh at and add to the joke in between breaths. No. They’re lethal and purely for my entertainment even though she often laughs first. I sometimes catch her staring at me as if the sound of my laughter is a returned mating call and her jokes are the beautiful bird feathers. Its in these moments when her dimple comes out.
I wipe the tears and when my eyes open I realize how close we are to where Letho and her friends are standing now. We greet each other and Khayone and I pass. What? I didn’t want to assume that she’s here for me. Khayone knows that Letho and I are friends from social media. As we walk past, Khayone looks at me with that “chesa gal” look. I smile back at her and shake my head. Its a thing we do. And I think it’s a sport for Khayone because she’s convinced I have a type. For me, it’s a thing we do because females are amazing.
Letho says something to her friends. We’re out of earshot so all I hear is “know her … talk naye”. I think Khayone also heard because we starts to slow down. Letho calls me and we stop. Khayone kisses me and then crosses the street. I watch her as she walks off, I can’t help myself and besides, it’s another thing we do. A manifestation of a bit of separation anxiety I guess. I turn to Letho. I struggle to return her smile because my face is immediately occupied by an “en then?” expression. Like me, she’s neither a femme or a stud, so I’ve never seen this pantsula look. I’m both confused and amused. She moves to stand even closer to me. So close I can feel the warmth from her skin and everything blurs in that moment. She says “unjani?” and I grab the spoti off of her head and start to run. Kodwa this look though.
After a few pics of her trying to get her hat back and selfies of me in the hat, we start to walk towards the restaurant. We’re silent. We pass the first left. Then the second left. I want to ask her what she’s doing here and she probably wants to ask me if I’ve spoken to Khayone. We eventually stop. Well, I stop and she turns around. I kiss her on the forehead and she hugs me in response. A tighter hug than usual and I can feel her heart beating fast. Nervous? Une nevs uLetho ephapha kanje? “I’ll wait for you, tell me when you’ve spoken to Khayone,” she says. “Okay. I will. Soon. I promise,” I reply. She grabs the hat out of my back pocket and runs towards her friends. I laugh and shout “simbi beyps”. She laughs and does a side gallop so she can face me. “uyang’chaza yaz’”, she says. I blush because “uyang’chaza” feels different to “I think you’re cool”, it’s English equivalent.
“A date with them? No babe, you go.” She says as predicted. Well, it was worth a try ngoba Letho is so committed to making this introduction happen. Now to explain to her that it will never happen. Khayone isn’t interested in opening our relationship up that much. And the only reason why our flirtation is not a deal breaker for her is because this is a new occurrence and she’s willing to explore with me, for now. A year to be exact.
Noma the writer 