The melodious voice of Charlotte Benedict, who sang along to the Christmas carols on the radio, welcomed Clere as she walked into the dining room, stifling a yawn.
“Mum. Good morning.”
Charlotte Benedict looked up from her task. Her eyes shone with warmth and her cheeks were rosy. She had wrapped her cropped blonde hair in a light scarf.
“Good morning, my love. Slept well?”
Clere nodded to her query and pulled a chair to sit. The less said about her night shenanigans, the better. Clere reached for a slice of bread and nibbled on it. She looked up at her mother as she continued with her humming. She could never understand how her mother could always be cheerful despite all the problems they were going through.
“Where is Dad?”
Charlotte, who was about to pour a cup of tea for her daughter, paused and looked towards the study. Worry lines marred her smooth, beautiful face.
“Mum?”
“He’s been cooped up in there for a while,” she said quietly. “I really wish this nightmare would be over already. I don’t think your father can take any more disappointments.”
The study doors opened and a wheelchair-bound man rolled out. He looked up at his family, his face firmly set and unreadable.
Clere pushed her chair back and stood up. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Though her father’s impassive face gave her little room to read his emotions, she had an inkling of what he was about to say.
“What did that demon want?” Charlotte hissed.
“I really don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or jump with joy,” Bernard Benedict said, looking up at both of them. He ran his hand through his thin blonde hair that resembled Clere’s. “Ian just gave up the company. He will give back what he stole from us.”
“Really, Bern? Does it mean we can finally have our lives back?” Charlotte asked him, hope mixed with fear, her breath held. How many times had he said that only for Ian to humiliate them? She dared not hope again.
Bernard nodded. “He seemed genuine this time around.”
Charlotte turned to her daughter. “Oh honey, isn’t this great news?”
Clere squeezed her mother’s hand. “It is, Mum.”
“Finally, the Lord has answered our prayers,” Charlotte continued and went to hug her husband.
“He wants all of us to be there at the handover,” he told them.
“Sure. I will just go and change,” Clere said as she left the room.
Soon enough, Ian. Soon enough. Today is just the beginning of your end, Clere mused as she made her way up the stairs.
🕸🕸🕸
BAROTSE PLAINS HOTEL
Teliwe stretched luxuriously on the hotel’s king-sized bed. The mid-morning light that seeped through the partially closed curtains warmed her body. She sat up and stared at the space next to her.
The stranger lay naked and in deep slumber, barely covered by the sheets. Flashes of the previous night flooded her sleep-fogged mind.
After he had hugged her as she cried over Pumulo, she had found herself kissing him.
He had been taken aback by her unabashed move. He had apologized and made to leave. But Teliwe had held his hand tight and kissed him again.
“Listen,” he had begun, breaking the kiss, his head resting on her forehead. “You are drunk. As much as my body wants you, I can’t do this when you are not yourself.”
“Yes, I am drunk,” she told him boldly. “But not enough to not know where my head is at.”
She may have drunk half of the bar’s alcohol content with the intent to forget, but that never happened. With each glass she had downed, her mind had become clearer. Her mind was determined to torture her with the hurtful reality.
“We don’t know each other. After tonight, we will probably never see each other again.”
That was true. Maybe if they had met under different circumstances, they could have tried to date. Unless he was married. But she dared not ask. She couldn’t bear to think the only second man she had been attracted to was taken as well. To her relief, he had laughed when she had asked and assured her he wasn’t.
She had not wanted to be alone. She felt empty inside, she told him. She just wanted to feel loved and needed, even if it was for just one night and with a stranger.
He had stared at her incredulously for a while, to a point she had begun to feel her just-found liquid courage begin to slip.
“No regrets?” he finally spoke up.
“No regrets,” she had answered, meaning it.
Teliwe shook her head to dispel her wild acts of the previous night. She slid out of bed, took a quick shower, and dressed up, all the while being as quiet as possible.
She had no idea if she could resist repeating the acts of the previous night if her handsome stranger woke up.
She had been bold thanks to the alcohol and anger. But now she had no idea how she would react. Of course, she regretted nothing. It had been the best night of her life, if she was honest enough.
She grabbed a sticky note from the side table, scribbled on it, and stuck it on his forehead.
“Yes, Teli,” she murmured and sighed as she watched over him at the edge of the bed. “No regrets.”
She walked out, closing the door behind her quietly.
🕸🕸🕸
Nsemiwe stood at the bar mixing a glass of cocktails when Pumulo, still in the previous day’s clothes, walked in.
“You finally came back.”
Pumulo walked past her to the bedroom. She followed him.
“Would you prefer that I didn’t come back?” he sat on the bed to take off his shoes.
“Were you with her?”
“Don’t you think that it was time you reduced your alcohol intake? It is not good for the baby.”
She scoffed at him, gulping down the glass.
Pumulo chuckled in disbelief. “You really take crazy to the next level.”
“Answer me. Where did you spend the night? Were you with that slut? Did you have a good time making a fool of me? Answer me!!”
He looked at her, bored, as she glared at him.
“I will go take a hot shower and try to get some sleep after. Do you think maybe you could tone down the crazy a little bit? Ummm.”
Nsemiwe did not appreciate the mocking tone nor the amusement she saw in his eyes. To her, that translated to confirmation of her suspicions.
“You were with her, weren’t you?”
Pumulo shook his head at her and headed into the bathroom. Nsemiwe hurled her empty glass at the closed doors, huffing and puffing as the glass broke into a dozen pieces.
🕸🕸🕸
Lemba woke up to the sharp shrill of the telephone and an animal-printed sticky note obstructing his vision. It took him a while to register his surroundings. He sat up, puzzled by the paper on his forehead. He pulled it as he reached for the landline receiver.
The pleasant hotel receptionist informed him she had been instructed to wake him up at that very time by his lady friend on her way out.
He hung up and turned the paper around.
Thank you, Teli.
Lemba sighed and leaned back against the headboard.
“No regrets,” he murmured to the vacant side of the bed where Teli had slept. The night had been incredible. The best ever. No expectations of any kind, but just two consenting adults using each other’s bodies to escape their realities.
Lemba recalled making love to her all night till dawn. On the bed, in the shower, on the sofa, and back to the bed.
He had later watched over her as she slept with her head on his chest. Sleeping, she looked at peace. No one could have known the torment that her heart was going through. But he knew, and he wished he could always protect her and never let her hurt again.
But now, she was gone.
“No regrets, Lemba. No regrets,” he told himself, his eyes fixed on the note she had left behind.
INKED IMAGINATION
