Being Celeste (4 page)

Oh, here they come, out of the supermarket.
I can’t spot Taboka. They are all walking out in a group, all of them. I wonder
why they do that. They’re like a herd of goats, just pouring out at the same
time. I wonder if Taboka is hiding in the middle. Maybe he knows I’ve been
cyber stalking him and he’s hiding. Wait, I don’t think he has a clue of who I
am. Here comes Kate, still hopping, behind the crowd. She’s holding two grape
juices. I was in the mood for orange juice, but I guess it will do.

Here she comes. I’m trying to act cool, but
inside I’m freaking out. My heart is beating like a drum. But why? I’m such a
fool, it even amazes me sometimes. Right now though, I don’t really care how
foolish I act, if it’s because of love.

“Yes!?” I said, before she had even fully
entered the shop.

Kate was bursting with all sorts of smiles,
it became contagious, and I started bursting with smiles.

“He wasn’t with the group,” said Kate,
setting the juice on the counter. She turned and faced me afterwards.

I don’t think at first I fully understood
what she had just said. Maybe I wasn’t listening because I heard what I wanted
to hear on the surface. What I heard at first was, “He’s coming over here to
say hi, to you.” But then after that, my coma cleared and I made out what Kate
had said. What? Then why was she smiling like a loon? Was it because she was
happy, as she does not approve of my idiot future husband? What? How come
Taboka let them go without him, doesn’t he know that there are people actually
waiting to see him and follow him into the supermarket? Kate is still smiling;
I hope she’s not making fun of me.

“What’s wrong, why are you smiling?” I
finally asked, still trying to act cool. The smile I had on earlier had
completely washed off my face. That’s okay, I’ll view his status update in a
moment on the internet.

“Because, my dearest Celeste, I saw the
most gorgeous man for words,” said Kate, after swirling over to me.

What? I looked at her with a straight face.
“What are you on about, Kate?”

“Oh, there he comes!” she screamed,
pointing at the supermarket entrance. “We were in the same queue at the till
point. I was behind him, but then he had to go back and get something else,”
she continued, her voice all weird, like in a dream.

Well, he didn’t look that bad...maan, he’s
fit actually.

“Thato,” said Kate. “That’s his name.”

Normally I’d be freaked out by the fact
that she already had his name, but I wasn’t. I told you that Kate was a
professional boy stalker. But seriously, how does she know his name? Did she
talk to him, perhaps? “How do you know his name, Kate?”

“I saw it when he took out his ID. He was
paying with his debit card. My eyes are sharp, you know.”

Before I could reply to that, she was
already on her phone,
facebooking
the poor guy. Oh boy, here we go
again!

All this time I’ve
been thinking, well imagining really, the feeling I would get after my first
kiss. It’s just a thought, or whatever. It’s constantly at the back of my mind,
just circling around it and stuff. How does kissing a boy feel like, what does
it taste like?
The
kiss, that first kiss? Is it as magical as it is in
the movies? Oh I’ve seen it done plenty of times in the movies, but does that
mean I know how to?...I’m still thinking about it. I was talking to Kate the
other day when she was sleeping over at my place because both my parents were
out of town, and I asked her how
her
accidental kiss felt like. She told
me she hardly remembered. I knew it was a total lie, because she’s just
embarrassed by it. I don’t know why she would find shame in getting one out of
the way. I don’t think anyone really forgets their
first
time. I know
you must be thinking,
How would I know if I’ve never been through it?.
And that’s right, it is, but I know. I then brought out my music player and
played her
Stairway to Heaven
by
Led Zeppelin.
I told her, Kate,
that I imagined a first kiss must feel like the guitar solo of the song. I
don’t know how to describe the solo of the song. It’s so incredible, too
incredible to describe. That’s how I imagine mine’s going to be. My first kiss,
I mean.

Then Kate stepped in and burst my bubble.
She said to me “But what if the guy is a horrible kisser, will it still seem as
incredible as
this
guitar solo just because it’s a first kiss?”

Arg! Good question. Maybe she was referring
to
her
kiss. But I wasn’t worried after she said that. I’m pretty sure
Taboka’s a good kisser, I can just tell. But then he’s going to think of me
inexperienced if he knows of my little problem. I don’t want that! So I told
Kate, I wouldn’t tell any guy who would rescue me from my life as a spinster in
training, that he was my first...anything really. She agreed. It may be
honourable and attractive to be yourself, but in extreme cases like us, a
little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone. Nope, not at all, no one!

Today I’m going to church with my mother.
It’s a Saturday. My father is still away with his beloved cattle, so I’m forced
to go to church and help with the preparations for next week Saturday’s annual
charity luncheon. My mother is the coordinator or
organiser
, as she
likes to call herself. It was her turn to be the boss. Gladys would be taking
orders from her. This should be fun, watching middle aged women acting
uncivilised and competing with one another. I don’t like going to church, well
mum’s church. I feel like I don’t fit in with anyone there. Because my mother
plays a key role in many events there, I’m pretty much expected to be my
mother’s daughter, which I’m not. She’s forced me to go and help the other
youth in the church to organise the seating area in the hall. I don’t ever help
her out with her church events because I don’t want to be involved. The church
area is very simple. It’s a huge compound with a huge building right in the
middle of it, the church of course. The hall is right behind, but joined to the
main church building. The compound is not paved, so there are mounds of dusty
sand all over, ruining my sandals. I don’t know why I even bother dressing up.
I don’t fit in. I don’t even know the youth quite well. They know me, but I
don’t have anything to say. I find it hard to connect with other people my age
who are all stuck up and won’t even bother making an effort to get to know me.
Because my mother is all high up in the church and involved with so many
things, they don’t treat me like a normal person. Just look, I’m about to enter
the hall, they are going to go silent for a moment and then pretend like I’m
not there. Ready?
Here comes the fat one, people!

Silence.

“Celeste!”

Oh no, one of them is coming over to me.
What am I going to say to her? She’s smiling, being all friendly giggles.

“Heey!” I replied, smiling back, wryly.

I have no idea who she is, you see what I
mean. She can’t come over and introduce herself like she’s supposed to. Now I
have to wait for someone to call her out loud so that I know her name. She
already knows mine, so it would be rude of me to ask her who the hell she was.
Wait, it’s wrong to say hell in church, right? She looks like a Lydia. I’ll
mentally call her that for now, until by some miracle her real name pops up.

“So, you come with me, we need plenty of
help at the back with the tables.”

Gosh, she’s still smiling. She grabbed my
hand and pulled me to the back of the hall. And she’s very commanding, so confident!
How does she know I want to help out? She’s just taking charge of the
situation, like a leader. Oh Lydia, I want some of that. They were pulling out
the tables out of the storage room and carrying them into the hall.

“Hi Celeste!”

Great, more of them know my name. Where do
they get it, did my mother bring over a picture of me? I’ve never seen these
people in my life. Well, that’s partly my fault. I’m here like every other
Sunday...well, when I can, that is. I’m always glued to my mother during service
and then I shoot straight to the car afterwards. But that’s because...
I’m
rude? I’ve never given the youth a chance to dabble into my personality and see
me more than just my mother’s daughter. And Lydia is so nice, it hurts even.
Then there’s Tom and Charles, (I made those names up too. What? I’m never
asking for their names, they already think I’m rude) the two scrawny looking
boys. I watched Tom and Charles carrying the wooden tables out of the dark
storage room. Tom, slightly shorter than Charlie, looked like he was about to
bounce off the walls. All that joy in his eyes, when he walked out carrying the
tables, he was so happy to be there. Was it because we were in church, I don’t
know. And Charlie couldn’t stop giggling at everything Tom would say to him...wait,
I hope they weren’t making jokes about me. Blame me for feeling a little
paranoid in a room full of people I hardly know, people I’ve given names. I
wonder what I should do now. I looked at Lydia for some direction, to pour on
me some of her commanding nature. I was here to help, not to stand around
looking lost. Besides, the more I do stuff around here, the more time moves
along and I get to leave.

Well, that wasn’t so bad. I may have made
some new friends. I’m even looking at movie night with more of a brighter feel
in my spirit. It’s so wrong that I judged those poor people based on a
perception I invented in my head. Who do I think I am, anyway? Anna (Lydia),
took my number and made me promise to come to church the next day. Tatenda and
Letang (Tom and Charlie), then suggested I come and sit at the youth section,
with all the other young people and worship the Lord together. Now I’m
physically obliged to go to church tomorrow. I hadn’t planned on going. I think
I’ll just try it out, their offer. Maybe things will be different and I’d
actually find going to church fun for once. Sometimes I need to remind myself
that I’m a grown woman and I need to connect with people around me, in the
grown up world. I have to think of an outfit, a different one from the clothes
I wear to work. I wonder if Kate wants to come along. She believes herself to
be atheist. For a time in my life, that’s where I felt I was, but you can’t be
atheist with a mother like mine, maybe when I’ve moved out and I’m living according
to my own set of rules.

My mother keeps going on and on about how
she’s going to upstage Gladys next week. I want to switch my brain off so that
it can go on a temporary vacation, somewhere cool and relaxing. I wonder if she
understands that I am the child and she is the parent. What is telling me about
Gladys going to help? I’m not going to help with anything; I don’t even talk to
Gladys because she’s
old
. I should say something to change the subject,
but what really? It will just divert back to the luncheon at church next week.
Mum needs a new hobby, you know. Retiring makes a person bored, I presume. This
is why I find it particularly difficult to find something I really like,
something I want to do with my life. I don’t want to retire at fifty-something
and spend my days committed to throwing parties at church. I want to look back
and think of how worthwhile working had been, and then retire to my incredible
house at the beach or something, but not when I’m middle aged. My career will
be so exciting that I’m going to hate the day I have to throw in the towel and
call it a day. Which is why I’ve chosen to be patient, I’ll wait for it to show
up, that exciting career. But sometimes I can’t help but feel a little lost in
translation, maybe even without direction or purpose. Here’s my older sister,
on her way to being a successful lawyer, making loads of money. Here I am, the
little lamb, without anything going for her. I know it’s wrong for me to be
comparing myself with her, something my parents aren’t too shy of doing, but it
says a lot. She knew what she wanted and now she’s making something of herself.
It’s really scary not having direction at twenty-one years old. Thank goodness
Kate is around to help me out with all this thinking. I have a partner in crime,
it’s much easier to handle. She will come soon, my sister, to visit. The world
in my house will stop at her feet and carry out her every command. No, I’m not
jealous...just a little.

I don’t know. I
think
church was great. I was just a little overwhelmed by all the nice people. I
wasn’t sure how to react, because I felt so guilty about the feelings I had
about them before. They were all dressed up and in a religious mood. Anna waved
frantically at me when I entered the church with mum. I waved back, but just a
little ladylike wave, not realising that what she meant was that I should come
over, she had saved me a seat like she promised. The two boys were sitting
behind her. They flashed smiles at me as soon as they saw I was coming over. Oh
my gosh, I actually may have friends at church, who would have thought? Me.
Celeste, a part of something. I think I should do an imaginary celebratory
dance to celebrate. I think I’m excited about the luncheon next weekend. Anna
and the boys promised me fun and good food.

Although I must admit, the sermon was a bit
on the long side. I think the pastor pulled a good forty-five minutes on us. By
the time we were at fifteen minutes, my mind had drifted to another place. I
looked over at Anna with the corner of my eye and she was so attentive, it was
as if there was a quiz after, or she was about to comment on what the pastor
was saying. If I were
that
passionate about the sermon, I would be
listening attentively too, who wouldn’t? His voice was so captivating and loud,
to grip even the most fragile minds...except mine, that is. All the nodding and
the silence in the church, how do they do that? I was thinking of my future, as
always. My mind was bouncing from my career and Taboka. I was trying to mesh
them together. I was trying to imagine the possibility of making them work
together, if it were possible for me to have two things that I want at the same
time. I’m all for positive thinking, but sometimes one can’t have it all. But
anyway, I think I may have partially dozed off during the sermon because
normally when I start thinking about stuff like that, I fall asleep and hope to
dream about it. I don’t think anyone noticed my head bobbing about, all drowsy
from the sleep. I hope not, my new friends would think I was a joke. A nice
lady started off a song after the pastor’s sermon was over. The piercing
screech when the song went higher from her voice did it for me. Yep, I fell
wide awake after that.