Exploits (27 page)

I have no conversation. Gary does not touch me at all. Which is saying something. Yet he is the most convincing actor I have ever witnessed. When Neville, Charl or Alan pop in, he laughs and smiles.

He treats me normally as though we are in a happy relationship. I, on the other hand, can't fake it. And they all pick up on my less than enthusiastic attempts at smiling. I am on the verge of tears, permanently. I am so unhappy that I can barely function.

… Pause …

… Play ...

"We're going away this long weekend."

I glance at Gary, sullen. "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

I suppress a sigh. He throws a pamphlet at me and tells me, "I'm paying for the food, you're paying for the accommodation."

I look at the cost and hate him. This will deplete my account completely. "I don't want to go."

"I don't care. You're going, because I said so."

I watch him, filled with bitterness. He stands towering over me, curled up in the corner of the lounge with a book I've borrowed from a neighbour. We ended up chatting when we coincidentally washed our windows on the same side, at the same time. She'd started bitching about a woman's work
is never done. I couldn't agree more. And so we have struck up a polite acquaintance, and she lets me borrow books to read.

All I've had to read in this house is Hustler and Playboy, which Gary keeps piled up in pride of place on the coffee table. He thinks reading is for nerds. The only movies he owns are pornographic, which doesn't exactly entertain me. I am grateful for this neighbour. One small act of kindness has helped to keep me sane.

"I'm waiting."

In a huff, I unfurl myself and get my purse. I give him the money and interrogate, "Who's going?"

Because I know he doesn't do anything without his adoring entourage there to praise him for his wit, success, charm, and for being the hottest in their crowd.

"The usual."

I groan inwardly. Time for female scorn to add to Gary's persecution. "That bitch is going. I'd better not catch you talking to her."

He must be referring to Cindy.

"Who
am
I allowed to speak to?"

"Just watch what you say. I don't want any of them knowing my business."

So let me stay home. "Fine."

…
Pause …

…
Play …

The worst part of this ordeal, is that we're not
going in Gary's super fast car. Oh no. Gary arranged to have his car stolen through some dodgy connection he has, so that he can claim from insurance and replace the car with a two litre something or other. I have been sworn to secrecy, possibly death, if I tell anyone.

None of his friends know. Poor Gary, such a poor victim of crime. So I am stuck in the back seat of Charl's car, with Gary.
Charl has a new girlfriend. She's just horrid. She's built like a potato, loud, condescending, bleached white blonde, really vain and opinionated, and wears enough make-up for the entire Miss Universe line up. She reeks of crappy perfume and cackles so loudly, in her fake seductive way, every single time either Gary, or Charl, say anything.

I’ve brought a new book along, and pretend to be engrossed as they chatter loudly over Gary's selection of music. Before long we have Alan and Kristy trailing us, behind them we have Cindy,
Neville and Graham. Everyone seems shocked to see me, but no one has yet said anything to me, other than hello.

It's a long drive from Cape Town to Mpumalanga. The joy of Cape Town is that the sun is so bright that it's reminiscent of Mykonos. The beaches are clean, wide and powder soft, with perfect cream sand. I love it. My heart belongs to those mountains and beaches. Driving inland depresses me. The scene flattens as we drive
through the vineyards, before climbing the mountains. It's lush and green with fynbos. Proteas in full splendour flirt on the edge of the highway. Give me a surfboard and the beach over where we're going, any day.

Mpumalanga is home to the Kruger National Park. It's known for dry grass, thorn trees, and wild game, in a very hot and dry climate. Luckily, where we're headed isn't a malaria hotspot. Wretched, I
watch the natural heritage of South Africa whiz past my window. Stunning wild eagles are overpowered by blaring heavy metal. Why do these people have to ruin the drive? The natural beauty and the way the scents change through my window, are devoured by suffocating clouds of cigarette smoke, fake laughter and music too loud and unnatural.

We arrive at a house in the middle of a macadamia farm. It's a glorified shack. Probably an old outhouse, given a fresh lick of white PVA, with its shining corrugated metal roof. We all choose bedrooms in the sparse hovel, put the supplies and bel
ongings in their places. Off the guys go to explore. Naturally I am left alone with Cindy, Kristy and Trish the potato.

The vibe has been less than friendly, so I excuse myself quickly to go back to my room under the false pretence of wanting to finish my book. The bedroom door opens onto the lounge-kitchenette area. I haven't smoked for
months. Yes, I am a wimp. So the thought of being with a bunch of girls drinking, bitching and smoking, sickens me and intensifies my misery. I flop onto my military styled bed, and open my book.

"What's her problem?"

"She's mentally unstable. Gary thinks she's sick in the head."

Oh really.

"She's so thin!"

No I'm not, I'm just not fat like you.

"Probably bulimic."

"I think she's anorexic!"

Why don't you two go get fucked!

"What does Gary see in her?"

"Well, we heard rumours she used to be quite wild in bed."

It's not a rumour, it's a fact. And Kristy, you aren't a saint yourself so shut the fuck up.

"But?"

"Gary doesn't ever mention her so maybe things aren't looking so good."

Yeah, because he's an unstable prick who won't let me be normal.

"He's better off without a nutcase like her."

"He's so hot! How did he end up with a girl like that?"

He is so hot, but that's all he is. Keep dreaming Miss Portly Potato, he's never gonna go near you. I've seen his girlfriends, you haven't.

"Maybe he was desperate at the time?"

He was, to get me back.

"When did they get back together?"

"Alan said he took pity on her when she lost her job."

I lost my job? What the fuck!

"He's such a nice guy. I feel so sorry for him stuck looking after such a leech. And she never smiles. He's so jovial. How does he cope?" Trish says.

The twisting in my stomach is so severe I feel sick with rage. How DARE they judge me? And they're talking about me when I'm close enough to catch them at it too. That does it. I'm not wasting a second of my time with any of them. Fuck them.

"Shh, she's coming."

"Hahahahahaaa! Oh Trish, you're so witty. Would you like some more wine?"

"Oh, hello Stefanie, wine?"

I stare at Kristy being a bitch, "No thanks."

And I stalk past and escape outside. I walk blindly, not knowing where I'm going to go. I just know I have to get away.

Not far, I find a river. I jump onto a rock in the centre, sit down crossing my legs, and continue reading in the blinding sunlight. I'm so hurt I feel like crying but stoically maintain my composure, and pretend this is the best book I've ever read. I have no intention of going back in there. I'm staying right here.

I don't wear a watch and I have no idea how long I've been gone when Neville shows up on the river bank.

"Hey Stef! You coming for lunch?"

No fucking way. "No thanks." I fake a smile,
"I'm not really hungry."

He shoots me an encouraging grin, "Aw, come on. We're missing you!"

No one is missing me of that I can completely assure you. The only person missing me is you.

"No thanks, Neville." And I keep on reading to dismiss him.

"What are you reading?"

"Nothing."

"Oh come on, it's me, not some stranger. Don't be shy, what are you reading?"

I sigh, and show him the cover.

"Awesome. We should chat later. I have some books you might enjoy!"

As I said, nerds read. One thing Neville definitely qualifies as is a nerd.

I smile back. "Sure. See you later! And I continue reading, shielding my eyes.

He stands there looking pensive for at least a further five minutes, only leaving when he hears Gary's voice drifting over, summoning him back. Obediently, he turns to comply.

That's the thing with Neville. He feels like the outcast in the cool kid group. He tries far too hard to please the cool kids. Not knowing how much they ridicule him when he's not present. This is one of the few reasons that I like Neville. I hate Gary for treating Neville with the same flagrant contempt as he treats me. The only difference is, Neville can't see it.

…
Pause …

…
Play …

As the sun starts sinking, Gary appears where Neville once stood. "Get inside and help with the food."

I glare back at his despising eyes, "What for?"

Oooh, he looks so enraged.

"Stefanie, for fuck’s sake, must you
always
make a scene?"

Is this for my benefit or for theirs? I stand up, feeling sore and achy from sitting on the hard rock for so long. I jump across and with a mouth as dry as the furnace at the crematorium I walk back to the den of disdain.

I overhear Gary complain to Alan somewhere outside, "She's such a goddam drama queen. If she's not the centre of attention she's like this. Do you see what I have to live with?"

I plaster a fake smile on my face and address Kristy, "Hi, can I help with anything?"

Trish, who is shorter than I am, lifts her chin so that she can look down her nose at me, saying, "Oh, you made sure you were too late to actually do any work. Did you think we didn't notice?"

Fuck you too. "Oh, I'm sorry. Well goodnight, I'm off to bed."

And I flee the suffocating attitudes by dashing to the bedroom, grabbing a blanket and covering myself. Fully dressed. I'll do anything to avoid this persecution. I am so thirsty, I haven't had anything since my morning cup of coffee. And now I'm not eating either, so I can't be accused of pitching up to enjoy others hard work, being a lazy good for nothing anorexic bitch.

"Where's Stefanie?"

Well, at least Neville notices.

"She's gone to bed."

"What?"

Mumble mumble.

I close my eyes when I hear the bedroom door open three minutes later.

"Get up and socialise with them."

I open my eyes and flinch at Gary's hate plastered all over his face.

"I've got a headache. I'm going to sleep."

He leans over me and whispers in spitting anger, "You are making this very hard for me. Stop it. Stop being so fucking childish."

I close my eyes and ignore him.

Just for the record. That was the longest weekend of my life. And purgatory welcomed me with open arms. My misery was only just beginning.

Chapter 35

SNAP

I haven't been allowed to consume alcohol either since Gary made his new rules. Drunk women are cheap. Wow. So the man who regularly plied me with enough liquor for a frat party now has a new view on me drinking or smoking.

Naturally, he's allowed to do both. He's allowed out. He has freedom, and I have dawdled to the brink of mental ruin by living inside his four walls without any normal anything.

I get up just before dawn
and sneak to the kitchen and have a long drink from the kitchen tap. Hoping that's enough water to sustain me for the day. Quietly I slip out of the door and start walking.

I walk until I'm totally lost, in the middle of a field, far away from them. I sit down on the dusty dry earth with the ants and beetles and start reading my book, but can't focus. My eyes are blurring with pain. I hate this place.

The sand is almost red, like iron oxide. It's hard and dry, unlike the fertile black soil at home. There's no moisture in the air despite the knowledge that there is a river close by.

It's fairly flat, the eye can see a panorama
for miles. And all I'm staring at is long dry grass and a smattering of trees on the land. The only nice things here are the few frangipani trees that line the drive in front of the hovel I paid a fortune to stay in, against my will.

It's hell being stuck in a bedroom with Gary. I haven't let him see me naked for months and now he wants me to pretend to be a loving partner, sleeping in the same bed? Knowing him he'll take advantage of the moment with a house full of people, all on his side. I have no idea where we are.