Jaz & Miguel (12 page)

"Damn it," said Jaz, the foul taste of morning breath in
her mouth and a foggy haze blurring her vision. "Have you all showered
already?'' she croaked.

A chorus of "uh-huhs."

"Consider yourself lucky," said Thandie. "We were actually
planning on leaving you but Nita insisted on waking you up."

"You lie!" said Nita quietly, a huge grin on her face. The
perkiness and friendly banter of all the girls was just too much for Jaz, her
eyes barely staying open and her yawns preventing any sort of intelligible
communication on her part.
Without
saying a word, she jumped off the top bunk (hurting her left heel slightly) and
felt her way into the bathroom.

"Oh, and no deodorant!" cried Nita from just outside the
door. "It's serious. That's what Johan said."

It was only when Jaz turned on the shower that she remembered what
they'd been told about the water when they'd arrived. But at least now she was
very
awake, wondering if she would ever sleep again after the icy shock to her skin.
She soaped herself up in the most important places, not able to finish soon
enough. She brushed her teeth and stuck a hairbrush in her knapsack. There was
no time to brush her hair now.

She was surprised to see Miguel waiting outside her room for her. He
looked like he'd slept eight hours, and was smiling brightly on seeing her.

"I brought you breakfast," he said, holding out a toast
with bacon and egg on it.

Breakfast. Right. Another reason to have woken up early.

"Thanks," she said, suddenly wishing she'd taken the time
to brush her hair.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She grumbled.

"You smell great by the way," he added.

She looked at him with her best evil eye, and then surreptitiously
stuck her nose under armpit (just in case) while he wasn't looking.

"I
was
joking," he said.

Damn it! He saw that?

"You know, the whole no deodorant thing? The joke's actually
gotten pretty old by now—I mean, with those of us who've been awake for a
while."

"You're lucky I have a sandwich in my hand," she said with
her mouth full, "otherwise I'd punch you."

"You don't think I didn't notice you have a sandwich in your
hand?"

 They turned and followed the crowd who was already fifty or so feet
ahead of them.

They hiked for like an hour, the sole purpose of which had been to
watch the sunrise from the top of a canyon (which they all called a
kloof
).
On the other side of the canyon was a troop of baboons, shouting and barking
menacingly. They wouldn't be going to the other side because baboons could be
very dangerous animals.

Great
.

Apparently, the no-deodorant rule was to prevent them from being
tracked by animals—the
au natural
scent being
less "provocative."

No shit
.

Later, they learned about the different kinds of trees, met an
African tracker, and even smelled some kudu shit (no kidding)—which,
incredibly, did not smell bad at all (note on notepad to eat less meat). In the
afternoon, they would hold another class, and then they'd have a braai and talk
shit and probably end up getting their asses kicked by the boys at soccer
again.

There was even mention of meeting a real-life sangoma at one stage.

As the days rolled by, nothing much more seemed to progress between
Jaz and Miguel. He was always there, every morning, either waiting for her
outside her room when she overslept (which was often) or holding a seat for her
at breakfast (which they had out in the open).

And, just like that, ten days went by. Jaz felt like she'd learned
so little of him, and yet was constantly looking for him, as if she could no
longer imagine being without him. On the third day, Jaz was sure he'd kiss her,
but after that, she noticed that he was gravitating more and more to the crowds
so that they were never again alone like on that first night. Had she gotten
too close and scared him off?

When Jaz went to bed each night, counting the number of nights
before they had to return, listening to the crickets and even the bark of
baboons in the distant mountains, she'd started to feel a gnawing loneliness
that she could not explain.

She hadn't given him her heart, she reasoned, so why did it feel
like he'd taken it?

sandilesaysitatwits.blogspot.com

Interview with Jaz Curtis at Camp Inkululeko

Posted on:
Mon, July 22nd, 2013 at 09:16pm, South African
Standard Time

Posted by:
sandile

# Comments:
3

By popular demand, the first in our series of (very short) interviews
of students doing the IHRE program, will be of Jaz Curtis. This is the
transcript of our recorded interview.

Sandile
: Jaz, welcome to South Africa.
So, what do you think so far?

Jaz
: It's ... different. It's been
enlightening to say the least.

Sandile
: Now, I'm sure what most of our
readers would like to know about, is the encounter with the sangoma. Tell us
what happened there.

Jaz
: Well, I don't really know, I mean,
we were sitting around there. The sangoma was drumming and dancing and then she
sat down and said a lot of things I didn't understand. Then she looked up like
she'd seen a ghost and she called me up to her. She felt my shoulders and said
some things. She had this whip thingy and waved it over my shoulders—the left,
then the right. She spoke to me as if I was supposed to understand. When I
asked Thandie (and you) later, you said she was protecting me from evil spirits
because I am supposedly very ... I don't know ….

Sandile
: Go on, Jaz, don't be shy.

Jaz
: (Silent).

Sandile
: It seems Jaz is too modest. The
sangoma said, and I quote, "Your life has meaning to others here. You are
important. Your own actions will determine if the sun will again rise for those
you love. Choose well.
Listen
to the ancestors."

Jaz
: Yeah. (Raises eyebrows).

Sandile
: It's OK for you to think it's
all superstition, Jaz. No one will think you a racist for that.

(Both chuckle).

Sandile
: Now, tell us about the obstacle
course. How is it that you won that, really?

Jaz
: I didn't win ... actually. Someone
let me win.

Sandile
: Ahhhh. Would that someone be a
certain Miguel Pinto?

Jaz
: (Silent)

Sandile
: Come on then, no need to blush.

Jaz
: He denies it, but if he was going
to pretend to have sprained an ankle, then he should've kept it "sprained"
for more than ten minutes!

Sandile
: Ah, yes, some would say it was
gentlemanly, others, presumptuous. Now ... speaking of this Miguel—

Jaz
: No, you promised!

Sandile
: Yes, speaking of—

Jaz
: Not on camera!

Sandile
: Relax woman!
Sheesh
(chuckles). I will keep my promise! Just, on that subject (Jaz crosses arms), I
just want you to know that, on behalf of the rest of the IHRE class, we believe
the two of you would make a great couple—now, if you would both just shut up
and
kiss
already—

Jaz
: Hey!

Sandile
: You're right, that was coming
awfully close to me breaking my promise of not asking you how you feel about
him on camera, so I won't. To end off, what was your favorite part of the camp?

Jaz
: No comment.

Sandile
: Ahhh, I see. By the blush on
your cheeks I can see that this is certainly a no comment area! Thank you, Jaz Curtis,
for your time.

Jaz
: Thank you, Mr. Mabuyo.
3 Comments:
Comment from:
Jaz
Posted on:
Mon, July 22nd, 2013 at 09:31pm, South African Standard Time
Nice work, Sandile.
Comment from:
Maxine
Posted on:
Tue, July 23rd, 2013 at 09:16pm, South African Standard Time
So, did you guys kiss already or what?
Comment from:
Miguel
Posted on:
Tue, July 24th, 2013 at 05:12pm, South African Standard Time
You're dead meat, boet. :)

Miguel liked Jaz way too much. That was the problem.

It had been four weeks—already the middle of August!—since they'd
returned from the camp.
The place to have made his move
would have been there, at Inkululeko. That night—that
first
night by the bonfire—would've been perfect. And now, they were all
back to their routine, the sound of traffic in their ears and students talking
shit outside in the quad.

The romance … was gone.

Since getting back, Jaz had started hanging out with him and Sandile
when they played ball. They'd regularly have lunch at The Matrix together
(although, if he did plan on taking it further with her, he noted that he'd
have to find some place less busy than The Matrix, which was more hectic than a
Durban beach in the middle of summer). She was spending less and less time with
her friends to be with them—no, to be with
him
.

But she would go back home in December. So why start something he couldn't
finish?

And yet, despite this, Miguel never wanted to be without her. When
he went home at night, he'd think of her. When he got to campus, she'd be the
first person he'd want to see. Whenever he and Sandile played ball, his game would
be off unless she was there watching him. Most of the time she just read his
Kindle (Christ, it was adorable how many books this girl devoured) but that
didn't matter. Just having her there was enough.

And that was the other thing: the comfort. Never had he felt so at
ease, both in silence and in conversation, around a girl.

He even considered that, maybe, he might be falling … in love with
her—in love with a girl he hadn't even kissed.

He hoped she felt the same. Although, the way he'd been acting all
these weeks, it wouldn't have surprised him if the poor chick thought he was
gay!

Surely, if what he felt was really …
love
… surely they'd
find a way, wouldn't they? Besides, it was getting pretty ridiculous, acting
like you're dating—knowing he'd miss her
anyway
if she were to leave
now—and not at least getting some of the benefits of such a relationship.

Right now, as he saw it, they were lovers with
no
benefits.

Whether Miguel had planned it or not, kiss or no kiss, sex or no
sex, Jaz leaving in December was going to kill him either way. So why not just
put the façade aside and finally declare it:
We're dating! It's official!

And who was he kidding, really? He and Jaz
were
dating, plain
and simple, everyone aware of the fact except the two of them. What he needed
to do, was make it official—
finally
. (He'd never held a reputation for
being a slow mover, and the very thought of it made him cringe). So he decided
to do something he hadn't done in over two years: he would ask a girl out on a
date today—a
real
date. (And not a double-date either).

He'd ask
Jaz
out on a date.

It was after class and she was at her usual spot by the pond. He
brought a mango and orange LiquiFruit (her favorite) with him.

"Oh, hi!" she said, his Kindle in her hand.

"Hey," said Miguel, suddenly feeling like a little boy of
eleven. He hadn't had trouble talking to her before, but right now he could
feel the sweat on his hands and neck, the lump in his throat. They stood in
silence for a moment or two—their first moment ever of uncomfortable silence,
at least for Miguel.

He gave her the juice.

"Thanks!" she said.

He nodded, swallowed. "So?" he said.

"So?"

Christ, could this be going any worse.

"Look," they both said.

"You first." Both again.

Miguel waited.

"Um, Miguel—"

"No, sorry, Jaz, I have to go first. I must." He would
never live it down if she would be the one to ask him on a date first. How
fucking unmanly would that be? And if she was about to tell him that she didn't
like him instead, well, that was just a risk he was going to have to take.

He thought of giving some speech about why he hadn't asked her out
before and how he was afraid of getting close to people and all that lame bullshit,
but that would've just made him sound like a girl. And if she would be the one
to finally find out all these things about him, then it would happen over time,
and she would
observe
those things in him. He
would never have to
tell
her directly about them.

So he just straight out asked her: "Jaz, um, would you like to
go out on a ...
date
... with me?"

She stood silent. They stared at each other for what seemed like
forever and he finally cleared his throat to get her to talk.

Man, his heart was pounding.

"Uh—sure," she said, although she looked a little
surprised.

"Great!" And it
was
great.
It was fucking great. It was so damn great that Miguel—still with his hands in
his pockets and arms as stiff as pool cues—took a deep breath of the dusty air
and felt the tension ease off him like water evaporating from the Sahara.

"When?" she asked.

"Oh, right, um, tonight?" He was sick of waiting.

"Uh, yeah—sure!"

"I'll pick you up at, like, six?"

"It's a date."

And it was—a
real
date.

"And what did you want to ask me?" he said.

"Oh"—a touch of surprise in her voice and a blush on her
cheeks. "N—nothing. It was nothing." She looked away, smiling.

She'd also wanted to ask him out on a date, hadn't she?

He sighed quietly in relief that he had gone first.

Miguel spruced up on the Paco Rabanne aftershave and dressed in a
white button-up shirt and beige slacks, finishing it off with a suit jacket he
hadn't worn in years but which luckily still fit. He wasn't going to look like
a slob this time. He actually brushed his hair, but then scruffled it up again
(but only slightly), not wanting to look too desperate.

When he picked her up, his heart went into his throat and her scent
made his eyes go hazy. Her hair flowed like a shampoo advert and her
dress—velvet blue—hugged her body as if it were her very own skin. Her coat
went to just above her knees and Miguel's eyes lingered for a second down her
dark tights, pausing briefly on the heeled mid calves caressing her legs,
giving her just a bit more height than she normally had. For a moment, he
forgot to open the car door as he stood there looking at her, but then quickly
remembered.

He took her over to a cute little restaurant in Melville that he'd
only been at once before. It was far from high-brow but it was just the cozy
kind of place that he felt they needed—something romantic. There were no lights
at this place, only candles, and the wooden tables were totally rustic, chipped
with messages of love and whatever else people chose to write on there. It was
actually encouraged by the owner. Some of the walls were even made of
corrugated iron to add to the feel.

While they sat there, Miguel etched
Jaz & Miguel, 2013
on their table.
"So
that a bit of you will always remain in Africa," he said. Her eyes flicked
away for a moment when he said it, and he knew why, but he wouldn't bring up
the subject of her leaving—not tonight.

"I'm really glad you asked me out ... officially … and
finally
,"
she said, her straight hair glistening in the flickering candlelight.

"I'm sorry it took so long. It's just—"

She grabbed his hand on the table. "You don't have to explain,"
she said.

"I know that you know already ... I mean, about ... my family
and stuff. Because you've never asked about them."

"Thandie told me ... on the bus to the camp."

He nodded. He wanted to get past this subject quickly. "You
mean a lot to me," he said. "I know I'm just coming out and saying
it—presumptuously, even—but, I just want you to know."

"You mean a lot to me, too," she said.

He nodded, then swallowed. That was enough. That was enough
serious
talk
. "So, tell me about yourself. All we've spoken about really has
been random shit. And that's what people do on these official dates—they talk
about themselves, right?" he said.

"An
official
date. Hmmmm. Sounds scary. Well, I haven't
been on that many
official
—" She stopped. Miguel noticed her sudden
embarrassment. He didn't want to make it any worse by pressing the point, so he
just waited for her to continue when she was ready. "Um—never mind about
that," she said, dropping the previous subject like a wet fish. "Well,
what do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Anything."

She put her finger to her chin and gazed up pensively. The waitress
brought the Nederburg Chardonnay which Miguel had ordered—a good wine. "Ah!
I've never had wine before!"

"What?!"

They waited as the waitress uncorked the wine and poured some in a
glass for Miguel to taste. He drank a bit and then smacked his lips and
pretended to know what he was doing by gesturing to the waitress with a nod that
it was good. He hated it when they poured wine like that for him. It's not like
he knew anything about wine beyond the fact that he liked Chardonnay and that Merlot
was always a bit strong; but he always played along. The waitress poured them
each half a glass—first Jaz's, then his—then placed the wine back in the silver
ice-bucket next to the table.

"Very fancy," said Jaz.

"It's pretty normal to find unique places like this down here—I
mean in South Africa. Now, about this wine story."

"Yeah, I've had beer—and most of it here, actually! But this
will be the first time I'll ever have wine."

"Well, I can't drink all of this by myself. And if you have
three glasses of it, you'll be singing your way out of here!"

Jaz shrugged. "We'll just have to see!" And she swigged
the glass down, then made a face. It didn't taste nearly as good as she'd
expected it to! "Your turn—I mean, to tell me something about yourself."

"Ask me a question," he said.

"Why do you like basketball so much?"

"Because I'm good at it."

She waited for more. "That's it?" she asked incredulously.

"Yip, I'm good at it, that's it."

She then wanted to say,
you're also pretty good at flirting.
But she didn't.

"Your turn," she said.

"Who's your best friend in the whole world?"

"Why, Thandie of—" Jaz paused. She suddenly thought of
Rae.
Wow. Rae.
Another life. "Actually," she said, "good
fucking question."

"Good
fucking
question? Man,
you've been around South Africans for too long."

They laughed, and Jaz was glad because she needed time to digest the
previous question. She didn't know who her best friend was anymore. She'd
always believed that she and Rae would become close again as soon as she got
back home and joined her at college and they started hanging out again. But that
all seemed so unlikely now. And what else had changed that she hadn't noticed?
When she thought of going for coffee, she thought of
The Full Stop Café
in Randburg, not of Bauhaus in Seattle. When she thought of shopping for
clothes, she immediately thought of Edgars or Mr. Price. When she thought of
love ….

She cleared her throat.
They sat in silence awhile, sipping their wine, looking around at
the other candle-lit tables.

"I like how we can sit in such silence for so long without
either of us ever having to say anything," she said.

"Me too." He smiled and raised his glass to her. Her hair
sparkled. Her skin glowed. Miguel was going to kiss her tonight, but not in the
car, not out on the street, but he would kiss her. He wanted to kiss her with
every fiber inside of him.

There was, however, another question he had—a question since he'd
first heard her name. Sure, he knew it was short for Jasmine. But could it
really have been such a coincidence?

"Do you believe in fate? You know: destiny, signs, things meant
to be, serendipity, whatever?"

Jaz pondered the question as she ran her index finger around the
wine glass. "I think we all want to believe in it. Why?"

It was silly, he knew. "No reason, just asking."

The guttering candle's flame flickered in Miguel's hazel eyes, his
golden skin radiating like pure Egoli gold as he sat across from her, smiling,
poking at his food. Never had she felt so in harmony with someone. She thought
of how she'd fallen asleep on his chest that night by the fire. She remembered
his smile as he'd waited each morning for her outside her room, putting up with
her complaining because she had always been the last one to get up and had
never had a decent warm shower once in the whole time they'd been at that camp.