Jaz & Miguel (29 page)

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

Destiny. Fate. Serendipity. Wow. She had really believed in that
stuff once before—a lifetime ago. But she didn't anymore.

Occasionally the girls went to clubs. Again, the choice being a
rotating one between the four of them, and Elize and Nita had complained on at
least one occasion about the fact that they were now attending kwaito clubs
twice
in a month because Jaz had taken a liking to that "horrific noise"
which she and Thandie liked to call music. Then again, Jaz and Thandie also
complained when Elize insisted on going to clubs that played what Jaz liked to
call "folk music." But, at the end of the day, they all knew their
complaints were utterly bullshit because, as much as each hated the other's
music (they didn't really "hate" it, although they liked to say so),
none of them ever considered spending one of their club nights (or their
Saturdays for that matter) away from the other. Jaz didn't even consider it a "mutual
respect." She considered it, simply, that they liked being with each other,
and the music could've been friggin death metal for all they cared because, so
long as they had a few Caipirinhas (or any other source of alcohol) and several
decent derrières to look at, they were happy.

They promised each other that, even when they got married, they
would always hang out on Saturdays, and they would
always
compare butt-ratings on a scale of one to ten—from there on out and
forever.

The mention of marriage had come from Jaz, having noted that Nita
and Vinesh (the guy she'd met in Cape Town) had become a little more than "serious."
Vinesh had been to Jo'burg several times to see her (after officially
requesting permission to date her from her father) and Jaz knew that it was
only a matter of time before the guy popped the question.

As for Jaz, she'd met a guy here and there at some of the clubs. It
had always been only physical. She could never bring herself to sleep with any
of them, opting simply for the pleasures that they could give her out in the
open, usually on one of the many couches that the clubs provided for (what Jaz
assumed to be) that very purpose. It was far from romantic, and barely even
satisfying. But that's exactly what Jaz had wanted.

Besides, her first time would not be with someone she'd just met and
who considered his best asset to be his chest (and who had little else to
offer).

Elize had also met a few guys, although she normally let things go
at a peck or a few French kisses. Once, Jaz had to just about knee a guy in his
nuts to get him away from her—
moron
. But that's the way guys are in
clubs, mostly pathetic, always horny. Vinesh, it seemed, was a gift from God
himself, and if Nita decided not to marry him, Jaz decided that she would take
it upon herself to knock some sense into the girl.

When you've got a good one,
never
let him go.
Never
. Because he might not come back, and there is no greater heartbreak
than never having the
chance
to have your heart broken in the first
place. Because having no one at all, is the greatest heartbreak of all. Hearts
always get broken, it's whether the one who broke it can also mend it, and
learn from it, and not make that same mistake again—that's the true test of
love. (At least that's what Jaz had figured out in her inexpert musings about
the subject).

She had been thinking of Miguel lately. Just as Elize had been
spending less and less time with boys at clubs lately. And both factors,
unrelated as they seemed, were actually more related than anything—as related
as brothers in blood.

Because Sandile's
umbuyiso
was coming
up—the Xhosa celebration, held a year after the funeral, to bring back the
spirit of the dead as a true ancestor. There was no ways Jaz would miss that.

There was no ways Miguel would, either.

That, she knew.

The night before the
umbuyiso
, she slept little, and dreamed
a lot.
Do you believe in fate?
she heard in her dream.
Do you believe
in fate?
The voice was hollow and distant, coming
from the foggy Drakensberg mountains, and then from Table Mountain, and then
from Mozambique. At first it was Miguel's voice, and his face was etched in the
roiling nimbus clouds, but then, as she looked closer, the face was Sandile's.

And then there was blood. There was so much blood outside the Wits
campus and Miguel was holding Sandile's body in his arms and screaming into the
heavens,
Why? Why? Why?

Why?

And in her dream she asked herself the same thing. And in her dream
it began to rain, so she knew she was crying. Because that is the way of dreams:
to symbolize the truth of what's happening in life by symbolical
representations in the dream itself. She'd learned this when she was only five
or six or so, realizing that whenever she was in a pool filled with water, it
meant she'd needed the bathroom. And she knew that, in her dreams, she should
never let that pool overflow, because that meant she'd wet her bed.

In tonight's dream, the rain water washed her face so that it was
soaking. And Sandile's face appeared again in the heavens as a cloud.

Do you believe in fate?

"No. No, I don't," she said. And in her dream, she was
angry. She was angry at the gods or the mountains or the land or
something
.

Sandile's face faded into nothing over the mountain (which she realized,
now, was definitely Table Mountain in Cape Town), and soon the sky was empty of
clouds, but still dark and looming. Lightning struck at the top of the mountain.

A Sangoma was now there. She spoke in a language Jaz could not
understand but, as it goes in dreams, she
did
understand it.

Angels. Angels have kept Africa alive. Devils have tried to destroy
it, but always failed. The sun always rises again, every day, in Africa. The Ancestors
look over Africa.

Then, in her dream, she thought of that horrible man with that
deathly voice who had asked her questions on the same day Sandile had died,
that man with the electrocuted red hair.

But that was no dream?

The Sangoma said more things, but now Jaz didn't understand them,
and the empty skies filled again with clouds and they formed to take on a
shape, and the shape was the face of Sandile.

And he said, "The Ancestors look after Africa. The sun always
rises again."

The dream had perturbed her. When she got up, her eyes were tired
even though she'd been in bed for a good eight hours. Her face felt clammy and
she did her best to make herself up. Thandie had told her that, for
umbuyiso
one was to dress in as brightly colored clothes as possible.
Umbuyiso is a
celebration
, she'd told her.

So Jaz bought a traditional African dress. It had red and green and
orange and yellow splotches of color on it and, when she looked herself over in
the mirror, she was amazed at how the motley combination actually lifted her
spirits. She began to think of Sandile in a positive way, as if the colors
themselves had reminded her that the day was not one of mourning, but of joy.

Thandie had also told her that, if Sandile had been married, his
wife would've donned black clothes for the last year and then burned them
before
umbuyiso
as a symbol of "taking off
the mourning." Elize, hearing of this, chose to burn the clothes she'd
worn to his funeral, even if it hadn't been entirely in fitting with the exact
tradition.

Jaz wondered what she would say to Miguel when she saw him. Lacking
any decent explanation as to why she hadn't tried harder to contact him, she'd
decided to buy him a Kindle (she'd lost his after all) as a sort of "I'm
sorry" gift. It had arrived two days earlier and, along with her handbag
(also colorful), she put the gift-wrapped box under her arm and headed for her
car.

There were hundreds of people when she arrived. Many of them
friends, many others simply neighbors or people from the community. Mr. Van Zyl
and his wife, even Elize's two older brothers, were also there, each wearing an
odd combination of brightly colored shirts; the topper being Elize's oldest
brother who, somehow, had gotten his hands on one of those Hawaiian shirts, and
her other brother was wearing one of those tie-dyed hippy shirts. They all
smiled when they saw Jaz and chatted a bit about random things. Mrs. Van Zyl
and Thandie's mom had since become good friends, and seeing them hug each other
and saying hello made Jaz think of Sandile and Miguel's mothers' friendship.

She looked around for Miguel, but with so many people around (and as
short as she was) she did not see him.

She was soon met by Nita in a bright sari and Vinesh (who had flown
out especially for the occasion) in a stylish Jodhpuri. Thandie wore a similar
dress to Jaz's but added to it with a colorful head wrap which really brought
out her eyes and skin. During the ceremony there were speeches and Thandie
translated for everyone. The speeches spoke about dreams and that, whenever
someone dreamed of the person, it meant they had come home. Later, they all ate
meat from a slaughtered cow, which had been prepared with many different kinds
of spices. Thandie explained that, during the funeral, the meat is unspiced,
but during
umbuyiso
it is spiced.

Still, Jaz saw no sign of Miguel.

She had begun to feel disappointed. Had he gone so far as to miss
his own brother's
umbuyiso
?

She was biting into a piece of meat (which she'd chosen to hold up
to her mouth with her fingers) when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and a
voice, with all the surprise possible in it, saying, "J—Jaz?"

It was Miguel's voice. And when she turned, she had no control over
it (and she certainly had not planned it), but she almost wept. She choked and smiled
and wanted to hug him but her fingers were full of sauce, and she tried to say,
I'm sorry. This wasn't how I had planned it
, but
the emotion of seeing him in front of her was too much for her to bear and for
any words to come out.

He looked healthy. His skin had darkened even more, as if he'd been
constantly in the sun, and he'd picked up a bit of weight (in a good way) so
his face was more fleshed out. His darkened skin made his hazel eyes stick out like
gold nuggets and, for lack of a better word, Jaz felt that he looked, simply, like
"a man."

"What are you doing here? I thought you—"

"I never left."

Miguel's smile disappeared quickly.

"You never ... left?" He looked away, a frown now on his
face.

Jaz suddenly felt bad, as if she'd done something wrong, as if she
should have fought harder to get a number for him and told him that she'd
decided to stay. Had he not earned that much at least? She grabbed a napkin and
wiped her fingers.

Miguel shook his head and looked down. "We really ... screwed
things up, didn't we?" he said, looking briefly at her.

Jaz rolled her eyes, remembering how he used to roll his, and said, "You're
telling me."

Hearing her voice, Miguel remembered how much he'd once loved—
still
loved—her accent. And here she was. Who would have thought? Of all possible
miracles in this land of misfortune, Jaz Curtis, the one and only girl he'd
ever loved, was here. In front of him.

Did she have a boyfriend? Is that why she had stayed? The thought
ripped at his chest.

But, if not, would she be ... interested … in seeing him again,
despite everything?

All those months—a
year!
It seemed so impossible to be with
her now. His life was now in Mozambique, not Jo'burg. The institute needed him.
He couldn't just abandon them.

"I'll let you finish eating," he said.

"I'm finished," she said, still chewing. "Let's talk
now."

They stepped out of the tent that had been put up to accommodate all
the people and walked onto the dry grass, surrounded mostly by open land, the
intermittent house or two barely blocking their view. Some people sat on the ground
eating meat and
mieliepap
. The smell of an active braai sweetened the air.

"Jaz," he said, "I'm sorr—"

"No, Miguel," she said, "
I'm
sorry. I should've been there for you. I should've—"

"Bullshit. You did the right thing. I needed to grow up. I was
in no position to be with you, or with anyone. I needed some time to be alone
and not hurt the ones I love more than they'd been hurt by life itself."

She paused, then sighed, then smiled. "It's good to see you,"
she said.

He smiled widely.
Good
to see him? Man, it was fucking
amazing
to see
her
again! "It's"—he searched for the right word—"
great
to see
you
."

Jaz wondered if he was seeing anyone. Was he married? She tried to
look at his hand (a little too obviously) but she was on his right and couldn't
see if there was a ring. As if no time had passed at all, she felt tidal waves
of emotion pull at her, inside her chest, and all she wanted was to drop her
head on his chest and listen to the wind as they sat up at the top of
Northcliff Ridge, reading on his Kindle.

What memories. What good days.

Wait, the Kindle!

"I have something for you!" She ran to the table where the
girls were. When they saw her running they turned their heads away, pretending
they hadn't been watching the two of them the entire time. They inundated her
with questions as she arrived and Jaz looked for the gift frantically, tears
tugging at her eyes from all the unexpected support from her "team"
(although it had also started to make her feel a little embarrassed!)

She looked under the table and then next to her seat but couldn't
find it. She felt as if every second she wasn't with Miguel was a second she
had somehow wasted—gone forever and never to be had with him again. Why hadn't
she grabbed it the moment he'd come to her?

Her heart pounded over this idiotic little gift like it meant so
much more than it probably did! "Damn it!" she whispered.

"Sweetie?" It was Thandie's voice, and when Jaz looked up,
she was holding the gift up blithely in her hand with her elbow on the table. "You
gave it to me when you went to the bathroom, remember?"

Right
. Jaz smiled, the nervousness in
her chest getting ever worse.

Under her breath, and as she pumped her fists as if cheering a
gladiator, Elize whispered, "You can do it, Jaz! You two were meant to be!"
Mrs. Van Zyl put her head on her husband's shoulder, looking over at Miguel in
the distance.

This support was
not
helping Jaz's
composure!

When she got back to Miguel, the behavior of the others had not been
missed by him. "It looks like we have a fan club," he said.

Jaz rolled her eyes again. When had she started doing that so regularly—had
that not been
his
thing to do?

The wind picked up, and strands of Jaz's hair blocked her view. She
pushed them out the way with one hand and jutted out her other hand
ungracefully (she never did manage to do anything about that hand).

"Here—um—this is for you. I wasn't sure if you already got
another one but—well, open it."

Miguel grabbed the gift and tore it open, holding the loose paper
between his legs.

"A ... Kindle! My goodness. Wow! You shouldn't—"

"I lost your other one so—"

"Jaz, you can't be blamed for not going back to get it on that
day. It was—"

"Could you just thank me already! I really hope you don't have
one already. But if you do—"

"I don't. I never got another one." A pause, and a look on
his face as if old memories had suddenly appeared. Then: "Thank you!"
And another awkward pause for a moment as he hesitated toward her for a hug,
then pulled back, then toward her again. Eventually, they did hug
.

"Uh—yeah—the other thing," said Jaz. "Of course, I
couldn't download your titles on there because, well, I don't ... have an email
address for you. Well, and even if I did, of course I don't know your password."
It was a roundabout way of getting his email address, she knew.

Another pause. "Yeah, that's right." He said nothing else,
and if Jaz had learned one thing, it was that beating around the bush … well,
it sucked. That was her philosophical statement of it nowadays.

"Er—Miguel, that was a
hint
you
know?" Now she was being brazen, the awkward moments of before now long gone,
and her only intent being—at the very
least
—to keep in touch with him.
They could at least be friends, couldn't they, like adults? And friends email
each other.