They were sitting on the beach, Nicholas had grown out his hair. It was pulled up into a manbun, the tips dyed blond. He sat on his towel, watching as Minenhle ran down to the sea. She wore a white full piece swim suit; a plain white surfboard was under her arm. She turned back to him and smiled. Wide and happy, her legs dipping into the blue. She rode the surfboard elegant and graceful. She knew exactly what she was doing, and he sat there, paint brush in hand and a small A4 size canvas on his lap. He was painting, a smile spread across his face.
She came back to shore, running back up to him. She noticed something about her that he didn’t before. She was looking at him, like she did right after she kissed him. Blissful.
He had caused that look. He had caused it.
She stuck her board into the sand and sat down on the towel beside him.
“How’s it going?” She asked. He was transfixed by her face that he almost didn’t hear her question. “I hate it when you do that.”
“What?” He asked her, a look of confusion on his face.
“Stare.” She smiled, a sheepish and blushing smile.
How could he not? He had been avoiding looking at her, so much that his mind had kept finding ways to view her and keep her in mind. Not forgetting her.
“Stop it.” She told him again.
“You’re too beautiful to not stare.” He said. She rolled her eyes and pecked his cheek with a kiss. She sat and stared at the sea. He couldn’t focus on his painting. He kept looking up at her.
“Why won’t you look at me?” The dream around him shifted and he was sitting there at the beach. Eating a sandwich. Minnie sat next to him on her own towel. There were grey clouds overhead and the sea looked restless.
She wasn’t looking at him, she was looking at the sea. She was in her tan orange bikini, like the one she had worn the first day she met him on the beach.
“I don’t know.” He replied, looking at her.
“You do. Why won’t you look at me?” She asked again, looking at him. The eyes that caused him wonder, looked dead in the dream. They looked lifeless and empty. As if she was nothing. It unsettled him and pulled at his stomach.
“I don’t know.” He said to her.
“You’re scared.” She told him, shaking her head. Her braids moved against the soft skin of her back.
“Of what?” He asked, he didn’t feel scared. Just a heartbeat in his head and sweaty palms. He wasn’t scared.
“Of having feelings for someone, of being happy.” Minnie answered. She faced the sea once again. “You’re scared of what I make you feel.”
“What do you make me feel?” He questioned. Dream Minnie didn’t answer but he knew the answer. She made him feel alive and special. She made him feel what he didn’t want to feel. It was like the poems and songs had described it. It was all madness, what he felt for her. All the sparks and electricity. He barely knew her but there he was.
“I make you feel.” She said. “I make you feel.”
And the world caved in on itself.
****
Minenhle was careful, between Zinhle, the hotel girl, and Nicholas she had been talking to zombies. Both were more and more exhausted by the day, both refused to tell her why, but she found that one was not as bad as the other. One smiled at her and was chirpy.
The other wouldn’t look at her.
It was Saturday. Nic was meeting her at the beach again. She was mastering the art of surfing, she was riding waves on her own without his help and she was starting to hope that he would realise how good she was becoming.
But they weren’t alone on the beach that day, Michael, Nic’s friend had decided to come along. He sat on the beach as he let them go about in the sea and even he knew that his friend was acting weird, but he didn’t acknowledge it. As if it were natural behaviour.
“You’re good.” Michael complimented her when they came back to the beach. He was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white wife beater. He had muscles that rippled underneath it, but she had no interest in them. He didn’t just sit on a towel, he placed himself on a blue camping chair posed underneath a blue beach umbrella. He had sunglasses that blocked out his face but when he stood up, his height was recognisable. The tattoos that curled up and down his arms made him easy to spot.
“Thank you.” She gave him a friendly smile.
“Jy ken hoekom he’s not sleeping?” Michael nodded towards Nic who sat down on his blue towel. Slumped and tired as he always was.
“Nee, ek ken niks.” She sighed, picking up a water bottle from the towel. She sipped it.
“Jy praat Afrikaans?” He didn’t look surprised at all or maybe it was the sunglasses disguising it. She wasn’t sure.
“Nog ‘n bietjie.” She told him, she was a Zulu girl who took it until metric alongside Isizulu and she had gotten distinctions for both. Not that she knew much about the language. She could hear from the way Michael spoke that his Afrikaans was less direct than the one she had learnt at school.
“Painting all night again?” Michael returned to the topic of Nic.
“Yes, he said his brain couldn’t shut down.” She explained, shifting her weight foot to foot. Michael nodded in contemplation.
“You wanna come to the party with us?” He asked.
“No, I don’t want to intrude on anyone-” She started up before he cut her off.
“You can just say you’re his girlfriend, save him the torture of teenage girls.” She liked the idea of being Nic’s girlfriend but if it was all pretend she didn’t want to do that, if it lead to her having to lie about it.
“I don’t think he’ll like that.” She frowned but Michael continued.
“Just come.” He told her, impatient. She shook her head. He gave her pleading eyes and she knew that she wanted to stay around Nicholas no matter how dead and asleep he may have been. She gave in, quicker than she wanted to admit was good for her.
“Okay, let me go get dressed.” Mike gave her an approving nod before letting her go off to change.
She dashed up to her hotel room. She had never pulled a pair of jeans on so fast in her life. She wore it with a plain white top and her denim jacket with floral patches. She pushed her braids into a ponytail and Converse tekkies onto her feet. She grabbed a small leather backpack, her keys, phone and sunglasses. Locking the door after her.
****
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