Written by: Oratile Ndimande
Friday afternoon, on the second day. Odirile was waiting for Thabiso to answer his call, but the phone still rang. I failed, he asked himself.
*Ring-ring!*
Would I be allowed to write the exam, he started to panic.
*Ring-ring!*
Why did I decide to do a double major? Why did they let me take a second major?
*Ring-ring!*
At last! Thabiso’s voice was on the line, and finally Odirile could breathe. Only it was a voicemail message. Why isn’t he answering my call, Odirile wondered. Then, from the corner of his eye there was the stubborn and unamusing professor was leaving his office for his weekend off. Odirile knew it was him, because he wore the same brown jacket from the last tutorial he had attended in the beginning of the semester. Odirile thought perhaps it would be good to talk to him, so see if some arrangements or exceptions could have been made so he could have written the exam. Yes! Perhaps if he had reminded the professor of his “passable argumentative skills and barely decent writing style” as shown in his last submitted assignment, that he wasn’t a lost cause in the course. He walked up towards the professor and got nervous with each step. He imagined of all the possible reasons the professor could have said no and by the twentieth step, Odirile had made a turn to pass the professor and walked towards the bathroom. He stopped in front of the door and he took his phone and called Thabiso again. The phone rang, not too long after Thabiso’s voice was on the line. Odirile made sure to leave a message after the beep this time.
…
Sunday evening, the fourth day of the month. The clock had just struck 8pm. Odirile was starting to feel at home in the café he had been in since 2pm. He enjoyed the warm and slightly dimmed lights that reflected on the gold framed light fixtures that hung above him. Suddenly the grey concrete and brown brick-faced walls weren’t as cheap and unappealing to him as they did when he first walked in. He nodded along to echoes of house music that could barely be heard over the waves of glasses clinking and flirtatious conversations. He would occasionally smile at the friendly waiter, Godfrey. Although it had only been a whole afternoon Odirile felt that he had known Godfrey his whole life. He loved it; the general ambience was simple yet spectacular. It was… simply spectacular. Odirile was indeed drunk, and he didn’t care. He’d rather forget what had happened the previous night with what’s his face.
In a quick break from enjoying what he thought was music playing, he noticed a woman looking at him. She was laughing but quickly looked away from him when she realised he had noticed her. Odirile grabbed his drink and managed to walk to the bar where she was sitting. He sat himself down on the stool next to her.
“It’s good to see you outside of our apartment block, Tina” Odirile found himself saying.
“Mr 106. Nice to see you too.” Tina replied
Was he doing this right? He couldn’t really tell. She was smiling, yes. But could it have been because she was enjoying herself or was she laughing at him, he wondered.
“I don’t mean to be that guy, or perhaps I do. Could I get you something? And for your friend as well”
This is how people start flirting, right? He wondered. Walk up to a pretty woman and be funny and pay for drink, right? And they were pretty. Beautiful, in fact. The night was going well, laughs were had, drinks were eventually bought, and an obviously platonic foundation had been set. Odirile, Tina and Annalisa could have very well been friends after this night until Odirile tried being suggestive in his jokes.
Annalisa asked, “Wait, aren’t you -”
“ - in a relationship?” Tina finished the question, nudging her friend.
“No, I’m not.” Odirile responded. Suddenly it was time to call it a night and wish each other well. Not again, he thought in resentment. Odirile stood up and made his way to the entrance, not hearing Tina and Annalisa’s apologies or the waiter asking him about the bill he’d seemingly forgotten about. The last thing Odirile remembered was Godfrey holding him by the hand, and one side of his face feeling like it was on fire.
End of Part Two
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