chapter1.4

I preferred to think that he was, especially since it allowed me to better define the contours of his face. I even think, at one point, I was jealous of the cigarette he held between his fingers. I knew full well that if I were in its place, I would burn much faster just from his touch. When he brought his hand to his lips to take in more of that slow poison, I felt a flush of heat. How sweet it would be to find myself between those lips. Where did such thoughts come from? I asked myself, shaking my head slightly to snap back to reality. When I looked back at him, I saw his shoulders shaking was he laughing? I wasn’t dreaming; he really was looking at me. I didn’t care why he was laughing. I didn’t care at all he could laugh at me all he wanted as long as he kept looking at me, that’s all that mattered. The time for mass rang on my phone, and I saw the parishioners exiting, so I had to go. I stood up, and immediately, he turned his head towards me. I looked at him and then towards the cathedral. I didn’t mind being the sole actor in my own movie; since it was up to me to define my reality, it was enough for me to believe that he had indeed understood me. I gave him a slight wave goodbye and hurried towards the church without looking back to see if he had responded, fearing that he hadn’t, which would render my so-called reality fictitious and absurd.

For nearly six weeks, every Friday and Saturday, I would get groped, and every Sunday, I would go to Sandton, where a routine had developed between Apollon and me. He would be smoking a cigarette, leaning against his car, while I stood a few meters away from him, watching him from across the street, imagining myself in place of his cigarette. He would occasionally glance at me, and I would use those moments to memorize every detail of his facial features in my mind. If I were good at drawing, I would have sketched him a million times on paper to never forget what I saw. I could almost say I knew every contraction of his muscles every time he brought the cigarette to his lips, the ten seconds he took to inhale, or the minute he waited before bringing the cigarette back to his lips, and I liked that. But as time passed, I wanted more of him I wanted all of him, no matter how and at what cost; I was ready to do anything to have him, even if it was just a touch. It was no longer enough to watch him from a distance or wave at him when it was time for mass before rushing to the cathedral without seeing his reaction to my wave for fear of disillusionment. I wanted to know the length of his nose, the thickness of his lips, the alignment of his teeth, the color of his irises, the depth of his gaze, the weight of his worries, the length of his eyelashes, and even the softness of his skin or the thickness of his flesh.

Yet, unfortunately for me, ever since I resolved to approach him, I never saw him again it had been three Sundays since I had gone there, but there was no sign of life. I felt sad and empty; he had disrupted the monotony of my existence. However, it was too good to be true. Besides, I couldn’t even say that I would have really done it; it was the first time in my life that I wanted something so badly. I couldn't really say whether deep down, I am a bold woman or not I have never found myself in a situation that required me to show my boldness. Yet, I was disappointed; I had really hoped for something I don’t know what exactly, but I would have taken my chance. This Sunday, I didn't return to the cathedral, now that my mirage, dear Mr. Apollon, had disappeared from the scene. I would go back to my routine of attending mass once a month. I felt a void because, in a way, I had found no, I’d rather say I had created a reason to live, since I had done it alone. I had made him the very essence of my existence. Seeing him on Sundays motivated my entire week. I think I needed it, for I hadn’t realized sooner that I wasn't truly living; rather, I was just letting life pass me by, going with the flow. I had no real reason to get up in the morning, except to stay alive, because apart from the two jobs I held that allowed me to earn money for food and avoid wandering the streets of Motsoaledi in my birthday suit, my existence revolved around exactly three people: Ane, Anthony, and Prince, the owner of The Green. I think there are about five or six servers at The Green, but apart from Ane, I don’t know anyone else’s name. I couldn’t even say exactly how many girls or boys work as waiters at The Green on average. As for my family, after my mother’s funeral, they all left as they had come. I even think they came just to fulfill formalities. Some of them pitied me, because, according to them, since my mother had isolated herself from the family and they didn’t know me, they couldn’t take care of me.

They wondered where I would go or what would become of me. Others thought it was karma for my mother, who hadn’t wanted to abandon or abort me on the pretext that she would take care of me but ultimately hadn’t been able to until the end and, in the end, had abandoned me with a few years’ delay. I didn’t even have the strength to respond because I was mourning my mother and my entire world, so their hypocritical words and thoughts from some and cruel from others were the least of my worries. The irony is that I don’t know if I should change my way of life to become more sociable and enjoy life, or if I should continue to be a background character in my own existence, waiting for my dear and tender Grim Reaper. With these thoughts, I closed the doors of the office to go rest before heading to The Green. However, I promised myself that I would earn enough money so that one day, when I dreamed of Apollon, I could invite him to dinner and tell him what I thought of him, no matter the cost. When I arrived at The Green, Ane rushed toward me, all excited, with a wide smile.