He doesn’t read any of the thirteen messages from Yvonne, but hits delete on each one. There’s nothing she could say now that he wants to hear. He can’t trust her anyway. Ever since they met she’s been keeping things from him, rewriting their history to fit with what suits her. He laid himself out to her as well, showed her all his insecurities, let her see him when he was broken and down. And then, she’s not even who he thought she was.

Kiama pulls the hairband off his wrist and pulls his hair off his itchy neck. He hopes the girl, whose name he can’t remember, didn’t notice the circle of red spots on his skin there, he did have a cream for it but left it somewhere at the volunteer house.

The girl was most probably too drunk to notice anything, as was everyone by the time they fell out of the bar to head to hers.

She comes out of the bathroom with a glass of water and walks around the living room surveying the human dregs from last night.

‘I need to get home,’ he says.

‘Oh, okay then,’ she sounds relieved he’s leaving. ‘Where are you staying?’

‘Kikuyu,’ he answers.

She makes a face and wipes her head with the back of her hand. ‘All the way out there? Well, I’m not driving you.’

‘I didn’t ask you to. But could you call me a car, please?’

‘Sure. It’s going to cost a lot though. Especially at this time of the morning.’

He shrugs. ‘Whatever, as long as it’s someone trustworthy.’

The car drops him to the gate and waits outside for payment. As he steps out he feels the chill he’s come to recognise as being particular to Kikuyu. The gate is unlocked and he slides it open, but the clank is loud. Purity comes into the yard, her hair loose and messy, her skirt tied in a large knot. She doesn’t step forward to hug him but unleashes a mixture of Swahili and English. And as much as he expected this, it’s difficult to handle it being hungover. Purity takes his chin in her hand and pushes his face from left to right. ‘This is not good,’ she says, surveying the bruise on his eye.

Yvonne stands behind on the ledge, he hadn’t even considered that she would be there and as much as he’d like to never communicate with her again, he realises he needs her now. ‘I haven’t paid the cab,’ he says.