The anger spurred her on so that when she and her new shebeen friend, Ntombi, were walking home from work one day and she saw Thembeka, Zodwa turned to Ntombi and muttered loudly enough for Thembeka to hear, “This one thinks she’s too good for the rest of us now that she’s gotten a matric certificate, but what has she done with it? Nothing. She sits around all day doing nothing like her lazy boyfriend. Even shebeen work is too good for her.”

The hostility felt good.

There was such a gossamer-thin line between love and hate; it was finer than a rifle’s crosshairs. Hatred burned just as fiercely as passion, and Zodwa decided she’d take Thembeka’s loathing any day rather than fade into the background of her consciousness.

And her nastiness had elicited a response from Thembeka whereas her indifference hadn’t. Thembeka first looked confused and then wounded by Zodwa’s comment. Her hurt buoyed Zodwa. From then on, every opportunity she got, she was sure to make similar remarks about Thembeka and her terrible taste in boyfriends, her apparent lack of ambition, and the fact that she thought she was so much better than Zodwa.

All those times, though, Zodwa had had friends with her, ones who laughed at her comments and encouraged her malice. Today, she’s alone and Thembeka is by herself too. She’s the last person in the line and so Zodwa has no choice but to join the queue behind her. Zodwa tries to focus on anything except Thembeka’s proximity and her attention flits from one distraction to another.

Boyz II Men’s “I’ll Make Love to You” blares from a nearby radio and flies buzz around a rat carcass. The enticing smell of roasted mielies wafts over from three shacks down yet it still can’t overpower the scent of baby powder and Vaseline that Zodwa knows comes from Thembeka. Just the thought of the Vaseline almost unmoors Zodwa, who considers leaving and coming back again later.

As if reading her mind, Thembeka turns around. She opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something and Zodwa cringes inwardly. She’s ashamed by her behavior, ashamed of her relationship with Ace, and knows she deserves whatever insult Thembeka is about to spit out at her. Still, it won’t make it any easier to hear. She waits a moment and then another and when Thembeka still doesn’t speak, Zodwa snaps, “What? What is it?”

Thembeka hesitates again and then shakes her head. She turns around again to face the front so Zodwa is left to study her back and neck. Her beautiful neck that will forever be out of Zodwa’s reach.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Ruth

5 June 1995

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa