another pocket and then tipped some powder out of the bag and onto the card. Then he tried to lift the card to his face, but his hand was shaking so much he ducked his head down instead, and sniffed all the powder off the plastic. “Alright,” he said. “Battery’s charging.”
I asked him if I could just buy some of that, but he told me that was the last of it. He showed me a number on the scrap of paper from his jeans and he said he needed to buy more. He asked me if I had a car.
I told him I might be able to borrow one, and then he just turned around and pulled the sleeping bag over his shoulders and said, “Two hours. Come get me here.”
Was that really him, Ed?
Was that really Charlotte’s fucking cousin back there in Grahamstown?
Is that really TJ sitting in front of you right now?
It all seemed unlikely, and I was feeling good, better and better the more sober I got.
About an hour after they’d rung the bell for last rounds, finally one of the bouncers started doing a sweep of the room. He told us they wanted to lock up and he asked us to leave, quite nicely actually, but I watched him, and he was hard on you if you were sleeping. I saw him tip one guy out of his chair to wake him up.
“So should we head off?” I said.
“Fuck that,” Dewald said. “Let him try. I’ll fucking donner hom in sy poes.”
Charlotte was resting on the table with her head on her arms. We heard her say, “I wouldn’t mind going, actually.” She sat up. There was a huge smear from her eyeshadow down one of her cheeks. “I think I’ve done well.”
“Raait, cool,” Dewald said.
He tried to stand up—he pushed off his chair but then just when his legs needed to straighten out and lift him they buckled, and he started going down. A flailing arm went out but all it did was sweep some glasses onto the floor for him to land on. The first thing I thought was,
Please god, no one laugh at him—
And then Charlotte started laughing.
There was a moment when I wasn’t sure what was going to happen—he looked like he was about to fucking lose it—but then he stood up and laughed a bit too, and just started picking glass out of his arm.
I said to him, “Hey Dewald, I stopped drinking hours ago. I’d pass the shit out of a breathalyser. How about I drive us home?”
And god, all that anger from his fall flushed back into his face—
He stepped in close to me and he said, “Is jy fokken
mal
?”
“So you’re going to drive?” I said. “Where’re your keys?”
He patted his pockets for a while. Then he got on all fours and started crawling around, looking for them on the floor. Then he said, “Shit, man. Where the fuck’s my keys?”
I said, “No, look, they’re on the chair over there. I was just trying to make a point.”
And then Charlotte basically saved my life.
She came and stood right in front of me, blocking Dewald off just as he was going to come up and grab me or hit me or something—
And she was speaking so calmly
Her voice like steeled silk
“Hey, Dewald, wag. Luister. Just listen. He’s right. You’re too drunk.”
She put her hand on his arm.
“Hy ry soos ’n fokken tannie,” she said. “This way you get home safe.”
It was dawn outside—the sky was like cigarette smoke. There were a few cars on the road and some of them were doing without headlights already. Dewald had passed out in my arms when I was helping him into the back seat. He slept the whole way back. Charlotte was in front next to me, dripping some hash oil onto a cigarette for the drive home. It was a pretty fun car to drive except I felt like I had to brake all the time to stay under the speed limit. Also I probably looked like a bit of a poes from the outside because of the spoiler and the spiky mags and the silver tint on the windshield.
The cigarette smelled like hot spices.
She passed it to me, then she said, “So what do you think of our plan? You were very quiet earlier.”
“Your plan?”
“Yes,
I asked him if I could just buy some of that, but he told me that was the last of it. He showed me a number on the scrap of paper from his jeans and he said he needed to buy more. He asked me if I had a car.
I told him I might be able to borrow one, and then he just turned around and pulled the sleeping bag over his shoulders and said, “Two hours. Come get me here.”
Was that really him, Ed?
Was that really Charlotte’s fucking cousin back there in Grahamstown?
Is that really TJ sitting in front of you right now?
It all seemed unlikely, and I was feeling good, better and better the more sober I got.
About an hour after they’d rung the bell for last rounds, finally one of the bouncers started doing a sweep of the room. He told us they wanted to lock up and he asked us to leave, quite nicely actually, but I watched him, and he was hard on you if you were sleeping. I saw him tip one guy out of his chair to wake him up.
“So should we head off?” I said.
“Fuck that,” Dewald said. “Let him try. I’ll fucking donner hom in sy poes.”
Charlotte was resting on the table with her head on her arms. We heard her say, “I wouldn’t mind going, actually.” She sat up. There was a huge smear from her eyeshadow down one of her cheeks. “I think I’ve done well.”
“Raait, cool,” Dewald said.
He tried to stand up—he pushed off his chair but then just when his legs needed to straighten out and lift him they buckled, and he started going down. A flailing arm went out but all it did was sweep some glasses onto the floor for him to land on. The first thing I thought was,
Please god, no one laugh at him—
And then Charlotte started laughing.
There was a moment when I wasn’t sure what was going to happen—he looked like he was about to fucking lose it—but then he stood up and laughed a bit too, and just started picking glass out of his arm.
I said to him, “Hey Dewald, I stopped drinking hours ago. I’d pass the shit out of a breathalyser. How about I drive us home?”
And god, all that anger from his fall flushed back into his face—
He stepped in close to me and he said, “Is jy fokken
mal
?”
“So you’re going to drive?” I said. “Where’re your keys?”
He patted his pockets for a while. Then he got on all fours and started crawling around, looking for them on the floor. Then he said, “Shit, man. Where the fuck’s my keys?”
I said, “No, look, they’re on the chair over there. I was just trying to make a point.”
And then Charlotte basically saved my life.
She came and stood right in front of me, blocking Dewald off just as he was going to come up and grab me or hit me or something—
And she was speaking so calmly
Her voice like steeled silk
“Hey, Dewald, wag. Luister. Just listen. He’s right. You’re too drunk.”
She put her hand on his arm.
“Hy ry soos ’n fokken tannie,” she said. “This way you get home safe.”
It was dawn outside—the sky was like cigarette smoke. There were a few cars on the road and some of them were doing without headlights already. Dewald had passed out in my arms when I was helping him into the back seat. He slept the whole way back. Charlotte was in front next to me, dripping some hash oil onto a cigarette for the drive home. It was a pretty fun car to drive except I felt like I had to brake all the time to stay under the speed limit. Also I probably looked like a bit of a poes from the outside because of the spoiler and the spiky mags and the silver tint on the windshield.
The cigarette smelled like hot spices.
She passed it to me, then she said, “So what do you think of our plan? You were very quiet earlier.”
“Your plan?”
“Yes,
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