Being Celeste Read online

  Oh, here they come, out of the supermarket. I can’t spot Taboka. They are all walking out in a group, all of them. I wonder why they do that. They’re like a herd of goats, just pouring out at the same time. I wonder if Taboka is hiding in the middle. Maybe he knows I’ve been cyber stalking him and he’s hiding. Wait, I don’t think he has a clue of who I am. Here comes Kate, still hopping, behind the crowd. She’s holding two grape juices. I was in the mood for orange juice, but I guess it will do.

  Here she comes. I’m trying to act cool, but inside I’m freaking out. My heart is beating like a drum. But why? I’m such a fool, it even amazes me sometimes. Right now though, I don’t really care how foolish I act, if it’s because of love.

  “Yes!?” I said, before she had even fully entered the shop.

  Kate was bursting with all sorts of smiles, it became contagious, and I started bursting with smiles.

  “He wasn’t with the group,” said Kate, setting the juice on the counter. She turned and faced me afterwards.

  I don’t think at first I fully understood what she had just said. Maybe I wasn’t listening because I heard what I wanted to hear on the surface. What I heard at first was, “He’s coming over here to say hi, to you.” But then after that, my coma cleared and I made out what Kate had said. What? Then why was she smiling like a loon? Was it because she was happy, as she does not approve of my idiot future husband? What? How come Taboka let them go without him, doesn’t he know that there are people actually waiting to see him and follow him into the supermarket? Kate is still smiling; I hope she’s not making fun of me.

  “What’s wrong, why are you smiling?” I finally asked, still trying to act cool. The smile I had on earlier had completely washed off my face. That’s okay, I’ll view his status update in a moment on the internet.

  “Because, my dearest Celeste, I saw the most gorgeous man for words,” said Kate, after swirling over to me.

  What? I looked at her with a straight face. “What are you on about, Kate?”

  “Oh, there he comes!” she screamed, pointing at the supermarket entrance. “We were in the same queue at the till point. I was behind him, but then he had to go back and get something else,” she continued, her voice all weird, like in a dream.

  Well, he didn’t look that bad...maan, he’s fit actually.

  “Thato,” said Kate. “That’s his name.”

  Normally I’d be freaked out by the fact that she already had his name, but I wasn’t. I told you that Kate was a professional boy stalker. But seriously, how does she know his name? Did she talk to him, perhaps? “How do you know his name, Kate?”

  “I saw it when he took out his ID. He was paying with his debit card. My eyes are sharp, you know.”

  Before I could reply to that, she was already on her phone, facebooking the poor guy. Oh boy, here we go again!

  Chapter 4

  All this time I’ve been thinking, well imagining really, the feeling I would get after my first kiss. It’s just a thought, or whatever. It’s constantly at the back of my mind, just circling around it and stuff. How does kissing a boy feel like, what does it taste like? The kiss, that first kiss? Is it as magical as it is in the movies? Oh I’ve seen it done plenty of times in the movies, but does that mean I know how to?...I’m still thinking about it. I was talking to Kate the other day when she was sleeping over at my place because both my parents were out of town, and I asked her how her accidental kiss felt like. She told me she hardly remembered. I knew it was a total lie, because she’s just embarrassed by it. I don’t know why she would find shame in getting one out of the way. I don’t think anyone really forgets their first time. I know you must be thinking, How would I know if I’ve never been through it?. And that’s right, it is, but I know. I then brought out my music player and played her Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin. I told her, Kate, that I imagined a first kiss must feel like the guitar solo of the song. I don’t know how to describe the solo of the song. It’s so incredible, too incredible to describe. That’s how I imagine mine’s going to be. My first kiss, I mean.

  Then Kate stepped in and burst my bubble. She said to me “But what if the guy is a horrible kisser, will it still seem as incredible as this guitar solo just because it’s a first kiss?”

  Arg! Good question. Maybe she was referring to her kiss. But I wasn’t worried after she said that. I’m pretty sure Taboka’s a good kisser, I can just tell. But then he’s going to think of me inexperienced if he knows of my little problem. I don’t want that! So I told Kate, I wouldn’t tell any guy who would rescue me from my life as a spinster in training, that he was my first...anything really. She agreed. It may be honourable and attractive to be yourself, but in extreme cases like us, a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anyone. Nope, not at all, no one!

  Today I’m going to church with my mother. It’s a Saturday. My father is still away with his beloved cattle, so I’m forced to go to church and help with the preparations for next week Saturday’s annual charity luncheon. My mother is the coordinator or organiser, as she likes to call herself. It was her turn to be the boss. Gladys would be taking orders from her. This should be fun, watching middle aged women acting uncivilised and competing with one another. I don’t like going to church, well mum’s church. I feel like I don’t fit in with anyone there. Because my mother plays a key role in many events there, I’m pretty much expected to be my mother’s daughter, which I’m not. She’s forced me to go and help the other youth in the church to organise the seating area in the hall. I don’t ever help her out with her church events because I don’t want to be involved. The church area is very simple. It’s a huge compound with a huge building right in the middle of it, the church of course. The hall is right behind, but joined to the main church building. The compound is not paved, so there are mounds of dusty sand all over, ruining my sandals. I don’t know why I even bother dressing up. I don’t fit in. I don’t even know the youth quite well. They know me, but I don’t have anything to say. I find it hard to connect with other people my age who are all stuck up and won’t even bother making an effort to get to know me. Because my mother is all high up in the church and involved with so many things, they don’t treat me like a normal person. Just look, I’m about to enter the hall, they are going to go silent for a moment and then pretend like I’m not there. Ready? Here comes the fat one, people!

  Silence.

  “Celeste!”

  Oh no, one of them is coming over to me. What am I going to say to her? She’s smiling, being all friendly giggles.

  “Heey!” I replied, smiling back, wryly.

  I have no idea who she is, you see what I mean. She can’t come over and introduce herself like she’s supposed to. Now I have to wait for someone to call her out loud so that I know her name. She already knows mine, so it would be rude of me to ask her who the hell she was. Wait, it’s wrong to say hell in church, right? She looks like a Lydia. I’ll mentally call her that for now, until by some miracle her real name pops up.

  “So, you come with me, we need plenty of help at the back with the tables.”

  Gosh, she’s still smiling. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the back of the hall. And she’s very commanding, so confident! How does she know I want to help out? She’s just taking charge of the situation, like a leader. Oh Lydia, I want some of that. They were pulling out the tables out of the storage room and carrying them into the hall.

  “Hi Celeste!”

  Great, more of them know my name. Where do they get it, did my mother bring over a picture of me? I’ve never seen these people in my life. Well, that’s partly my fault. I’m here like every other Sunday...well, when I can, that is. I’m always glued to my mother during service and then I shoot straight to the car afterwards. But that’s because...I’m rude? I’ve never given the youth a chance to dabble into my personality and see me more than just my mother’s daughter. And Lydia is so nice, it hurts even. Then there’s Tom and Charles, (I made those names up too. What? I’m never a
sking for their names, they already think I’m rude) the two scrawny looking boys. I watched Tom and Charles carrying the wooden tables out of the dark storage room. Tom, slightly shorter than Charlie, looked like he was about to bounce off the walls. All that joy in his eyes, when he walked out carrying the tables, he was so happy to be there. Was it because we were in church, I don’t know. And Charlie couldn’t stop giggling at everything Tom would say to him...wait, I hope they weren’t making jokes about me. Blame me for feeling a little paranoid in a room full of people I hardly know, people I’ve given names. I wonder what I should do now. I looked at Lydia for some direction, to pour on me some of her commanding nature. I was here to help, not to stand around looking lost. Besides, the more I do stuff around here, the more time moves along and I get to leave.

  Well, that wasn’t so bad. I may have made some new friends. I’m even looking at movie night with more of a brighter feel in my spirit. It’s so wrong that I judged those poor people based on a perception I invented in my head. Who do I think I am, anyway? Anna (Lydia), took my number and made me promise to come to church the next day. Tatenda and Letang (Tom and Charlie), then suggested I come and sit at the youth section, with all the other young people and worship the Lord together. Now I’m physically obliged to go to church tomorrow. I hadn’t planned on going. I think I’ll just try it out, their offer. Maybe things will be different and I’d actually find going to church fun for once. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I’m a grown woman and I need to connect with people around me, in the grown up world. I have to think of an outfit, a different one from the clothes I wear to work. I wonder if Kate wants to come along. She believes herself to be atheist. For a time in my life, that’s where I felt I was, but you can’t be atheist with a mother like mine, maybe when I’ve moved out and I’m living according to my own set of rules.

  My mother keeps going on and on about how she’s going to upstage Gladys next week. I want to switch my brain off so that it can go on a temporary vacation, somewhere cool and relaxing. I wonder if she understands that I am the child and she is the parent. What is telling me about Gladys going to help? I’m not going to help with anything; I don’t even talk to Gladys because she’s old. I should say something to change the subject, but what really? It will just divert back to the luncheon at church next week. Mum needs a new hobby, you know. Retiring makes a person bored, I presume. This is why I find it particularly difficult to find something I really like, something I want to do with my life. I don’t want to retire at fifty-something and spend my days committed to throwing parties at church. I want to look back and think of how worthwhile working had been, and then retire to my incredible house at the beach or something, but not when I’m middle aged. My career will be so exciting that I’m going to hate the day I have to throw in the towel and call it a day. Which is why I’ve chosen to be patient, I’ll wait for it to show up, that exciting career. But sometimes I can’t help but feel a little lost in translation, maybe even without direction or purpose. Here’s my older sister, on her way to being a successful lawyer, making loads of money. Here I am, the little lamb, without anything going for her. I know it’s wrong for me to be comparing myself with her, something my parents aren’t too shy of doing, but it says a lot. She knew what she wanted and now she’s making something of herself. It’s really scary not having direction at twenty-one years old. Thank goodness Kate is around to help me out with all this thinking. I have a partner in crime, it’s much easier to handle. She will come soon, my sister, to visit. The world in my house will stop at her feet and carry out her every command. No, I’m not jealous...just a little.

  Chapter 5

  I don’t know. I think church was great. I was just a little overwhelmed by all the nice people. I wasn’t sure how to react, because I felt so guilty about the feelings I had about them before. They were all dressed up and in a religious mood. Anna waved frantically at me when I entered the church with mum. I waved back, but just a little ladylike wave, not realising that what she meant was that I should come over, she had saved me a seat like she promised. The two boys were sitting behind her. They flashed smiles at me as soon as they saw I was coming over. Oh my gosh, I actually may have friends at church, who would have thought? Me. Celeste, a part of something. I think I should do an imaginary celebratory dance to celebrate. I think I’m excited about the luncheon next weekend. Anna and the boys promised me fun and good food.

  Although I must admit, the sermon was a bit on the long side. I think the pastor pulled a good forty-five minutes on us. By the time we were at fifteen minutes, my mind had drifted to another place. I looked over at Anna with the corner of my eye and she was so attentive, it was as if there was a quiz after, or she was about to comment on what the pastor was saying. If I were that passionate about the sermon, I would be listening attentively too, who wouldn’t? His voice was so captivating and loud, to grip even the most fragile minds...except mine, that is. All the nodding and the silence in the church, how do they do that? I was thinking of my future, as always. My mind was bouncing from my career and Taboka. I was trying to mesh them together. I was trying to imagine the possibility of making them work together, if it were possible for me to have two things that I want at the same time. I’m all for positive thinking, but sometimes one can’t have it all. But anyway, I think I may have partially dozed off during the sermon because normally when I start thinking about stuff like that, I fall asleep and hope to dream about it. I don’t think anyone noticed my head bobbing about, all drowsy from the sleep. I hope not, my new friends would think I was a joke. A nice lady started off a song after the pastor’s sermon was over. The piercing screech when the song went higher from her voice did it for me. Yep, I fell wide awake after that.

  It’s my birthday in six months. I’ll be twenty-two. I don’t feel like celebrating. The thought is just gnawing at the back of my head, making me think all sorts of things, depressing things. What should I do now, talk about it? It would further depress me, I think. I’m thinking about when this whole career thing will fall in my path, something for both Kate and I. But I’m so old (this is the part where I come down on myself again). I’m so old but immature. At first I thought I was being a late bloomer but no, I’m just immature. I called Kate earlier to tell her that I’m going over to her house for a sleepover. Hear that, a sleepover. We’ll have movie night there because I need some solace in her company. She always knows how to calm down my paranoia. I know that it is winter, but we are having ice cream and cokes to wash it down. That’s how we throw pity parties. She’s been pretty miffed by the fact that she hasn’t seen her man of mystery since that day in the store. I don’t get it, but I’ll just play along because it’s a pity party. I always like going over to Kate’s house. They have the coolest high definition flatscreen, perfect for movie night. And her parents are such darlings. They are always popping in, offering food and snacks, making sure we are well fed.

  “Darling, come make your father some tea, I’m popping outside to refurbish my vegetable patch,” said mum, standing at my bedroom door.

  Ugh! The joys of making tea when you’re in the middle of a mental crisis! I’m going to be twenty-two and I have nothing to show for it. I’ll make the tea and rush over to Kate’s before I have a nervous breakdown. Mum will borrow me her car, she won’t mind. Where does a retired person need to be on Monday morning? I’ll put it in those words. Mum doesn’t like me driving her car, because of this one incident where I almost crashed it. It’s a long story. Okay, maybe not. I was driving to the store to get a few supplies for the fridge. This idiot was driving really slowly, so I tried to pass him. Now my mother’s car is such an antique, it picks up speed so slowly. So here I am, trying to pass the slow car, but my car is increasing speed at a snail’s pace. I’m in the wrong lane, so the idiot increases speed and leaves me there. I was so concerned about what had just happened that I forgot I was driving in the wrong lane...let’s just say dear guardian angel was with me that day because I almos
t caused a tragedy. My gosh, I could have died...without ever being kissed? How’s that for a happy ending? Anyway, it’s been two years and mum still doesn’t trust me to drive alone. Oh, she was in the passenger’s seat by the way. I think it was the first time I ever heard her swear because she was so scared. But imagine how I was feeling, the beginner driver. I’d just got my license. I’ll ask her for the car in front of dad, he always manages to convince her to cut the cord and let me flap my wings. I’ll just call dad out and give him tea so that he can watch her refurbish her garden.