by Javi Reddy
“Why do you care? What is it to you? You’ve barely been in my life a few weeks now. And you’re so concerned about me? You’re wasting your time.”
“If that’s what you believe, then you’re not the Jay Chetty I know.” He idly looked at a menu.
“You know, your girlfriend will be there today. I overheard her talking to one of her school friends, at the mall, that they’re going to be attending the game.”
He looked up from the menu.
“So, what? She’ll be there to see the players.”
“You sure about that? You’ll never know unless you go.” He removed his earphones.
“Well, come on then. You’ll have to drive. I doubt both of us will fit on my BMX.”
They were greeted by a packed crowd that one could have easily mistaken for Rosebank Mall, not Rosebank High. It was the last game before the school holidays, which meant the grounds had been swarming with supporters, desperate to get their final kicks before the break.
Layla did not care much for the bodies around her that had not stood by Jay in his time of need. But she had a warped admiration for them, having put high positions and fat cat salaries aside to be here. She saw them come and dirty their Lacoste shoes and Polo sandals to stand on the same ground as eleven boys, who fought the good fight.
Jay was not angry at the crowd. He was angry at himself for lying. He did not feel the need to hold a grudge against them and Layla did not want to harbour hate towards them on his behalf. The smell of expectation filled the air, filling eager lungs as the crowd sought out the next slice of victory. The anticipation grew with each game. Everyone, including Coach Zondi, knew that they had not been blessed with a group of boys as talented as this for a long time. Could they win the Staffords Cup? Possibly. Could they beat the rivals Rose Park for the first time in five years? Probably. Could it be a memorable season? Definitely.
The spectators were cautiously allowing themselves to be excited. Cautiously, for without their main artist, what picture would they paint? Layla heard that today’s opposition, Craighall, didn’t have a great record against Rosebank, but they were a useful team, especially on the counter-attack.
“At least, the sun has gone behind the clouds now. Perfect weather for a game.”
Jay’s words startled her momentarily. She had not seen that much pain and anguish in his eyes before, although he did his best to conceal it with a calm tone. How cruel it was to be looking in for once.
“Layla, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”
“It’s fine, sweetie. I know how much this means to you. You don’t know any other life.”
The ref’s whistle finally blew, and Rosebank were still looking sharp, still like a well-oiled machine. What’s worse than being left out? Being shown that you’re not missed. Jay watched on, wanting the best for his pals, but the hurt was inevitable. When Rosebank got their opening goal, he clapped half-heartedly. He brushed past Layla who no longer had the words for him. She should have shouted to him to come back. Or held him close. All she could do was watch him leave. Fortunately, Zondi was sharper. He raced after Jay and grabbed him by the arm.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
“Home, coach.”
“I thought this was your home?”
“Was, coach.”
Zondi straightened his cap.
“Look, coach, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but this is something I have to figure out alone.”
“Alone? Who said you must do anything alone? You can’t win a game alone. And you can’t win in life alone. The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, son, is to be part of something with someone else.”
The words made Jay’s heart pound. As Zondi spoke them, he caught a glimpse of Amritha in the crowd, in her emerald-green Punjabi top.
“I’ll get you back on this team. I’ll find a way. I need you to have the same faith in me that I have in you. If you do, I have no problem fighting for you.”
“How long must I wait, Coach? My chance is passing me by. There are scouts at every game. We’re getting to the business at the end of the season. The more each game goes by, the greater the chance I won’t be signed up as a pro.”
He placed his hand around Jay.
“I know that, trust me I do. But nothing good comes to those who cannot wait. Come…”
He held his hand out to Jay and then placed his arm around his back to safely usher him back to the touchline. They both walked back towards the pitch where the score was now 2-1 to Craighall.
“See. We need you just as much as you need us.”
Zondi began to bellow out orders on the touchline, clearly unhappy with his team’s ill-discipline. Jay looked over to Amritha, again. She saw him this time. He began to walk over to her, but a drawn-out voice halted his progress.
“Helloooo, Jay.”
It was the scout who had come to see him play the day his father had made a spectacle of himself in front of the whole school.
“I was hoping I would get to see you play again.” Jay shamefully put his head down.
“Then, I realised this is even better. You and I can get some time to talk. Would you like that?” Jay nodded steadily, trying to conceal any excitement that the man might have perceived as immaturity. His father was nowhere to be seen. This was his chance to speak to someone who mattered.
“I heard what they did to you. I heard how they wouldn’t let you play because of something that is out of your control. That, I’m afraid, is an injustice.”
Jay’s silence told the man that he was on target. The scout removed his sunglasses to wipe them with his handkerchief. Jay saw his eyes for the first time. They made him look all the more confident and assertive.
“I’m going to be upfront with you, young man. Your talent is enough for me. I’m not going to be prejudiced because of a medical condition. That’s not how I operate. I look at a player, not the situation. You’re a winner and I only deal with winners. That’s why both my players and I are so successful. What if I told you that I could give you a second chance?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I could get you playing again within weeks?”
“How?”
“I’m not only a scout. I’m also a coach. I have a wealth of experience of coaching professional teams, but it’s time I gave back to the kids. I have an aim to start my own team. My team will give a chance to kids who couldn’t get into proper schools. They can finally be part of a proper sports side.”
He placed his sunglasses back on.
“Tell me, my boy, are you always this broody?”
“I have my father to thank for that. You remember him, right?”
“How could I forget such a passionate man?”
The man laughed heartily.
“He has so much rage for a little man.”
“You should see him at Home Affairs1.”
“Anyway, the kids that are coming to play for me are the future of SA. I’ve been lucky enough to witness this country’s hidden gems residing in townships2. They should be given a chance to play in a proper game, don’t you think?”
“Of course, they should.”
“As good as they are, they need leadership. There is only so much I can do from the touchline. On the field itself, I need someone to show them the way, in the most disciplined manner as possible.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“If you join my initiative, I want you to be my captain.”
Jay was silent again. Rosebank had never offered him the captaincy. Thabo Shabangu had been given that honour. He was a good captain and Jay respected him. Yet, Jay was not even considered for vice-captaincy.
“I’m honoured that you’d ask me, sir. But this is a short-term fix. I’ve been working hard for years, so that I could be signed up as a pro.”
“Let me say this much: I have connections within SAFA3 and I’m affiliated with the Gauteng Schools Sports Board. I can even show
you my licence. I’m the real deal, and I’m your best chance of getting you back to where you belong.”
Jay tried to take it all in. He looked over to Amritha once more, hoping the sight of her would put him at ease. But he could not see an emerald-green top anywhere. He looked back at the man who had been cast his way—thanks to some good fate for the first time in ages.
“Think about it, that’s all I’m saying. Here’s my cell number.” He handed Jay a light blue card.
“There’s no name on here.”
“That’s okay. If you ring me, you can call me coach.”
28 September 2013. 1:58 PM
James held Layla’s contraption out to her, signalling that he wouldn’t mind another. “That’s fantastic by the way. This guy gave Jay a proper chance.”
Layla slid next to him as she poured a Jack and tequila combo into the toy. “That was the beginning of the end.”
“Really? Why?”
“That scout was no ordinary man. That scout was Vinny De Silva.”
* * *
Home Affairs – South African department handling licences etc. known for its poor service↩
Townships- Underdeveloped urban living areas in South Africa↩
SAFA – South African Football Association↩
Chapter 16
29 September 2013. 1:12 AM
“So, that’s how the bastard got his in-road.”
“Yup.”
James and Layla had stopped drinking, staying up all night to talk about Jay and Vinny. About life and how the ad industry is not what it used to be. About music. And movies. An unfamiliar comfort strung over James that night—a contentment he had long forgotten. Layla ran her nails over his chest before resting her head on his shoulder.
“It all fell apart slowly and painfully,” she told him. James reached for the chocolate sauce on the couch without getting up from the floor.
He handed the bottle to Layla who squeezed some over her ice-cream. James pictured her putting the sauce on her lips and inviting him to have a taste. With or without sauce, it would be the sweetest kiss.
“So, what happened next?”
“Well that’s when he and I got a lot closer…”
18 July 2013. Holiday
Jay and his father had gotten to the point where they could not be in the same room. So, Layla offered him a new room. In the weeks he spent away from the game, his grades slowly began to drop. He had more time to study, yet the gap in his soul affected him. Preega forced Jay to attend extra classes after school, but all it did was sink him lower and lower into despondency. After school was the hardest time for him. It was when he used to be at the gym or at practice. Or at a game. His grades did not improve nor did his mood.
When the school holidays arrived, he didn’t even bother going to the extra classes. He didn’t bother doing anything really. When Layla looked upon him, all she could see was a body. No heart, soul or mind. No Jay Chetty.
Preega soon threatened him. He said that if he did not make a better effort at his grades, he would no longer be allowed to remain under his roof. And more gravely, he would not pay for his medication. Preega argued that he would do anything for his son, but the way Jay had conducted himself in the last few weeks was not the way a son of his should behave. Jay grew tired of the hostility, resentment and lack of faith that was brewing within his own house. He needed his own holiday from Preega.
When he came to Layla, she was surprised at how willing she was to take him in. It had often crossed her mind whether she should have had children by now, but she threw the idea out when she realised that she loved her career more than anything else. Yet, with Jay, it seemed easy. And he made her happy inside. She no longer felt the need to be alone.
They both agreed that Jay’s story would be that he was staying with Keith. Keith stayed with his aunt who did not interfere with him much, which meant that Jay’s lie would not be exposed. It was also better that Preega believed that he was staying with a buddy rather than with a stranger. Not forgetting that Jay now had the added benefit of being closer to Amritha and her Sandton flat which he smirked at when Layla brought it up. “Your place is wonderful,” he told Layla sincerely. “Thank you. I need my space to walk around and think about my photos. You can have your own room. This is our place now. Hang on a minute.”
Layla fiddled through her handbag and eventually, fished out what she’d been looking for. “Spare keys.”
She threw them to him.
“I just have two rules under my roof. You can come and go as you please, but you have to, at all times, let me know where you are.”
“And the other?”
“Your girlfriend can also come and go as she pleases. But she can’t spend the night here. I’m not sure whether her parents are strict or not, but I have to put my foot down. You’ve lived through a hell of a story so far. The last thing I want is for you to live through the pained cliché of a teen pregnancy.”
“Just when I thought you were cool.”
“Oh, honey. You’ll learn a lot from me. I’ll make sure of that while you’re here.”
Layla switched the kettle on as Jay idled around, admiring her black and white framed photographs that were hanging on the walls. She wanted to tell him that she’d had heard him chatting to Vinny about joining his team and how it was the last thing on earth he should do. She wanted to give him a lecture with a million reasons as to why it would be the worst decision he ever made. But she didn’t. She let him settle in. She did not utter the ‘V’ word.
“You’re very talented,” he pointed to her frames.
“Those? They’re just for me. Not for work or anything award-winning.”
“You’ve won awards before?”
“A few. Back in the day. I had the help of someone special.”
“There are so many pictures of you with these underprivileged kids. You really make a difference out there.”
He came across a photo that she’d taken of him from the Fork Up campaign. She caught him blushing.
“You look really handsome in that picture. I bet Amritha would love it.”
He bowed his head, and she didn’t have to see his face to know that on it was his boyish grin. “Do you look at all the girls the way you look at her?”
“What way?”
“Like you want to give her the world?”
He crinkled his eyebrows and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Young love is real. People, older people, look at it and scowl. They don’t take it seriously or think that it matters. But it does. You never forget the first heart that steals your own. It’s good to be reckless now and then. To blindly give yourself to someone and not be held back by too much sense. We forget that as the years go on. We settle into the convenient ways of dealing with life.”
She poured them tea.
“Were you ever in love?” he asked.
“Once upon a time. We were bad for each other. Which made it so good. Yet, as the years went on, so too did the real world. And we were forced to make decisions that had no place for love.”Is it too late to make it right?"
“It’s never too late. But I’m not ready for that again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
They sat at the table and tucked into some chocolate cake with tiny gold forks. They sipped their tea and gazed out of Layla’s window that overlooked the complex’s parking lot.
“Here you go.”
Layla placed a brown packet on the table and slid it across to him. He peered inside and then looked at her, shaking his head.
“Layla, I can’t….you can’t…”
“It’s okay. I want to. As long as you’re here, it’s my job to take care of you. And I really want to take care of you.”
“But this is too much. Paying for my medication? That’s something I can’t ask for.”
“You don’t ask for much Jay Chetty. So let me do this for you.”
He breathed out heavily towards the packe
t. “I’ll never know how to thank you.”
He dipped his fork into the cake.
“Don’t eat too much. You still have to go for a run later.”
“I do?”
“Yebo1. I said I’ll take care of you. So, while you’re staying with me, I’m going to make sure that you stay fit. You’re a born athlete. I’m not going to let you wither away this holiday, mister. So, in an hour’s time, you’d better be on the road. Otherwise, you’ll be homeless for the second time today.”
“Yes, mam.”
“And here, I bought this a month ago, but I hardly use them. I’m sure you’d put them to better use.”
“Beats by Dre! These are expensive. Layla, I can’t. This is…”
“They’ll sit on your ears better than most earphones. Especially, when you’re running.”
“Thank you, Layla.”
He got up and hugged her. Not bad, this children thing.
September 2013. 2:21 AM
Layla placed her head on James’ stomach as he breathed in and out. He kissed her hand. “That someone special?” “Like I told Jay, it’s never too late.”
She kissed him. Not bad, this love thing.
* * *
Yebo – Zulu for ‘yes’↩
Chapter 17
30 September 2013. Earlier than ever
There were no suits on the porch this morning. James arrived earlier than ever when he strolled into the living room at 6:20 AM. He walked into the kitchen where Jay was doing the dishes. The boy scrubbed them slowly, doing his utmost to master the action with his right hand. The water from the kitchen tap spurt out as he spent no less than five minutes on each plate. He did what he could, thoroughly and intensely, ensuring that there was no error. His actions were still not fluid, but he was improving, daily. James had a dig at him to break the ice.
“You’re wasting a lot of water, you know.” Jay continued scrubbing incessantly.
