Unpresidented

by Paige Nick

‘You’re not going to go the rest of our lives together not eating anything we make, are you, Muzzy?’ Refilwe asks.

  ‘Trick me once, shame on you, trick me twice…’ Muza says.

  Refilwe gives Bonang a knowing glance as Muza huffs out the study.

  THE WRITER

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Michelle, it’s me, please don’t hang up. Please, I’m begging you, don’t hang up, just give me a second to explain myself.’

  ‘Matt? I didn’t recognise this number. If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have answered.’

  ‘I was getting these terrible texts from all those loser journalists and has-beens, all rubber-necking for a story like a bunch of vultures. So I had to ditch my old number. And then I threw my iPhone at the wall and it broke, so I’m using some weird old Nokia thing that only cost two-fifty bucks.’

  ‘What do you want, Matthew?’

  ‘I just wanted to hear your voice.’

  ‘Okay, you’ve heard it.’

  ‘No, wait, please don’t hang up, please. I also really wanted to say how sorry I am.’

  ‘Yes, you are sorry. A sorry excuse for a human being.’

  ‘Right, I deserved that.’

  ‘Fine. Let’s give this another bash again, shall we, Matthew? What exactly is it that you are sorry for this time?’

  ‘I’m sorry for everything that happened, and everything I did wrong, Mish.’

  ‘That’s great, but I bet you can’t remember even a third of the things you’ve done wrong.’

  ‘I know I hurt you, and for that I’m deeply sorry.’

  ‘You didn’t just hurt me, Matthew. I went away for one week, to go see my dad after his op, and you cleaned out my bank account, eviscerated our relationship, sold my dog to a tik dealer, set my couch on fire, and lied to me. And if all that wasn’t bad enough, I then find out that you lied to the entire country, in a highly regarded magazine, about some poor innocent dude dying of cancer, mortifying me and my entire family, and single-handedly flushing your career down the toilet in the process. What do you do for an encore after all that, Matt, murder my parents? I’ve had to take leave from work and come stay at Zoe’s place to get away from the press, not to mention the hate mail I’m still getting from the public. I had to shut down my Twitter account, and I’d just hit eight hundred followers. And I didn’t even do anything wrong. Actually, I did do something wrong, I dated you! What an idiot I was.’

  ‘C’mon, you got the dog back in the end. I didn’t sell him, not exactly, and the guy wasn’t actually a tik dealer, he’s more into cocaine. Anyway, I only used the dog as surety. I had always planned on getting him back long before you ever got home from your folks.’

  ‘Oh great, as long as you were going to get my dog back from the COCAINE dealer BEFORE I got home, that’s fine! You’re right, Matt, all’s forgiven. I feel much better about everything now that you’ve cleared that up.’

  ‘But you got him back in the end! I don’t know what the big deal is. His brain is the size of a peanut, babe, I’m sure he didn’t even know he wasn’t at home for a few days. And he wasn’t hurt, he just needed a bit of a bath, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll have you know Pig is a highly pedigreed French Bulldog, and he’s not even your dog! You don’t get to pay your drug debts with someone else’s dog. You’re lucky I didn’t go to the police.’

  ‘What, and report a hostage situation with your Frenchy named Pig? I’d like to see how well that would have gone down with SAPS. It’s not like they’re all that busy these days. Come on Michelle, that’s nuts.’

  ‘It’s not nuts, Matt! The dog psychologist says he’s got PTSD. He won’t even go outside to pee anymore. I had to get a kitty litter box and put it in the bathroom. Do you know how traumatic and humiliating that is for a dog? Especially Frenchies, they’re very sensitive, you know.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, babe, I really am. I don’t want to fight with you. I love you. None of that was meant to happen, it was all a giant mistake, a misunderstanding, things just got out of control for a moment. I love Piggie as if he were my own child, you know that. I walked him for you when you worked late and everything. I got in a little over my head this one time, it wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Oh, that’s it! I’ve had it with you. You’re always such a victim!’

  ‘No wait, please, wait, I need to tell you something else, and it’s really important.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I got a job. A really big one.’

  ‘Somebody out there actually hired you, after what you did? Oh, this is going to be good. I hope it’s not as a pet sitter or a cancer spokesperson.’

  ‘I’m not allowed to say who it’s for, but I’m ghostwriting a really big memoir for someone super-famous, like used to be in politics and just got out of jail-famous. I can’t say who, but if you had to guess it right, I would clear my throat twice.’

  ‘Why are you telling me this, Matthew? We’re over forever. I honestly don’t give a shit. Even if you were to tell me that you’re the new Bond, or driving for Ferrari, don’t you get it? I. Don’t. Care.’

  ‘Wait, Mish, don’t say that. Come on. I also wanted to tell you that I’ve been clean for two whole weeks, or close to it, twelve days so far, or eleven and a half, but twelve will be easy, it’s almost the end of today. And I’m working really hard on this book. Michelle, I’m going to write something really truthful this time, something good and honest, that will make you proud. Dumi thinks it’s going to be a major bestseller locally and internationally, he may even be able to line up a movie deal or a series – TV series are all the thing right now. And then hopefully everything will blow over and you can open your Twitter account again.’

  ‘Speaking of blow, Matthew, you owe me nine grand for a new couch. And six grand for a new carpet. The guy from the fire department said you’re lucky you didn’t burn the whole block down. Plus the body corporate is kicking me out once I’ve paid to have everything fixed and repainted. They don’t want “my type” living there. I’ve never even been a “my type” until I started dating you. Worst decision of my life.’

  ‘I’ll be able to pay you back everything I owe you in a month, I swear, babe. I get another massive payout when I hand in the first draft of this manuscript.’

  ‘Sure, Matt, whatever you say. Like I haven’t heard that one before.’

  ‘Did you get the flowers I sent?’

  ‘Yes, I got the flowers. You know what else I got from you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Herpes, Matt. That’s what. You should see a doctor about that roving, rotting thing you call a dick. Put a cheque in the mail to my folks’ place when this imaginary money you’re supposedly earning eventually never comes through, for the hundred billion excuses you’ll find to explain why, okay, and don’t call me again, or I’ll get a restraining order. I’m sure the press would love to hear about that. Not to mention the little detail about your cock rot. It would make a great headline for the Sunday Times, don’t you think?’

  ‘Mish? Michelle, wait…’

  THE EX-PRESIDENT

  ‘Oh recording machine. My problems are real. I know that someone can go from prison to President, but has anyone ever gone from being homeless to being a supreme leader? I don’t think so.

  ‘If I lose the Homestead, where will I live? Because of the parole, I can’t go overseas to family or blessers or old friends. And what about Refilwe and Bonang, how will they support me? We will all be homeless together. It’s only now that I look back that I wish I’d put more consideration into homeless shelters while I was President. Do they even have showers there? And what about a double bed? I’m too great a man to sleep in a single bed.

  ‘I suppose if things got really bad I could always miss my curfew or a parole meeting and get arrested again, then at least I would have a roof over my head.

  ‘I wish the Guppie brothers would answer their phones.’

 

  29 DAYS TILL DEADLINE<
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  THE WIVES

  ‘What do you think, sisi?’ Refilwe asks, as she steps into the room and does a twirl.

  ‘Hey, that’s one of my designs! You look wonderful, Fils,’ Bonang says, looking up from draping a swathe of fabric across one of the mannequins.

  ‘Not too tight and revealing?’

  ‘Neva, it’s perfect. It’s supposed to look like that. Where are you going all dressed up?’

  ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ Refilwe whispers, taking a seat in one of the guest chairs.

  ‘Of course, anything, you know that.’

  ‘I have a date.’

  Bonang shrieks so loudly that the cat, lying on a bolt of fabric on the boardroom table, shoots them a dirty look and darts out of the room.

  ‘Shhhh! It’s a secret.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but how? Who?’

  ‘We met on Tinder. We both swiped right. It all happened very quickly.’

  ‘Refilwe, you’re on Tinder?’

  Refilwe nods.

  ‘But … but … but … what about Muza, our marriage?’

  ‘You know what it’s been like better than anyone, Bonang. I thought when Muzzy came back from prison, things would be different. Maybe we could get back to how things used to be, back before everything went crazy, before all of this. Don’t you remember how charming he was? But from the second he got home, he’s been so focused on getting power back again, it’s like he doesn’t even see us. I no longer recognise my own husband.’

  ‘I know what you mean, sisi, it has been very hard on us.’

  ‘Even when the other wives left, I wasn’t ready to give up on us yet. I still thought it could work, that they were in too much of a hurry. And I didn’t want to leave you, you’re my best friend. But now I’m not so sure I can stay living like this anymore.’

  The women sit in silence for a moment.

  ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about my life lately, Bonang. Where’s the romance? I may be a certain age, but I’m not dead yet. I want love and companionship, and to be appreciated by a man who gives me flowers sometimes.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I’d settle for being appreciated by a man who wears proper pants sometimes,’ Bonang says.

  ‘Those tracksuit bottoms really have to go.’

  ‘We should throw them away next time he goes out.’

  ‘We may not have to, they might walk out on their own at this stage.’

  ‘Look, we’re both building these great businesses, we’re entrepreneurs. It’s time for change, we’re reinventing ourselves.’

  ‘Just like Madonna,’ Bonang says.

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘She even has many African children, just like us.’ Bonang hoots with laughter, dabbing at her face with a fabric offcut.

  ‘But we’ll never have her arms,’ Refilwe sighs.

  ‘Sure, but you still look better in that dress than she ever would. She’s nowhere near traditionally built enough.’

  ‘You’re a great designer.’

  ‘I can’t believe you’re really on Tinder.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to do anything, I swear. I only wanted to check it out. Most of my divorce clients use it.’

  ‘Yes, that’s probably what led to their divorces.’

  ‘One of my clients helped download it on my phone and showed me how it works. It’s very easy. Then the other night, I was looking through some of the people on it out of curiosity, and this guy, he was there and he seemed so nice. And he doesn’t even live that far away and we have mutual friends on Facebook. I didn’t mean to swipe right, it just happened. And then he swiped right, too. And the next thing you know…’ she drifts off.

  ‘The next thing you know you’re looking gorgeous in a ShweShe original and going on a hot date. Good for you, my friend.’

  ‘You have to promise me you won’t tell Muzzy, sis’, I’m not ready for him to know yet.’

  ‘Your secret is safe with me. Hey, does your bae have a brother for me, we could double date? Or maybe he wants a second wife? We could swop positions this time.’

  ‘I’ll check and get back to you,’ Refilwe says, setting them both off on another outburst of giggles.

  28 DAYS TILL DEADLINE

  THE EX-PRESIDENT

  ‘Hi Helen, this is your old friend Muza. I know we’ve had our differences over the years. But I thought since now I’m out of the politics business and you’re out of the politics business, that maybe we could let bygones be bygones and get down to the business of real business.

  ‘Of course I never meant any of the things I said about you over the years. In fact, I didn’t even say most of them, you know what campaign managers and speechwriters are like, they take no prisoners. But that’s their job, I suppose. And politics is politics after all. I actually always liked you very much, the way you speak isiXhosa and everything, it’s very impressive. You’re a fighter, like me. But you were the opposition; I had to put up a good fight. How would it have looked otherwise? No hard feelings, hey, it’s all water under the bridge.

  ‘Anyway, now I have a fantastic business proposal I want to discuss with you. It’s a really, truly great opportunity. Something you could use to turn your thousands in book royalties into hundreds of thousands. I’ve seen what you drive, you could use the money.

  ‘So, here’s the deal, you cannot believe my luck, last week I won a million rand in the Lotto! I know, just when you thought I couldn’t get any luckier, here I am. Of course we need to keep this very confidential, imagine the uproar if the press got wind of it?

  ‘I’ve always felt terrible about the bad blood between us, and I feel I owe you one, so I wanted to make things right between us. Because I am such a generous man, I have decided to share my great good fortune with you. Anyway, I’ve done well for myself, and how much money does one man need in this lifetime?

  ‘All you have to do is help me out in the short term, and I’ll give you forty per cent of the winnings when they pay me out next month. That’s three hundred and fifty thousand rand you’ll get, for doing absolutely nothing. All you have to do is help me pay them twenty-five thousand rand, to cover the insurance costs, bank fees and courier charges. I would pay these fees myself, of course, but, due to the conditions of my parole, I’m not entirely liquid right now, and most of my non-asset cash is still tied up in legal fees. The only issue is that we need to make this cash payment in the next forty-eight hours, but I’m sure that’s not an issue for a successful businesswoman like yourself. The clock is ticking on this one, Helen. I know you’re probably busy getting a lot of work done, dealing with that whole colonial problem, but get back to me as soon as you can, okay. Hurry up and call me back on this number right away, and I’ll give you my banking details. Oh, it’s Muza here. Did I say that already?’

  ***

  Hi Pravin, it’s Muza.

  ...

  Thanks, yes it was rough, I’m glad to be out.

  ...

  But I have also had some more great luck. You are not going to believe this, but I’ve inherited almost one point seven million rand from a late uncle, who passed this last week. Lala kahle sosha.

  ...

  Yes, he lived in Lesotho, which is probably why you haven’t heard about his passing. I am of course devastated, and in great mourning, we were very, very close. Like brothers, in fact.

  ...

  Thank you for your condolences. The reason I’m calling is that due to my current parole situation, I am struggling to get the money out of Lesotho, and so I have a brilliant business opportunity for you.

  ...

  But you haven’t even heard the details yet, Pravin. I only need thirteen thousand, four hundred rand to release the inheritance, and you would get your money back more than double in just two weeks.

  ...

  Are you sure? You’re making a big mistake; you could make many, many thousands off this deal.

  ...

  Oh, now you’re interested?

  ...
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  Oh, I didn’t let you finish, you’ll be interested one day when your body is cold and dead. I understand. I understand. You don’t perhaps have Trevor’s number for me, do you? I always preferred him to you, anyway.

  THE WIVES

  REFILWE: Seventy-six-year-old retired mechanic?

  BONANG: That’s a bit old, isn’t it?

  REFILWE: But he’s probably good with his hands.

  BONANG: Swipe right, swipe right.

  REFILWE: Mmm, this one’s not bad-looking.

  BONANG: It says he’s sixty-four.

  REFILWE: That can’t be right.

  BONANG: He looks about forty in that photo.

  REFILWE: My client told me to watch out for this kind of thing, I bet that’s not even really him.

  BONANG: Probably a picture of his son or something, swipe left.

  REFILWE: This one says he’s a Blesser.

  BONANG: Level three, futhi.

  REFILWE: Swipe left, I think we’ve both been blessed enough.

  BONANG: Yes, and Dubai is the last place I want to go.

  REFILWE: Well, that one’s too short.

  BONANG: Swipe left.

  REFILWE: And he’s too fat.

  BONANG: Swipe left.

  REFILWE: That one lives with his mother.

  BONANG: Swiping left.

  REFILWE: And he’s too bald.

  BONANG: Muza’s bald.

  REFILWE: I know.

  BONANG: Ah, I see, swiping left.

  REFILWE: Here’s one.

  BONANG: Sixty-two-year-old lawyer?

  REFILWE: A lawyer? Swipe left, swipe left, quick.

  BONANG: What about him?

  REFILWE: Eeeh, he’s wearing cycling shorts.

  BONANG: Ooooh, he’s wearing cycling shorts.

  REFILWE: Swipe left.

  BONANG: No, come on, he’s definitely a right-swipe. Please?

  REFILWE: Don’t you dare, that’s my phone.