by Dhasi Mwale
Katenekwa gaped at Lillian. “Just yesterday, you were telling me I need a little chaos. Pushing me to go out with Zig, and suddenly Wezi is bad for me?”
“There’s a difference between fun and emotional turmoil. You can lie to yourself all you want, Kay, but this guy is more than a friend to you. There is nothing as destructive as that.”
“Wezi won’t distract me. I promise.”
“For your sake, I hope so.”
“What do you think Mike wants with him?” Katenekwa asked.
“It’s Mike. Isn’t it obvious?”
Yes. And it was Wezi. The insanely talented, gorgeous musician she knew better than to crush on. Talk about setting oneself up for failure. No way he’d notice her with the promise of a thousand adoring fans within his grasp. Fame changed people. She should know; Kawana used to be so sweet.
Lillian handed Katenekwa her binder and the gala invitation. “You need this, for Josiah. And I hope you’re right about Wezi.”
Katenekwa slipped the invite into the binder without a second thought. She’d deal with it later. She made the 180 degrees toward the exit and spied Wezi and Mike exchanging a handshake outside the studio. Like every unpleasant event that had forcefully invaded her life these past few hours, she wrapped the image up and put it away for later. She packed it away in her overflowing storeroom of unwelcome distress.
Binder in hand, she met Wezi in the lobby. His face lit up at the sight of her, and she melted. That smile was a killer.
“The Binder.” Wezi grinned ear to ear.
“Don’t be an ass, Wezi. This binder is life.” She held it to her chest. If only there were a binder for romantic endeavours. Some logic-based system to deal with all of this.
She was grateful her phone rang.
“So…” She glanced at the caller ID. “It’s my aunt.”
“Mimi?”
She nodded and picked up. “Aunt Mimi. This is early.”
“Katenekwa. It’s your father. He fainted…”
Chapter 4
Katenekwa’s head zinged. A shrill ringing obscured her hearing. She became vaguely aware of her fingers losing the grip on her phone. In her periphery, she saw Wezi catch it. Paralysis gripped her and then released her in a wave of pain. Arms encircled her and pulled her close.
She welcomed the warmth of Wezi’s chest, and a fountain welled up inside her. She struggled against the memory of her father’s last diabetic episode. He'd been unresponsive for so many days. She'd almost lost him then—the last of her family. She couldn't bear the thought of him slipping away again. And what if, this time, he didn’t wake up?
“It’s going to be all right. Auntie Mimi says he’s fine. He’s fine. Come on, Kitty. Stay with me.” Wezi’s soothing voice calmed her.
She trembled, hugging Wezi tighter with each quake.
“I want to see him,” she said, her throat dry. “Take me to him.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll take you. Don’t worry. He’s at home. He’s fine.”
The drive to the farmhouse took what felt like an eternity but also a split second. She rushed out of the car before Wezi could park it properly and ran to the house, calling for him, expecting the worst but refusing to believe in anything but the best.
“Dad! Daddy!” she called, her voice hoarse.
“What are you doing here?” Her father walked in from the den.
Katenekwa embraced him. She needed to feel him, to assure her frenzied brain cells that he was alive and well. “Oh, god, you’re alive. You’re alive.”
“Of course, I’m alive.” He held her shoulders and inspected her face as if for bruises. “Aunt Mimi called, didn’t she?”
“Yes. Dad, what happened? When was the last time you checked your blood sugar?”
“I'm fine. It was a minor fainting spell. These things happen at my age. Your aunt has a big mouth, worrying you like this. I’m fine.” He tapped her shoulders and shifted the glasses on the edge of his nose.
Katenekwa wiped away the tears flowing freely down her face. “I can’t lose you.”
“I’m here. I’m still here. Did you drive here in this condition?”
She shook her head. “Wezi brought me.”
One of his brows shot up. “Wezi?”
He looked past her at the sound of footfalls.
Wezi hung back. “Good morning, sir.”
Katenekwa understood the turmoil on her father’s face. It was difficult to look at Wezi without seeing Kawana. Without missing him, wanting him back, wanting time to reverse, and realizing that the pain was still there with the same intensity.
“It’s good to see you, son.” The older man bridged the space and drew Wezi into an affectionate embrace, as a father would a son. A pat on the back reaffirmed the bond that Kawana had forged between them. Wezi had been family—he was family.
“Please don’t scare me again, Dad.” Katenekwa collapsed into a sofa. Her strength was starting to return, and she could feel her pulse normalizing.
“Your aunt was worried about nothing.”
“Where is she, anyway?”
“I sent her out for some medicine. She’ll be gone all morning.”
“Sounds like she’s on a wild goose hunt,” Wezi said with a chuckle.
“I had to get rid of her. She wouldn’t stop checking my pulse. You don’t have to be a doctor to know a conscious person has a pulse.”
Katenekwa laughed. The tornado inside her dissipated. “Hey, you still want that breakfast you were bugging me about?” She turned to Wezi.
“Sure, but won’t we be late for your appointment?”
“Oh, we won’t. The gala is here. Dad let me convert one of the fields into an outdoor events space. I’m cheap like that.”
Katenekwa could not deny the adoration on Wezi’s face.
“You’re one of a kind, Kitty,” he said.
Katenekwa met his enchanting eyes. She tried to stop her quickening breath, attempted to disengage from him. Yet, he pulled her in, and the breadth of the living room seemed to have shrunken to a centimetre.
Unable to break free of the magic in his eyes, she smiled and said, “Come on, let me show you.”
She gave Wezi a tour of what had once been an acre of barely used, arable land. She’d had it transformed into a botanical paradise. Flower beds that defied the imagination bordered a meticulously maintained lush green lawn. A fence of bone-white latticework crawling with vines and creepers of several varieties enclosed the garden space. A car park of mowed wild grass fit in perfectly with the garden of dreams atmosphere. She’d hired an ambitious landscape designer who’d come cheap because he was new to the business. He’d turned the barren dirt into a garden Babylon would have been proud of.
The farm hadn’t been Katenekwa’s first choice for the gala venue. Sure, she recommended it to her clients whenever she could. Still, she’d envisioned a more whisky-kissed cocktail affair and not a garden party. Unfortunately, some politician stole her hotel ballroom from under her nose. So, there wasn’t another available for their date, which wasn’t surprising in May in Lusaka. Two months out of the rainy season and a month shy of the cold season, May was perfect for parties.
“Wow, Kitty.” Wezi stopped at the end of the walkway leading to the ablution area, nestled in an alcove made of flowering vines and English roses. He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared at his feet. “You’ve done so much. And after everything that happened.”
“I’m stronger than I look, Wezi. Besides, we can’t all run away.” Katenekwa said.
Wezi’s crestfallen face deepened into pain like she’d never seen. “Kitty, I didn’t….”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain,” Katenekwa said, even though she was dying for an explanation. Why had he left? Why had he abandoned her when she’d needed him the most? When he was the only one besides her father who understood Kawana’s loss like she did? But God, having the answers to that question terrified her more than never knowing.
“I’m s
orry,” Wezi said in a tone too heartbroken to sustain her wrath.
Katenekwa held his gaze even though she couldn’t bear looking at him. She wasn’t ready for this. Why had she thought she could face him without breaking? No! After all the heartache he’d already put her through, she wouldn’t let him ruin this week for her. She inhaled a bracing breath and halted the swell of tears.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s all in the past.” She infused as much sweetness into her voice as she could muster.
Katenekwa ignored the many emotions that rushed across Wezi’s face. Besides, she understood enough about him to know that his facial expressions didn’t mean a damn thing when it mattered most.
Wezi forced cheer into his face—forced, she concluded because it didn’t touch his eyes. Thankfully, he didn’t bring it up again, and they had a semi-normal breakfast together as if time hadn’t been stolen from them.
“How’s the business doing?” Katenekwa’s father asked, sipping his tea.
“It’s okay. A few stresses here and there, but nothing I can’t handle.”
He shook his head. “You have my problem.”
“What problem?”
“You work too much.”
Katenekwa laughed. Once, she’d thought she was nothing like her father—the doctor who spent most of his time growing his private practice. He’d been away so much it sometimes it felt like he never came home.
“How’s that young man you were seeing?”
Katenekwa’s grin widened, and her gaze involuntarily swept the room. No Wezi within earshot. “Josiah is fine.”
“Hmm. Are you sure about him?”
Katenekwa scratched the back of her neck. She and her father were close, yet uneasiness still hung in the air when they discussed her love life. “It’s a little early, to be sure.”
“It’s been almost a year. It doesn’t take that long to know,” he said, buttering his toast like a man who hadn’t just had a fainting spell.
Katenekwa pulled the butter bowl away from him. “It’s not that easy. I’m busy with work and….”
“You’re making excuses. Maybe you need to look elsewhere.”
Katenekwa arrested the pounding in her chest, certain her dad’s gaze was fixed on Wezi, who was coming in from the kitchen with a fresh pot of tea. Wezi? Had her father noticed her torturous lust for the poor guy and mistaken it for affection? Was she the one who was mistaken? Regardless, this was one man she could never—must never—have.
Wezi’s voice broke the trance. “Kitty, your people are here. I heard a truck pull in.”
“Okay, good.” She shot father a furtive glance, declaring that the conversation was over, and pushed herself up from the breakfast table.
***
Much could be said about the perils of calculating the numerical value of one’s poultry before it hatched. Or, in Katenekwa’s case, planning a commute time between two locations based on distance, which was Wezi’s fault.
The tent company had left just after twelve. But Wezi had insisted they have lunch with her dad, which meant they’d stayed an extra hour because they still had enough time to get to the showground.
Katenekwa pounded her fist on the horn. A motorist in the left lane flipped them off.
Wezi flicked her hand off the steering wheel. “You can’t do that when someone else is driving. You have control issues, lady.”
“Me? Control issues?”
“Don’t even deny it. I told you we’d avoid the traffic if we’d gone through Salama Park, but no, we just had to use the highway.”
“For a mere ten-minute difference?”
“Ten minutes is plenty, and I’m sure we’d have avoided the jam.”
The minute hand on Katenekwa’s watch moved at a rate incomparable to the cars on the road. They were ten minutes late already. Another hour and they’d miss the appointment. Or she could agree to take one of Wezi’s shortcuts. What could go wrong?
One presidential motorcade and three diversions later, they were back where they’d started, location wise. The dynamic of their relationship, however, had taken a beating.
Why had she listened to him even when every cell in her body had screamed for her not to? Why did his presence make her ignore everything she knew was true? It had to stop. She had to stop it.
They arrived at the show grounds two hours late. In the four years, she had been a planner, she’d never been late. Ever.
Her feet hit the arena as the AV company’s branded truck pulled away. She bawled to no avail. Waved her hands while jumping. They probably thought she was a crazy woman who’d come out on a hot day to do jumping-jacks in a deserted showground. Stranger things have happened.
The truck disappeared around a bend, and she collapsed onto the sunburned grass, throat hoarse, muscles fatigued. Scarcely able to sit, she propped herself up with one hand.
“Sorry.” Wezi slid to the ground next to her.
“Sorry? Sorry?” She jerked to face him. “Sorry won’t fix this. This is my life, Wezi. My whole career depends on this, and you just had to make a game of it.”
Wezi’s brow wrinkled. “You say it like I meant for this to happen. I was trying to help.”
“Sure, you were.”
“Kitty…” He reached out for her.
“No!” She swatted his hands away. “I can’t… I just can’t with you right now.” She buried her face in her palms. It would cost money to bring the AV company back. Her money. Money she didn’t have. And what about the time? Mike had scheduled rehearsals for tomorrow. How could she get the stages set up before then? Lillian had been right.
“Go home, Wezi.”
“Kitty…”
“Please. Just go.”
She looked up, and they locked eyes for an agonizing second.
“Kitty...” he began to say, his voice soft.
Her phone rang and saved her the trouble of shutting him up. She jumped to her feet and walked away, her back to him.
“What happened, Kay? They said you didn’t show.” Lillian didn’t mask the worry in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I got here late. We were stuck in traffic. The road was closed. It was a whole mess.” She rubbed her temples. Her brain was hard at work shifting priorities, recalculating appointment times.
“This isn’t like you.”
“I know. And I’ll cover the costs if it comes to it. I’m sorry.”
Lillian’s heavy sigh pierced Katenekwa. In the two years, she’d worked with Lillian, Katenekwa had never disappointed her. Lillian was one of the few people who’d stuck up for her when Media GQ had hired her, a young, inexperienced event planner, for their biggest project. Sure, she checked in on Katenekwa’s progress every day, but she trusted Katenekwa’s good judgement. This lapse threatened to topple the image she’d worked so hard to build—Katenekwa, event planner extraordinaire.
“What about the gala?” Lillian asked after another series of heavy, confidence-wrecking sighs.
Katenekwa struggled to keep the panic out of her voice. No matter what, she had to maintain the illusion of control. “The marquee is up. The electrician will be done with the wiring by the end of the day. I’m sorry about the stage, Lillian. I promise I’ll get it done.”
“You do that.” A click, and she was gone.
Wezi appeared behind Katenekwa, close enough to touch her, embrace her and thrust her into turmoil like he often did.
“Kitty,” he said softly.
She hated how he acted as if he fancied her but did nothing about it. She hated that her heart craved him, even though his very presence was knocking over the neatly stacked dominoes of her life. He squeezed her shoulder. “I’ll go. Please forgive me. I don’t know what I’ll do if you can’t. See you, love.”
And just like that, he was gone. Leaving behind a hole too deep to fill with hope and ambition.
Chapter 5
Katenekwa rejected Wezi’s fifth call.
She’d avoided seeing him after the
ir fight by arriving home late last night and leaving early that morning. A feat even for a workaholic such as her. But the alternative was facing him and admitting she may have overreacted. She wasn’t sure how to do that without exploring why she’d been so mad at him in the first place.
She hated herself a little more each time her heart skipped when his name popped up on her screen. She loathed herself for smiling at the emojis he sent her: sad face, crying face, broken heart, hugs. There had to be a cure for whatever this irrational ebb of emotions was. He made her so mad, and yet she felt so lost without him.
No, this wouldn’t do. She was a level-headed person. Decisive, strong, and not given to fanciful longings, right? Right? She quelled the rising panic, muted her phone, and slid the accursed device across the restaurant table, far from present matters.
“Work problems?” Josiah asked, his brow arching upwards.
Katenekwa stiffened. “Yeah. Last-minute crisis.”
She poked at the chicken strips, her inhale filled with guilt. So, she was lying now, too? Damn that Wezi!
She’d completely forgotten about Josiah and their lunch date until he’d called. In fact, she’d forgotten all about Josiah, period. Not that it was new for her—ignoring Josiah’s existence, that is. He was just sooo….
She shot him a furtive glance. If bleh was a person, she thought. It wasn’t that he was plain. On the contrary, he wasn’t bad looking, maybe even handsome. The problem was that she saw him the same way she saw chicken breast: not as delicious as the other parts of the chicken, but better than tofu. But he was a good guy, and his general lack of colour was why she’d been taken with him, to begin with. He was a sensible, mature man who understood the value of a well-made plan. So, he was perfect for her, right?
Thus, she’d agreed to meet him even though she was behind schedule. Bland though he was, his presence, this real man before her, served to remind her that her life didn’t need the likes of Wezi upturning it. She had been happy. She was happy.
Yet all through lunch, all she could hear were her dad’s words: Maybe you need to look elsewhere.
