Ivey: You are unbelievable! (She empties the white wine in her glass on Lerumo’s face, slaps him on his right cheek and storms out of the restaurant.)
Lerumo (calls after her): Come on babe, let’s talk about this! (All eyes in the restaurant are now on Lerumo and Ivey’s table) And no, I am not seeing anybody else!
[Waiter goes to Lerumo at the table.]
Waiter: Would you like anything else, sir? Or should I bring you the bill?
Lerumo: Some ice would be nice, please.
Fade to black
The playwright’s back began to give out from the time spent slouching over the pad waiting. He sat back in the chair and spun around. That’s when he noticed something he hadn’t seen in the room before: a small side table by the window. On it was a picture frame. He moved closer to inspect it. In the frame was a photo of him and Zoleka early on in their relationship, at a picnic. It was probably the first photo they took together. He stroked her face in the picture.
Before he was swept further into sentimentality, he remembered his plight. Molly put the photo there. Why? To inspire him? To torture him? Would she even allow him to see Zoleka and the twins again before the Mandzana took him?
He needed fresh air. He pushed the curtain aside and opened the window. It was late afternoon. Traffic was gridlocked and the streets were full of people. He tried to banish any schemes of calling out for help from his mind, because Molly would know and surely intervene before anyone heard him. She’d found a way to stop anyone from coming to investigate when he screamed during his so-called trial. He also tried not to think about crawling out the window. It was a two-storey drop to the ground. He’d survive but would definitely be injured.
Lost in the effort of trying not to plot an escape, his eyes began to inspect the scene below. He blinked once. Then twice more. His eyes were not deceiving him. Right there, in the middle of the street, amid cars stuck in stop-start traffic was Molly. She was staring motionless, right at the window of room 28. She had a stern and reproachful look on her face. It sent a disturbing message: she was watching him.
He staggered back and almost tripped over the coffee table. The insane inzobu had agreed to give him space to create, but was keeping him under strict surveillance.
I’ve got to get out of here, he thought.
He immediately regretted the thought, just in case it summoned Molly back to reprimand and punish him. Another thought. Resignation, really. Escape is impossible. Bandile realised that the only option was to write his way out of the room. He picked up his pen and pad once more, forcing himself to forget what he’d seen and focus on the task at hand. The words came painfully and slowly, each new sentence seeming taking longer than the previous.
INT. HOTEL ROOM (BATHROOM) – MORNING (05:31AM)
[Tumo (mid-20s) splashes more cold water on his face. Some of it is spilt on the floor. When he straightens, he’s looking at himself in the Greek-frame mirror. He runs a hand down his short wavy haircut and then goes back to the bedroom.]
INT. BEDROOM – CONTINUOUS
[Tumo stands at the threshold staring at the woman getting dressed. It’s Ivey. She looks back with tired eyes that are full of regret.]
Tumo: Are you sure you’ve got to leave so soon?
Ivey (putting on her earrings): Positive. And I am so sorry for this. Thank you for last night and you seem like a very cool guy. But this shouldn’t have happened. It’s not right.
Tumo (grinning): I regret nothing.
Ivey: Good for you. That leaves one guilt-free soul in the room.
Tumo: Look, we can talk about—
Ivey: My guy, please. There’s nothing to talk about. Best we leave memories of our time together in this place. My man and I had a serious fight at a restaurant. I stormed out of there angry, frustrated and confused. All those mixed emotions saw me driving to Club E to drink away my sorrow. Even the bartenders were too busy to listen to my problems. That’s when you came over to my table and started saying all the right things. Words I needed to hear. But coming here with you afterwards was a huge mistake. Sorry if I misled you.
Tumo: No, it’s okay. I totally understand. So I guess it’s goodbye …?
Ivey: Ivey.
Tumo: And I am Tumo.
Ivey: Bye, Tumo. And good luck with everything.
[Ivey rushes out of the room and exits. Amused, Tumo begins to dress.]
Fade out
Fade in
INT. – EDEN RESIDENCE – EARLY MORNING (06:11AM)
[Dineo gets out of bed when she hears the key work on the front lock. The door squeaks open and closed. She flips the kitchen switch, turning the light on. Ivey makes sure to avoid eye contact with her friend and goes straight to her bedroom. Dineo gives her a curious look followed by a series of queries.]
Dineo: Ivey, are you okay?
Ivey: Fine.
Dineo: Lerumo called looking for you. Where were you?
Ivey: Club E.
Dineo: Why? What happened? And why didn’t you answer my calls?
Ivey: I was depressed. Had one too many. My battery died.
Dineo: Did you spend the night at the club?
Ivey: No.
Dineo: Where, then?
Ivey: Next question.
Dineo: Lerumo?
Ivey: No comment. And please wake me up in five hours.
Dineo: But isn’t he supposed to come see you off? I mean, he is your boyfriend.
Ivey: Don’t call that idiot my boyfriend. Our relationship is currently under review. If he contacts you, tell him I am at my mother’s place.
Dineo: Okay. And your law research project?
Ivey (yawning): I will get to it … soon … (She slams the door)
Fade out on the closed ebony door
Fade in
INT. – EDEN RESIDENCE – MORNING
[It is three hours later. Dineo hears a knock at the door and goes to answer.]
Dineo: Who is it?
Lerumo: It’s me, Lerumo.
Dineo (opens the door): Hi, Lerumo. So early?
Lerumo: I’m looking for Ivey. Is she here?
Dineo (forcing herself to lie with a straight face): No, she went to her mother’s. Is everything alright between you two?
Lerumo (sighs): Mind if I come in?
Dineo (unsure): Uh … okay. Sure.
Dineo: Would you like some juice?
Lerumo: No, I’m good. I just want to find her and apologise for my behaviour last night.
Dineo: What did you do this time?
Lerumo: I made a bad choice of words … I wasn’t much of a gentleman at dinner.
Dineo: Did you let your reckless talk or quirky jokes lead the words coming out of your mouth?
Lerumo: Not sure … I was too nervous to even think straight. She wants me to meet her parents.
Dineo: That means you guys are quite serious then.
Lerumo: I don’t think it’s a good idea. She’s moving way too fast … That’s not what I want right now. I would like to go into the next phase of life without too much responsibility and expectations, you know?
Dineo: So, you’re not sure if you want to include her in the new adventures of this “next phase” of your life? Well I’d suggest you do so, because every good comic has a hero with a loyal sidekick.
Lerumo (laughs): A comic? So, my life is a joke now?
Dineo: Let’s just call it a mess. By the way, congratulations on the offer from M-corp. Can’t say that I’m really surprised. Ivey told me that they’ve been impressed with you ever since you joined their winter school programme.
Lerumo: Thanks. And you will also have the coolest job in the world; very few women make it in architecture. So which contract or project would you like to do first? Designing a bridge?
Dineo: A contract from God asking me to design my ideal man because I am getting kind of lonely, and all the good men have gone extinct.
Lerumo: Shame, and all the perfect ones are endangered. There’s only a few of us left.
D
ineo: Sorry, but I don’t think you’re on the Red list. (Checks her watch) And I don’t want to be rude, but I need to finish up here and go to work. So …
Lerumo: Alright. The person I came for isn’t here anyway. Thanks for the talk.
Dineo: Hope you learned your lesson and will do better next time. [Lerumo stands up and goes to the door. He opens it and pauses at the threshold for a moment, giving Dineo a flirtatious look, then exits.]
Fade out
Ten
The Power in Pain
THE WRITER, IN THREE short days, had come to establish an easy routine. He ate canned food straight from the tin, drafted a few new ideas and took naps in between sessions of writing.
Molly visited twice a day, at 6am and 6pm, to deliver the medication that kept him from feeling the pain of his liquefying insides. She didn’t pressure him. She didn’t ask how it was going. She hardly spoke during her visits, obviously waiting for that moment when Bandile would announce that he had something worthy of her review.
That afternoon, he took a nap and was visited by another bad dream. He was being chased by a giant hornet. He ran as fast as he could, legs feeling like lead weights. The buzzing behind him grew louder until he was sure the hornet was upon him. He felt a sting in his neck. The thick fluid neutralised his anxiety. It made him calm, despite the circumstances.
“Bandi?” A woman’s voice was calling softly to him. “Bandile!” she snarled.
Bandile woke up to see Molly’s face close to his. He also saw a syringe in her hand.
“What did you just inject me with?”
She smiled. “Your treatment. The syringe is more effective than pills. And I can administer it while you’re asleep.”
He felt the drug spreading through him, easing the pain that had been building in him as he slept. The syringe was definitely more effective. He checked the time: 6pm. His afternoon nap had gone on for much longer than he had planned.
“Are you impressed by my skills as a nurse?”
He was going to ignore her, but her expectant face let him know it was a serious question. Skilled wouldn’t be the word he’d use to describe a nurse who poisons their patients.
“Oh?” she said. “Then what word would you use?”
A big gulp. “I’m more impressed at your impeccable timing and thoughtfulness in finding more effective ways to deliver my medication,” he said.
Molly laughed uncontrollably. “You’re a terrible actor,” she said. “My goodness.”
Bandile was sheepish. She was right. He couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag.
“Don’t worry. That’s why I’ve sometimes stepped in to help you. Mind control is a no-brainer for me,” she smirked. “See what I did there?”
Under the circumstances, not even a wordsmith would chuckle at the exploit of meaning in her words. Molly shrugged off his lack of appreciation for her word play. She waited, watching the full meaning of what she said set in.
“Stepped in?” he said.
“Bandi,” she said. “It wasn’t easy to drive you crazy. It wasn’t enough to haunt your dreams. I had to make you do things. Bad things sometimes.”
Alarm bells began to ring in Bandile’s mind. What did she make him do? Does this explain his long absences where he couldn’t remember where he’d been or what he’d done.
“Why did you attack Zoleka?” Molly said.
Bandile furrowed his brows. He’d been trying to figure it out for weeks, in the moments he allowed himself to think about it. So far, he had no explanation. Was it Molly that made him do it?
Before he could think about it any further, Molly stood up and picked up his travel bag. She unzipped it and tilted it for him to see inside. It was filled with camping food and bottled water that would have lasted a single person days.
“Do you remember packing and bringing all this food?” she said. Toying with him, “What if I told you that your phone records and credit card bill will show that you called to book this room?”
Molly seemed to be enjoying Bandile trying to find plausible answers to the questions she was asking and what it all meant.
“Bandi,” she said, playfully, “there are no cell-phones in the spirit realm. Where do you think the text message that sent you here came from?”
Over the past few days, he’d eliminated the possibility that he was dreaming. It all felt too real and coherent. The realness of the pain he’d been subjected to made him almost certain he was not hallucinating. He realised that, despite his initial disbelief, he’d come to believe Molly’s version of events. And now it seemed she was pulling that rug from under his feet.
Thoughts fractured and fell apart before they could come together in his mind. Sums that should, logically speaking, add up, did not. Bandile’s brain skipped like a scratched disc until the music began playing normally again. A clear thought began to form.
“Are you saying I’m doing this to myself; that you don’t exist; that I’m in denial of some of the bad things I’ve done?”
Molly smirked. “Well …” she said, shrugging.
“How long are you to keep messing with my head?” Bandile snapped.
“I’m trying to help you. Can’t you see that?”
“By driving me crazy? Great help you are.”
“No, Bandi, I’m giving you the gift of seeing multiple possibilities, multiple narratives, the infinite possibilities of being.”
His rage began to ease. He understood. Once set in motion, a story could unfold in many ways. Some work better than others. There was a time, when his writing powers were at their peak, that he could see every possible plot of the story he was working on. He could close his eyes, pick the best one and capture it onto the page.
“I just wish you weren’t using my own life to give me this ‘gift’,” Bandile mumbled.
“Who else’s life am I going to use? Do I look to you like a Thobejane, may his soul rest in pieces, who sacrificed a living soul just so that you can create?”
Silence filled the space between them. Bandile understood the questions were rhetorical. But he was taken aback. There, at the back of his mind, a thought lingered. He wouldn’t be that opposed if someone else suffered, if it meant he could write.
“You should be thanking me,” Molly said.
Bandile said nothing, avoiding making eye contact.
“I made you. And I saved you,” she said. “And here I am, saving you again. The least you could do is produce a spectacular script.”
Bandile nodded quietly. He couldn’t tell anymore which of the narratives of his life Molly had presented was real. There was also the possibility that he was stark raving mad. He’d lost everything – his wife and children, his career, his reputation. Now he was losing his mind.
“You’re not crazy, Bandi,” she said. “I just know you. I know you don’t want to be happy. Happiness dulls your powers to create. You thrive on torment.” She paused, “Your own, or that of others.”
She stared down Bandile – a challenge for him to deny it. He didn’t say anything.
“Let me help you answer the question that’s been troubling you,” she said. Her voice was laced with scorn. “You attacked Zoleka, who brought warmth and joy to your life, because you wanted to experience the pain of loss, which you hoped would inspire your art.”
Bandile’s silence seemed tantamount to an admission of guilt. He wanted nothing more than to get out of there. He wanted Molly gone. He wanted to get help. The minute she disappeared, leaving him to stew in her words, he returned to the script. If he finished it, maybe he’d be free to get all these things he wanted.
Fade in
INT. – RESTAURANT, THE COFFEE CABIN – AFTERNOON
[Dineo is wiping crumbs off the counter when Ivey comes in and sits right in front of her, looking a little drained.]
Ivey: Hello, Dinny. One espresso please. I could really use the boost.
Dineo (looking at her with curious eyes): Sure, one espresso coming up … Right after you tel
l me what happened to you last night. And I want nothing but the truth.
Ivey: Not now, girl. I would rather save the confessions for my pastor.
Dineo: Don’t give me that. I was worried sick.
Ivey: I’m fine. I spent the night at a friend’s place.
Dineo: Male or female?
Ivey: What?
Dineo: You heard me.
Ivey: It was a guy. Happy now?
Dineo: Was it your ex?
Ivey: No. It was a perfect stranger. We just had a couple of drinks and talked. (Her eyes try hard not to admit the guilt.)
Dineo (gasps): Oh no, Ivey! Please don’t tell me that you spent the whole night being comforted by another man.
Ivey: Your wish is my command. I won’t tell you anything else.
Dineo: Did you sleep with him?
Ivey: No, we just kissed. It meant nothing. Honest.
Dineo: Don’t lie to me. I can see it in your eyes. How could you?
Ivey: I was in a bad space, okay. Plus, I had a little bit too much to drink. People make mistakes when they are under the influence.
Dineo (shaking her head in disapproval): I can’t believe you cheated on—
Ivey: He drove me to do it, Dineo. I am not proud of what I did, but it’s his fault that I ended up seeking solace somewhere else. So just drop it. Let it go. It’s in the past now.
Dineo (sighing in surrender): Fine. But you better pray that this doesn’t come back to hurt you in the future.
Ivey (waving Dineo’s words away): Whatever. We’ll cross river Jordan when we get there.
Fade to:
INT. – CLUB E – NIGHT
[Lerumo enters Club E to meet up with old friends. He spots the table they are seated at and goes to join them.]
Lerumo: Good fellas! How are my ninjas doing?
Jabulani: Hey, look guys! It’s Lerumo the Legend! Splurging Steve. The man whose card will buy the bar and save my parched throat with a single swipe.
Lerumo: Good to see you too, Jabulani the Joker.
Jabulani: Correction, comrade. It’s Jabu the Jaguar. A wild savage pouncing on these girls like there’s no tomorrow! And speaking of which, got any good company that might want to join us? We’ve been in town for two nights and I still haven’t managed to get a single girl on my grill. I don’t know what’s wrong with my fishing skills when these waters are so full of the city’s finest catch.
The Last Sentence Page 5
