The Last Sentence

by Tumelo Buthelezi

  Tumo: Preach and I will testify, my brother. I mean just this morning, I woke up next to one hot mermaid asking to be tossed back into the ocean in the early hours. We met right here and started talking about our bad relationships. Next thing we’re in my room to comfort each other. She woke up sober and started feeling bad about cheating on the fool she’s dating.

  Lerumo: You’re not the only ones with girl-problems out here, bafwethu. But let’s not go there. And sorry for booking you guys into a hotel. Complex management has imposed some strict rules that would make it difficult to accommodate you all at my place.

  Tumo: Don’t worry about it, man. The place is cool.

  Jabulani: And thanks for getting us separate rooms. At least I don’t have to worry about Tumo snoring like a Harley Davidson engine. (Takes a sip of his drink) And since no one wants to do the honours, Lerumo, I want you to meet the crew’s new recruit. This is Vincent. If you don’t like him I can tell him to leave.

  Lerumo (laughs): Welcome to the crew, man. I assume you are also in the medical field?

  Vincent (extending his right hand to Lerumo): Sho, mfethu. The guys have told me a lot about you.

  Lerumo: So, are you ready for the next three days of inter-campus festivities? This is the time of year when all Eden students dive head first into debauchery.

  Vincent: Actually, I think these three days are an insignificant detour on the course to higher qualifications. Nothing special ever happens – it’s all about booze and babes.

  Jabulani: You impudent child! Our ancestors frown upon your ignorance. The inter-campus games are an important annual affair! (Raising his glass and putting on a Julius Malema accent) And now, to honour the festival’s founding fathers, I will uphold my heavy duty of drinking until my liver turns to liquid, and sleep with at least five fresh faces before the festival comes to an end.

  Vincent: Well, I can’t wait for all the noise and fuss to die out again. Some of us have better things to do than waste 72 hours on liquor and fornication.

  Jabulani: Vincent! Could you please put down the morals manuscript for a drink or two? No wonder you can’t score. It’s not that ladies are not interested in you – it’s that they don’t understand you!

  Tumo: And who died and made you an expert on women, Jabulani? Leave the guy alone and let him speak his mind. He has the right to express his views in any form or fashion he’s comfortable in.

  Jabulani: Don’t get me started on fashion, Tumo. Where did you get that leather jacket? Borrowed it from a ghetto loan shark?

  [A waiter comes to their table.]

  Waiter (to Tumo): Excuse me, sir. This card is from that fine lady in the floral dress over there.

  Tumo (accepts the card, reads it): Her name is Pamela, and this is her number (he shows it off to his friends).

  Jabulani: She seems to be lovely and loaded. You are one lucky swine.

  Tumo (still holding out the card): And do you know what this is, at the bottom? That’s her room number. She’s in town for business, in the same hotel as us. This is the second time I am seeing her – we first met in the reception area after checking in.

  Jabulani: And now she’s inviting you to a meeting in her bedroom. I can always attend on your behalf and forward your apologies.

  Tumo: Thank you, JBL, but not a chance. As a professional, I like to stay on top of things. Certain opportunities come once in a lifetime. It would be a pity if I were to miss out on the pleasure of doing “business” with the likes of her.

  [Cheers and laughter all around]

  Fade to black

  Fade in

  INT. – RESTAURANT, THE COFFEE CABIN – AFTERNOON

  TWO MONTHS LATER …

  [Lerumo waves to order another drink while he waits for his meal. The waitress who comes over to his table is none other than Dineo.]

  Dineo: Afternoon sir, can I get you something?

  Lerumo (moving the menu away from his face): Yes. I would like … Dineo?

  Dineo: Oh, I’m so sorry. But she is not on the menu.

  Lerumo (smiling): No, I am just surprised that you’re a waitress here.

  Dineo: Only part-time. I come here to make some extra cents. Started last week.

  Lerumo: Cool. (He does a quick scan of the room.) It’s a little quiet today. Think you can join me for a minute? I would like to get to know my woman’s friend a little better.

  Dineo: “My woman”? You refer to her as if she is some kind of possession.

  Lerumo: No, I meant it as another term for “my love”. Guess I better watch what I say since it’s apparently true that the KZN campus has taught most of its students to speak in a formal and conscious manner at all times.

  Dineo: That’s partially true. Who told you that?

  Lerumo: I have friends studying medical sciences over there. So, will you grab a bite with me? I’ve got a few things I’d like to ask you.

  Dineo: About Ivey?

  Lerumo: Yes. I haven’t spoken to her since she left for Russia six weeks ago.

  [Another waitress, Karabo, comes over to Lerumo’s table.]

  Karabo: Hi Lerumo. The 3pm student regular meal you ordered is ready. Would you like me to bring it to you?

  Lerumo: Thanks KB. Just bring me the mini-burgers and I’ll take the rest of the meal to go. While you are at it, can you get Dineo something to drink? She will be joining me for lunch.

  Karabo: Sure thing. (She goes back to the kitchen.)

  Dineo: I can only do 10 minutes. Still have stuff to do in the back.

  Lerumo: Don’t worry about the manager. She’s a good friend of mine.

  Dineo (pulls a chair closer to the table and sits down): Sorry to hear that you and Ivey are having problems again. What can I do to help?

  Lerumo: Any useful pointers from your odd relationship with her? Perhaps if you tell me more about yourself, it will give me ideas about how to deal with our beloved diva.

  Dineo: And what do you want to know about me?

  Lerumo: Let’s start with … why did you leave the KZN campus to come and stay with Ivey?

  Dineo: Ivey and I go a while back and stayed together while we were still adjusting to varsity life. So, we just naturally drifted back together for our post-grad years. And you? How did you meet the lawyer-to-be?

  Lerumo: Ivey and I met when she joined the debating club. I was first speaker and she was the third mouth of the team. We travelled together a lot for club competitions; our friendship evolved into a relationship over time. But back to you guys. Don’t get me wrong, Ivey is cool and everything, but the two of you have nothing in common. How did you become friends?

  Dineo: We were put in the same room in first year. She tried to get away from me, but all the good off-campus rooms were already taken. When we came here for our respective reasons this year, we asked student affairs to gives us a post-grad place we could share. She’s a good person, just a little too obsessed with luxury, in my opinion.

  Karabo (with Lerumo’s order and a to-go bag on a tray): Here you go,

  Lerumo: Enjoy. (She leaves to attend to other customers)

  Lerumo: This looks delicious. (He picks up a mini-burger and finishes it in two bites.)

  Dineo (shaking her head): All that education, but your table manners are still no better than those of a barbarian. Just look at that sauce you got on your face.

  Lerumo: Where? Think I can lick it off?

  [With her left hand, Dineo reaches across the table and gently removes the sauce from Lerumo’s face.]

  Dineo: All clear. Be more careful with your next bite.

  Lerumo: Uh …thanks. (He continues, smirking.) So, if I had another ‘sauce accident’ would you help me clear the mess again?

  Dineo: No way. I don’t want Ivey to come home from Moscow to stories about how I was busy mopping sauce from her toddler with terrible table etiquette. And I think our time is almost up. I have to get back to work now.

  Lerumo: Okay. But check: I am meeting a couple of friends for drinks
later. I don’t mind coming by after that to pick you up and give you a lift home.

  Dineo: I’m actually working two shifts specially split to accommodate a supplementary class I have with my theatre group.

  Lerumo: Theatre group? As in acting?

  Dineo: You seem surprised.

  Lerumo: Very. Thought you were all about academics and stuff.

  Dineo: There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I’ve got other skills too.

  Lerumo: And I would pay good money to see you in action. Let me know when one of your plays is showing.

  Dineo: No problem. It was nice chatting to you. But I’ve got to go.

  Lerumo: Alright. See yo—

  Bandile stopped writing again, distracted mid-sentence by an odd sensation. The pain was coming back. A throbbing irritation on the side of his head. He needed the meds to neutralise the threat before it became serious. How much longer until Nurse Molly comes? He checked his watch. Two more hours. That was too far and too long. He had to make a plan.

  In the bathroom there was a tub, a toilet and a medicine cabinet. Inside it he found mouth wash, a sealed pack of plasters and a bottle of cough syrup. But his heart leapt when he saw the sachets next to it: Panado. The pain tablets might provide relief until Molly arrived.

  He was annoyed.

  She should know that the pain is returning earlier than expected and be here to give me the next dose, he thought.

  He ripped open three sachets of the Panado and chewed six tablets straight away. Taking them all at the same time, he hoped, would do the trick. As much as he wanted the medicine to relieve him of the pain, he did not want to see Molly. He tried not to think of her. Think of the devil and she might just appear.

  Just then, to his horror, he heard footsteps fast approaching in the corridor. The sound grew louder … then faded past his room.

  Not her, he thought. He tried not to think about her now wishing he’d have banged on the door and called for help to whomever was in the corridor.

  The drugs were beginning to take effect. The urgent need for relief had been satisfied, for now.

  Bandile returned to the desk, sat in front of the laptop and ran his fingers over its keyboard, typing the handwritten drafts. That’s how he preferred to write. Initial thoughts by hand, then transfer them to the computer as second drafts. Old school, like from the days of typewriters. He liked the process. The labour of writing everything out by hand then typing it into the computer helped him revise more thoroughly than doing it on-screen only.

  When he was done, Bandile re-read what he’d written. He made a mental note to finish writing that last scene later. But, for now, a new scene was building in his mind and he wanted to capture it before it got away.

  EXT. – RESTAURANT, THE COFFEE CABIN – LATER THAT NIGHT

  [Dineo has just knocked off from her second shift. She is walking back to res when a silver Renault slows down beside her.]

  Lerumo (rolls down the window): Need a lift?

  Dineo: Thank you (she gets into the car).

  INT. – CAR – NIGHT

  [The radio is on. The song playing happens to be one of Dineo’s favourite oldies, an R&B track about a man torn between his main girl and side chick.]

  Dineo (reminiscently): Ah … This is my cousin’s favourite song. It takes me way back.

  Lerumo: It’s a nice track, isn’t it? (He turns the volume up a little and they listen to the song until it ends.)

  [As the song runs through the last chorus, Lerumo decides to weigh in on its lyrical content.]

  Lerumo: Sad story, too. The guy realises that cupid struck the wrong heart for him. Now he’s trying to be with the one he really loves.

  Dineo: Excuse me, what about the poor girl about to get dumped?

  Lerumo: Hate to say it, but in every game there are winners and there are also losers. Draws don’t count. And if I could give advice, I would tell him to keep both the main girl and the side chick. So that he has options, you know?

  Dineo (unamused): I beg your pardon?

  Lerumo: No, I … what I meant was—

  Dineo: Was what, Lerumo? That you’re playing Pacman and chowing everything and anything between single and involved women, all in the name of seeing some high numbers on the board by the time the woodpecker retires? Or maybe you feel that heavy responsibility entrusted to you by your ego to spread your love and affection across a large number of women without life partners? Good luck with the noble quest, Sir Lerumo.

  Lerumo: Come on, Dineo. I was only joking, man. Didn’t mean to cut the wrong wire.

  Dineo: Well, the bomb went off. Too bad. Now, please stop the car.

  Lerumo: But you just got in. And now?

  Dineo: Now I want to get out. Walking is an essential part of my training. I’d hate to violate the new regimen.

  Lerumo: We are almost at your place. Surely you can put up with me for five more minutes?

  Dineo: That’s precious time I would rather spend making my scale proud.

  Lerumo (sighs): Fine. (He presses the brakes and she opens the door.) But I don’t understand why you’re acting out.

  Dineo (grins over her shoulder as she steps out): Well, you did say that you would pay good money to see me in action.

  Lerumo (a smile of recognition on his face): And that was very convincing! You had me going for a minute there. You’re really good! Send an invoice to my office.

  [She says nothing more and just walks on.]

  Lerumo: You can come back now. Dineo, I said I get it. Dineo? [Lerumo glides on slowly beside Dineo. She teases him for a few more seconds before she finally decides to get back into the car.]

  Fade to:

  EXT. – EDEN RESIDENCE – NIGHT

  [Lerumo drops Dineo off at her place. She opens the gate with her access card and finds Molly, one of her students, sitting on the steps.]

  Molly: Finally! I’ve been waiting for what felt like forever. Look, I know I should have called first and I’m sorry for disturbing quality time with your boyfriend …

  Dineo: Don’t be silly, Molly. That’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I know.

  Molly: Well whoever he was, it looks like he just brought you back from cloud nine in a fire chariot. That is one impressive set of wheels he’s got there!

  Dineo: Nonsense. Anyway, what are you doing here at this hour? Molly: I’ve got a test tomorrow, so I’ve come to my tutor for help—[Dineo’s phone rings and interrupts Molly.]

  Dineo: Hello?

  Lerumo (O.S.): Hi … You deliberately left your scarf in my car. So, should I take it as a sign that would like to see me again?

  Dineo: You can just turn around and bring it to me.

  Lerumo: (glancing at the fuel gage, which is at half-full) Sorry, I am almost out of petrol.

  Dineo (O.S.): Fine. How will I retrieve it?

  Lerumo: How about we go out for dinner?

  Dineo: Excuse me?

  Lerumo: Relax. It’s not a date. We’re both too smart to cross that line. Just name the place.

  Dineo (moving away from Molly’s curious ears): Sorry, but I can’t come to the Good Grill tomorrow night.

  Lerumo: Time?

  Dineo: I will be busy around 18:30.

  Lerumo: See you then. Bye.

  [She hangs up.]

  Molly: You didn’t just turn down a guy who was asking you out, did you?

  Dineo: I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Now let’s go inside and talk about your test. [Dineo puts a hand on Molly’s shoulder leading her to the house.]

  Fade to black

  Eleven

  The Review

  MOLLY PUT DOWN THE stack of papers, maintaining the same expression as when she started reading.

  “So, what do you think?” Bandile asked.

  “Well, I like the development so far,” she replied. “The story starts off strong and builds momentum. Nice job at keeping things interesting.”

  “And w
hat about the characters?”

  “Thoughtful to name a character after me,” Molly said. “But that Jabulani character has to go. He’s nothing but deadweight. He’ll be more useful dead.”

  Bandile was baffled. “What’s your issue with this character?”

  “If you put that dog down, the audience learns a lesson,” she said. “You can’t have a character that plays women like the cello and let him get away with it.”

  “But Jay is the bad boy good girls love to hate. He’s adventurous and unpredictable. He offers the type of adrenaline women want; he’s the hit that gives them that emotional rush,” the writer pleaded.

  “Oh please,” Molly said, “the guy is a narcissist leading a hedonistic lifestyle. He’s irresponsible and frivolous, and you should get him out of the way. There’s nothing to see there. Take him out.”

  Bandile wasn’t ready to back down. He raised his voice along with his objection.

  “Jabulani is a reflection of these misunderstood 20-somethings with unresolved issues who are trying to fill a void. He’s a kid with mommy issues. The son of a man who never taught him how to treat a woman. He’s really not that bad once you get to know him. Just give the guy a—”

  “No,” she cut him off. Pausing a bit as an epiphany suddenly twisted her neck to face him, smiling. “Oh,” she said, “I see what’s going on. You identify strongly with Jabulani. You are Jabulani, except you don’t use just women, you use everyone to fill the void in you.”

  “Please, Molly,” he pleaded. “No more psychoanalysis.”

  Surprisingly, the apparition in his mind backed off.

  “Fine, but that Casanova must go,” she said.

  Bandile didn’t agree, but was afraid to push back.

  “Also,” Molly said, “I hope you aren’t writing this imagining me playing that chicken head Ivey. I want to play Dineo. Give her a bigger role. Her and Vincent. And happy endings after all they have endured.” She was in full song now, critiquing the early draft. “And kick this habit of writing dialogue in detailed sentences. That’s not how people speak.”