Being Celeste (10 page)

She handed me a small box, well, more like
shoved it in my face. I decided to sit up, because whatever sleep I thought I
had had gone away with the warmth in my blankets. Besides, it was wrapped
really beautifully and all.

“Do you like them?” she asked, gazing at me
with a weird smile.

She bought me earrings, silver knob
earrings with tiny diamonds in the centre. I love them, of course I love them.

“Thank you, they are really gorgeous.” I
managed to sneak a smile on my face. I had forgotten all about slapping her.
One thing I’ve noticed, it’s a pattern really, but I can never stay mad at my
loving sister (or Kate). She has her way with me, I don’t know why. And it’s
not the gift. Even if she had started cracking jokes, it would have made me
forget about it. Growing up, I always looked up to her, and she always took
care of me. Then she went off to law school and left me all alone with our
parents and Kate. Then I became overly jealous recently, of the fact that she
had it all figured out, and I may be just the bum, destined to live with her
parents forever. I gave her a huge hug. I had missed her, despite my feelings.

“Celeste, I need you to step into the
Secret Walls with me,” she finally said. The Secret Walls is just a term we use
to refer to an imaginary place which is confidential or a safe house for our
secrets. It was her idea to call it that. I think it’s stupid that we have name
for our confidential talks, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? A secret is
a secret in the end.

“Okay,” I replied hesitantly. I didn’t like
the look on her face. Bontle always had a twinkle in her eyes when she was just
her
, normal and bubbly. Whenever she became worried and serious, it
disappeared. She became normal like the rest of us. I guess that’s what happens
when you fall from the clouds, you lose all the magical shimmer and all. I gave
her a serious look to show her that I was interested in what she had to say,
but at the same time, my eyes kept focusing on her face and its beauty. She had
the most amazing even toned dark skin that took advantage of the lighting
around us, just bouncing off perfection. Off topic for a second, but she also
had the most perfect and unique laugh. No one else has a laugh like hers. I
don’t have a distinct laugh that you can associate me with. Kate has one too.
I’m cursed without a laugh. Anyway, back to my sister’s perfect face. We don’t
look alike, my sister and I. We both have the same shade dark skin, but it ends
there. I have a huge nose and she has a perfect tiny, button like nose, and an
incredible smile with incredible teeth. I have gaps between my teeth. I tried
getting braces when I was younger, but my mother said she would kill me if I
ever did anything to alter my teeth. Although that’s a total different story
which I don’t like getting into, it hurts a bit.

“I’ve met someone, and he’s proposed,” she
blurted out, almost shocked that she was telling
me.

What?

“What?” I replied, utter shock surrounding
every feeling in my being.

“Yes, it’s true. And it’s so horrible that
I haven’t told you or my parents about him.” Bontle was looking rather flushed
from her confession, but she seemed relieved at the same time, relieved to be
telling someone in the family.

“But why, what’s wrong with him? Why are
you telling me this now, when you’re engaged?” I know it’s wrong, but at that
moment, there was a tingling feeling in my heart, envy I think it was, building
up and sitting all wrong inside of me. My sister was engaged and I had never
had a boyfriend. It was killing me inside that I was being this crude. The
feeling was just gnawing at me, adding to the one I had muted, the one about
her being accomplished and me being a bum. I couldn’t resist it, that’s all.
Then when it was all there, ready to be recognised, I just let it be, and it
took over. I was jealous of the person my sister was, and it was not fair to
her. I’m sure if she knew how I felt at that moment, she would hate me and
never tell me anything.

Bontle clasped onto my hand and started to
cry. That’s when I started to feel really bad about my being envious of her.

“Our parents wouldn’t approve of him,
that’s why.” She cried. Tears were just free falling from her eyes, piercing
my
heart, with every drop they made.

“No, don’t cry,” I said. I felt really
awkward, as one would be in a helpless situation like this one. I never know
how to comfort a person who is crying, especially when I have no idea what they
are going through. I don’t know what they want or need, that is. I just have to
look at them and let them do whatever they want and I just follow their lead.
If it’s a hug they want, I give it; if it’s comforting advice, I give it; if
it’s something to wipe the tears and snot, I give it; if it’s just the comfort
of having someone listen to their problems, I lend my ears. The only problem is
when I can’t read the signal, that’s when I have to go solo and assume what
they want. I never willingly go up to a person and start crying out of nowhere,
confiding in them. I keep it all in, in the hopes that it will all go away
soon. I’m like a bottle.

“It’s true, they won’t approve of him. He’s
getting divorced and he already has two kids from his marriage. You know how
mum is about her religion and morals,” she said, speaking through her tears.

At this point I had no idea how to react,
and it was one of those cases where I had no idea what to do. This was my big
sister telling me her dilemma, and I had no way of giving her advice. I’m
younger than her and my experience in grown up stuff and real issues, resides
in the movies.

“Um, that’s a tough one. What does he do?”
I had to be the strong one, so I decided not to be ridiculous and fulfil my
duties as a sister.

“He’s also a lawyer; he’s a partner at the
firm I’m working at.”

Oh, there’s the key, mum will never mind
one of her daughters getting married to a well accomplished man. But two kids,
this will have to be a tough one.

“How long have you been seeing each other?”
there I go with the questions. That’s what they do in talk shows, if they want
to solve a person’s problem.

“About a year, maybe eleven months or so.
The thing is, mum will never agree to the fact that I have been seeing a
married man. He’s not divorced yet, just in the process. He proposed last week.
You see how complicated my life is right now? That’s why I can’t tell anyone,
they’d think I broke up a marriage.”

I was running out of ideas, so I decided to
just act spontaneously and not calculate my role in this conversation. This had
never happened before. We had never had such a serious issue arise in our
secret vault.

“Bontle, stop crying please, it’s not
solving anything,” I said, hoping not to sound insensitive.

“But I love him!” she broke further into
her painful crying, making me feel even more awkward.

“Stop crying!” I screamed, slapping her
hand. Well, I had to use it sometime, my slap from earlier. She retreated from
me a bit, rather shocked that I had slapped her. But at least she stopped
crying. “Good, now, you need to pull yourself together and stop blowing this
situation out of proportion,” I continued. “I don’t think that telling our
parents that you’ve been seeing a married man, is going to be a big deal. I
think you’ve made this conclusion in your head that they won’t accept your
relationship and it’s wrong. Why are you deciding for them?”

She wiped her face. “I know you’re right,
but it’s hard. I’m so perfect in their eyes, and now I promote adultery,” she
said, on the brink of more tears.

Great, she already thinks she’s perfect. My
envy of her sort of retracted. I don’t want to be perfect, perfect people
suffer. They can’t do anything wrong, that is. But another part of me felt a
little annoyed that my sister thinks she’s perfect in my parent’s eyes. Who
does she think she is?

“Well, I don’t think you have much of a
choice here, Bontle. Either you tell my parents you’re getting married or you
don’t get married.”

“I know- I know. I have to tell them, but
not now- not with the
phekolo
hanging over our heads. But you have to
promise not to breathe a word to anyone,” she said, throwing the blankets off
her body, and getting off my bed. Just like that.

“That’s what the secret walls are for, to
keep secrets,” I quipped, hoping it would bring a smile to her face and that
twinkle in her eyes, but I failed. She just looked at me with a straight face
and left. Not even a thank you for my wise advice. That’s what you get when
you’re related to a perfect person.

I woke up this morning with a heavy head
from the big secret I was holding. I may have tried to brush it off but I was
really concerned about my sister and what she had told me. There was also
happiness in there too, because she was getting married. I just had so much,
rushing through my head and for once, none of it was about me. I had no idea
what to do to make it stop. I had to make myself numb to this information I
held because then the secret would come out by accident when I was around the
parents. I’m sure that once my sister comes clean about her shenanigans with a
married man, my mother is going to die from a broken heart, because her
daughter has been proposed marriage and she has never met the man. Then the
part about him having another family; two children and an ex-wife will settle
in after, creating her to overreact to such a simple situation. Dad will
pretend like he’s not in the room, just so he doesn’t overshadow his wife, busy
being a drama queen. Of course he’d say something eventually, but when the dust
settles down and mum has calmed down. I feel for my sister, I really do. It
can’t be easy, trying to embark on a new life with someone, aside all the
drama. She’s going to be a stepmother and all. I’m sure certain parts of her
situation like
that
factor, are part of the reason why she’s freaking
out. But in the end it’s all about love. I’ll just have to wait and see how far
she’s willing to go, to marry this guy. I wonder what he looks like. He better
be pretty worth it for the rift he’s going to cause in the family.

The ride to my home village was so dusty
and bumpy. Now that it’s winter, everything is all dry and dusty. There is
nothing to look at, too. There are no large puddles along the road, created by
rain of course, and the veldts and bushes are all dried up, waiting to be
rejuvenated by the next rainy season. All I could think about was that I was
going to miss the first official girls’ night out with Kate. My sister was her
usual self again, sucking up to our parents. We were all travelling in my
mother’s ancient Sedan, since we couldn’t all fit in my father’s truck.
 And there it was, our home village Kalamare, unfolding as the car moved
closer. The name is written on one of the hills with painted white rocks. My
heart beats faster every time I see the hill, then it slows down when I think
about all the greeting I’m going to do and all the cousins I’m going to endure.
Normally, I’m not this pissed about going home, in fact, I like going there and
being in the country with all the insects and the wild grass. I just don’t
appreciate how it was so unannounced, so much so that it ruined my plans. It
gets me thinking if this is a sign that I’ll never have a life or something.
Another thing, if I was all independent and on my own, my parents wouldn’t have
forced me to come, it would have been my own decision!

So we unloaded our luggage at our house. My
mother literally packed for a month. She had in the car, five different
blankets, loads of food, a television, so many pairs of shoes, a huge bag with
her clothes and dad’s and kitchen appliances. If a fridge could fit into her
sedan, she would have brought it. We only come home a few times in the year, so
our house is kind of unfurnished, which is why my mother sees fit that we move
the whole house in the town, to the village every time we come along. But we
wouldn’t have her any other way. She helps us out, you know. Even though dad
doesn’t like admitting it, mum’s packing makes the trip to the village more
durable. I brought my skirt to wear during the
phekolo
and clothes to
wear after, when we go back to town.

As soon as the relatives realised that we
had arrived, they slowly but surely, started to flood our house. The thing is,
we are all neighbours, all of us in the family! That’s how it is in rural places,
I guess. So my father’s house is surrounded by all his siblings’ and then on
the far corner, out of the circle is my grandparents’ place, which is where the
phekolo
is held. Both my grandparents died when I was really young, and
as such, I have a vague recollection of them. I always hear stories about my
grandmother, and how much of a great woman she was, and my grandfather, the
loving man he was. Apparently, back in the day, they were so popular, their
humanity and kindness drew people from all corners of the village to their
compound, just to come and visit or greet them. Sometimes I just wish I could
spend a day with them, get to know them properly, without the stories. I have a
feeling that gran and I would have really hit it off. I have no doubt in my
mind that I had probably some of the coolest grandparents around. My
grandfather died from a heart attack when I was five, and my grandmother died
from a broken heart soon afterwards. They say she just took ill and no one knew
what was wrong with her. Despite the circumstances, I think it’s so romantic
how she couldn’t live without her partner in life. Kate always tells me that
it’s impossible to die from a broken heart, and that there is a perfectly good
medical reason why my grandmother was ill. She knows
everything
I
suppose.