Chapter 13
Moving to Francesca
“Playing House”
“And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness.”
-Sylvia Plath-
My Dad loved working with his hands. He was a handyman like no other, always busy building or fixing something. He also made the most beautiful wrought iron furniture in his spare time. When I moved to Francesca, my Dad took the opportunity to make the furniture for my bedroom and lounge.
It was a small bachelor flat with a kitchen, bathroom, lounge and balcony bedroom, but it was perfect for me. Paul started a job in Johannesburg and I had a bit of space; breathing space. I enjoyed the time with my Mom and Dad, working to set my new home up. In the coming weeks, Ronell organised a position for me at an anesthesiologist at Meulmed Hospital, just a block from where I was living. Everything seemed to be falling into place. I had my own little pad now and was able to live my life and grow up. I was young, but I knew that I’d be ok. I had overcome so much since my school days and taking on this new challenge seemed easy and felt like lots of fun. I couldn’t wait for my parents to leave, so I could start playing house.
Paul began coming over on weekends and slept over when he was in Pretoria. But, soon after his job in Johannesburg was finished, he moved in with me. We spent a lot of time together and I missed my space, but it was great to have him around. A couple of months after I moved in, we were invited to go on holiday with Ronell and Stefan. I was stoked! We went down to the KwaZulu-Natal coast.
The first part of the week was great but, one day on the beach things turned sour. We were playing volleyball on the beach, having fun. Without warning, I got a fist in the side of my ribs. I fell, and Paul acted as if it was an accident. I knew it wasn’t. This kind of thing was happening far too often and in hindsight I realise that there was a pattern, but back then I was just shocked, hurt and confused.
Strangely enough, he picked public places to get a punch in here or there. Specifically, because he knew that I would not react in front of people and he got away with it by pretending it was an accident. It was also an easy way for me to explain the bruises. These ‘accidents’ happened so often in public that the marks that started to appear at home, when he grabbed me or punched me once or twice out of frustration, were brushed off as nothing.
This was the same behavior that he displayed the day of the shooting, when he planted a fist in my back right in front of the police officers and then pretended that I had lost my balance and tripped. I was so angry with him then and I was angry now too. The next day we were out on the beach playing volleyball again. This time I was brought to the ground with a fist in my stomach, also ‘by accident’. I then had sand kicked in my face as he pulled me to my feet. I knew that none of this was accidental. I also knew that, while the atmosphere was dampened by my mood, his attitude made it much worse, because he said that I couldn’t handle the game. He blamed me for what happened and became so angry that he wanted to go home by train immediately.
I knew that I had to calm him down because there was no way that I wanted to catch a train back to Pretoria alone with this man. He wouldn’t just leave it there. I was terrified of what he might do to me when we got home, or even worse – while we were still on the train. Ronell and Stefan would not go back with us if we decided to leave now.
The rest of the holiday was a blur, apart from when Ronell had a reaction to iodine, after eating seafood, and was rushed to the hospital because her face had doubled in size and she couldn’t breathe. She received injections at the emergency room and looked and felt much better the next day.
I think Ronell and Stefan picked up on the tension between Paul and I, so getting back to Pretoria was a relief at the end of the day. By the time we returned, things were a bit more relaxed between us. Paul didn’t take the things that happened on holiday out on me and returning to work the following week was more relaxing than the holiday had been. I was happy to get back to my routine. Ronell and I never talked about the holiday and she never asked me what was going on between Paul and I. She respected my privacy and I respected hers.