It was 9.15 on Sunday morning, and Pastor Tim stood in the foyer of Marshall Bay Community Church, greeting the early birds. He was a big man, with a smooth rosy face and a comfortable firm handshake. Two others were on duty handing out service sheets and welcoming people; an older woman in a belted floral dress, and sixteen-year-old David Pule. David, dressed in his smartest pants and T-shirt, as usual amused the congregation by greeting them in isiXhosa, and expecting replies in the same.
“Kunjani namhlanje, Tat’Omkhulu!” he said, as an elderly gentleman in a brown suit made his way up the three stairs with the help of a stick. The old man gripped his hand warmly and attempted a reply, prompting a loud guffaw from David.
“Very good, Tat’Omkhulu, you are learning well!”
“Never too late to teach an old dog new tricks!” said the man, accepting a service sheet and making his way inside to find a seat.
“Kunjani, David!” piped up a small voice, as Simon bounced up the stairs into the foyer. Jill and Aunt Bert followed behind him.
“Ndiphilile, enkosi Simon!” said David, pumping the little boy’s hand up and down. “And how are you today?”
“I’m great, thanks!” said Simon. “It’s nearly Christmas!”
By nine thirty most of the congregation was seated in the church, which was looking especially festive today because of the beautiful flower arrangements in the front, left over from a wedding which had happened the day before. Jill looked around her contentedly as she sat down in a pew with Simon and Aunt Bert. It felt so good to be back here, in this familiar place where she belonged, with its threadbare blue carpet and funny old bulbous light fittings. She focussed her eyes on the stained-glass cross in the front window, its colours glowing in the morning light. Thank you, Lord, she prayed. Thank for this place and for showing yourself to me here. Thank you for loving me.
After the service, Jill went to the hall, where Anya and her mom were behind the trestle tables, helping to serve tea and coffee. Anya’s mom must have supervised her daughter’s outfit that day, because she was looking almost ordinary in a denim skirt and purple T-shirt. She did, however, have her hair done up in a hairband that had a huge fluffy pair of dice attached to it, and in her ears hung a pair of large silver owls.
“Jill!” said Anya, as soon as she saw her friend. “Did he call you? Was I right?”
“Did who call her?” James’ voice came from behind Jill as she reached for a cup of coffee and poured milk into it. Jill sighed inwardly. Now she had to explain, and she braced herself for Anya’s reaction.
“Alex!” said Anya, her eyes wide. “He asked me for her number when I saw him on the beach on Friday!”
“And you gave it to him?” said James. “Without asking her?”
“Oops,” said Anya, looking stricken, a big stainless-steel teapot
in her hand. “I shouldn’t have? Oh no, you are right, I shouldn’t have. I am so sorry AGAIN, Jill!”
“It’s okay, Anya,” said Jill. “I don’t mind that he has my number. But you are being very nosy!”
“Come on, Jill, what do you expect? The most gorgeous guy in Marshall Bay asks for your phone number and you want me to keep silent? Please Jill! You have to tell me!”
“This is getting interesting,” said James. “I’m feeling pretty nosy myself.”
“He didn’t call me,” said Jill. “There. Satisfied?”
Anya was not satisfied at all. “Did he message you? Come on Jill, why did he ask for your number if he wasn’t going to use it?”
“Okay, he messaged me. It’s really not a big deal, Anya. We are just friends. Come on, the other day you were teasing me like crazy because I don’t want a boyfriend, and now you think I’m hiding something from you!”
“Well, are you?” said Anya. “I know you won’t misbehave or anything, but interesting stuff like this hardly ever happens here and I want to know! Please!”
“Don’t bug her, Anya,” said James. “I was hoping they might come today.”
“You mean you were hoping she might come today,” said Jill. “I told you James, she did not exactly leap at the idea. We might rope them in for volleyball, though. I’ll send Alex a message and remind him we’re starting tomorrow.”
“Oh, you’ll send him a message!” said Anya. “I am watching you, girl. I can sense things like this …”
Someone asked for tea and Anya reluctantly abandoned her attempt to get a story out of Jill. Jill and James took their coffee to a little table and sat down. James leant back in his chair and gave Jill a questioning look. “Anything I should be worried about?” he asked.
“Of course not,” she said. “He’s friendly. Okay, a bit more than friendly. Which makes absolutely no sense to me, James. What on earth does he see in me? I think he’s just confused.”
“Are you still so amazed whenever someone is romantically interested in you?” asked James. “You shouldn’t be, Jill.”
“That’s nice of you to say, James. It’s not that, I just can’t be his type! He’s this all-star rugby-playing surfing golden boy – surely he should rather be interested in someone more like him!”
“We’re not always attracted to people who are the same as us,” said James. “You can’t assume what someone might appreciate in another person.”
“I suppose,” said Jill, not convinced. “Anyway – I am not interested in him. But I’ll try to get him to come to the volleyball tomorrow, and bring Anna. It would be great if they would come and hear your talk as well.”
“It would be,” said James. “Pray for me, won’t you? I have a feeling we’ll have a few new kids there tomorrow and I want to have just the right words for them.” “I will,” said Jill.
“On that note,” said James, “do you think there’s a spot in your freezer for two five litre tubs of ice cream for the gutter? Poor Joyce’s freezer is full of ice cream and she wants some space freed up.”
“Sure,” laughed Jill. “We’ll take it home with us now.”
Alex woke up that Sunday morning with an unpleasant headache. The previous evening, he had decided that he would go to the party after all. He had left Jill’s house on a high after having spent some time with her, more interested in and fascinated by her than ever. He was still a little surprised at himself for how he had spent his morning – who even knew you could make milkshakes at home? He had helped Jill varnish her box afterwards, and had felt reluctant to leave when Aunt Bert and Simon had returned and Jill had pretty much asked him to go home.
Later on, after a surf and another brief meeting with the bikini girls on the beach, he had started thinking about what she had said, and the realisation that she had pretty much told him she was not interested in going out with him started to sink in. He didn’t know how to feel about that, and the more he thought about it the more he realised that rejection was not something he was used to. He had met plenty of girls at school socials and friends’ parties, and even had a few girlfriends who had lasted a few weeks or more, but he had always been the one to move on or lose interest. He had met way more girls who were interested in him than he had met interesting girls. He was a nice guy, a model student – head boy for goodness sake! The kind of guy any girl would be proud to introduce to her parents. He had had no doubt in his mind, after their long conversations and the feeling he had that she was genuinely interested in what he had to say, that she would be willing to go out with him. Yet here he was. She had turned him down. She didn’t want a boyfriend, she wanted a husband. Probably some guitarplaying Bible-talking guy, he thought. The more he thought about that, the more he decided it was true. If Jill was going to be interested in someone, he’d have to be a churchy type. And Alex knew that he, who gritted his teeth through dreary chapel services and thought about God less than he thought about anything, really, was not that type.
He moped through supper with his parents. He wondered briefly if he should pitch up at church the next morning and feign interest. She wouldn’t be fooled; he knew that. And he had no desire to pretend anything anyway. He just felt mad and frustrated. He didn’t want some gorgeous lifeguard, or just a girl to take behind the dunes. He wanted Jill. He wanted to talk to her and hang out with her and get to know her, and he wanted her to feel the same. For once, maybe for the first time ever, he liked a girl more than just a little, and she wasn’t interested. The irony was maddening. After staring out at the sea for a while, he heard the thumping of music nearby, and decided what he was going to do – go to that party after all.
He told his parents he had met some girls on the beach and they had asked him to a party up the road. It was perfectly true. He didn’t mention that the girls were older and that it was hardly likely to be a teenage hangout. They were happy to let him go; glad he was making some friends. The girls, Lee-Ann and Sam, he learned, were happy to see him when he got there and found them inside. They offered him beer after beer, and soon he had forgotten his morbid thoughts. He spent the evening drinking and dancing, drinking more than he ever had before. There seemed to be an endless supply, and the more he drank the better he felt. Lee-Ann hooked up with a bearded guy wearing a sarong and a shell necklace, and Alex danced with Sam to the mesmerising house music that was playing constantly. Sam was really pretty, tall with amazing thick blonde hair. She was wearing a tiny black dress and no shoes, and she put her arms around his neck and danced with him in a way the girls at school socials would never have dared to. At about eleven o’clock the music stopped for a minute when the plugs tripped for some reason, and before it came on again Alex realised groggily that he had been on a couch kissing Sam for the past few minutes. It bothered him that he had done that without even thinking about it. He felt insecure, out of control, and he wanted to leave. The kissing was nice, and he had an idea that it could have gone a lot further than just kissing, but Alex didn’t like the feeling that he hadn’t planned any of it. He got up and told Sam he needed to go; his parents would be worried. She laughed at that, and he felt that she thought less of him for saying it, and that she didn’t mind his leaving all that much anyway. She called him schoolboy, adjusted her dress and kissed him on the cheek, crossing the room to join some people who were smoking something in a corner. Alex left as quickly as he could, taking deep breaths of the cool sea air when he got outside.
He let himself in and went to bed, bumping into Anna in the passage outside his bedroom and hoping she didn’t suspect anything. When he woke up the next morning he thought to himself that his first adult party had bombed. He had got drunk and a beautiful older girl had danced with him and kissed him, a lot – his friends at school would be seriously impressed. But he knew he wouldn’t be boasting about it. He wasn’t impressed with himself at all. He felt stupid and used. He didn’t even know Sam’s surname or where she was from. He was less than unimpressed, he felt disgusted with himself. And sick. And very relieved that probably no one, especially Jill, would ever know anything about it. He got up painfully, hoping that some breakfast and a swim in the sea would make him feel better. Then he remembered that it was Sunday, and even if he wasn’t actually going to go to church, there was going to be volleyball happening at the beach the next day. Even if she didn’t want to be his girlfriend, even if he had been unceremoniously relegated to the friend zone, he would see her then. He cheered up almost immediately.