The Smoke That Thunders Read online

  Chad motioned to Peter to settle down. “You’ve not met my friend, Philip. This is Pete. He’s a good guy.”

  Philip gave a quick glare Peter’s way.

  Peter bit his lip, shook his head, and said, “It’s a bit rude where I come from to ignore someone like that.”

  “You? Doing what the Kaffirs do? There is no reason to show such a one any respect.” Philip’s words came out curtly.

  Peter’s fists balled up even tighter, and his face contorted as he stepped toward Philip.

  Chad quickly intervened. “Hold on here, boys! Let’s not mount the ole mare on the wrong side. Pete’s okay. He just likes his flowers. Don’t hold that against him. It helps him relax. And do excuse the dirty face – though actually, he looks a little better that way. Tell me, Philip, how much do you bench press? What, 500 pounds? What’s that in kilograms? About 200?”

  “I can press 230.”

  “Wow! That is impressive. How ’bout your squat? Let me guess … 270 kilos?

  “More – 285.”

  “Geez! That’s like over 600 pounds! Your dead lift?”

  “I can do 339.”

  “Wow! How long have you been training?” Chad continued with feigned fascination and exaggerated amazement.

  The miniature tank’s breathing slowed as he began to soften like ice cream exposed to the African sun. “And you? I hear you are a cheerleader,” Philip said snidely.

  Chad ignored the implied insult that he was a girly-man. “Hey, it takes a lot of athleticism and guts to do cheerleading. It’s not an easy feat to throw a girl six feet in the air and catch her. I started out in gymnastics in high school. I can’t press 500 pounds, but my floor routine got first in regionals my senior year. Hey, you try this.” Chad pushed the coffee table and two chairs aside and stood in the center of the living room. He took two deep breaths, jumped, pulling his knees to chest, whirled backwards, and planted his feet on the floor with a thump that caused a lamp to shake. He wobbled slightly and said, “Oops. I’ve not done that for a while. Unlike you, I guess I am a bit out of shape.”

  Philip chuckled and clapped politely and said, “Not bad.”

  Chad went over and shook his hand. “Yeah, not bad at all. Well, I guess we need to talk about your Sarah. Philip, I want you to understand that she is indeed a good friend to me, a special girl. But you, my bru, indeed have yourself a very special young woman. Now don’t you worry about my friendship with Sarah. It is what it is. You just need to go back to the girl and put the charm on. Treat her like a princess. Make her feel special. That’s what she needs. You do that, and you don’t have to worry about the likes of me or any other bozos that come along.”

  Philips spoke like a wounded puppy. “It has been … with her, it’s been—”

  “Hard work?”

  “Ja, man. It is. It has been hard work. Seems to get harder every week, every damn day. I don’t know what is going on with her. I thought—”

  “Ay, bru. No, no. It’s not me. I assure you. You must go back to her and treat her well, like she deserves. A little romance is what she needs. And don’t worry about me. I am a friend and nothing more. I assure you of that. Sarah is a great person. You … well, just be yourself. Impress her with who you are.”

  “Well, I apologize. I felt you were—”

  “Nooo! I’m not trying anything. We’re friends. We work on church stuff, and that’s where it stands. Friends and coworkers, that’s all it is.” Chad patted Philip on the back and continued, “You go back and treat her right. She is worth the hard work, is she not? Things will be fine.”

  Philip smiled. “Ja, man, you are right.” He shook Chad’s hand and left, walking past Peter without so much as a glance or a word.

  “What a dumbass plank! And what the hell are you playing at?” Peter asked, watching Philip through the window as he hopped into his Mustang.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I know exactly what I’m doing. And no, I have no respect for that muscle head. And if he treats you like that again, I’ll assist you in beating the sun-dried snot out of him.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Sharpeville

 

  Peter received a call from Roger, inviting him to join an outreach on Saturday at the Sharpeville Township. It took no pondering. Peter immediately agreed and asked if Cindy could join them.

  Roger said, “That would be lovely. Perhaps Chad may be interested?”

  “Doubtful, but I’ll ask him.”

  “Do indeed.”

  Cindy responded with enthusiasm to join the church outreach. Peter realized part of her excitement was fueled by the opportunity to be with him. She often expressed disappointment that their times together were too sparse and always too short. Peter hoped it would eventually occur to her that he was avoiding her; she seemed to assume he was just too busy. However, he did not want her to miss an excursion to the township. It would be an opportunity to interact with the Africa her nation’s government kept hidden. He knew it would touch her heart and soul just as it had his.

  In spite of Roger’s request, Peter did not want to invite Chad. He feared the invitation would lead to an argument and stir veiled anger that would linger for the remainder of the day. He decided to simply tell him he was going and leave it at that. Peter was stunned when Chad said, “Maybe I’ll give it a go.”

  Chad did not want to go with Peter to the township. If he received another offer for that day, he would snap it up without hesitation. In reality, he wanted to escape another Saturday alone. Too many hours over the past several days had been spent brooding over Sarah, pondering what was percolating in that perfectly shaped, half-Afrikaner head and second-guessing his uncanny advice to Philip. Increasingly, he feared his approach had indeed backfired.

  No offers came that week. On Friday night he told himself, It’s okay. A day in a township couldn’t be to awful. Could be a distraction. And it should satisfy Peter enough to stop the hounding. Save me from his infuriating newfound self-righteousness.

  ***

  Gracious and smiling adults welcomed the dozen or so members of Roger’s church as they began to unload boxes of various supplies. Soon they were surrounded by animated children clamoring for the visitors’ attention. Several children cornered the two Americans and started teaching them a few Xhosa phrases. They insisted, in a patient and joyful manner, that Peter and Chad master the proper pronunciation of each word. This included the clicking of the tongue and the subtle tonal changes which makes Xhosa a wonderfully complicated and fascinating language. By the end of the day, they had mastered three phrases: “Hello,” “How are you?” and “Goodbye.”

  In midafternoon, Peter took a break and found some shade under a Jacaranda tree. He sat and observed. He chuckled as Chad attempted to teach the young boys the basics of American football, and he laughed loudly as the boys gave his friend a lesson in soccer, the true football of the world. It was as if Chad suddenly had two left feet.

  Peter then watched Cindy as she played with the young children and mingled with their mothers. Oh, how they loved that red hair! It was a novelty that brought laughter and amazement. Children and old women alike gathered around, asking permission to touch her odd and bewildering tresses. Peter watched this scene with a smile. He was impressed and challenged by her ability to engage with this foreign world. She did so with amazing ease, sporting a smile that beamed and eyes that gleamed. Peter admired the redheaded White girl, who had a heart and soul bent toward Africa’s children.

  ***

  They were nearly back at Vanderbijlpark when Peter asked Chad, “So? What do you think about your first introduction to the real Africa?”

  “It was okay. Fine,” Chad replied with no emotion.

  Peter’s foot pushed the gas pedal down, jerking the occupants’ heads back slightly. “Fine? What does that mean? ‘Fine.’”

  “It means fine. I liked it. I enjoyed it. It was fun. The kids were fun. It was fun. I’ll just be glad to get back to my kids, ba
ck to Vandy and St. Stephens.”

  “I don’t get it. It’s the first damn time you’ve experienced the true Africa, and all you can say is, ‘It’s okay, fine’?”

  “What do want me to say, Peter? Good God! It was fantastic! I didn’t want to leave! Oh when can we go back? There. How is that? Is that what you wanted to hear? It was fine, Peter, but get me back to Vandy church. I’d rather be with them. So shoot me.”

  “You’d rather be with Sarah you mean. You would rather be there to pine after her. That’s all you care about.” Before the last sound left his lips, Peter realized just how much he sounded like a whiny child who hadn’t gotten his way.

  “Oh good God, Pete! I had a good day. Okay? Why isn’t that good enough for you?”

  Cindy spoke up. “Ag nee man. We all had a great day, so let’s just leave it at that and enjoy it for what it was. Peter, it’s fine if Chad prefers the Vandy church. Don’t begrudge him. And Chad, Peter gets excited about being around the Africans, so indulge him a bit. It was a great day for us and for them. So leave it as such.”

  Peter said, “It’s Sarah, you know. She’s the only thing that matters to him. If she’s still snubbing him tomorrow at church, we’ll all suffer the rest of the night.”

  “Peter!” Cindy’s frown hurt Peter a bit more than Chad’s inability to share his enthusiasm.

  “No, you’re right. It was a good day and need not be spoiled. Sorry, Chad.”

  Chad said nothing for a while, then leaned forward to Cindy’s ear and said, “Cindy, dear, he was a little bit right about Sarah, but don’t tell him I said that.”

  “Very well, good sir. Peter, you didn’t hear that, did you?”

  “Couldn’t have. I thought he said I was right, and he’d never admit that, even if it’s true.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Breakdown?

  At five a.m., the intrusive ring of a phone is intolerable and inevitably a preface to unwanted news. Nevertheless, Simon answered. Peter and Chad, eyes still squinting, attempted to decipher the other side of the conversation.

  “Yes, this is Simon … Oh, not to worry. It’s no problem … When? … No, you don’t need to apologize … Of course, it is …Yes. Just Peter? I understand … No, I’m sure he won’t mind … Yes… I’m sure she will be okay… Yes, she’s been through this before. She’ll be fine. You know that …Yes, it’s always very disconcerting … No. You mustn’t be angry. She needs your patience in these times … Yes, as soon as he can.”

  As Simon took a prolonged breath, Chad bellowed, “Well? Who was it? What’s going on?”

  “It was Sarah. Her mum is in hospital.”

  “What happened?” Chad asked.

  “She has had a nervous breakdown. She has had them before, but not for quite a while.”

  “Nervous breakdown?” Chad’s questions continued. “What the hell does that mean? I’ve never figured out what that means. Nervous breakdown? I don’t get it. Why’s she in the hospital?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Peter grabbed Simon’s arm. “Yes you do.”

  “She took some pills. That is all Sarah said. I don’t know how many or when. Susan asked for you to come, Peter.”

  Chad started toward the bedroom. “I’m going, too, in case Sarah needs me. Come on, Pete.”

  “She only asked for Peter to go. She specifically said, ‘Please just send Peter.’ I’m sorry, Chad.”

  Chad turned quickly around and threw his hands in the air. “What? Why the hell would she say that? Why Peter? Why would Sarah want Peter? I don’t care. I’m going.”

  “It was Susan’s request, Chad. I don’t know why. Maybe she doesn’t want to bother you.”

  Chad ignored Simon. “Peter, get dressed. I’ll drive. You are going, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I’m going. Why would you even ask that? What about you, though, Simon? They know you a lot better – and for longer.”

  “I will see her later, when she’s ready. Right now, she’d like you there,” Simon said as he nodded at Peter with a slight but reassuring smile.

  Chad walked to the bedroom. “This is crazy. They can kick me out if they want, but I’m going. I don’t need to see Susan, but at least I can be with Sarah. She’ll need me. I’m going.” He came back out and threw jeans and a t-shirt at Peter.

  ***

  Peter and Chad cringed as they walked through the doors of the hospital and the repulsive smell of anesthetics and medications invaded their lungs.

  Peter felt numb walking through the sterile, seemingly uncaring corridors. A left turn, then a right turn down another hallway, then another left turn, and they spotted Lisa and Sarah sitting on a metal bench at the end of a long hallway.

  Chad walked with his head held squarely, his eyes keenly focused forward. He whispered to Peter, “She won’t push me away. She’ll see she needs me. What the hell is a nervous breakdown anyway?”

  “Beats me.” Peter had his head half down, watching his feet come and go out of his sight. His thoughts raced through his brain: Why does she want to see me? What hope can I give someone who sees death as the only answer? What does it mean to have a nervous breakdown? Maybe someday I’ll have one. Maybe I already have and didn’t know it. Why does she want me here?

  The sisters were holding hands as they neared the bench. Sarah looked at Chad. Three tears trickled down her right cheek. She stood up slowly and looked at the floor. Then she reached out and invited an embrace. “Thank you for coming. She’s okay. She is okay.”

  Chad wiped her tears off with his thumb and kissed away another tear that started down her left cheek.

  Lisa watched her sister and Chad for a moment. Her eyes were red and watery. She stood, hugged Peter, and whispered. “Why’d you bring him?”

  Peter whispered back, “You know what he’s like.” Peter tried to step back, but Lisa refused to let him go. He allowed the embrace to linger for a few more moments, then took hold of her shoulders and pulled away from her desperate grip. “I better go see your mum.”

  Peter entered the room – clean and pure but lacking the ability to offer any solace, hope, or comfort. Johan stood at the window staring out at the coming dawn. Without acknowledging Peter, he stated he was going outside to smoke. He kissed Susan on the cheek and walked out the door as he searched for his cigarettes and matches.

  “This is embarrassing,” Susan said with an awkward and forced smile.

  “No, no, not at all.” Peter paused and then asked the only question he could think of. “How are you?” He shook his head and thought, God, what a stupid question to ask someone lying in a hospital bed. He felt his face begin to flush.

  “I am fine. It is not that serious. They tend to overreact.” Susan looked Peter in the eyes, and he fought the instinct to turn his head away from her gaze. She went on, “I just … sometimes I … It’s so ridiculous … I ...” Susan bit her bottom lip, and a tear made its way down her cheek and fell on her hand. “Oh, Peter, I hope you didn’t mind coming. I just feel you can understand this … this stupidity. You are so quiet, so calm. Peter, I know you understand what it means to be down, depressed. It is hard for my family to understand. If one has never been depressed, it is just hard for them to understand. I feel you understand.”

  Peter had never characterized himself as a depressed individual. He did not understand why Susan seemed to perceive him this way. For a moment, he felt perplexed and angry that she had labeled him as such. Then he remembered talking to Dumisani about his darkness, his abyss. Is that what it is? He shook off this thought and asked, “What happened?”

  “I had an argument with Johan, Nothing unusual. I don’t even remember what it was about. It was about nothing. I got angry and threw a few dishes. Peter, I always calm down. And Johan ... he always goes out to smoke and have his beer, and then it’s fine. It’s always fine after that. But this time, I don’t know why I went to my bedroom and took those darn pills. I didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t thinking that I wan
ted to die or that I would take some pills and put an end to it. I wasn’t really thinking anything at all. I just picked the bottle up, took a mouthful and then … then I swallowed another mouthful. I don’t know why. I don’t have a clue why I did it. Peter, I do not want to die. I have much too much to live for. I know that. I have no idea what I was thinking.” She paused, shook her head, and looked away. “What scares me, Peter, is that I wasn’t thinking at all. Now look what I have done! I am so angry that I put my family through this. I need to be strong for them.”

  “We all have our moments, Susan. We do crazy things when our emotions go into overdrive. We can’t be strong all the time. I know I’m not. Families understand that. Your family understands that.”

  “Does yours? Does your family have such ridiculous problems? Have you ever had moments like this? Has anyone in your family ever done something so foolish, so stupid?”

  Peter had never seen weakness in his parents. He always assumed they were eternally strong. He was instilled with the mantra ‘Take life as it comes.’ He was taught never to complain or dwell on supposed or real injustices. He was to always maintain a confident façade and always and forever be in control. Peter had spent his life hiding his fragility, his fears, and his demons. He tried so hard to pretend to be strong. The past three years, he knew he failed miserably at his pretense. He knew his family must have seen through it, and they must have secretly felt sorry for him. Nevertheless, his family’s protocol did not allow for honesty of the heart and soul. They never said anything. They just knew – just assumed – he would be fine.

  So Peter lied, “Sure we did. Often. Families get past this … this kind of thing. Families always have each other. You have a great family. I love being around y’all.”

  “Thank you. It is a wonderful family, isn’t it? I know that. I have a lot to be thankful for. I am so ashamed I put them through this. They don’t deserve this.”

  Peter bit his upper lip, and he wondered if he should agree. He took her hand, nodded. “No, they don’t deserve this, and neither do you. But bad moments come for everyone, and we have to look past them. We have to embrace the good moments. They’re the reality.”