Free Mr Not Quite Good Enough by Lauri Kubuitsile Page B

could see he was looking directly at her.
    â€œAlfred . . . this is so sudden . . . We broke up . . .”
    â€œI know, I know. I was stupid.” Alfred stood up, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to dust his trousers before removing the ring from its box and placing it on Gorata’s finger. “You just keep this. Get used to it. When you’ve thought about it for a while, you can give me your answer. I know it’s all very sudden.”
    Before Gorata could say anything or give Alfred the ring back, he disappeared into the crowd.
    She sat back against the stoep. The ring sitting heavy on her finger, the proposal forgotten. The party raged on around her, but everything was quiet in her head. All she could feel was Ozee’s kiss still echoing through her body.

Chapter 7
    7
    Gorata laid the Sunday paper down in front of her and took a sip of her coffee. It had been a long, long week. The Monday night party seemed years ago.
    Work was empty without Amita. Even if every night she called Gorata and told her all about her day, that wasn’t the same as being together at the office.
    Though Gorata had been stopping at the petrol station every day, Ozee was never around. Alfred, on the other hand, was everywhere. At work with a dozen roses, at home with groceries for a month. He was doing everything in his power to get Gorata back, but she felt tired. Bone-weary tired.
    â€œGood morning,” Kelebogile said.
    Gorata answered lethargically as she paged through the paper.
    â€œGood morning,” a deeper male voice said. Gorata’s head shot up and she saw Mark following Kelebogile to the coffee machine.
    â€œOh . . .” Gorata said, knocked out of kilter. “I . . . didn’t know . . . you were here.”
    He was downing a cup of coffee. “Actually I’m just leaving. We have a talk at the church down the road.” He finished the coffee, rinsed the cup and gave Kelebogile a kiss.
    Just then Mmandu came bursting through the door. “Are you ready, lekgowa la mé?”
    â€œWhere are you off to?” Gorata asked her sister.
    â€œChurch. Mark and I are going. He’s going to talk about Aids, and I’m going to get some words from God.” Mmandu repositioned her red-and-blue striped doek and her yellow shawl. “Let’s go, we’ll be late. You two, don’t cook lunch. I’ve got it all going nicely outside in the pots.”
    Mmandu grabbed Mark’s hand and dragged him out of the door. “See you later, Kele!” he shouted weakly from outside.
    Kelebogile stole some pages of the paper and sat down opposite Gorata with her coffee. “Is Amita coming?” she asked casually.
    â€œWhat’s going on? Did he spend the night?” Gorata asked, ignoring Kelebogile’s question. She could see Kelebogile was trying to act like having a man sleep over with her was the most normal thing in the world – but it wasn’t, it was unheard of. Gorata was surprised the earth hadn’t stopped on its axis.
    Kelebogile’s answer was just above a whisper. “Yes.”
    â€œSo it’s like that then?” Gorata asked.
    â€œYes . . . I really like him. I like him a lot. More than anyone ever.”
    Gorata smiled. “You mean you love him?”
    â€œYes,” Kelebogile said tentatively, and then a bit louder, “Yes, I love him. I can’t believe it. I never thought I was made for all of this.”
    Gorata could see tears in her best friend’s eyes and she rushed around the table to take Kelebogile in her arms. “Why? Why would you not be made for love?”
    â€œI don’t know. You know how men are here. They want curvy, sexy women, women like you, not some tiny, flat-chested tomboy like me.”
    â€œOh, Kele! Don’t say that! If they’re so stupid to pass you up, it serves them right that Mark came all the way from America to snatch you up from under their stupid