THEME: KNOCK YOURSELF OUT
TITLE: A Letter To Belinda
Written by Sifiso Makwakwa
I remember her very well, the first day I got introduced to her presence in this world. She was talking and laughing with her friends, our grade ten classmates. We were without a teacher, everyone was wild and noisy talking about their own crazy life experiences. However, my mind and focus were silent as my thoughts revolved around her. I don’t know why, but I knew I wanted to get to know her at all costs. She was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. A beautiful and cute girl that never existed in my wildest dreams of a perfect woman.
What I loved about her was how bubbly and outspoken she was. I knew she would always talk her mind and we would get to know each other very easily. She was a little bit taller than me, and had a little body. Her tiny figure made me go insane that I made a lot of assumptions about her. She was light-skinned and always had her lips shining with a glossy lipstick. She was my ideal American model reincarnated as my future Sicelaumusa High School girlfriend.
One day we were changing classes, this came after we were given a proper one to formally start our yearly lessons. That was when I approached her. I offered to carry the desk and chair she had as she was alone and mindless of what to do. She got the shock of her life that someone had paid attention to her, a weirdo out of all. A boy who was short and thin, who wore an oversized uniform had approached her. I looked as if I was tired of myself, and didn’t understand the world around me. I looked like I was forced to go to school, like I never wanted to be there. After that shock, she burst out with laughter.
“You really want to share a desk with me?” she asked, laughing.
By that time, I was trying to remain in a good posture to look cool to her. But if she was a mirror, I would have seen how embarrassing and stupid I looked.
“It’s okay if you already have a partner.”
“A partner?” she asked and laughed again.
Her laughter reminded me of how I often wasn’t taken seriously. I saw everyone who has ever done so in the past playing before my eyes.
“I’m kidding, nobody has asked me yet so we can sit together,” she said. “However, if someone does then you’re on your own.”
She had agreed. I had done it! It felt like I had successfully asked her out. We carried our desk together and went to our new class. Finally, I was close to her, and I’d be for a while. That was when I decided to relax and get to know her better.
Her name was Belinda, a name I’d have chills and shivers of excitement every time it was called. Months passed and we became friends. Little by little we shared our school days and outside of school experiences with each other. She’d try to advise me to update my looks to look better, but my grandmother was old school, and she knew better.
“Josh, your father lost focus in high school because of girls,” the old woman would say. “Now you’re going there too, and I will make sure that you don’t get attracted nor attract girls to yourself.”
I think she intentionally got me dressed ugly so that no girl would accept me if I were to love someone. But that didn’t stand in our way because Belinda had already fallen in love with my personality and values. I was gold hidden in a dumpster. Belinda had a rough side; she’d often keep giving me light slaps on the face to make me do something I’d refuse to do for her, like letting her copy my work and disagreeing with her. She’d send me for water all the time, and throwing away my books and stationery, kicking me off the table every time we had a disagreement. A part of me began to dislike her, however another part of me was addicted to her slaps and ill-treatment. I felt it to be what gave us a strong bond, and her slaps were the rare moments she’d touch my skin. She wanted me to be submissive to her and it felt like being loved deeply by her.
She’d also call me names. It’d hurt me since I respected her so much and expected the same from her. But I blamed myself for loving her dearly. She slowly shattered my motive to tell her how much I loved her. Her treatment reminded me of my primary school bullying experience and brought back those ugly feelings I had forgotten.
One day during break time, a boy I went with to the same school the previous year entered our class. Belinda’s friends kept whispering his name and Belinda’s. She quickly got up and went to him. She said some words to him, and they went out. I had never seen her being so gentle with a guy to the extent of being shy at his presence.
Her friends looked over to me and said, “So you’re scared?”
“Scared of what?” I asked.
One of them insisted they stop, and so they did and continued chattering about their own business. I decided to go out to the toilet, but just as I exited the door, I saw something I shouldn’t have seen behind me. I quickly rushed to the toilet and stayed there for a while. I was heartbroken, Belinda was on the guy’s hands and she was staring into his eyes. I had got out the exact moment they kissed. My world had shattered. After all the hard wok I had put to win her, someone else had done it first and easily. That could’ve been us, but I knew very well that when a girl has decided to place her heart on someone, no second guy stood a chance. I guessed that she never saw what I saw in her; to me we were more than just desk mates.
I waited inside. That day I ignored the toilet’s unpleasant smell. I felt like the floor, full of scars and being stepped on all day and without being mopped for a whole week. I sat there up until the bell rang calling everyone back to class. I got myself together and went back, and found he already had left. And there she was seated. She called out to me.
“Where have you been? we don’t have any water,” she said. “You saw that I was busy, and you should have gotten water.”
She wanted me to get water with the same bottle she’d wipe a thousand times before drinking If I had done so before her.
“Do it yourself,” I harshly replied.
I knew what was coming next – a beat down. She shouted on my face, threw my bag away. She threw a packet of Banana peels that she had eaten at me. This time her friends helped me and stopped her. I remember the gentle words Samantha said.
“If only he knew how bad of a person you were, he wouldn’t have asked to sit with you Belinda.”
What she did to me that day changed me; I no longer enjoyed her mistreatment. And going to school turned into a burden. I intentionally went to school late, just so she could fail to copy my work. I no longer covered up her flaws, she then would be in trouble with school work.
One day, she was in very good mood. We talked while she held my hands. It was the first time she did so without hesitation. She would give me random hugs and was always on my face, as if she knew something about me and then had to make sure to never lose me. This went on for several months that we were even thought to be in love with each other by the whole class, the teachers included. Well, I was but she wasn’t. She even volunteered to give me her number, and we would talk till midnight.
One thing I realised during that period, both our school marks dropped drastically. We would even laugh at ourselves when one had gotten less marks than the other. This brought back the love I had for her twice than when I first saw her, and I was aware that she might have possibly realised that. She no longer had any boys coming to class for her. That was when I decided to ask her about the guy I saw her kiss.
“We are relatives,” she said.
“I saw you kiss, so don’t lie.”
She looked at me, bewildered, “So that’s why you were acting up.”
“What?”
She had caught me, my secret had been discovered. That I love her. She kept quiet for a while, and then spoke again.
“We broke up, he wasn’t my type.”
I got relieved, but little did I know that it meant that all that treatment she was giving me was just to fill the void she had after their break-up. I was her emotional rehabilitator. Those hugs, holding hands, touching my face and being all over my body. She was drunk with a heartbreak, and I was helping her to get sober. I gave her advice on how disastrous dating can be for her, a copy and paste from my grandmother.
“Once you fall in love with someone, the world becomes small. Your world starts revolving around that person that nothing else is important. You can quit school just to have time to love that someone. You’d abandoned yourself and family just to run after that someone you think you love so much. Love is an illusion, and not everyone recovers from the damage love has caused them.”
As I said those words to her, I heard them talking to me as well regarding the love I had for her. She was an illusion, and I no longer cared about anything except her.
“So, you’re an illusion!” she shouted at me.
An illusion? I asked myself. Does that mean she loves me? She suddenly started to beat me up like always. That time she even kicked me. That was when I realised that Belinda wasn’t a normal girl. She was someone I couldn’t love. And from that day without hesitation, I decided to keep the love I had for her to myself, my illusion. I began scouting for a friendship. The only friend I had was Belinda, but I wanted to be free from her. So, I had to blur my focus and thoughts of her.
Luckily there was a guy who was a loner, but a genuine genius. His name was Lebo. I approached him. We talked regarding school stuff. I didn’t hide it from him what I wanted us to have. I asked him to be my friend, and he was more than happy to accept me. We became friends, and in a week we felt like we’ve been friends for over three months. We had a lot in common that our friendship was perfect.
Belinda felt a bit of jealousy, and she would always be moody around me. She would even spend the day without talking to me, but we shared the same desk. I lost faith in her; she wasn’t a good person. She held herself important than me, and never valued me. But I think I hurt her, and even if I did, she wouldn’t let me know but it’s clear she wanted me to care. She was trying to lure me back into being her punching bag and her slave.
But I already had my freedom – Lebo. He had important values and respect and I was part of it. My school marks began to rise and I got an average ranking. Belinda started to respect me. She really knew her boundaries when it came to being recognised as one of the hard workers. The teachers would often compare us with each other and say that I had realised how I was to fail and worked hard, but Belinda didn’t and was going to fail.
I felt sorry for her, but she had become a liability to me. I couldn’t waste my time, and for that I’m sorry I failed you, Belinda. Wherever you are, I hope you’re well, and I really loved you.
The end.
PUBLISH’D AFRIKA Magazine Facebook Short Story Competition is funded by the National Arts Council, Department of Sport, Arts and Culture and Presidential Employment Stimulus Programme 3
PUBLISH'D AFRIKA 