Unravelled

“I have research assistants. Well, I will, once I find time to look over the applicants. The project won’t begin officially till next year, but there’s so much prep work to do. I’ll be working with people from Salinger, so I’m not entirely on my own.”

“Shouldn’t you be working with the local traditional healers?”

He gets a funny look on his face and decides to finish the last of his pasta before responding. Ah. I see it now; the little piece of information he’s trying to hide from me. If only he knew what an open book he is.

I lean forward. “The Salinger Institute doesn’t expect you to do this alone. They expect you to find a local expert to help. Right?”

He leans into the cushions, his plate empty. “They made…a recommendation. But since I have a bit of time before I’m due to start, I’m considering my options.”

“Your options.”

He knows exactly what I’m thinking. “Connie, I know exactly what you’re thinking – ”

“I’m thinking you’re self-sabotaging!” I interrupt, exasperated. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground because you’re too proud to ask for help!”

“I have no trouble asking for help,” he bristles.

“Just not from Ntatemogolo.”

Dad sighs. “The project supervisor at Salinger only spends a few months in Botswana every year – she doesn’t know how things work around here. If you’re somewhat well-known and well-respected, yours is the name that pops into people’s heads, but that doesn’t mean you’re necessarily the best person for the job.”

Eish, sometimes I wonder who’s supposed to be the kid in this house. “Ntatemogolo is the best person for the job, and you know it. That’s why it’s taking you so long to consider your options.” I put my bowl on the coffee table. “He knows all the traditional healers, he knows about local plants and traditional medicine…I can’t believe you!”

“Watch your tone,” he snaps, but he’s only irritated because I’ve caught him out. “Your grandfather is not a biologist, nor is he a traditional doctor, even if he wants to call himself one.”

“Dad!”

“Enough, Connie!”

I can’t believe this. I know my father can be pig-headed when it comes to Ntatemogolo, but this is just ridiculous. “You’re cutting off your nose to spite your face, or whatever. You need him, and if the two of you work together you could get so much more done! This project could be great for both of you, and – ”

“Conyza!” Oops. It’s his don’t-mess-with-me-I’m-your-father voice. “I am not discussing this with you.”

“But – ”

“You can analyse me when you have a degree in psychology, and not a moment before!” His jaw is twitching. He’s really angry now. “Go to your room.”

I hesitate. “The dishes – ”

“Just leave the bloody dishes and go to your room!”

I get up in disgust, march over to pick up my school stuff and then storm across the corridor to my room.

“And don’t even think about slamming that – ”

I fling my door shut with a bang, drowning out the rest of his idle threat, then lock it just to piss him off. Ugh! I throw my bag on the floor, tug off my uniform and change into my pyjamas. I was planning to study a little, but I’m too upset to concentrate. Ray Bennett is the most unreasonable man on the planet! Hating my grandfather is one thing, but doing everything on his own because he’s too friggin’ proud to ask Ntatemogolo for help is sheer stupidity.

I throw myself on my bed with a sigh, wishing Rakwena was here. On my bedside table is a large crystal the size of a fist. Right now it’s dull and lifeless. I reach out and pick it up. Rakwena gave it to me for my birthday as a symbol of our crazy connection; he has one exactly like it. I hold it in both hands and close my eyes, trying to reach out to him across the ether. When I open my eyes, the crystal is glowing. I smile. It works every time.

My cell phone rings and I scramble across the bed and snatch it off the rug, where it fell when I was changing. “Hey.”

“I hear your pal Kelly’s throwing a party this weekend.”

I laugh. “When did you start tapping into the grapevine?”

“When I found out you were invited.” Rakwena’s tone is light, but I know he didn’t call just to hear my lovely voice. “Who else is going?”

“If you’re asking about Thuli, I don’t know if he’ll be there.” I’m pretty sure he would kill Thuli if he ever touched me again. It’s a sobering thought.

Rakwena is quiet for a while. “He’s still keeping his distance?”

“Hasn’t come near me all term,” I assure him. “Besides, I doubt he’ll go to the party. He’s not really friends with Kelly.”

“He’ll go.”

I frown into the phone. “How do you know?”

“Because he’s a collector of exotic toys, remember? And Kelly’s new guy and his buddies are the most exotic toys in town.”

His words make bile rise in my throat, but he’s right. Thuli doesn’t just hunt the gifted, he hunts anyone who is remotely out of the ordinary. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already made friends with the Cresta Crew.

“Connie, please don’t go. You promised you’d stay out of trouble.”

“I’ll be fine. Lebz and Wiki will be there, and I don’t think Thuli’s interested in me anymore.”

There’s a terse silence on the other end. “You promised,” he hisses.

“It’s just a party!” I protest. “And I’m just going to look around, that’s it. I’m not wandering off into people’s bedrooms; I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Connie – ”

The shrill ring of the landline drowns him out. “Ooh – better get that, it could be Lebz. Relax, OK? I’ll be fine.” I hang up, wishing I’d never made that silly promise, and wondering once again why he’s so adamant that I keep it. It’s just a party. What’s the worst that could happen?

***

Dad and I have an unspoken agreement – we’re not going to talk about our fight. We’re civilized, but if he thinks I’m letting it go he doesn’t know me very well.

On Thursday afternoon I head to Bontleng for another session. Ntatemogolo is waiting for me outside with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You’re late.”

“Sorry – we had a meeting after Peer Counselling.” I lower myself onto the dusty veranda and drop my school bag beside me. “How are you?”

“Fine. How’s Ray?”

My eyes narrow. “He’s OK.”

“He’s coping with his workload?” There’s a nasty glint in his eyes.