When the doorman had his first child, I’d made him a card and left it secretly on the counter, and when I didn’t go to the Christmas party that I’d been invited to, I’d made everyone I knew in the building Christmas cards and put them in their post boxes.
I sat up straight and looked down at the card I was busy making Gareth for his birthday. I put a lot of effort into these cards, into the fine, detailed illustrations that went on the outside and the unique, hand-drawn typography that went inside. Why did I do these? I had an inkling I’d been doing them for years, almost all my life, further back than I could remember, and I got a feeling that there was something very significant about the cards. I ran my hand over the card I was currently making and wondered why I didn’t just give it to the person directly? Why did I secretly leave these cards lying around for people, and never walk up to the person and put it directly in their hands?
Pull or push?
A part of me wanted to pull, a part of me wanted to make connections with others, but for some reason, I didn’t. I kept people on the outside, while I only peeped in. I peeped in while others lived their lives and I didn’t. And when someone did want to connect, more than just over a card, I pushed them away. Like I’d done with Noah. I had a feeling that my strange relationship with connections started way before I had a memory of it. I lowered the pencil to the card and started drawing. This was the only way that Zenobia knew how to connect, from a distance, pencil lines on a page. But if I was truly honest with myself right now, I wished that I could go beyond the card, like I had with Noah. But that was over. The one real connection that I’d had was gone. Except for Eugene. He and I were clearly friends. I would try and see him again. I’d knocked on his door a day ago and he hadn’t been home. I would try again later.
I heard footsteps echo down the corridor. It was Jeff and Loyiso, the two maintenance guys, who also worked here in this shitty little basement area. They were always running around carting furniture back and forth whenever the creatives upstairs decided to move things around, which was at least once a month.
“So, what are you doing this weekend?” Loyiso asked. I know for a fact he’s hardly been able to do anything lately. His wife, Zama, has just had a baby and he hasn’t had a boys’ night in ages. That’s what he’s always saying to Jeff anyway.
“Don’t know. Me and Vuyo were thinking of going to The Keg.”
“Damn, wish I could come. But Mandla is teething and I think Zama will kill me if I go out.”
“Dude, that’s why I’m in no hurry to settle down.” Jeff laughed. This is the other thing Jeff always said, but if you asked me, he was turning forty next month and I was starting to wonder if he would ever be ready to settle down.
“Shit, this cabinet is getting heavy!” Jeff heaved and I heard something wobble.
“Why the fuck are they always rearranging the furniture upstairs?” Loyiso was also heaving now. He shouldn’t push it too much. He’d missed a few days of work recently to go to some doctor’s appointments. I’d overheard him on the phone to his wife talking about having a heart murmur!
The footsteps grew closer, as did the huffing and puffing, until they were both right outside my office door. I could see the shadows of their feet. I jumped in fright as a loud alarm started blaring throughout the building. It was so loud that I momentarily covered my ears until I got used to the sound, and then I looked around. The red fire-alarm light was flashing at me.
“Shit, another fire drill,” I heard Loyiso say.
“I am so sick of these,” Jeff said. “Unless it really is a fire?”
“God, that would be great. We could go home early.”
“Let’s hope,” Loyiso replied. “We’d better go to the assembly point.” And then I heard a loud thud, the sound of the filing cabinet being put down, I was guessing. I jumped up. The thought that there might actually be a real fire here was terrifying. Although I did have a memory