Right This Time

Donna poured the two of them a big glass of Coca Cola. Nonni would have preferred tea, but she knew Donna seldom had any. She gave her a warm smile; Donna hadn't changed much. If anything, she'd grown just a little rounder. She'd always had a round, friendly face. She wore large silver hoops in her ears, and an old t-shirt that showed a daring amount of cleavage.

They sat down on the couch - Donna had to shove her son aside - and Nonni told Donna all about her years with John. Donna lamented her hard luck.

"Oh girlie, girlie," she said. "You should've listened to mama."

"Yes," Nonni said. "Wise after the event..."

"Eh. Men. They're horrible, aren't they?"

Nonni smiled. "What about yours?"

"Eh," Donna said. "Bill's gone. He lives with some bitch in Birmingham. I've got myself a new one, though." She winked. "And you?"

Nonni shook her head. She didn't have anyone. She told her about Phil, and about the invitation.

"Would you mind coming?"

"Oh no. Of course not. So your Phil will be the only white person. Where will we be going?"

"He's not my Phil. I just like him."

Donna raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Of course, of course," she said. "You just like him. Well, it's a good thing I'll be there with you; and I hope you'll listen if I tell you he's no good."

"Your Bill ran off, too."

"Yes, but we had a thundering good time while he was here. He sometimes comes to see me still." This was accompanied by another wink.

"Alright," Nonni said. Donna was a great friend. They could hardly be any more different, but they really liked each other, and Nonni was very happy she was so readily taken back as a friend after all those years.

They spent a pleasant time talking about all kinds of women' things, shopping, and clothes, and Nonni told her about Phil's sister.

"Oh, good," Donna said. "Maybe I could ask her to plait my hair for me."

Nonni said Wambui usually wore weaves, but Donna said that didn't matter.

"I'd like to meet her," she said. "I wonder if she's very white inside."

"I don't think so, from what Phil said about her," Nonni said. "Phil isn't, either - at least, not as much as John."

Donna asked Nonni to stay for dinner, but Nonni declined. She felt very tired. Donna looked at her sharply. "You'd better go home, girlie," she said. "Have a good night's rest."

They embraced again, and Nonni went home.

When Saturday arrived Nonni looked on the dinner date with some misgivings; however, she'd accepted, and go she would. She picked up Donna at her apartment and drove to the restaurant. Phil and Wambui were already there.

They had a lovely time together. The women found they were kindred spirits. Wambui readily agreed to come and plait Donna's hair, and she talked quite some time with Nonni about John's beastly behaviour. Phil sat looking at the three of them. He liked his sister, and Donna was a nice woman, he thought - but neither of them was in the least comparable to Nonni. He had quite some time to contemplate them; the others were far too busy comparing notes at first, and he felt he might just as well not have been there.

He didn't really mind; he sat watching the interaction and grinning a little to himself. He had known Wambui for well over thirty years, but he'd never seen her like this. She obviously enjoyed herself immensely. Nonni, too, was different. Less tense, he thought. He smiled and shook his head.

Nonni was the first to realise they'd left him dangling, and she managed to draw him into the conversation by changing its drift a little. The others looked at each other, and nodded.

Donna looked at Phil appraisingly. He didn't put her into alarm phase red. If Nonni really saw something in this man, oh well, she would give her her blessing. He was rather white - but you couldn't have everything, and he didn't look at you as if he couldn't see the difference between one dark face and the other.

The food was good. They had a pleasant table, far enough from the next one not to feel too inhibited by any other people, and they talked animatedly. Nonni enjoyed herself. Phil was quite as nice as she'd hoped, and she liked his sister. She was very much like the image she'd formed from what he had told her. She had a long face, a long neck and a skull rather like Nefertiti's. She had a very high forehead, and her hair began far higher up than usual. But it became her well, and she thought Wambui was a very beautiful woman. It was quite obvious she was really sensitive to stupid or nasty remarks.

He'd initially asked just me out, she thought. Now he was sitting there with three women chattering away... she hoped he'd get something out of it anyway. Then she suddenly realised that the meal definitely had the effect of making him much more human and far less of a possible threat to her. She remembered what he'd said when they were talking in the clearing, his regret at not having been in John's shoes... the memory made her blush. She looked down at her plate in the hope no one would notice.

When she looked up again she saw he looked at her, smiling just a little, and when their eyes met he nodded. "Todos bien, chica?" he asked.

She smiled. "Todos bien," she said.

Phil kept himself to himself a little. He gave the others as much space as they needed, and just sat watching and listening most of the time. All in all, he thought, it was a roaring success. Nonni and Wambui both seemed far more at ease than usual. He didn't know about Donna; but she apparently enjoyed herself, too. Good.

When they eventually parted Wambui and Donna arranged to meet and get Donna's hair plaited. Phil was thanked enthusiastically by Nonni and Donna, who drove off together.

"Alright, big bro," Wambui said. "Did things go the way you hoped?"

He nodded. "Yes," he said. "Thank you very much for helping out."

"Thank you, idiot," she said affectionately. "Ok then, please drive me home."

They got into Phil's car. "What do you think of them?" he said.

"You mean, what do I think of Nonni, I suppose?"

"Oh well, er - well, yes." He almost stuttered, and he felt a blush creep up his neck.

She smiled at him. "I think you have an excellent taste in girls. I hope she'll allow herself to come to terms with what happened, though."

"Yes," he said. "I really hope so, too."

Nonni drove to Donna's apartment. "Can I come in for a moment?" she said.

"You'd better, or else," Donna replied. They found the children still up. Donna sent them off to bed at one. Her son muttered some protest but she waved it away, and after some ten minutes or so they had the room to themselves.

"Ok, then," Donna said. "Let me tell you what I think."

Nonni gave her a dubious look. "Oh well," she said. "Perhaps you'd better. Did you sense another John?"

"No, I didn't. If you really want him it's alright with me. He is ok - not at all pushy or intrusive. He wouldn't call you anything. Hmm, his sister will plait my hair, you know."

"You don't mean to say that that makes him alright?"

"Eh! Don't be stupid! Of course not. But he knows what she feels, and that does make the difference."

Nonni nodded. "I'll see. Who knows..."

Donna offered her a drink, but she asked her for a glass of water. They sat talking about men for some time and then Nonni went home and to bed.

After Phil had dropped off his sister he went home. It had been a strange evening. The women obviously understood each other very well; they hardly seemed to need words to communicate all sorts of feelings. He knew he would never manage to achieve that sort of rapport with them. It felt impossible to get a true grip on how things like John's treatment of Nonni felt from within. He understood her well enough, though.

Phew. He was tired, but he felt he would be quite unable to sleep. Instead he found himself a drink and he put one of his favourite CDs into the CD player and programmed Dr Nico's 'Boujie Ya Motema' on repeat. He always felt that that one track was the epitome of happiness translated into music, with its slow, unostentatious but insistently beautiful guitar, quite unlike those players that wanted to fill every split second with notes...

He sat back in his chair and held his hands behind his neck. He closed his eyes and saw Nonni's face before him. She was difficult alright, but whenever he looked into her eyes something happened in his head that was impossible to even try to fight... He heaved a deep, long sigh.

He was rather reticent, usually, and he had a tendency to look at others from the sideline. He had a few good friends, but he didn't see them too often; they didn't live near. He had had a girlfriend, once, but it had just been a fleeting thing and neither of them had been too sad when they parted. He didn't think he was too critical - he rather thought he'd just not come across anyone worth his while, until he met Nonni.

He opened his eyes again and surveyed the room. He'd lived here for eight years now, and the place had grown fairly cluttered. It was full of things he'd liked to have. It used to fit like an old, well-worn sweater and he'd felt perfectly happy and contented. But lately he'd started to miss company, and he sometimes felt impatient with the books he loved and the music that had formed one of the bases of his existence. His friends had always said he was the perfect bachelor. He'd believed them; but he was not so sure any more.

Suppose Nonni were there, in the other chair, or next to him on the couch? Sharing things made them twice as nice, he thought. When he still lived at home his mother usually came and listened to a new CD with him; sometimes Wambui would come, too. That had been lovely. He realised with a start that he actually felt bloody alone. Bachelor, alright... Oh dear, oh dear. He downed his drink and turned off the stereo. Bedtime, Phil.

Nonni fell asleep immediately, to wake up a little after two in the morning. She wasn't quite sure whether it was something she'd dreamt, or a sound in the night, but she was wide-awake, and the image of Donna came to her mind. She heard her say, "Of course, of course. You just like him," as if she were in the room with her. She sat up and considered her own actions of the past few weeks. She ran over her words to him in the clearing, and she compared him to John. Then she considered her adult life so far. Her marriage had been an absolute disaster, and she should have stopped as soon as she'd realised. Now why hadn't she? Had it been loyalties and fears, or unwillingness to admit defeat? She didn't know. Life had picked up once John had walked out of it, but it was a solitary existence, with her work as the real thing. Apart from that she seldom saw anyone.

Donna. She could go and visit her more often. Maybe she could visit Wambui as well. And she could ask both women over to her place. They meant two possible escapes from loneliness for her. Phil's dinner party had really delivered something good.

But apart from the odd evening or afternoon it would not really change anything much. She tried to look down the long vista of the future, and saw herself go grey and old, with the occasional tea party with Donna or Wambui, and possibly one or two others... rather like her father's sister, who, they said, was a confirmed spinster, but who looked just old and lonely to her. When she'd embarked on her marriage she'd expected to have someone to wake up with, someone to share things with, to laugh with or be silent with, not just for the odd once in a while, but every day. John had not just ruined that hope; he'd almost made her incapable of daring to dream again. The bastard, the goddamn bastard.

She felt the tears roll down her cheeks, for the first time in eighteen months. She didn't quite understand why they should come just now; it had been such a nice evening. If she weren't all alone she could have woken her partner, and he would have listened and nodded and put an arm round her shoulder and told her it was alright - todos bien, chica... Oh God.

Nonni sniffed, got up and put on her robe. She went downstairs and found Phil's telephone number. If only he doesn't mind, she thought.

Phil was dreaming he was at home and his mother was just telling him something about Wambui when the telephone started ringing. It kept on going until he sat up and realised it was no dream, and he picked up the set on the bedside table.

Nonni was none too certain of herself. However, she just couldn't contain her misery and loneliness, and if Phil didn't understand she might just as well pack it in. She tried to explain she needed someone to talk to. Phil listened and made the occasional humming noise, and when she'd finished he told her he knew what loneliness could do to you. Would she like him to come over to her place?

"Yes, please," she said; she would appreciate it very much.

Phil got dressed and drove the couple of miles to Nonni's house. He wondered what exactly was on her mind; he hoped he could help her out.

When he rang the bell Nonni opened almost immediately. She'd got dressed quickly after she'd put down the phone, and she'd sat waiting for Phil to arrive. She greeted him with a wan smile; it was obvious to him she had been crying. He looked at her and smiled back. "Now, now, now," he said. "What's up, chica?"

They went into the living-room, and Nonni tried to put everything she'd though in bed into words. It did take her some time, but Phil was quick enough to understand. When she'd finished, he shook his head and smiled at her.

"You know," he said, "I know exactly what you mean. When I got home tonight I played some music first, and I suddenly realised how badly I've missed the opportunity to have someone else listen along."

He looked at her face, and her figure in the old jeans and sweater, and he wondered once more what could have made that John behave the way he had.

"I think - you know, this may sound rather sententious, and I know it's easy enough for me to say so - but I really think you should try and exorcise what John did to you. When you keep carrying him on your shoulder he will have succeeded in making you miserable for life. He's nasty, and he's stupid, but I wouldn't want to grant him the victory. The people I know find you fantastic. You could have most men at your feet. You are sweet, you are beautiful, and you have a sense of humour. And when you feel at ease, you really shine - phenomenal woman, that's you."

He bit his lip. She was enough to make him feel happy and sad and he did not know which feeling was the stronger...

"You'd better look around you, and decide for yourself that enough is enough, and bury John and his Barbie-doll once and for all. They're not worth your worrying your life away. And then you can start anew and find someone nice. If you want any company I'll be overjoyed to help you out; but I don't want to be in your way, and I don't pretend to any claim on you."

Nonni sat listening silently. It made Phil feel very nervous. He did try to say the right thing; but he knew words could be tricky, and what if she thought he was a blabbering idiot? He looked at her and raised his hands in a supplicating gesture.

Then she nodded. "Yes," she said. "Thank you for coming." She yawned. "I'm sorry, but I'm dead tired. I will sleep on it, and I'd like to come over and talk some more tomorrow. May I?"

Phil yawned, too. "It's catching," he said apologetically. "Yes, of course. What time will you come?"

"Would ten o'clock be too early?"

He shook his head. "Eight would be alright, too. But ten is fine." He got up and walked over to Nonni. "Take care, girl," he said. "And remember, you're worth tons of Johns."

Smiling, she got up. "Thank you, Phil," she said and kissed him briefly on the mouth. "I will do my best."

She walked with him to the front door and waved at him as he drove away. Then she undressed, went back to bed and notwithstanding her intention to think about what he'd said she dropped off to sleep immediately and slept like a log.

Phil drove home and tried to go to sleep, too, but he still felt the brief kiss she'd given him on his lips, and he lay staring into the dark and thinking of her for a long time.

The next morning he was up early; he wanted to make his place look as neat as possible. It did remain a little cluttered, but it looked tidy enough when he finished.

Nonni rang the bell a few minutes past ten. Phil welcomed her warmly, and they went in. He'd made a big pot of coffee - he knew from their work she was a great coffee-drinker - and they sat down to a cup of it first. Nonni looked around his room, and she looked at Phil.

"My," she said. "You do have a lot of things lying around."

Phil nodded. "I'm afraid so," he said. "It's the residue of living alone for a long time. You know, the things you do to while away the time; evenings can be very long on your own."

"Uhuh. I know." She heaved a deep sigh. Then she told him about her hopes and fears, and about the way in which he fitted into them, and he sat still, listening, nodding now and then, and wondering how life, sometimes, really was a bitch. She had had a bloody hard time of it. The story she'd told him in the clearing in the wood had been so carefully worded that it had been clear, comprehensible and a little reserved; now it was the full-blooded story in all its sad detail.

He looked at her in admiration. She did bring across how she'd felt all those years; they came horrifically alive. When she'd finished he nodded to her.

"I can't imagine what made him marry you," he said. "He doesn't seem to have liked anything about you."

She sat very still for a moment. "What do you like about me?" she said.

The question took him quite by surprise.

"Well," he said, "I er, I like your presence, for one thing. Just being in one room with you, and being able to look at you sometimes. And I like, oh well, everything there is about you. Your voice, and your eyes, and your looks, and the way you look at me and what you say. Although that can be scary, too..."

He paused for a moment to formulate his thoughts.

"You are beautiful. But there are more women who are beautiful, and none of them has your appeal." He shook his head. "I couldn't really say why that is - a je ne sais quoi... you can make the little hairs at the back of my neck stand up. I don't know if that's an answer that makes sense; I couldn't give a better one."

Nonni looked at the room, and at the crammed bookcase, and the piles of CDs. He followed her look.

"I know," he said. "It's just too much of a good thing. I should make room on my shelves, and be more critical. Apparently I'm only really critical in my friendships; that's why I'm still on my own."

He sighed. "I used to be quite happy that way. But you're on my mind more often than not."

She smiled at him. "Thank you," she said. "That's very sweet of you. I er - I would love to get to know you a lot better."

Phil nodded. "Shall we go and have dinner together, tonight?" he said. "Much as I liked last night, I'd love to take you out on your own, too."

"Yes please. Yesterday you told me you'd sat listening to music, and that you'd have liked to make someone listen along. Could you play it for me? John hated music, I think. At least, he never wanted to listen to anything I like."

"I hope you'll like this; I think it's happiness translated into music," Phil said. He turned on the CD player; Dr Nico was still inside. He took the remote and pressed 4. The guitar began, on its own, and then the song started going.

Nonni sat back and listened. She tapped her foot to the rhythm.

When the track had finished she smiled. "I do like this," she said. "I've got a live-album by Kassav. Some of the tracks are a little like it; it's very danceable. And I see what you mean about happiness." She bit her lip. "I could do with some," she added.