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The meaning of love

Yandisa Krobani

    People who lived near Busisiwe didn’t know much about her except that she was a beautiful woman. They rarely saw her—she left for work very early and came back late at night. She was the CEO of a big furniture store and the job had swallowed her social life. But she never complained because she loved her work.
    Her office was her second home—the colourful furniture made her happy. She’d examine it carefully and run her fingers tenderly along the sofa by the door that was used by customers, mostly businessmen. The surroundings made them feel at home and tempted them into signing lucrative contracts with her.
    Out of the many potential boyfriends she had rebuffed, there were two who just didn’t want to give up. Sechaba and Lucky had both been chasing Busisiwe for two years. On one occasion, Lucky had brought her flowers to complement her office décor. He’d secretly asked Mpumi, the only friend Busisiwe had at work, what would cheer her up. But as usual, Busisiwe rejected his advances. It was the same with Sechaba, who wrote her long, emotional love letters that Mpumi read for her own amusement, much to Busisiwe’s exasperation.
    “Don’t you think you’re being too harsh?” Mpumi asked. “They’re both rich and hot, have good intentions and would try to make you happy.”
    “That’s not my idea of how love should be,” Busisiwe replied. “They’re wasting their precious time by chasing me. They have reasons for love that I don’t consider to be love at all.”
    Busisiwe was particularly busy at work trying to satisfy the demands of a new customer who has promised to pay Busisiwe handsomely if she could source the high-quality furniture she desired.
    In the midst of this challenge, Lucky barged into her office. “So, Busi, is he the guy?” he asked despondently.
    “Who? What guy are you talking about?” Busisiwe demanded, with annoyance creeping into her voice.
    “Sechaba. Is he the one for whom you’ve been rejecting me all these years?”
    “Lucky, I’m vey busy at the moment. But no, Sechaba is not my man. In fact, he also comes here and makes a fool of himself. You men are all the same.”
    Lucky’s stressed face relaxed after he had from Busisiwe’s own lips that Sechaba wasn’t her chosen one. It meant he still had a chance of being her boyfriend. He would continue to endure her multiple rejections in the hope that one day she’d realise they were meant to be together. Lucky was fantasising about their wedding day when Sechaba knocked on the door in a gentlemanly manner. When he saw Lucky he barged straight in without waiting for a response. “Busi, who is this man? Is he the reason you’re ignoring my emotional words that I create especially for you?”
    Sechaba threw a harsh look in Lucky’s direction, and before Busisiwe could answer, he grabbed Lucky by the shirt. They pushed each other back and forth, ready to start punching, when Busisiwe screamed at them to stop.
    “Enough! You’re behaving like children. Now, listen to me. You’re both going to get out of here and you can come back on Friday. You will then clarify your so-called love for me. Now, get out of my office before I call security.”

    Mrs. Fredericks, Busisiwe’s new client, turned out to be an amiable soul once she got to know her. Not only did she pay her promptly, but, as promised, she gave her extra for her excellent service.
    “Mrs. Fredericks, if you don’t mind me asking, what made you want to move in here?” Busisiwe asked.
    “I just needed some peace and quiet. I wanted to be close to the beach and out of the various options, this was the most seductive. But now I’m boring you with the details...”
    Busisiwe assured her she didn’t mind.
    “Alright. Since the death of my husband my soul has been wretched. He was a victim of a botched robbery.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. It must be awful losing the one you love.”
    “Yes, it is. I can’t explain the love we had for each other. Ours was just special.”
    Busisiwe had often wondered if she was crazy because of her philosophy of love, and now here was Mrs. Fredericks talking about the very same thing. Sometime words aren’t enough.
    When Friday arrived, Sechaba and Lucky knocked on Busisiwe’s door. They both were dressed to kill. Mpumi, who sat beside Busisiwe, smiled when she saw them. Despite their fancy clothes, they just stood there like shy school kids about to give a speech.
    “Okay, guys, let’s do this. I have a business to run and the sooner we’re done, the better. Sechaba you go first.”
    “Busisiwe, you’re very different from every woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he began. “You are a belle, and industrious and ambitious at that. But I know underneath the serious persona lies a lady with a tender, good heart.
    “There aren’t many good men and women left, Busisiwe. But that’s what we are so let’s give each other a chance. You are wife material and I wouldn’t hesitate for a second before marrying you. Together we will create happy memories in a harsh world.”
    When Sechaba had finished Mpumi burst into excited applause. She was completely bowled over by his poetic expression, but Busisiwe’s facial expression hadn’t changed. “Right, Lucky, let’s hear from you,” she said.
    “I love you, Busi. I can’t tell you why.”
    Mpumi laughed. Lucky must be mad to think that will surpass Sechaba’s declaration. It was clear, Mpumi thought, that Sechaba would get his girl. But to her astonishment, Busisiwe chose Lucky.
    Sechaba was in despair and turned to Mpumi for comfort. As they comforted each other, they became aware of a spark between them that neither had been aware of. “Perhaps we should be bold and try going out,” Sechaba humbly suggested to Mpumi.
    “No, Sechaba. I’m not going to be second choice,” Mpumi replied.
    “But Mpumi, we both know love is different for everyone. We’ve just shared a beautiful moment and now the universe is pointing me in a new direction.”
    Mpumi listened and felt herself warm to Sechaba’s words. She couldn’t resist his poetry.

    It was a cool day in Mrs. Fredericks’ garden by the sea, and Busisiwe and Mpumi were watching their kids playing football.
    “Life is strange isn’t it, Busi?” Mpumi mused. “To this day I still don’t understand why you chose Lucky over my lovely husband.”
    “I’m not sure I can help you understand, but I’ll try. Your husband said he had feelings for me because I was beautiful and successful. Well, I was flattered by his compliments, of course, but I don’t perceive that to be love. I believe real love has no reasons.
    “What would have happened to us once my beauty started to fade, when my wrinkles emerged? In my book, you love a person because you love them. That’s it, and that’s why I ended up marrying Lucky.”
    “You’re missing out, my friend,” Mpumi teased. “Sechaba is such a loving hubby.”
    “Stop it now, you two,” Mrs. Fredericks interrupted. “Thankfully, one woman’s hero is another man’s villain. How fortunate we don’t think of love in the same way. We’d be fighting all the time.”
    The three women laughed in appreciation of the honesty and wisdom of friendship.

 

    This fiction was first published by DRUM (a South African Magazine which stopped publishing in print).

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

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