The Wall

2

“Need a push?” the professor asked.

“I’ll be all right,” Moses said. “If I’m pointed downhill, it should start just fine. See you tomorrow.”

As he released the brake, the old Toyota started rolling. He could still see the professor with his head of curly white hair in the rearview mirror. He waved through the back window before turning around again. Moses gave a quick goodbye honk as he cranked the motor. It choked a couple of times, but then turned over. Bad Kwaito was blaring on the radio. The music broke off for a moment, before starting up again. Something electronic this time.

Huge houses like this annoyed Moses. Most of the time, only a few people lived in them. Like Professor Brinsley and his wife. Two floors, lots of rooms, huge pool, lawn, garden. Fortunately, the prof didn’t have any dogs.

It had been a good idea to help Brinsley. His office was stuffed to the ceiling with books sitting on shelves and in dusty piles. His contract with Fort Hare University had run out, and he was flying out for the States next week to start a new job in Atlanta. And the books had to be relocated to the professor’s house. Temporary storage.

“Moses, could you use this?” the prof had asked, over and over again.

The Toyota’s trunk now contained two heavy boxes of books. And Brinsley had actually parted with C.L.R. James’ book about cricket. Unbelievable. His only copy.

An incoming text chimed. Moses pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Are you heading this way?”

“Yes!” he wrote back.

The next text was right on its heels. “What should we do?”

“Sex!” he typed, his eyes darting from the screen to the road.

He swerved into the oncoming lane as he typed. So what. The street was always empty around noon.

Moses rolled down the passenger window.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” the DJ shouted. “This is the hottest February in years. And today’s the hottest day in the hottest February in years. I’m about to crawl into an ice bath. Call and tell me how you’re fighting the heat in the Eastern Cape.”

The station cut out, and when it came back, the music had switched to R&B. To the mall to buy prosecco. Then home to change out of these dirty clothes, shower, put on something nice but easy to take right back off again. And finally to Sandi’s. Forty minutes max. He would be at her place by one o’clock on the dot.

The phone went off again. It was the battery this time. Almost empty. Oh well.

He was in the curve heading toward Abbotsford when the engine gave a cough. Come on, Moses thought. Just one more day. I’ll take you to the shop tomorrow. Cross my heart.

To the other side of Abbotsford, then across the Nahoon, almost to Dorchester Heights. The engine spluttered again. Tomorrow, Moses thought.

“Tomorrow!” he hollered. It hiccupped back to life. “Come on!” he yelled.

The car stalled again. He was heading down a slight rise, but despite the downhill incline, the motor didn’t turn over again. Moses pumped the gas pedal repeatedly.

The road leveled off, and his speed dropped. Moses let the car roll to a stop, making sure to get two of his tires off the pavement. Turned the key and heard… nothing. Pulled out the key, took a deep breath. Stuck it back into the ignition, turned. Silence.

One more time. Removed the key, tried to think about something else, but what? Sex with Sandi. Back in and turn. No response, not even a rattle. Nothing.

The clock. Twelve of the forty minutes were already gone. Moses got out. There were practically no shadows since the sun had reached its zenith. His phone reminded him about the battery. Who should he call?

Khanyo. He knew cars.

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Moses. The Toyota’s died.”

“So?”

“So I really need some help.”

“Nobody’s gonna steal that thing. Where are you anyway? You sound so scared you’ve got to be in Duncan Village, surrounded by a group of knife-wielding tsotsis. Hahaha…”

Moses laughed, but only because Khanyo expected him to. “Hahaha. I’m in… on the edge of Dorchester Heights. Abbotsford side. Some intersection where a road veers a little uphill to the left. I’m stuck, and I just don’t want to be here too long. Listen, if you’ll pick me up, you can come over for dinner. I’ll cook and fill you in on what Brinsley’s said about his successor. Okay?”

No answer.

“Khanyo?” Moses looked at his phone. The screen was dark. Shit.

12:39. Nineteen of the forty minutes were gone. He should go ahead and forget about having sex with Sandi. What had Khanyo heard? Dorchester Heights? Had he at least heard those two words? And if so, was he on his way?

Moses scanned the area. Suburbia. Upper middle class. Three meters of grass between road and wall, one-story houses, two-car garages, glass shards or electricity running along the wall to keep out the ne’er-do-wells. Further down the road, a gate swung open, and a compact car drove out. Turned in his direction. The woman was thirty, maybe a little older, shoulder-length brown hair. Housewife, he thought. On her way to the kindergarten.

What lousy luck. Car broken down and phone dead. And dressed the way he was. Ripped pants, covered in dust, oil on his t-shirt from the prof’s old bakkie. Moses opened his trunk and rummaged around in the boxes and plastic bags. Where were the clothes he had wanted to give his sister? For the school in the Ciskei. Had he already dropped them off?

He slammed the trunk. Looked around again, remembering something.

He recognized the corner up there. But why?

The road heading uphill. The tall wall. The dead-end road. It all looked familiar. Moses walked slowly up the hill, trying to recall.

Last year. A couple of classmates. They had worked on something together, and the young white man had lived here. They had gotten together at his house. What had his name been? Robbie? No. Janie? No. But something like that. Moses approached the gate in the wall. A large metal sign hanging next to the entrance read “The Pines.” Stylized trees rooted beside the letters. The metal gate was just starting to open, a car grill visible on the other side. Moses waited. Brand new. Large. Black. Moses didn’t know much about car companies, but he wanted something like that. Cars like that don’t break down on you, he thought.

The gate was open. The car drove out. Tinted windows. Passed him. The gate began to slowly swing shut. Moses ran forward a few steps and just barely squeezed through the narrow gap before the gated community locked itself back down.