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Damian and I are discreet about how and where we meet. He sometimes sends a driver to pick me up after work. We go to restaurants or bars where Damian trusts the owners. I dyed my hair blond and apply a self-tanning lotion on a weekly basis to give my pale skin a darker tone. Contact lenses change my eye color to brown. I’m different on the outside, and even as my new life slowly but surely starts again, what’s on the inside doesn’t change. The hurt doesn’t fade. I’ve just grown more used to it.
To give myself a jumpstart in the right direction, I set new goals. I want to save enough money to afford a bigger place. I don’t want anything fancy, just a place I can call home. A small garden would be nice. I can’t get too attached to any place. I always have a bag packed with my fake passport and money so I can flee on a moment’s notice.
I still find it hard to make friends. I can’t reach out to anyone who knew me as Zoe. The people who meet me as Amanda have questions about where I come from and why I’m not dating. It’s hard to answer those questions without lying, and it’s easier to simply avoid the curiosity by avoiding people altogether. It’s not healthy, but trust doesn’t come easily for me. It’s difficult to make friends when you’re secretive about your past and spending most of your nights alone, bleaching your roots so no one notices it’s not your natural color.
Besides for dinners and drinks with my brother, the highlight of my month is the lunch I share with Lina. It’s not difficult to see why my brother is so taken with her. She’s kind, caring, and nonjudgmental. I have a feeling nothing I tell Lina will ever shock her. It’s comforting to be with someone who is undemanding and giving. She’s never asked about my reasons for running. I told her what I told Damian, and she’s accepted that without fishing for more information.
Since she’s on maternity leave, we meet every Wednesday when I have my monthly afternoon off. Today we’re meeting at an outdoor play park in Midrand. I make sure to arrive early, doing a quick walk-through of the Italian restaurant and the outside terrace next to the play area. I note the exits and the quickest getaway routes, and make sure my car can’t be blocked in. These precautions are habits, like always keeping a bag packed. A few groups of moms are eating pizza with their kids inside, and two groups are gathered on the terrace. I choose a table close to one of the groups, even if it’s noisy. I prefer to blend in with the masses.
Lina arrives with a blush on her cheeks despite the cooler autumn weather, Josh in hand. My heart warms at the sight of them. The weight on my shoulders lifts. That kid is my sunshine and joy. He’s the cutest thing since, well, ever. When he spots me, he pulls free from Lina’s hold and charges toward the table where I’m waiting.
Taking the chocolate egg from my handbag, I crouch down and catch him in my arms just before he almost knocks me over.
“Easy, Josh,” Lina says. “You’ll tackle your aunt to the ground.”
Laughing, I ruffle his hair and hand him the treat. “This is for after lunch.”
He glances at Lina.
“After lunch,” she says sternly.
“Thank you, Aunt Zee,” he says, throwing his arms around my neck.
I melt. Wrapping my arms around him, I hug his small body. “You’re welcome.”
“May I please go play, Mommy?”
“Yes, honey, but stay close to our table.”
He runs off to the jungle gym.
“Here.” I pull out a chair for Lina in the shade. It’s the pregnancy hormones that are making her feel so overheated. I would’ve taken a table where it’s air conditioned inside, but I know she likes to survey Josh while he plays. “How are you?”
“Hot,” she says with a broad smile, fanning herself with the menu. “I can’t wait for this baby to make her arrival.”
Damian is nuts about Josh, but I can’t even begin to imagine how protective he’s going to be with a daughter. If the way he growls when men as much as glance in Lina’s direction is anything to go by, the poor girl won’t date until she’s thirty. If ever. I grin at that.
“I got something for my niece.” I push the parcel wrapped in pink paper toward Lina.
“Oh, Zee, that’s so kind of you.”
It feels too weird for Damian and Lina to call me Amanda, and since Josh started calling me Zee, my sister-in-law adopted the habit. It’s less likely for people to connect it to Zoe, and it’s less confusing for Josh.
She tears away the wrapping paper and gasps as she holds up the little dress. It’s white with silver stars and fairy wings.
