‘Lots of pearl necklaces and designer handbags,’ I said, with a splash of disdain in my voice. I was thinking back to a particular event, where at Catherine’s sixteenth birthday her parents had presented her with her first Hermès Birkin bag. I’d wanted a pair of binoculars for my sixteenth birthday so I could climb on the roof and watch the planes begin their descent towards the airport some kilometers away. Although our house was far from the airport, we were directly under a flight path, and I’d spend hours on the roof watching the planes fly overhead.
‘I take it you do not own a designer bag?’ Andrew enquired.
‘No, they are a complete waste of money. A bag’s ultimate function is to carry personal belongings in it, and I don’t see why a designer label would do that job any better than a bag that costs a few hundred rand. A higher price does not equate to superior functionality.’
‘I don’t think people who buy designer bags are concerned with their functionality.’
Andrew’s voice had a smile in it, so I assumed he was enjoying this conversation. So was I, actually.
‘Although having said that, I did read an article about the Birkin bag being a better investment than gold and the stock market,’ I added quickly.
‘So perhaps Catherine’s parents were on to something.’
‘Perhaps,’ I muttered, seriously considering whether I should sell some unit shares to invest in a Birkin bag. I made a mental note to google how much one cost and where to get it from.
‘So, what else? What are your interests? What are your hobbies?’ Andrew asked.
I turned in my seat. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘I’d just like to have a little more personal info on you, in case the evening calls for it.’
I thought about it. I only had a few hobbies and interests. Well, ‘obsessions’ was really the only word for them. ‘I like fish. I like swimming. I like my job and planes. I like synonyms.’
‘What kind of fish?’
‘Tropical fish are my favorite. I like their colors. I’m an aquarist.’
‘A what?’
‘Aquarist. I keep fish,’ I explained.
‘Huh,’ Andrew said thoughtfully.
‘Is that helpful?’
‘I’m not sure yet,’ he admitted. ‘I can’t quite see how to slip that into conversation. But you never know.’
The Uber delivered us to our destination, and soon we were standing outside my school, looking up at its ivy-covered walls. I stared at the grand entrance and read the Latin words sprawled across the top of it. Our school motto.
Sapientia et veritas. Wisdom and truth.
I was perpetually baffled by this continued usage of Latin terminology in the modern age, especially here in Africa. It seemed utterly irrelevant and out of place. It would be so much more appropriate if ‘wisdom’ and ‘truth’ were in one of our vernacular languages, not a language that hadn’t been spoken since the sixth century. I’d suggested this once to the school’s governing body. It had not gone down well, even though my argument was a very solid one.
I kept staring at the school entrance.Why did it suddenly look so foreign and strange?I’d seen this entrance and stood outside it so many times before, and yet tonight it felt like a place I’d never been to in my entire life.
‘I think this was a bad idea.’ I took a step back. ‘I get these sudden ideas that I don’t quite think through sometimes. Or I do think them through, but when tested in the real world they fail to live up to the expectation I had in my head.’ I pulled the hem of my red dress down again; it was creeping up. ‘Besides, my dress is too red and too tight and too short.’ I yanked at the fabric around my stomach to see if I could stretch it a little, so it didn’t cling like a second skin. ‘I will never let my mother pick out my clothes again.’
Andrew threw me a sideways glance. ‘Your mother picked that out?’
‘Apparently, if I wear sexier clothes, my chances of attracting a mate are much higher.’
‘Aaah,’ he muttered.
‘I feel like how one of those birds of paradise in a David Attenborough documentary must feel, dressed in my most alluring plumage and ready to perform for everyone.’
Andrew laughed. ‘I feel so sorry for those birds. Can you imagine building nest after nest only to have them ripped up over and over again?’
‘I think the birds have it right, though. Their society is a matriarchy. The women always have the final say, and I think that our world would be a much better place if women were in charge.’
