What is love

Short Story Anele Lutshaba
“SMALLY what is love?”
We were seated in the semi-darkness of the car which was parked behind the “Bombas” as we affectionately called the bottle-store in Entumbane by the shops. It was way past eight and I had sneaked out after supper under the pretence of looking for change with Stha from Skha. It had cost me a dollar for airtime to get Stha to agree to be my partner in crime. After a moment I said “Love is a basket, inside is found care, understanding, compromise, kindness, trust, patience, tolerance. The basket is not love with some or even one of these components missing.’’ He kept quiet as if contemplating my answer but he said nothing.

“What is love Lex,” I asked and he replied, “angazi” (I don’t know).
The next morning as I walked past Doves Funeral Services on my way to church I told him, “Love is when you see someone and your heart skips a beat, it is when you cannot wait for the good morning and dread the good night, when the only app you look forward to is from that person, when after a week of talking to someone you feel closer to them than people you have spent your life with, love is when you dread the ‘if onlys’ and the ‘what ifs’.’’

That evening we met again because he had forgotten to give me the chocolate that he had brought me the day before. Love took on another face as we walked along 6th Avenue amidst the hustle and bustle of the vendors.

I thought love is when my heart breaks at the thought of going back to work so soon after discovering him. Love is when a grown woman contemplates leaving her job so she could be close to a man. Love is when the thought of leaving him made me speechless and for the first time in my life I had a million things to say but could not say them. Love is when he searches my eyes and I cannot make eye contact because I am afraid that he will discover what is written in the depths of my soul. The hug said it all!

I left the next day for work, my mind still in the wilderness. I hated the lush greens, the clean air, the braying of the donkeys and their cute young ones, I hated Econet because there was no network and I could not communicate. For the first time in my life I contemplated switching to another telecommunication service provider, something I had never thought of before. At that moment love became a word “faraway”. After a few days of anger at my favourite service provider communication became better and love became a phone call in the evening after work and a few messages during the course of the day.

Then thirteen days after I left, you came. Actually you almost did not come because as you said there was a battle between your heart and your mind. Your mind told you not to come and your heart told you to come. You decided to follow your heart. You had missed the first bus and I panicked thinking you might get lost, but man that you are, you arrived safely. You looked tired as if you had walked all the way but you had that smile I have always loved on your face. I wanted to hug you but I held back for fear of appearing too enthusiastic or forward. You said you loved the wilderness so we took a walk in the bush where it was only the two of us. It was quiet except for the sounds of the birds and we walked hand in hand, you quiet and me chattering away to hide my nervousness.

No one asked me but I told myself that, “Love is when you ask someone to visit you 225km away from home on a bad road, a six hour journey and he comes. Not only does he come but he brings chocolate and creates memories. Not only that but he holds out his hand for a dance to my favourite jive song ‘hello mababy’. A rare find I thought. Satisfaction and peace reigned.”

Then I asked “what is love Lex?’’ He looked at me sadly and sighed. My heart did a somersault and I thought, “Oh no, not another one, God no.” He said, “Smally, I have a girlfriend.’’ A strong sense of dé jàvu hit all my senses at once and it felt, smelt, looked like, tasted like and I heard “There is Felie and she will not let me go!’’ I was transported back to a place I had left a few months ago, wounded and bleeding, not knowing whether or not I would live. At that point love became another word “pain”. That was his Alexandrian solution to the Gordian knot of my love and maybe it made him a Maverick!