| |
A black and white ball swooped out of the cloudless African sky, landing on the tips of Noddy’s fingers. Prehistoric talons rested cold and smooth against his skin.
“Hello, Spike, you cheeky bird.”
Spike flapped his wings and squawked with excitement. Or maybe it was hunger.
“Alright, don’t shout at me. I must have something somewhere.”
He dug in his pockets, slowly, careful not to move his other hand too much. The fiscal shrike tilted its head to one side, waiting impatiently. His crisp white chest feathers, extending all the way from under the beak till past his legs, with his pitch-black head and wings, white bars on his shoulders extending into a V on his back, made him look like a tiny doorman in a tuxedo.
“Mick hated that fucking bird.”
Spike hopped from Noddy’s hand, up his arm, to perch defiantly on his head, squawking and flapping.
“And I can see why.” Dirk handed Noddy a beer. “They all look the same to me, though. Rats with wings.”
Noddy put the beer on a table behind him and went back to searching his pockets. “Ah, here we go.” A scrunched-up serviette came out of the side pocket in his sleeveless denim jacket. Unscrunched, it revealed a scrap of bacon. The bird hopped onto his hand again, snatched the scrap and flew the short distance to the razor wire wrapped around the balcony of Dirk’s flat.
“What’s he doing?”
Noddy reached back for his beer. “That’s why they’re called butcher birds. They spike their food on thorns or barbed wire, then either rip it apart and eat it or leave it there for later.”
Dirk shivered. “That’s brutal, man. Like a serial killer, make out.”
Noddy took a sip of his breakfast. “There you go, boy. It’s all yours. Ignore this heathen creature.”
“That bird eats better than you. Can I rustle up a sandwich or something?”
Noddy shook his head. “I just came to give your keys back. Thanks for letting me crash here, but I’m back with Janine now, so I won’t be needing them.”
“Yeah, I saw the two of you getting all snuggly. About that...”
Noddy laughed. “What? No snuggling in Valhalla? Not heavy enough for you?”
Dirk lowered himself onto a cheap plastic chair. His eyes wouldn’t meet Noddy’s, drifting instead over the Johannesburg skyline. It was a more impressive view at night, when the neon madness of the city that never sleeps became stars reflected in a pool of infinite darkness. Some stars burned steady, constant. Come up here any evening, to this block of flats on top of Nugget Hill, and you’d see the street lights running along the main highways and boulevards, mapping out the playground of the rich and the poor and everyone in between. Hubs of incandescence scattered from Melville through the CBD to Yeoville and Hillbrow itself. The warming glow of Ponte City rising fifty-four floors above those streets of gold. And moving between the hubs, scattered along the highways, were brothers and sisters, friends and lovers, sons, daughters, mothers and fathers, all part of one living breathing soul. The multitude of faces, voices, colours, bodies, laughing, crying, smiling, dreaming. Some familiar, some forgotten, some never to be seen again.
“It’s not that, china. Mick gets out in a couple of days.”
“So he’s out of the coma? Still as mad as ever?”
Dirk nodded slowly. “Worse, I think. I went to see him this morning. The funny part? His teeth have turned black from the nerve damage. Should have been wearing a helmet.”
“That is funny. So he’s even uglier than before?”
Dirk nodded even more slowly. “Ja, boet. Uglier and meaner. But you know the bit that’s not so funny? He doesn’t remember.”
“What? Falling off your bike?”
“No. Well, no, he doesn’t remember that, either. But it’s other things... He’s lost bits and pieces, here and there. Seems to be a random thing, you make out?”
“No. I don’t. What are you trying to say, Dirk?”
Both beer bottles were tilted before the response came. “Man, he doesn’t remember breaking up with Janine.”
Noddy laughed. “Impossible. I’ve done it a few times. It’s not something you ever forget.”
Dirk stood up. “I’m serious, bra. And I’ve never heard him so serious about anything. He started asking about her. Says it was only the thought of her that got him through, gave him a reason to come back, make out? He says he doesn’t know what he’d do if he ever lost her.”
Spike had finished the bacon. His beady brown eyes followed the conversation, head twitching as he scanned the balcony for his next meal. Noddy reached out absently and the bird hopped back onto his hand.
“How did he take it when you told him?”
Dirk drained his beer. “Boet...”
“Dirk. You told him. Right?”
Dirk shrugged. “He’s my best mate. Come on. He nearly died.”
Now Noddy was the one to finish his beer. “Dirk...”
“You know what he’s like. Just let him get through this, okay? Get better. At least get out of hospital. She doesn’t have to go see him. I’ll tell him she’s busy, out of town or something. Please, man.”
Noddy closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
“Let me get you another beer. You look like you could use one.”
Noddy kept his eyes closed till he heard Dirk go inside. When he opened them, the world wasn’t quite as clear as it had been. He blinked his eyes. Spike was sitting on his shoulder, head tilted in concern. Or maybe it was hunger.
“It’ll be okay, cheeky bird. You’ll see. We’re getting out. Away from this shithole. Just a couple of days, then we’ll be gone.”
Spike squawked in agreement.
Or maybe it was hunger.