Diamonds on the soles
The endless wait for the throng of sweaty health nuts to clear off before hitting the showers was worth it. Newlands Sports Club wasn’t abuzz in the winter months, but now that spring was on the horizon, they couldn’t get the place to themselves on a weekend.
‘Hey, Tammy!’ Jacqui yelled from a toilet stall. ‘There’s no toilet paper in here. Bring me some?’
Tamara blew an extravagant sigh. ‘Remember the golden rule: scan before you squat? Drip dry, you’re gonna have a shower right after, anyway.’
‘Ag man, that’s disgusting! Come on, pretty please, check one of the other stalls for me?’
Tamara clenched her fists. This was Jacqui all over, every time. Me, myself and I; everyone else – go die. Like during the tennis match … what had that been about? Jacqui being more Jacqui than she needed to be: super-competitive, grinding every winning set into the opposing side’s face and haggling over every fault. Her cell rang in the middle of a deciding serve and when Jacqui called time to get it, which she never did, Tamara couldn’t help her curiosity getting the better of her. Jacqui had turned into quite the secret agent with all the whispered phone calls. Secrecy drove Tamara bloody mad.
Jacqui had stepped off the court and, despite how accomplished an eavesdropper as she was, Tamara couldn’t make out who the caller was. Probably Jacqui’s mother, who was such a stalker, checking up on them every flipping minute. Could’ve also been that airhead Bronwyn. Jacqui slipped into her ‘special needs voice’ several times, which she only put on when she was speaking to her Bible buddy or that dumb younger sister of hers, Rosie. It could just as well have been Ashwin, who took every shot he had at the championship medal for losers, grovelling every chance he got. Tamara couldn’t believe she’d considered shagging him to piss her girl off. She had moved closer, pretending to put her visor cap back into her gym bag while she kept an ear cocked. Jacqui was agitated for sure, but all Tamara managed to pick up was, ‘Look, I’ll come, okay, I swear. I promised and I won’t let you down.’
Jacqui’s game had gone to hell after that and so had hers, Jacqui too distracted and she too absorbed in watching her lose her edge and wondering why. To top it off, she hadn’t had the gall to retrieve the visor without feeling she’d need to explain why she’d put it away in the first place, and now her face was fried. Tamara rubbed the red surface of her forehead and hissed at the soreness. A sparkle of tears prickled in the back of her eyes. It looked majorly disgusting, and when it started peeling and make-up couldn’t hide it, just forget it. Why the hell was she always obsessing over Jacqui? Why couldn’t she learn to focus on her own bloody life?
‘Tam-tam! You in the shower yet?’ Silence. ‘You still out there?’
Tamara sighed. ‘Yeeeaaah, I’m heeere.’
‘Well, jeez, what’s up with the creepy silence? Hurry up loser, we’re not gonna wait for you.’ A moment passed, then: ‘Don’t get pissed but can you bring me a tampon from my bag, please, super-please? Nee, man, of all the days to start leaking.’
‘Shit, Jacqui, I’m not your flippin’ maid, you know! It’s like you think I just jump at your say-so,’ Tamara barked, instinctively reaching for Jacqui’s satchel and working the zip. ‘Anything else you need, madam?’
‘Fine, bitch, I’ll get it myself. No need for the aggro.’
The ridged soles of a pristine white pair of sneakers peeped out from under the jeans and T-shirt Jacqui had come wearing. Tamara threw a glance over her shoulder and wiggled them out. Nike, one of the latest designs. Brand new, expensive, original Nike. Daddy-bought, for sure.
‘Hang on, I’m bringing it,’ she murmured. Jacqui started to wail and Tamara made a fist, counted to five, and then called out that she was on her way. Jacqui answered with a perky ‘Dankie, meisie!’ and the shower started up again, hissing over the sound of her singing.
We don’t all have rich fathers. Tamara laid the shoes on top of the satchel and crossed her arms, staring at them. Jacqui’s dad was a heart specialist who’d ditched her to keep up appearances with some white chick, true, but he was splashy enough to spend this kind of money on tekkies and that was a sweet deal. One that spoilt, stuck-up witch didn’t deserve. Tamara looked around one last time, and before she could talk herself out of it, grabbed the shoes. She fumbled with the zip of her own bag for what felt like a lifetime, finally got it open and stuffed the sneakers inside as far down as they could go.
‘Hurry up, I’m haemorrhaging!’ Jacqui cackled gleefully.
Tamara rearranged the clothes and toiletries in Jacqui’s gym bag, fluffing up the contents so the shoes wouldn’t be missed immediately. Jacqui never checked her kit after a practice. Until today she’d never had reason to, so it wasn’t likely she’d notice anything missing until she was home. Tamara bit her lip for a second. She wouldn’t care. She never cares.
Tampon in her hand, she scuttled to the showers.