Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

He fell on his stomach onto the bed.

“I’m home!” he slurred.

He felt for Jen with his hand, but it just swept through air. He pushed himself up to make sure she really wasn’t there. He winced as he rolled off the bed, removed his shoes and his suit jacket, undid his tie and finally pulled down his pants. He was standing in a pool of clothing, swaying from side to side, with just his shirt, jocks and socks on.

“Jen! Where are you?”

He staggered past the kitchen towards the spare room. As he pushed the door open, he called out his wife’s name again. This room, too, was dark, and there was no answer.

“Come on, Jen,” he said. “Let’sh be friends. Fuck it, Jen, life is too short. You fucked Lee and I fucked Frankie. We’re even. Anyway, I need you.”

He switched on the light to find a neatly made bed. At the foot of the bed was a sealed envelope with his name on it. He grabbed it, tore it open and shook the contents out on to the bed. Out spilled all the incriminating photographs of him, the same photographs Frankie had thrown at him. It had never crossed his mind that there were copies! He fell to his knees, photographs in hand, as he looked at every one of them. He felt as if he’d been punched hard in the guts. Jen had evidence of the life he had kept from her◦– a secret life he knew was unforgivable, let alone unacceptable. Even in his drunken state, he knew that leaving the envelope was her way of saying ‘over and out’.

“I need you, Jen.” There was nobody to hear him. “You can’t leave me,” he moaned.

Never had he loathed himself so deeply. He had pushed his wife away and hurt his children. Everyone had deserted him, even his best friend.

Adistraught Brig had messaged her brother to come to her place as soon as possible; she had just caught their dad and the grieving widow together. Pete had driven as fast as he could through peak-hour traffic to get to her. Overcome by anger, he had phoned Clive.

To his surprise, Clive was not at all shocked. He thanked him for being brave enough to be upfront about Frankie’s affair.

“It just endorses what I’m about to do, Pete,” he had said. “My mother told me some hectic stuff last night. Some hardcore shit went down. I’m stopping this now and I hope you’ll be able to do the same with your dad. This is not good for my dad. For any of us, really. Send love to Brig, and tell her I’m really sorry. I’m really, really sorry,” he said, his voice breaking.

When Pete finally got to Brigit’s flat, she hugged him tightly.

“Thank you so much for coming, Pete. You have no idea what this means to me,” she sobbed.

“I know, I know,” he said, wiping her tears from her face. “You’ve been through a shitload, Brig. And now Frankie and Dad!”

“Did you know about them?” she asked, searching his face, which◦– he knew◦– showed no hint of shock or surprise.

“I did,” he admitted. “Look, Ma knows too. This is really the straw that broke the camel’s back. They’ve been fucking each other for months.”

“The bitch! And to think that Lee wouldn’t touch me because he was married to her!” her voice petered out, and Pete took a step back.

“What? What the fuck you telling me, Brigit? That you made a move on Lee?”

He interpreted Brigit’s silence as an affirmative.

“Oh, my fuck! You must be Dad’s child,” he blurted out. They looked at each other, aghast at the tactlessness of what he had just said and, for a second, he worried that she was going to cry, but instead, she snorted. He started laughing, too, and then Brigit was crying and laughing at the same time.

When they finally calmed down, he spoke.

“Look, Brig, if anyone has no right to judge, it’s me.”

“Well, anyway, I never did sleep with Lee. He was a true gentleman. I now wonder if he batted me because he knew I could be his daughter.”

Pete shuddered. “Can you imagine if he, you…”

“Stop it!” Brigit put her hands over his mouth. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“What are we going to do, Brig? Dad has a problem, let’s face it.”

Brigit just shrugged.

Pete inhaled deeply before speaking. “Ma and I had a serious conversation last night. She had a proposition she wanted to discuss with me, regarding the farm and her assets. I met with her attorney, Leonard Mazwai, after the service today. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go for it, until now.”

He could see Brig had no idea what he was talking about.

“Go for what?”

“Go for the jugular.”

The next morning, Pete waited for his father in the kitchen.

“What the fuck do you want here?” he barked.

“I’ve come to have a conversation with you. One that’s long overdue. And I’ve come back to work here, on the farm.”

Pete had been waiting for this day: John’s day of reckoning. He was no longer intimidated by him. In fact, his father’s misdemeanours had made him lose all respect for him.

“I don’t want you back. You and everyone else can just fuck off.”

Pete waited until Gladys took her leave before launching into his attack.

“Brigit told me how she ran into you and Frankie yesterday: the grieving widow and grieving best friend.” John tried to interrupt, but Pete stopped him. “I’m not finished. I’m really not here to judge you or try to save you from yourself. It’s too late for that. What I am here to do is to take over Ma’s share of the farm.” John was silent and then he was in Pete’s face, grabbing his collar. “Don’t you fucking think of it, you cu…”

Pete head-butted his father with such force that he fell back against the kitchen counter. “You can fuck whoever,” he hissed. “Fling your reputation in the dirt, I don’t give a shit. But you won’t sink this farm in the process. This, I give a fuck about, so let me tell you about our new arrangement. Partner.”

Leonard Mazwai and Jen had come up with a solution regarding the divorce and the splitting of the assets. As Jen and John were married in community of property, John would be forced to allow Pete◦– who would be Jen’s employee from now on◦– to take over her share of the farm. This meant that Pete would ostensibly hold a fifty percent partnership of the land, the buildings on the farm, the vineyards and the business itself. He would draw a salary from this, and his share of the profits would go to Jen. His mother would open an account for Brigit into which she would split her share of the profits.

John would be “pushed” (Leonard’s word) to leave his share of the farm to his daughter. No other spouse or future children, following the divorce, would be entitled to Jen or John’s portion of the farm. This was considered a fair exchange in lieu of Jen’s capital, which John had used to upgrade the farm and the business during their marriage.

Pete would be employed as Financial Director alongside his father. He would have signing power and they’d have equal say over everything.

“So, you see, Ma’s making sure that she’s in on the profits of the business while taking care of us and making sure that we will eventually be the rightful owners. She’s making sure she gets paid, for a change. And she’s got our interests at heart, too. Which is more than I can say for you,” Pete finished.

He left John in the kitchen, in his shirt, underpants and socks, to consider how much his life was about to change. But before doing so he said, “By the way, don’t you ever call me a cunt again.”

While spending a week away at a game lodge, Jen had begun to glue together the broken pieces of her life.