Stronger Than Lions - 6. I Can Make You A Man

My combined Celtic and Afrikaner sensibilities stepped in almost immediately.

Right now, there were more important things to worry about than silly crushes. With a tide of homework, swimming training, and piano pieces to memorise, there was no time to devote to my trademark bouts of existential agonising.

I’d had crushes before and they weren't a big deal. There was Zinzi in Grade 6, the first person I kissed (or rather, she pinned me against a wall and stuck a bubblegum-coated tongue down my throat). There was my unrequited pining for Oscar, the Form V cricket captain when I started high school. And then there was my constant low-grade adoration of Veronica Wakeford, she-who-belonged-to-Jason.

For now, my attempts at sublimation were working.

Chris arrived at my house extra early a few days later. I'd just stepped out of the shower when I heard voices downstairs and realised he and my dad were chatting in the kitchen. I dived into my school uniform and raced down, flustered.

‘Howzit,’ said Chris, ‘you’re not late, I’m early and your dad invited me in.’

‘Morning, son,’ said Dad, flicking a lint ball off his dentist’s jacket. ‘Chris and I were just gossiping about you.’

‘Ha. And how the hell is Einstein allowing you to do that?’

Chris was holding the cat in his arms like a baby, grinning as he rocked him to and fro.

‘He likes me. All kitties love Chris, yes they do,’ he cooed, tickling Einstein’s ears until he erupted into a throaty purr.

I raised an eyebrow. ‘Consider yourself very special. Einstein never goes anywhere near strangers, never mind lets himself be picked up. Wait now, is that…’

I saw my bike in the corner of the kitchen. ‘You fixed it!’

‘It was easy, bru. Gave me a chance to unpack the rest of the DIY stuff in the garage so I got most of it done over the weekend. I just needed to spray, um, that scratch on the tube, which I did last night.’

Nice save. Dad would have been furious if he heard what the goons had done to my bike. And now she looked brand new. He’d even cleaned the spokes.

‘You really went above and beyond the call of duty,’ said my dad. ‘Is there any way we can repay you for your kindness?’

‘It’s nothing, sir,’ said Chris, putting Einstein gently down on the floor. ‘Cal has already paid me back more than enough by helping me with my studies. I like fixing stuff with tools and shit… oh I’m sorry, Dr MacLeod.’

He covered his mouth in exactly the same way his mother had when she had offered me a glass of wine.

My father laughed. ‘We’re all adults here. Well, Cal’s got less than three months to go, but no need to apologise.’

'Thank you sir. I'm glad I could help. Though I'm gonna miss chauffeur duty now that your son's got his bike back.' He looked at me. 'Might as well still ride with me this morning though?'

'Sure thing,' I said, a little bewildered. I was going to miss the morning rides too.

* * *

‘Won’t you have to wait for me after school though?’ I asked him as we trundled through the morning traffic. ‘I’ve got a music lesson.’

‘Actually, I’ve got my own extra-murals this arvie.’

‘Really?’

‘Don’t think I’m going over to the Dark Side, but, there’s already rugby try-outs for the winter season. I need to run around a bit in the fresh air.’

I frowned, imagining Chris hanging out with Frank Arliss and his cronies and becoming a testosterone zombie. This was followed by another image of Chris in rugby kit, covered in grime, and it was rather pleasant. Crush alert, my brain cautioned, so I lay back in the seat and thought of England. Anthony W. England, to be precise, the geochemist who was also an astronaut, and whose work on Remote Sensing Geophysics I had recently absorbed during an all-night Wikipedia binge.

As if he could sense I was a bit uncomfortable, Chris pawed at my shoulder. ‘Relax. I need some exercise. Besides, it would give me an opportunity to keep Frank and his boys in check.’

‘You don’t have to protect me. You're my friend, not my bodyguard.’

‘I know, bru, but think of it as a bit of insurance until we get you ripped so you can trash those bastards yourself.’

I snorted. ‘Unlikely.’

‘Stick with me and you’ll go far. Which reminds me. Tomorrow after school, we’re hitting the gym. You’re gonna eat high protein…’

‘And swallow raw eggs,’ I chimed in.

‘Shit, MacLeod, Did you just reference Rocky Horror?’

‘Yes. You know it?’

‘Bru. I fuckin' love that movie. I know all the music.'’

‘Me too! Didn’t think you’d be a fan of stuff like that.’

He shrugged. ‘Growing up I ended up watching and listening to everything my older brothers enjoyed… lots of 70s and 80s stuff.’

‘Including ABBA?’ I asked, my eyes wide with mock horror.

‘I’m not admitting or denying guilt there,’ he said. ‘Look in my CD wallet. I think I have the soundtrack in there. I guess we have to play it now.’

We arrived at school singing along to Dr Frank ‘n’ Furter like two escaped psychiatric patients.

* * *

‘Where were you last night?’ asked Rob as we sat down to lunch. ‘I waited for like an hour and your phone was off.’

‘Shit.’ I’d forgotten that we had an online gaming meet.

‘That’s my fault,’ said Chris. ‘Cal’s been helping me with getting my studies sorted.’

‘No, no,’ I said, feeling bad. ‘I forgot.’

Rob looked sore. Chris bit his lip.

‘Oh dear, lover’s spat,’ said Bella from deep within her Virginia Woolf.

‘I’m going to get some juice,’ Chris said, and left the table.

‘Dude,’ said Rob, arms folded. ‘What’s this? You’ve known each other for, like, less than a month and there’s already a bromance going on? We’ve never missed an online meet before.’

I nearly snorted my cream soda up my nose when he said “bromance”.

‘Aw, are you jealous, Robbie?’ said Bella, not looking up from her book.

‘Fuck off,’ said Rob. ‘I’m not jealous. Well, maybe I am, a little. He seems like a decent guy, and it’s kind of cool we have a jock who actually wants to hang out with us, but…’

‘I get it, dude,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stand you up.’

I confessed and explained about what happened with my bike on the first day. My friends looked at me in horror as I relayed the story.

Rob punched the table with his fist.

‘Those orcs have messed me around a couple of times, but they’ve never gone that far,’ said Rob. ‘I’m sorry man. I feel like I should have been there. Good on Chris for helping you out.’

I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of Rob with his spindly frame rushing to my aid.

‘You should report this,’ said Bella.

‘Yeah, but it could backfire and mark you even more,’ said Rob, his face glooming.

‘And with our luck that probably would happen,’ she replied. ‘I can’t wait for varsity where no-one gives a fuck about who you are or what you do.’

‘Guess it wouldn’t hurt to have some muscle on our side,’ said Rob, nodding. ‘I’m… I’m still your best buddy though?’

‘Of course, my liege,’ I said, doing my best Darth Vader voice. In Grade 3 I had decided that I was Darth Vader and I was going to rule the galaxy, until Rob reminded me that the Emperor was in fact Vader’s superior. ‘And you, too, Princess,’ I said, looking at Bella.

‘I never doubted that,’ she said. ‘But it still doesn’t change the fact that you have a total man-crush on Chris. It’s cute.’

‘Pot calling the kettle black,’ I said, feigning indignation. ‘You’ve been batting your eyes and pouting since you saw him.’

‘Maybe. I just hope your first wife approves,’ she said, looking at Rob, who groaned.

Moments later Chris sat down next to me and I went crimson.

‘What’s with you?’ he asked.

‘Oh, nothing,’ said Bella, gazing dreamily at Chris, ‘Cal’s just a bit hot under the collar.’

I gave her a death stare. She didn’t blink. ‘I mean, he’s always sensitive to changes in… the weather. So I believe you’re trying out for rugby, Hathaway? I should come watch for a change, and see how you boys try to kill each other over an egg-shaped piece of leather. All so very Freudian, those scrums.’

Rob and Chris and I looked at each other and our Y chromosomes squirmed in concert.

* * *

The weeks passed in a flurry. Chris was taken on as a fly-half in the Second XV. As it happened, rugby and swimming took place on the same days, as did Rob’s chess club, so our little band of oddities was able to meet for lunch regularly. Bella simply changed the days of poetry club to fit in, seeing she was the chair and frequently the sole member. I had never made real friends beyond Rob and Bella before, so I was really chuffed that they both accepted this blond, six-foot, muscled addition to the unfashionable corner of the dining hall.

I hadn’t had any major incidents with Frank or Jason. It was almost eerie. Only once did I bump into Frank and his crowd at the bicycle shed. They stared at my bike and looked confounded, but nothing happened.

I had to lie to Mr Mazibuko about where the bruises on my back and side had come from, but after Vijay and I were winning more and more heats I noticed I wasn’t as scared of Jason as I usually was. I knew he couldn’t beat up Vijay because that would immediately out him as a racist and a bully. I’d like to say that I’m a bigger person in that I didn’t succumb to what Bella would refer to as Schadenfreude, but it was rather delicious beating the Weissmeister—as he called himself—several times.

I did have an uncomfortable feeling that Jason was storing up indignation and malice, just waiting to pounce at an unexpected moment. I worried that he might be taking it out on those most defenceless: like hapless little Form Ones who were known to be threatened out of lunch money or made to run menial errands for lazy seniors.

I sorted out the rest of Chris’s study plans without much effort. In return he marched me off to gym as promised. I had only ever used the local gym for swimming, never even thinking about the alternate universe of iron and sweat that existed upstairs.

I made a total idiot out of myself the first couple of times. I’d never done weights properly before. I nearly cried when I tried my first bench press and Chris had to scramble to catch the teetering barbell so that I didn’t end up with a dislocated shoulder. When I complained melodramatically about having no co-ordination he chided me, looking directly at me with a very serious expression on his face.

‘Don’t give up so easily, man.’ He had put his emerald eyes on stun. ‘Do you mean to tell me you can play piano like you do, and can swim the butterfly like a seal on cocaine, but don’t have co-ordination? That’s bullshit bru. Just move the energy from the little muscles to the big muscles.’

It wasn’t easy being the student and not the teacher.

Slowly, very slowly, the weights started piling up on the barbells, and it didn’t hurt as much the next day after a session. Rob even joined us once, but then texted afterwards that he couldn’t move a chess piece without wanting to burst into tears, and had taken to bed with anti-inflammatories and a PlayStation.

* * *

The days were getting shorter, the evening light turning from champagne to cognac as autumn approached. It was still hot though, and I’d passed out on my bed one afternoon when my father knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ I said sleepily, rubbing my eyes. I’d had a weird dream that Brahms and Chopin were sitting at the piano with me arguing about what was the best way for me to approach the Beethoven sonata I was learning. Except old man Brahms was wearing rugby gear and Chopin was clad in only a swimsuit.

‘Hey Cal,’ said my father, opening the door. ‘I just wanted to make sure you’re ready. We’re leaving in an hour.’

Uncle Joe, my mom’s brother, was in town and we were meeting him for dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant in Tamboerskloof. We hadn’t seen him since the funeral; he had gone back to Qatar where he worked as a civil engineer for a multinational corporation.

‘Sure, Dad. I’ll just go take a shower.’

I got up and realised I was only in my boxers.

My father looked at me briefly and smiled. ‘That gym is really paying off, my boy,’ he said. ‘Seems there’s a bit of your dad’s genes under there after all. At least when he was in his prime. Maybe I should get Chris to sort me out, too!’

He patted his belly and left.

I had a long look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I had always thought my body was entirely my mother’s lanky frame, but Chris’s strict regimen of supersets and a Rocky Horror diet (there really were raw eggs involved) was activating my MacLeod genes. For the first time, I had guns. My six-pack was no longer attributable to just being skinny. My legs and arms were filling out. I even had an embryonic V-shaped torso forming.

Like all teenage boys I posed for ages, flexing and admiring myself. I stripped off my shorts and looked at my nakedness in the mirror. I was becoming that Thing now, the big M, a Man. I explored my body slowly with clinical interest. My hand stopped at my groin. I shook my head as I wondered why it was that this almost comical piece of flesh was considered ground zero of my gender.

I’d never really compared or measured or appreciated that part of myself for what it was, apart from being a useful conduit for peeing standing up, and, yes, an ever-obliging stress reliever armed with a couple of girlie mags (okay, okay, lately, the odd men’s fitness mag too). But, there it was. I smirked at the creature in the mirror; it smirked back at me. Then I shook my head and went off to shower.

* * *

It was hard seeing Uncle Joe. I think he’d been in complete denial about Mom’s death and simply plunged himself back into work in Doha. He had tears in his eyes when we arrived at the restaurant, hugging me and Sarah so tightly it was hard to breathe.

‘You’re looking good, Callie,’ said Uncle Joe, who was the only person allowed to call me by that diminutive. ‘Have you been working out?’

‘Maybe a little,’ I said as the dim sum arrived. We hadn’t had all the family together since the funeral. I felt something squeezing my heart. It occurred to me I hadn’t thought about Mom really in the last few weeks and I felt guilty.

‘Can’t believe my little brother’s growing up,’ added Sarah.

‘Good show. Tell your personal trainer I approve.’ Although they were extremely close, in physical appearance Joe and my mother were yin and yang. He was built like a Staffordshire bull terrier and had been a judo champion in his youth. Mom, by contrast, was the tall graceful bookworm.

‘Yeah, it’s about time he stopped being so scrawny,’ said Dave, not looking up from where he was texting. I ignored him and Uncle Joe winked at me.

No one had spoken about Mom, and her absence at the table was now painful. When the main courses arrived I couldn’t bear it any more. I grabbed Dave’s wineglass.

‘Hey!’ he said.

‘To Mom,’ I said, holding up the glass.

Startled, everyone meekly raised their own glasses. I took a big gulp. It was a Pinotage, and not being used to red wine, the tannins made my mouth pucker.

‘Son—you shouldn’t…’.

‘Shouldn’t what, Dad?’ I said, a little too loudly. ‘Drink? I’m almost eighteen. Or do you mean talk about Mom?’

There was an ugly silence around the table.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Excuse me.’

I got up and walked out, into the back garden of the restaurant. I heard my father get up but Uncle Joe held him back. ‘Leave him, Devon,’ I heard him say.

I must have stood outside for at least two minutes when I felt a small hand on my shoulder. It was Sarah.

‘Hey sis,’ I said, feeling stupid. I still had Dave’s half-full glass of wine in my hand.

‘I think you should down it,’ she said with a little smile.

‘It’s gross.’

‘You’ll learn to love it. Wine is every Capetonian’s birthright.’

I gulped it down and made a face. Then my tiny sister hugged me, and I put my head down on her shoulder. We didn’t say anything.

‘Come, let’s go back and eat supper,’ she said, ‘and the MacLeods can sweep all their emotions under the carpet at usual.’

The wine helped, and soon I was pleasantly tipsy. I’d ordered a hot curry and the thousands of Scoville units it let loose on my tongue made me even more spaced out.

‘Son,’ my father said eventually. ‘I was chatting to Joe while you were outside. We've been thinking you need a bit of a break. You’ve been working so hard.’

‘What do you mean, Dad?’

‘You know about the little house I’ve bought in Theewaterskloof as an investment?’ said Uncle Joe.

‘Yes, I remember,’ I said. 'You've got a mountain cottage near the dam or something?'

'Correct,' said my uncle.

Theewaterskloof—literally, “Valley of the Tea Coloured Water” in Dutch—was a stunningly beautiful valley just an hour out of Cape Town up in the Overberg District. There is a huge dam that looks more like an Alpine lake, set amid a landscape of craggy mountains and bush. On the other side of the mountains lies Franschhoek, where French Huguenot refugees first brought wine to Africa in the seventeenth century.

Uncle Joe showed me the location on his phone. ‘I need someone to go check it out and make sure a few things are in order,’ Joe continued. ‘I have to fly back to Doha next week and I can’t go myself. I haven’t been able to get a tenant yet and it’s fully furnished but standing empty. So your dad and I thought, perhaps you and your buddies would like to go up there? Maybe for the upcoming long weekend?’

‘I think that would be good for you,’ said my dad, looking me directly in the eye. ‘You and Rob and Chris and Bella could all go and have a great time, if their parents are okay with it.

I could feel my face light up. ‘That’d be awesome, thanks, Uncle Joe!’

Human Rights Day was coming up in two weeks, celebrated every 21^st of March since 1994. It was held in remembrance of the 1960 Sharpeville Massacre when the police opened fire on a crowd of pro-democracy protesters, killing 69. This year it fell on a Thursday and the provincial government had graciously made the Friday a school holiday as well.

‘I wouldn’t have a problem if Chris drove you guys up,’ said my father.

‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ Dave interrupted. He’d otherwise been silent throughout dinner. ‘Three teenage boys with a girl? Not that Cal here would be any threat.’

‘I trust Chris and Rob, and I trust my son,’ said Dad, giving him a pointed stare. Sarah looked very uncomfortable. I gritted my teeth.

‘All sorted then?’ said Joe. ‘Talk to your friends and I’ll sort out the details before I leave.’

Dad and Joe were right. I did need some downtime. And the thought of chilling out with my best mates sounded just perfect.

However, there was this small voice I kept hearing inside of me.

It said how nice it would be if it were just Chris and I.