Silver Beema

Chapter 5

I roll over, twist and turn and eventually just sit up in the dark annoyed at the phenomenon. I feel the surface of my bed for my phone, I need to respond to Kgabi. There's still that text I haven't read from Rea too. My finger hovers over the two messages. Choices.

Nothing poetic enough is coming out as I keep writing out and erasing text after text. I'm even getting lost in my thought processes so I give up and check my twitter TL. The Twittersphere always has the answers at this time of the night. There's probably a meme about my exact situation I can laugh at and gain some insight from.

When that doesn't work I decide that sleep is for the weak anyway and take a walk. I end up outside the Beema's yard. I can smell the distinct clutch odour over the fresh dew aroma of morning grass. On the inside it smells like a different type of grass, it's so strong that if you inhale the atmosphere in there, you could reach a niche state of awareness only possible with a hit of whatever Nino puts in his joints.

I figured it would be a good idea to put some fuel in the tank to replace what we had used and what we were so obviously going to use in the next few days. So me and The Silver Warhorse go for a night drive in the open, empty streets of centurion and end up on a little hill overlooking the pretorian skyline just outside of Waterkloof.

Since its discovery I'd always wanted to take Rea there, she was always a fan of scenic spots. I sit here enjoying the view of the skyline and her moonlit face ingrained in my happiness. Her hostile takeover of my thoughts has resulted in me ignoring the view of the emerging sun from the depths of the CBD.

As the spring breeze dances through the windows and my lungs I suddenly realise where I am. This is Reg county. His stomping ground. Time for him to play the sage and bless me with whatever wisdom he's picked up, from years of watching Oprah with his older sister.

I know that waking him up now would be like waking a polar bear up from hibernation to show him an iceberg that sort of looks like Elvis Costello, whoever that is. So I send him a NDEM (Non Distress Emergency Message) telling him I'm out an about his stomping ground.

I wake up to a message tone. I'd dosed off. It's Reg, and he's asking what the plan is for the day. I look at my phone as if it were a foreign object that had struck me in the back of the head. I'd never received a message from him so early in the morning, it's like he sensed my troubled presence in his neck of the woods. So I called and went over.