I was accompanying friends, Moyra and Sharon, to the backstage of the theater, as they wanted to meet some the dancers.. We had just been to a movie together, and were walking towards the back door of the theater when I first saw her. She was wearing, a salmon colored leather coat and was with a group of friends who were also waiting for the dancers to come out. Her dark hair framed her face perfectly, I was stunned, I could not take my eyes off her, I was getting closer and kept on staring, I had Sharon on one side and Moyra on the other, both lovely young ladies who noticed my sudden mood change and remarked on it, I couldn’t answer, sadly they became invisible. She looked up, smiled and blushed, I smiled as well. We were flirting silently, I think she was leading me on with her dark brown eyes and perfect lips, and I was taking it all in. I heard her talking to one of the dancers, he had an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, she lit a match, lit his cigarette, blew the match out and playfully touched his nose with it, she then turned and looked at me as if to say “why don’t you say something” had she verbalized what I thought, then I would have, but she didn’t. It was over too soon and everyone left. The whole week she was on my mind, I wished I knew who she was and where she lived. The following Saturday I was in a hurry to get to town, this rushing of course, had to do with my anxiousness at seeing her again. I met up with Enzo, an Italian colleague from Olivetti; we had lunch at the Greek cafe across the road from the Colosseum Cinema. I kept looking around and then saw her. She was standing at the entrance to the cinema with her friends, and kept looking around as well, as if she knew that I would be there; when she saw me she smiled, I watched her as she walked up the stairs, turning at times to look my way. I had a mad urge to go after her, find her and sit quietly next to her, and absorb everything that was so lovely about her. After the show Enzo and I walked to the bus terminus, they were there as well. We got on the same bus. They were sitting two rows in front of us chatting away and occasionally looking in our direction. I was the first to get off as I lived in Hillbrow. I shouted ciao to Enzo, I heard her say he’s Italian, she sounded excited, now I was looking forward to seeing her again. I hung out with a couple of guys, Neville, Allan, James. We played snooker at the Ritz club in town on Saturday mornings, spent Sunday evenings at Mont-Parnasse jazz club, and after a cinema show we usually went for coffee, at Café Wien. I liked going there on Sunday mornings to read the newspapers, and listen to the many different people and languages spoken. I watched experts playing chess, on occasions I would be invited to play but really, I preferred watching and passing comment to others who were watching as well. I confided to Neville about my experience, he laughed, asked a few questions, and then told me that he knew her that her name was Sheila and she lived in the north of Johannesburg. He inquired from one of her friends as to where one could see her as there was someone who wanted to meet her. She was apparently taking part in a play, at Patterson Park Norwood. They were holding rehearsals at the hall that Sunday, a coincidence, as we were playing soccer at the park as well, our team consisted of Greeks, Italians, Lebanese, these guys, and I was part of the team, always won the matches by hook or by crook. Nick the Greek was our goalkeeper, he was also the loudest. When he heard of my interest in Sheila and where she was, he promptly walked into the hall and minutes later came out with Sheila following, he pointed towards me and said loudly ‘Sheila, my friend Franco fancies you’. That was a stupid thing to do as I could see that she was uncomfortable, I mumbled ‘hello’ and she answered, but there was no smile on her face, she gave a little wave and went back inside. I was very embarrassed at Nicks behavior. I did not see her again for a couple of weeks, I told Neville what had happened, of course he just laughed again and suggested that he phone and arrange for me to go and visit her at home, to my surprise she agreed. Neville took me there in his car and promised to fetch me a little later. Her parents were not there but brother and sisters were, I mumbled a few words of apology about the Patterson park incident. I made silly conversation, I tried to amuse the brother, she could see I was nervous, and all too soon Neville was back. When saying goodbye, I felt her closeness as she walked me to the door, we were alone for a few moments, I asked if it was all right for me to phone her, she said yes and I was looking forward to many long phone calls. The Patterson Park incident, which troubled me, went from my thoughts. I always phoned before visiting and one evening I brought a bunch of flowers. I rang the doorbell and kept my hand with the flowers behind me, the door opened and there stood someone who was obviously visiting as well. I felt awkward, was this a boyfriend? She appeared from behind and introduced us, we both mumbled “Hi”, he said goodbye and left. I did not say anything but certainly felt a little unsure. In the meantime and unbeknown to me her dog had taken a liking to the flowers, I felt some kind of pulling behind me as he started to munch on them, we both laughed when we realized what was happening, she asked me in, I gave her the flowers and she smiled, she also explained the visitor and I felt better. There were many visits and long phone calls, I could speak to her for hours on end. During one of those phone calls, there was an electrical storm, suddenly a loud crack knocked the phone from my hand and I immediately put it down, I panicked like a fool, because I thought her parents would have been upset with me. I did not phone back for about a week and when I did, she told me that every evening she browsed the obituary columns of the newspaper, to see if there was an Italian name there as she did not know my surname. I felt bad that it took me so long to phone, but was impressed that she cared enough to look in the obituary columns to make sure that I wasn’t dead. I gave up snooker on Saturday mornings, as now I would meet Sheila and friends at the Chesa coffee bar in Jeppe Street, I felt comfortable being with her, we smiled when we looked at one another, I was sure she liked me and I was very sure that she knew, that I felt the same, the smiles said it all. One Saturday morning I arrived with a wrapped gift for her, she opened it, it was a watch. I was always careful with money, maybe because I didn’t have much, so, for once I decided to spend a little of it and it gave me such pleasure to see her smiling. I remember holding her hand as I put it on her wrist and yes I enjoyed doing that...holding her hand. One afternoon, after Sheila finished college for the day, we met, and went for a walk in Joubert Park; we sat down for a while and watched pigeons gathering around us, hoping for crumbs. We decided to go to a cinema show in Hillbrow, we saw a film called A Town without Pity, it was sad and it reminded us of our situation. Walking towards our car with my arm on her shoulder, we passed a steak house, and sitting at the counter was the owner, a large overweight fellow, who shook his head in a disapproving manner, also, he was leering at Sheila. I stopped, looked at him, and asked him what he was looking at. There was no reply and I then swore at him, of course that was a mistake, I should have controlled my temper, it was just that I was so touchy about things in general, and the way I felt about Sheila I certainly wasn’t going to allow anyone to say or do anything, which would upset both of us. There was another guy there, who jumped up from his chair, came outside, challenged me and took a swing, he missed and a fight broke out on the pavement, which finished up in the foyer of the adjacent building. I was so mad, that this idiot, had taken upon himself to take a swipe at me on the other guys behalf, it had nothing to do with him, the fight was eventually stopped by a very upset Sheila, hitting both of us with her handbag, and the owner who separated us. Apparently he knew of her association with me, he said something like, what’s a nice Jewish girl doing with a non-Jew. He told her that he would phone her parents. After a few ugly racist remarks, passed by both the owner and I, we left.. That was not the end of it, James had got to hear of what happened, and that evening we went back to the steakhouse and confronted the owner. Well, a few hurried words of apology from him, stopped, what could have become a major disturbance. As for his interfering friend, whom I referred to as the Spick, because he looked like one, well, he was not there. The next day Sheila and I, went to a gathering of friends in some ones apartment in Hillbrow. James popped in to tell me, that they had seen the Spick at Doneys coffee bar, Sheila was very unhappy, and as she could not stop me from going, she insisted that she came along. What worried me was the fact that her friends and others would remark on her association with me and the kind of friends I had and even though it would not be vocalized openly I could at times feel it. At Doneys, James and I went in and looked all over, but did not see him. As we were about to leave, I noticed in the far corner, someone reading a newspaper that covered his face, I went to the table, moved the paper down and sure enough it was the Spick. I asked him to come outside, as I did not want to create a commotion inside, he looked scared and refused to do so. The coffee bar was owned by the local Italian mafia and I certainly did not want to irritate any of those guys, after much threatening especially from James, he refused again, so for me, the solution was now to get him to apologize to Sheila, if not, then I would wait for him outside. He jumped at my suggestion and went directly to Sheila and apologized, I could see the relief in her face, I was pleased for Sheilas sake, as she was very distressed at what had happened. James of course was disappointed at the outcome, it was important for us guys to occasionally express our persona by beating or been beaten up in a fight.. even though today I laugh when I think back on those stupidities, for then, it was important to be big deal about it. I kept a lookout for him thereafter, I was very insulted at his interference and I didn’t find it easy to forget...... I never saw him again.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 10:42:14 +0000
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