Jimmy’s love entered his trap, her partner following. Through the keyhole, Jimmy watched them hastening uphill towards his shack, their firearms at the ready, their badges glinting, Tshidi’s own bouncing over the swell of her breast.
Tshidi Mohale … my god. Godly beautiful, even in drab.
Tshidi hurried to the doorstep of the shack, her hips swinging, her gun pointing.
Her partner came right up to the door, rapped it hard, turned the handle.
Jimmy took a slow breath.
“Mr Black!” the partner yelled. “Open the door.” The man had been Tshidi’s partner for a month now, Jimmy knew. He was one of those smug types: tall, lean and muscular, with a square jaw that girls liked. “We know you are in there, Mr Black,” he declared. “Open the door.”
Jimmy exhaled. Waited.
The officer reached back, his hand touching Tshidi’s shoulder. “I’m going to kick the door down,” he whispered.
Jimmy’s jaw tightened. Grubby paws on Jimmy’s angel.
Tshidi stepped back.
Jimmy did too. So far so good, he thought, his toes caressing the Mirage switches inside his right shoe.
The officer’s boot banged into the door and the walls of the shack squeaked.
BANG! again, and the door jamb cracked.
Someone is going to pay for this.
The door slammed back once more, came unhinged and fell inwards, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Jimmy waved it from his nose.
“You are under arrest, Mr Black,” the officer said, gun pointed at Jimmy. He stepped into the shack, his free hand reaching for the handcuffs on his belt.
Tshidi followed.
“Turn around,” her partner said. “Hands behind your back.”
Jimmy retreated deep into the shack, past the table and chairs.
“Stay where you are!” the officer said, approaching the unseen line that ran from wall to wall and through the table like the halfway line of a football pitch. Through that line, a Mirage would run. And its twin would run behind both officers, closing the door off.
“Turn around!” the officer said again.
Jimmy took another step back, the buttons in his shoes gnawing at his toes. Just a step closer, Officer.
“Turn around, I said!” the officer yelled, taking another step … right where Jimmy wanted him.
Jimmy pressed the button under his big toe, and both Mirages whispered to life, the centre one sizzling and glimmering across the room and through the officer. The officer wailed, quaking.
Tshidi screamed. A sweet sound.
The officer’s gun thudded to the floor, followed by his shaking body.
Tshidi looked from him to Jimmy.
Jimmy shrugged, and Tshidi … beautiful Tshidi … fired at him, the bullet exploding onto the Mirage, shrapnel ricocheting, the watery wall rippling.
Jimmy smiled.
Fear flowered on Tshidi’s face. Jimmy could smell vulnerability on her. He’d smelled it on other girls too. But they had only been practice for this moment.
Tshidi reached for her radio. “Constable Smit is down! Send back-up.” She retreated.
“Don’t!” Jimmy yelled.
But she did. “Ow!” she cried, the Mirage behind her sparking and glimmering where it had clipped her back, making her dart forward. She kept her firearm trained on Jimmy.
“Put the gun away, Tshidi,” Jimmy said softly. “You won’t be needing it.”
Tshidi’s grip tightened. Her eyes widened. Her voice was shaky. “How do you know my name?”
“The same way you know Jimmy’s. Think back. We went to school together.”
Tshidi’s eyes reflected. She shook her head.
“Jimmy Montsho. Northview High. Back in Johannesburg. You must remember.”
Tshidi scrunched her brow, shook her head slowly.
Utterly disappointing, Jimmy thought.Then he bellowed, “Was Jimmy that invisible?”
Tshidi startled and fired, the bullet exploding before Jimmy’s face and shimmering into a yellow flame, sending waves across the Mirage.
“Fine,” he said. “Waste your ammo if you want.”
Tshidi’s finger remained on the trigger. Her hands were shaking.
“If you relax, you will remember that Jimmy asked you out, once.”
Tshidi scowled. “Many boys did.”
Jimmy was only one of many. Forgettable. Dismissable. “You told Jimmy you were … busy.”
Jimmy was in Grade Nine, and Tshidi was a new grade eleven, just transferred from Sandringham High. She was short and voluptuous and bright. And Jimmy wanted to be near her. He and a score other boys.
The popular ones managed. But Jimmy was … awkward. He wore a frumpy uniform and wore thick glasses. He was one of those kids everyone silently agreed was the butt of all jokes; the recipient of all meanness.
For a year Jimmy feared asking Tshidi out. When he found out her family was moving to Cape Town, his fear was crushed by the pain of knowing he would never see her again and would forever live with regret.
The day he finally asked her, it was so cold her cheeks were rosy. Her baby hair showed under her beany in a sacred way.
His mouth was dry when he managed to say, “Tshidi, would you like to go to the movies?”
Tshidi eyed him like he was a fly on a window. “No. I’m … busy”, she said.
It felt like a punch to the gut. Busy. How did she know she was busy? Jimmy had not yet suggested a day. “When will you not be busy?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I’m just … very busy these days.”
Though painful, Jimmy wanted to stretch the moment as long as possible. “Preparing for the move to Cape Town?” he asked.
Tshidi eyed him suspiciously. “How did you know that? I haven’t told anyone yet.”
Shit, Jimmy thought. “Lucky guess, I guess.”
“I don’t think so,” she said, disgusted. “Leave me alone. And stop spying on me.”
Jimmy had walked away, ashamed.
Jimmy only saw Tshidi a few more times after that, his heart jumping in his throat each time.
It had been eleven years, and after he’d finished school, he had tracked her down to Cape Town. First to Kenilworth. Then to Bergvliet. Now to Newlands.
“If I said I was busy, I must have been,” Tshidi said, gun still pointing at Jimmy. “But I don’t remember you.”
“Okay. I believe you. But you aren’t busy now. You and Jimmy are going to have that date.”
Beside Jimmy, on the table in the middle of the shack lay a basket brimming with food. Jimmy gestured to it. “There’s ostrich biltong. Your favourite. Cucumber sticks. There’s also vanilla custard. Parmalat, not Ultra Mel.”
Tshidi’s faced contorted at the mention of each item. “You’ve been stalking me.”
“Mm … Jimmy prefers to call it … research. To learn how to maximise your enjoyment. Now. Have a seat, my love.”
“No.” Tshidi fired until the gun clicked, the Mirage fluttering like a curtain on a washing line. Swiftly, she changed the magazine. Pointed.
“Come. Sit, my lady. All Jimmy wants … all Jimmy ever wanted was a date with you.”
“No.”
“Please. Just an hour.”
Tshidi glanced at her partner’s now still body.
“Don’t worry. Our time together will be private.”
Tshidi shook her head. “You are sick.”
“Please. Don’t make Jimmy do this.”
“Do what?” Tshidi said, backing away.
Jimmy pressed the second button. The Mirage behind Tshidi drew inwards, hissing, vibrating.
Hearing it, Tshidi looked behind her. “What’s going on?”
“What Jimmy doesn’t want. Please. Take a seat.”
Tshidi stood her ground.
Jimmy pressed the button again. A spark glinted at Tshidi’s elbow, a glimmer following. Tshidi yelled, yanking her arm away and stumbling towards the table. She gave Jimmy a stink eye and planted herself in the chair. “Now make it stop.”
“You already have, my love,” Jimmy said, sitting opposite her.
Tshidi’s brow furrowed. “That’s how you’ve been killing all these girls.”
“No, no. Not killing,” Jimmy said. Jimmy is not a murderer. “Practising. More lived than died.”
Horror crawled over Tshidi’s face. “How … how do you live with yourself?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Not well, if Jimmy is being honest. But after our kiss, all that will end. Jimmy wants the feel of your lips against his to be the best thing he remembers. Now please, my dear. Relax. You’ll tell Jimmy all about yourself and he’ll tell you all about himself. Then will come the sweet end. And you’ll be free to go.”
Tshidi placed the gun on the table, next to her hand.
“So, tell Jimmy. What are your interests, your hobbies?”
Tshidi’s eyes darted about the shack. They stopped at the woollen blanket on top of the wardrobe. “Knitting. I like knitting. That and ….” She eyed the basket. “… gardening.”
“You are lying to Jimmy.” In the years Jimmy had watched Tshidi, he had never seen her knit or garden. But she loved movies. Jimmy always booked the seat behind her at the cinema. Then he could lean close enough to smell her Forever Elizabeth.
“I’m not lying,” she said. There was an edge to her voice.
“Okay. What’s your favourite crop to grow?”
“Tomatoes,” Tshidi said without batting an eyelid.
“What type?”
“Any type.”
“Preference between Beefsteak and Roma?”
“Roma.”
“Why?”
Hesitation. “I just like them, OK? Look. Cross questioning me doesn’t make much of a date.”
Jimmy sat back. “You are right. Jimmy just hates being lied to. Tell him then. The movie I am Legend. Have you finally decided if you prefer the original ending or the alternate?”
Tshidi scowled. “How … how did you …?”
“You are a detective. You know it’s not that difficult. A clue leads to a trace. A trace leads to a fact.”
“Do you not have a life?”
“Jimmy has a life: You. It’s always been you. Since the first day he saw you.” Jimmy smiled. “You had just transferred from Sandringham. Your uniform was fresh. Not a hint of lint. Not a pimple on your skin. Not a hair out of place. Perfect, white teeth and dimples on each cheek.”
Tshidi shook her head. “I …”
” … don’t remember him, yes. Jimmy believes you. That’s what hurts. Being forgotten so easily. Not registering at all.” Jimmy smiled again. “Well. From today onwards you will remember Jimmy.”
“I don’t want to remember you,” Tshidi said. “You killed my partner. You killed all those girls.” Tshidi looked Jimmy in the eyes. “What kind of monster are you?”
“This is not how Jimmy wants our date to go, my love. Us calling each other names.”
Tshidi laced her fingers. Leaned forward. “Actually, I do want to know you. What makes people like you want to kill?”
Jimmy shrugged. “Jimmy can’t speak for others. For him, it’s not about killing. It’s about wanting something badly, but an obstacle standing in his way. Your partner, for example—”
“—Smit. His name was Smit.” There was a knot in Tshidi’s voice.
“Smit. Take him for example. Jimmy wanted a date with you, and he was in the way.”
“The girls, then. How were they in your way?”
Jimmy took a deep breath. “The obstacle there was Jimmy’s ignorance.” He shook his head. How could he explain it to her? He had needed to gauge the right amount of Mirage voltage to elicit the right response. He had to know how much was too much. “The girls were … research. But why don’t we talk about you a little?”
“What’s the point? You’ve got me figured already.”
“From the outside, perhaps. But there are things we can never know until we talk to people.” Jimmy shuddered. “Jimmy can’t believe you and he are actually talking. After all these years. So, please. Let’s go back to the beginning. What do you like, truly?”
Tshidi sat back. “How about people who don’t hurt people?”
Jimmy winced. “Jimmy is trying for a decent conversation and you keep needling him.”
Tshidi folded her arms. “I’m being serious. I went into this job to protect innocent people from people like you.”
That’s what makes Jimmy so … enamoured of you. “When did you know? That you were a hero?”
Tshidi looked at Jimmy a while. Studied his face. Then she shook her head, exhaled. “My last year at Sandringham. I was at the tuck shop. And these two grade-elevens came up to this tiny grade-eight. One of them stuck out his palm. The grade-eight shrunk into himself and glanced around. Everyone looked away. He dug his small hand into his pocket and put a fifty-rand note on the big hand. He left the queue, crying, and the grade-elevens took his place.” Tshidi grimaced. “And no-one did anything.”
Jimmy sighed. “See? Jimmy could never have known that just by watching you. You are really nice.”
“Did you not listen to my story? I didn’t help that kid.”
“But you are nice. Jimmy remembers a day in Grade Nine. There was this kid who got bullied all the time, and one time some of the big boys made him take his trousers off. They rolled the trousers up and threw them onto the roof of the music room. Remember that?”
Slowly, Tshidi nodded, then rapidly she said. “I remember. I was in Grade Eleven, I think. The kid was so scared. So humiliated.”
“But you stopped that, didn’t you? You gave him your blazer to cover himself. You climbed up to the roof and got his trousers for him.”
“He was crying so much. Shaking like a reed.”
“You looked away while he dressed. Then you embraced him until he stopped crying.”
Realisation crossed Tshidi’s face. She leaned towards Jimmy.
The Mirage! “Careful, Tshidi!”
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Jimmy looked away.
“I remember the kid had a blotch under his left eye.” Tshidi raised her finger to Jimmy’s birthmark.
“Careful—”
The Mirage rippled where Tshidi had touched it, and she abruptly withdrew her hand, wincing. She put her finger in her mouth and, Jimmy thought she looked as beautiful as ever.
“I’m sorry, my love.”
“It was you, then.”
Jimmy glanced down. “Yes. It was Jimmy.”
“I’m sorry you experienced that,” Tshidi said, cooling her hurt finger in the cucumber sticks.
“Jimmy thinks … I … think I fell in love with you then. But I was so afraid. The thought of talking to you made Jimmy’s … made my stomach want to run.”
Tshidi picked up a cucumber stick and bit it. “You should have. You should have come and said hello.”
“But Jimmy did! Eventually. When he heard you were leaving Joburg. He realised he would never see you again. But you told him you were busy.”
“I was! My world was being turned upside down. My parents were splitting up. I was being pulled from the only home I ever knew. I wasn’t in the headspace for dating.”
Slowly, silently, the sun rose in Jimmy’s heart. “Really? You didn’t say it because you thought Jimmy … because you thought … I … was a nobody?”
Tshidi scowled. “I didn’t know you. How could I think that?”
Jimmy smiled. I might have been a somebody, then. He picked up a piece of biltong.
Police sirens sounded outside.
“Seems your colleagues are coming for you.”
Tshidi bit another cucumber stick. “Seems they are.”
Jimmy put the biltong down. “That’s the end of our date, then. Except. Now comes the real end.”
“Give it up, Jimmy. Soon this place will be surrounded.”
“There’s a Mirage surrounding the shack.”
“They’ll eventually find a way to deactivate it. All they need to do is cut off the power source.”
“Clever. It will take them a while though. Enough time for our kiss.”
Tshidi scrunched her nose. “You really are mad.”
Jimmy nodded. “I think you are right. I finally accepted that about myself. Just this last week, actually. That I’m a freak. That I’m everything they ever called me at school. And I found … I found a strange kind of peace. The kind that falls over you when you finally accept who you always were.”
Jimmy heard a police car speed up to the gate and skid to a stop. He watched Tshidi look out hopefully through the window. Three cars followed the first, blue lights flashing, cops pouring out and running towards the shack.
Jimmy waited for it.
The Mirage ensnared the frontmost two and they vibrated like guitar strings, screaming.
Tshidi screamed, “Oh my God!” She glared at Jimmy.
“I know,” Jimmy said. “I really am mad.”
A loudhailer sounded. “Jimmy Black, we have you surrounded. Surrender and release your hostages. I repeat. Surrender and release your hostages.”
“What do you want!” Tshidi said, fists clenched, tears filling her eyes. Jimmy wanted to wipe them away. “You’ve had plenty of time to kill me.”
Butterflies buffeted Jimmy’s stomach. “A kiss.”
Through the window, several officers aimed their guns at Jimmy.
“Mr Black, don’t make your situation worse,” said the loudhailer. “Release the hostages.”
“The game is over, Jimmy,” said Tshidi. “Let me go.”
“One. Little. Kiss,” Jimmy said. “And the game will be over.”
Tshidi balled her fists, folded her arms, shook her head.
Under the table, Jimmy turned a dial.
Outside, the paintwork of the furthest car darkened, smoking, bubbling, lifting, peeling, revealing glowing metal.
“What’s going on!” Tshidi said.
“I’ve activated a new Mirage around the shack. I’m drawing it in, sandwiching your colleagues against the inner Mirage.”
The burning car exploded, all officers turning towards the sound, backing away.
Another car, closer to the shack, started burning.
“Make it stop, Jimmy! You are going to kill them.”
“You can make it stop, my love. Under the table, there’s a button. If you press it and hold it down, the Mirage between us will dissolve. You’ll kiss me. I’ll then press a button on my side. In that way, together, we’ll switch all the Mirages off.”
Tshidi groped under the table. “Done.”
The Mirage separating them vanished. Jimmy reached for Tshidi’s wet cheek.
Tshidi leaned away. “Now press yours.”
“After our kiss.”
A third car, even closer, exploded.
Tshidi glared at Jimmy; her eyes jutting at him like knives. Her hand clasped her gun.
Jimmy tilted his head and shrugged. Being killed by an angel was maybe as good as being kissed by one.
Tshidi huffed and shook her head. She relaxed her grip. Leaned towards Jimmy.
Oh, my God! Jimmy thought. He leaned in too.
Tshidi’s lips quickly bounced off of his. “Now press your button!” she said.
Jimmy sighed. “Somehow that didn’t feel as magical as Jimmy had dreamed all these years.” He averted his eyes from Tshidi’s face. “But you’ve done your part. Jimmy will do his. I will remember you, Tshidi.”
To Tshidi, Jimmy suddenly looked like that grade-nine boy from many years ago. Small. Shoulders hunched. “Jimmy, look at me,” she said.
Jimmy looked up at her. Two wet lines glistened his cheeks.
Another explosion.
Tshidi placed her fingers under Jimmy’s chin and lifted his face up. She closed her eyes as she kissed him as lovingly as she’d ever kissed anyone. She felt the passion in the caress of his tongue.
When she pulled away, Jimmy was grinning, another tear rolling down his face. “Keep your finger on the button,” he said. “I’m going to press mine.”
Outside, Tshidi’s precinct mates were huddled beside the inner Mirage, trembling, eyeing the Mirage closing in. “Jimmy, please,” she said. “Quickly.”
Jimmy put his hand under the table. “Goodbye,” he said. “My love.”
A Mirage shot from wall to wall, through Jimmy, and his body vibrated, his eyelids fluttering.
Tshidi gasped.
Jimmy’s chair rattled against the floor. His teeth chattered. His face twisted.
Tshidi’s hands went to her mouth.
Suddenly, the shaking stopped. And Jimmy dropped to the floor, still.
For a while there was silence. Jimmy’s face was smiling. Tshidi was shaking, her body tense.
The silence was broken by a voice at the door asking if she was OK.
Tshidi nodded, then shook her head. Goodbye, she thought. Jimmy Montsho.
THE END
