“Get my boy a beer!” Thabo yelled at the barman, snapping his fingers rudely like they do on TV. He had invited Olwethu to come and chill with them. “I can’t believe you are late, you are never late,” he said in a playful voice. What he really implied was that Olwethu had changed a lot in a matter of a few days.

“Been busy,” Olwethu replied uneasily, eyeing Ntsika.

It was the first-time he was seeing him since that night of the fight at this very same pub. He felt uneasy in his presence, like the presence of a bee, you just don’t know whether it’s innocent or planning to sting you.

“Busy?” Ntsika laughed mockingly, “Busy doing what exactly – is there a new girl in your life?” Ntsika’s said his voice full of mock. He eyed Olwethu with brutal hostility. If only looks could kill, the poor boy would’ve died instantly.

Olwethu’s heart gave a start; there was a huge lump in his throat. He wasn’t a fast thinker; he didn’t have the wit. Witty comebacks were just not for him.

“Are you gonna have anything else, Mister,” the barman said, as he put the beer in front of Olwethu.

“Maybe later,” he said, struggling to open the can of ice cold beer. “Been busy with assignments and the research for my thesis,” he said, resting his arms in the table. He was relaxed now, the beer had washed away the lump in his throat and it took with it whatever signs of uneasiness.

“If there’s anything you need, you can count on us,” Thabo said, he looked around the table for affirmation, “That’s what friends are for, isn’t it?” he asked Ntsika who was now smoking.

“Oh, yes friendship is like brotherhood, just like Chinua Achebe once said, “Anger against a brother is felt in the flesh, not in the bone’” he said. The words had been drummed into him by Thabo, when he was begging him to make peace with Olwethu.

“Now let’s shake those hands,” Thabo smiled at how Ntsika had memorised his words. I’ll be a good teacher someday, he thought.

He watched as his two friends shook hands like two school boys forced into a truce by the Headmaster. They toasted to friendship.

“How far along are you?” Olwethu said casually pretending to be interested.

“Slow as molasses in January, my friend,” he said sadly. “She is too busy nowadays. School work and this new tutor she has been apparently assigned,” he said the word ‘apparently’ in a funny accent, just to show that he wasn’t buying the story.

Olwethu wanted to tell Ntsika how important it was to put schoolwork before boyfriends. But he remembered that he must show support, so that they must believe that he is with them,

“School is boring, it’s a hindrance. It keeps friends and lovers apart,” he improvised. He was surprised at how easily lies slid out of his mouth. It was, indeed, easily to lie, he thought.

“You should see how she brightens up when she talks about this dude and how smart he is. You could swear he was the modern version of Einstein. All she ever does is talk about him,” Ntsika said, his voice filled with burning rage.

“That’s crappy bra,” Olwethu said. His voice was filled with sympathy, but his eyes glowed with pride like those of a ghost-writer praised in his presence.

“It’s time for you to put your foot down,” Thabo intervened. He had been listening to them speak, filled with a fatherly pride when he sees how his sons are friends again. “Vuk’ emaqandeni, someone is out to get what is rightfully yours. You need to find out who it is, and we’ll show him who the real men are,” he took out his knife and brandished it proudly.

Olwethu shuddered with fear, his face turned white. He stood up, and in a quavering voice he asked to be excused.

“Wait, wait, you have to hear this,” Ntsika begged, “she is coming tomorrow. A night for two, and I’ll do my magic,” he gloated.

Olwethu was angry; he stood up and left with a face that looked like he had seen horror.

“What’s wrong with him?” Ntsika asked.

“No! Don’t mind him; he is only stressed by his thesis and assignments.” Thabo dismissed the question, as he lifted his glass and watched his friend behind the rim of his glass.

***

Let’s chat: What do you think of Ntsika?