Monday morning at the office and Attie won’t even look at me. He’s bent over his desk, pretending to work.

By ten o’clock I can’t stand it anymore.

“Ag, come on, Attie,” I say to his back. “I was only trying to help.”

He spins round in his chair. “Help? You call that help!?” His face is getting purplish again.

“Come on, Attie. Admit it. You thought Jos was a great guy. You really liked him. Then you saw he was black, and you went ballistic.”

“Black? Black?” Attie keeps saying this one word over and over in this shrieky voice. What’s the matter with him?

“Black? Dennis, I don’t give a shit that your friend is black. That’s the least of my problems, you moron.”

“So – what then?”

Attie is shaking his head at me like I am the thickest person in the whole universe.

“So – this, Dennis: I thought your friend Jos was a woman!”

“A woman?” Now it is my voice that is going shrieky. “Are you crazy? Why would you think that?”

“Well, it’s an easy mistake in the dark. It’s not my fault. I mean, she – he – has this husky sexy voice like lots of women have. And her – his – hand was really soft when I shook it. And the only other Jos I know is one of my sister’s friends. Plus she – he – was wearing jeans. I mean, all girls wear jeans.”

Something is worrying me badly now. “How did you know Jos was wearing jeans, Attie? Since it was pitch-dark?”

“Because, Dumbo Dennis, I had my hand halfway up her – his leg! I mean, things were getting hot and heavy when the lights went back on!”

Oh my God! I feel sick. How could my brilliant plan go so horribly wrong? And what about Jos? Being insulted like that and saying nothing – just so he wouldn’t wreck my plan!

I rush out of the cubicle and head for the fire-stairs. Mr Naidoo is shouting after me. “It’s not lunch-time, Dennis. I can’t set a precedent!”

But I run down all four flights, two steps at a time. I make it across town to Seventh Avenue without getting crushed by morning traffic. I rush down the College corridor and burst into Jos’s practice room.

“Gracious! What’s wrong, Dennis?” he asks. And yes, it is true. His voice does have that sexy husky sound.

“Jos, I am so sorry! Attie just told me!”

Jos gives me a strange smile. It’s a strange sad smile I haven’t seen from him before.

Jos says, “Yes, it was all very unfortunate. My mistake, really. I thought Attie understood I was male – even if he didn’t realise I wasn’t the same race as him … Still, no harm done! It was good while it lasted there in the dark. Your friend Attie has the most wonderful hands, so strong and masculine! I wish the lights had stayed off a little longer, Dennis.”

Now I am staring at Jos like I am seeing him for the very first time. Slowly his words are making sense in my brain – horrible, disturbing, mind-twisting sense.

“What are you saying, Jos? Are you telling me that you’re a … a …?”

I know the word. I have no trouble finding it in my brain. But I just can’t bear to say that word out loud.

I’m sorry, but the thought of two guys together and fancying each other makes me feel sick. It’s just wrong. Unnatural! Not the way things must be. How come I never realised Jos was one of them? I must be even thicker than I thought.

I understand now why those white guys at the coffee shop were laughing. It wasn’t because Jos was black and I was white. No. It was because they thought we were together, fancying each other. They thought I was like that too. Oh my God!

And what about all those times I gave Jos a big bear-hug? Thinking we were rainbow-brothers? They are all coming back to me now, making me feeling even worse.

***

Tell us: What can’t Dennis bear to say out loud?