Amahle walks into the Boxer supermarket. The song “Living my life like it’s golden” plays softly on the speakers in the store ceiling. A smile blooms on Amahle’s face and she hides it from passers-by by looking at the fruit and vegetable fridges beside her. The bananas on the fridge are a brighter yellow under the fridge lights. The cucumbers and lettuce look so fresh that she instantly craves a sandwich. And the slightly wet strawberries look like sweet romance.
I never notice all this with Mom rushing me around, Amahle thinks. Oh my god I love this song!
A hand touches Amahle on the shoulder. She gasps and turns to see a tall, handsome guy wearing a light brown golfer T-shirt and black jeans. His face is clean shaven and his dark skin is flawless. The air around Amahle suddenly smells very good – probably the guy’s cologne.
“Hi,” the guy offers his hand for Amahle to shake. “I’m Sizwe and I’m in love with you.”
Amahle freezes for a second, and then confusion wrinkles her face. “Do I know you?”
“You don’t,” Sizwe smiles. His deep voice sounds like the ones talking in old-school R&B songs. “And I don’t know you either. But today that should change. You’re the girl I’ve been dreaming of my whole life.”
“Really?” Amahle clicks her tongue, puts on her ‘boy-repellent’ frown and walks away.
Sizwe laughs and follows her. “Wait,” he passes Amahle, turns around and walks backwards in front of her. “I know that sounded corny, but you’re really beautiful and I’d really love to know you.”
Amahle keeps walking as if Sizwe is not in front of her. She avoids eye contact and tightens the frown on her face.
“Okay, fine,” says Sizwe. “If you’re not going to give me a chance to know you, I might as well take this opportunity to look at your beautiful face for as long as I possibly can before you’re gone forever.”
“You’re going to crash into the rack behind you,” Amahle warns.
“I don’t care if I get hurt physically, you’re hurting me more emotionally by not–” the back of Sizwe’s head hits the corner of a metal rack at the entrance to the cleaning products aisle. “Eish!” he says in a high-pitched voice.
Amahle laughs. “Told ya,” she walks faster and turns into the snack aisle.
Sizwe quickly picks up the two bags of Sunlight washing powder that fell off when he backed into the rack. He straightens a few other products that moved and then he searches the store for Amahle.
“So it’s true what they say about beautiful girls,” Sizwe says when he finds Amahle. She’s carrying a bag of Lays and is staring at the chocolate rack. “You ladies are pure evil.”
“I’m not evil, you just don’t listen,” Amahle picks up a slab of rum & raisin chocolate and walks away without looking at Sizwe.
“You’re wrong,” Sizwe follows her. “I’m a very good listener. But I really can’t afford to never see you again. If you desperately want me to leave you alone right now, give me your number and I’ll be gone.”
Amahle ignores Sizwe.
“Fine,” Sizwe passes her and walks backwards in front of her again. “Just tell me what your Facebook name is so I can at least get to see your face again, even though it will just be in pictures.”
Amahle stops walking, exhales loudly and folds her arms. “I’m Amahle Zondi, now leave,” she says.
Without saying another word, Sizwe leaves.
Tell us: How would you handle a guy like Sizwe?