“No, Johnny, you’re too drunk,” Tessa says. “Let David drive us home. He’s still okay.” 

Johnny’s eyes are sleepy and he crouches on the side walk. He puts down the beers.

I bend over, putting my hand on his shoulder. “Are you OK?” I don’t feel so great either. That’s what shots do, but Johnny is obviously worse off.

He presses his right thumb to his chest. “Let me drive home.” 

“You’re too drunk,” I say. “And you don’t look so good.

“Guys,” Tessa says. “It’s late. Everything’s closed. There’ll be gangsters prowling around soon. We’d better go.”

I look around. The last people at the club are walking off in groups. Some get into Ubers. On the corner next to the garage, a group is arguing. 

I light a Rothmans and pull Johnny up by the arm. 

“I don’t feel so good,” he says. He pulls a face like he’s tasted something bitter and clutches his stomach. He shuffles over to the back of the Golf and heaves up the content of his stomach. A sour smell wafts our way. Vanessa walks over and rubs his shoulder.

“Sies man!” Tessa pinches her nose shut. “You’re definitely not driving.”

Johnny spits and picks up the two beers from where he’d left them on the sidewalk. All the fight has gone out of him and he opens the back door of the Golfie to get in.

I get into the driver’s seat and turn the key in the ignition. The car engine thrums to life. Tessa gets in next to me and the other two in the back.

“I’m feeling better,” Johnny rubs his stomach. “All that gas out of my system.”

I look in the mirror and see him take out his phone. Soon Nikki Minaj blasts from the speakers. He bites the cap off one beer, and takes a deep gulp.

I make a U-turn in the now almost deserted Voortrekker Road. 

“Have a drink, David,” Johnny says. I feel the wetness of the ice-cold bottle against my cheek. 

“I’ll have a drink later,” I say.

“Drink!” he repeats, pushing the bottle at my cheek again.

“I’ll drink later.” 

“Are you deaf, Johnny?” Tessa turns to look over her shoulder. “David is busy driving.” She winds down the window on her side and a light breeze fills the car. 

I hear more gulps behind me as I turn left onto Robert Sobukwe Road. The street lights shine all the way to the Tienie Meyer Bridge. Across the junction, bergies huddle around a cracking fire. I’m overcome by tiredness. The day has been too much. The braai in the afternoon, driving up and down for drinks, cleaning up after the braai, Club Seven, shots, beer, dancing. My bed is calling to me.

The robots turn red and I stop reluctantly. I don’t like to stop at traffic lights this time of night and we’re just a stone’s throw from a group of skollies fighting over a bag of wine. I definitely don’t want to stop again at the red light on the bridge. One of the skollies across the road argues with a woman in front of a shack. How do they survive living on the street like this? Do they brush their teeth in the mornings? I’m bloody lucky I have a mother and a father and a decent home.

“Have a drink!” Johnny says again.

The light turns green and I pull away.

“Give me the beer, I want a sip,” Vanessa says. She’s been quiet this whole time, leaning against the window on her side. 

In the rear-view mirror I watch Johnny as he pushes the bottle to her mouth. Vanessa pulls her mouth away and he starts to laugh. “You’re boring!” 

She wipes her lips. “Can’t you sleep or something, Johnny? You’re just bothering everyone in the car.”

That’s when I feel cold liquid flowing down my neck. I jerk away and look back over my shoulder. The next moment Tessa shouts my name from the passenger seat. I look at the road and see a figure, then hear glass breaking. I hit the brakes and the car screeches to a stop. 

Tessa gasps and her hands go up to her face. Johnny stares out the front window with wide eyes. Nikki Minaj is still singing over the speakers.

“Did I hit someone?” I ask nervously.

 “Oh God!” Tessa moans.

“What now, guys?” Vanessa asks, wide awake.

My heart thumps loudly in my ribcage. “Did I hit someone, Tessa?”

She doesn’t answer. I inch the car forward, swerving in case there is someone lying in the road.

“You can’t drive off, David,” Tessa says, “perhaps the person is still alive!”

I stop the car a few metres down the road, but still on the bridge. “Did I hit anyone? You didn’t say anything!” 

“You two are arguing… There’s a man out there… or a woman. I don’t know, but there was someone there. What are we going to do, guys?” Vanessa asks from the back seat. 

My nerves are raw. I’m the guy behind the wheel. Everyone in the Golfie is drunk. I switch off the lights and music.

In front of us, a white Opel approaches the T-junction from Bellville South. Everyone in the Golf is quiet. We hold our breaths. Reggae drifts from the Opel as it nears us and drives past. In the back seat, someone holds up a cell phone to the window.

I let my breath go. “That Opel saw what we looked like, I think they took a picture” I say. “I’m going to jail. We have to go!” I turn the key in the ignition.

“Are you crazy?” Vanessa asks, looking at Tessa. “Maybe the man is still alive. We can’t just leave him like this. It’s wrong!”

“Who said it’s a man?” Johnny asks. “Perhaps David hit a dog. There’s always dogs out here.” One of the car doors at the back opens. “I’ll go check it out,” Johnny says. 

“Wait!” all three of us shout, but Johnny jogs off with the beer in his hand.

“David, make him come back,” Tessa says. “What’s he doing?” 

I’m completely sober now. The girls look worried, but I’m scared. I get out of the car and stand next to the open door. The wind cuts through my clothes. Time is running out, it will be dawn soon. The girls are still asking questions, but I ignore them, trying to see what Johnny’s doing.

He approaches cautiously and kneels on one knee by the sidewalk. In the light of the street lamp, a dark shape lies huddled on the sidewalk.

Tell us: What should David do? What would you have done?