Chapter 3 - The Neighbour

Wow.

I listened to the whole thing again and then realised my wife was at the gym right at that moment, flirting with her crush, exactly the way Amahle had told her to. I rubbed my chin. There was a lot to unpack in that conversation.

I took the postbox keys and went out the front door. I walked down to the gatehouse at the bottom of Marula Ridge and opened our box in the wall. Sindiswa usually does this job, but I wanted to get a look at Bhekani, the old man with the classic Capri. Amahle says they sleep together, and Amahle is a beautiful woman. I wanted to meet the man who was doing that. I strolled, checking my phone like I was reading something, and saw him working in his front flowerbed. He was shirtless, still lean and hard across the shoulders. I gave him the chin-lift men use to say hello, and then pretended to ignore him and went back to my phone.

I got closer. He was wearing long trousers and gardening gloves, and there was nothing special about his face or his body. Nothing a man would notice, anyway. But I learned a long time ago that women are not choosing what we think they are choosing, and I have seen enough beautiful women on the arms of plain men to know I am a poor judge of my own competition.