Chapter 7 - Luvuyo

We're three rounds and a dozen stories in, laughing at Kwanele's story about his newborn. The corner is stuffed and we're squeezed around the table loaded with kotas, meat with pap and chakalaka, and a row of quarts. Unfortunately, Nolwazi is seated across from me and there's been no time to pick up where we left off at the gumboots. She looks up and our eyes lock. Her glass pauses mid-air on its way to her mouth. Both of her brows lift as if to ask a question. My only answer is a slow smile and a quick shake of my head. What I need to say to Nolwazi can't be done through silent signals at a crowded table. I need some real time with her, and it looks less and less likely that I will get it tonight.