Mr Not Quite Good Enough by Lauri Kubuitsile Page B

to take care of, family things.” Ozee was being closed and distant. He sat well away from her. Gorata felt an invisible wall between them that she didn’t know how to get around.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” Gorata asked, pointing at the space between them on the bench.
    â€œCome on, Gorata, we both know the score, right? You need someone I’m not. A petrol attendant just won’t cut it for you, and I’m not willing to change to become someone I’m not. Love is about acceptance. You need to want me, just like this, and we both know that’s never going to happen. You said it yourself. I need to do something more significant with my life. That’s a judgement. I can’t live with that sort of thing. I can’t change for you. That’s not how it works. I would never ask you to change for me.”
    Gorata had never seen him like this before: so down, so negative. “Are you okay? How’s your brother?” she asked, trying to find the source of his mood.
    â€œI’m fine. He’s fine, I guess.” Ozee looked out over the soccer pitch. His voice became soft and he disappeared inside himself to the memories held there. “You know, when we were kids, Morake, my brother, used to follow me everywhere. I’m ten years older than him and he idolised me. We used to play for a local soccer team, me and Stunki and a few other guys, and Morake would come for every practice, every game.
    â€œHe’d take care of the water and he’d be so serious about his job, as if the whole world depended on him getting it right. He was the sweetest kid ever. I just don’t know what happened.” Ozee wiped his hand across his eyes before turning back to Gorata, but she’d seen the tears. She knew how much his brother was hurting him. “He’s gone missing. He got out of the hospital and just disappeared.”
    â€œWhat do you mean disappeared?”
    â€œStunki talked to some guys from the gang he’s been running with. They told him the boss said Morake was too hot right now since he’d been shot. He sent him to Cape Town; those thugs have branches all over. That’s where I’ve been – in Cape Town, looking for him.”
    â€œDid you find him?” Gorata asked, taking Ozee’s hand in hers.
    â€œEventually, yeah, I did. He didn’t want me to, though. That’s why I was gone so long – he kept dodging me. He knows what he promised me in the hospital, what he promised my mother. He knows he let us down by putting the gang’s wishes above ours.”
    â€œSo what happened? Did you bring him back?”
    â€œNo . . . He’s Mr Big Man down there. Suddenly he’s got no time for me and doesn’t give a shit about our mother whose heart is breaking. I could have killed him, I was so angry. I honestly could have killed him.” Ozee shook his head, trying to get rid of the emotions he was struggling to control.
    Gorata took him in her arms though he tried to stop her, but once there, he held her tightly.
    â€œI lied to my mother,” he said into her shoulder.
    Gorata pulled back slightly. “Lied? About what?”
    â€œI told her I never found him. She wouldn’t be able to accept that he just didn’t want to come home to us. He told me he had a new family, one that respected his choices. Can you believe that?”
    Gorata shook her head. No, she couldn’t. She felt angry at this young man she’d never met. She was angry that he was upsetting Ozee so much.
    â€œI told him if he ever comes to Joburg, if he ever tries to visit us, he better be clear of that gang or I’ll be calling the cops on him. I’d rather have him alive in jail than shot dead on the street.”
    Suddenly Gorata remembered the Batho Ba Mzansi article. She dug around in her handbag. “Here,” she said, handing it to him. “I cut this out, thinking it might help you. From what