Dear February

Dear February, is the name of Jayʼs diary, birthed from the very beginning of a romance that breathed a meaning of love and a recognition of life. In this are entries about a timeline of experiences that sandcastles can carry and autumn leaves can color a yard full of embrace. Jay and Trevor built a home. It always felt like finding a treasure whenever they discovered a mutual interest, or a body sensation whenever they made love — there was a free flow of present passion, nothing to lose but more to give and gain. Itʼs easy to presume that they were a perfect match even judging from how united they were in their fight against their familiesʼ homophobia. Nothing from them could disengage the attraction they felt and a relationship they eventually formed together. Sadly, sometimes, the grass isnʼt always green enough to lay down your bare feet and remain still.

Two years later and finally deciding to open the windows, Jay gives his arms to another and hopes to create a new bond, one that would last a lifetime. Being a sophomore comes with greater responsibilities as the societal pressure builds and relationships become void and some refreshed. Jay had an instinct of a god and knew who he needed around him, be it friends or partners. In the streets of Johannesburg CBD Botlhale, a 21-year old brother working as a waiter at McDonaldʼs is busy studying for a diploma in business management. One could easily tell that he enjoys the gym — with arms so bold you can see a tower in procession, a chest buff enough to become a secondary set of pillows, a constellation could be seen through his eyes as they would glow both in the light and mostly in the dark. I imagined his lips, partially dark brown and pink, would teleport you to another place if pressed against yours. Though in this impressively big exterior he was a youthful and sensitive man. Born from a family of overachievers; mother a quantum physicist and father a financial accountant, itʼs always a struggle to satisfy their acquired goals, so much so that you forget about yours just so you can feel accepted.

When Botlhaleʼs parents discovered his sexuality [gay] they swore to accept it if only he worked tirelessly to get a job, attain good grades so he can qualify for more than just a diploma, be responsible in their household, and doesnʼt bring any man home. This was something he was determined to fulfill only to enjoy the peace that he found in himself and share it with his family. And being the only child really consumed his will of expression as the pressure kept catching his breath, finding means to please his parents no matter the costs. During his 20th birthday celebration party when the youth [his friends and himself] were given space to stretch it got uncomfortable when Botlhaleʼs mother went to give him a credit card for late night expenses and found him kissing a boy in the corner of the house. Her facial froze — nothing of contentment arose — just a faint sigh released as she threw the card to him regardless and went back inside the house. A devastated Botlhale due to the event almost hesitated to go out, but his friends and the credit card convinced him otherwise. A great amount of money, liquor, weed, and horny men was a dangerous combination that felt so good to entertain and indulge in.

Itʼs Gemini season and the weather is cold. And to take a breather after the June exams, Jay has lunch with his friend Thabo at McDonaldʼs preceding their night club plans. From a self-service standpoint to the table they were going to sit at, they notice Botlhale, whom they havenʼt seen before. But something about the way Jay observed his movements — the veins from Botlhaleʼs arms greeting him, the manner of his upper bodyʼs motion when heʼd reached for the tray from a table, the chiseled face and eyebrows that just wonʼt quit… Thabo snapped his fingers in Jayʼs face to bring him back to earth. It was as though cupid led him to this specific restaurant for a reason, to meet Botlhale. Four minutes after they had ordered Botlhale just happened to be their waiter and to Jayʼs delight it was a pleasure. “Good afternoon 214, my name is Botlhale and I am at your service today. Hereʼs your order, and if thereʼs anything you need, please do not hesitate to call. Enjoy,” says Botlhale. And with a chest full of things he wishes to say Jay decides to just keep it to himself, though you could tell he wanted to share a few words with Botlhale with the slight open of his mouth. To kill the silence Thabo decided to chime in, “Thank you so much.”

“You know, since weʼve arrived here you've barely said a sentence. Itʼs like youʼre walking on eggshells and in a movie. Itʼs that Botlhale guy right? You like him, donʼt you?” asks an inquisitive Thabo. “Look, I am sorry for being a little absent-minded. I… I guess I am just amused by him. He is so gorgeous,” Jay finally said something. While they are eating Jay got lost in his imagination again mid-conversation with Thabo as he noticed that Botlhale was heading to the restroom. Thabo then insists he go after him and chat to him, but Jay is reluctant. Because of his charisma Thabo volunteered to speak on his behalf when Botlhale would step out of the restroom. “Hey, Botlhale,” Thabo shouts as he raises his hand. Botlhale comes immediately and witnesses the same fascination and silence in Jayʼs disposition. “How may I help you guys?” “The food is definitely delicious. And I did not call you for that reason but for…,” Thabo pauses as he got kicked under the table by Jay. “…excuse me for that. What I meant to say is that my friend here is really interested in you, and you are the reason he hasnʼt said anything to me at the lunch he invited me to. So I donʼt know, speak to him or do something to get him out of this funk.”

With an exchange of smiles between the two and the irresistible scent of Botlhale, he hands him a paper with his contact number written on it as he cannot chat while on duty. “Call me,” he said as he attended to another customer. Thabo was the friend who enjoyed the thrill of taking the initiative to help his own. He knew what to say and when to say it. Thereʼs just a radiance of joy about him that can never unsettle you. His confidence built yours when you felt you werenʼt enough. And I guess thereʼs a dynamic in their relationship — Thabo being the outspoken one and Jay, although introverted, had good qualities like insightful, creative and compassionate. After they have eaten Jay grabs a ball pen from his backpack and scribes a message for Botlhale on a serviette: “Hey. Sorry for my rude silence. I just havenʼt spoken to another man that I am interested in for a long time. But you hella hot and reserved. We are going out tonight. Iʼll send you the details via text. Hope to see you.”

Itʼs 21.04 and a text from Botlhale hits Jayʼs notifications, “Iʼm outside.” Jay steps out of the club and finds him standing two meters away from the bouncer, with a white tight top masking his chest, skinny black jeans and a black leather jacket to cover his nipples and naked arms. “So I take it you love your meat, huh?” asks Jay with a chuckle. “The flesh knows the feeling of tenderness,” Botlhale responds in a way that leaves them both in laughter and a glance of excitement. Walking into the club the dj is playing Kaytranadaʼs “be your girl remix” and Botlhale didnʼt seem to hesitate whispering in Jayʼs ear, “I hope you know this song, and if not you would tell that it expresses the mood we at.” “Kaytranada is important to the culture, and as a rep of us in the music industry gives me hope. He knows himself. And I recognize that.” Having a good time with shots of vodka and a company of four (Jay, Thabo, their friend Thuso and Botlhale), and a room full of queer energy truly epitomized the sight of happiness homophobes deny queers in the world. It was spaces like this that they could feel at home — unbothered, excited, and full of life.

Four hours in and the boys were two on. Lust was in the air for most; the booʼd up colored the room with ecstasy, the thirsty singles were bound to hook up and ignite the fun, which left Botlhale and Jay at their table next to the bar all to themselves. Normally people avoid speaking about personal life events in such a scenery, but these two never conformed. “I know I am drunk and I honestly donʼt care because I am about to spill my tiny truth: I have been single and celibate for two years now, doing my second year for a frigging course I hate, no contact with family because they refuse to let me connect with my father, and shit. I have the most beautiful friends that have become my family and I would not trade them for anything. And then you came around and a feeling that I thought died with my last relationship ascended, and I wanna kick it with you,” says Jay. Botlhale with a crack of smile at the end of his left side blinked once and said, “This is… hectic. And I appreciate the honesty. I didnʼt think I would get more than a sentence from you, at least today. But I am grateful. I didnʼt want to be forward earlier at the restaurant because I donʼt want to lose my job, but I am attracted to you.” “I want you to fuck me, Botlhale” “Wait… Thatʼs the liquor talking. I wonʼt take advantage of you. I will only have sex with you if you really want to.” “I want to, I really do. In fact letʼs leave this place so I can show you. You can feel the heat on my body and you have been given the privilege to feel the energy within.” “I just donʼt want to be your regret. I really care about you Jay, and if you are ready for this then so am I” And just like that a liberated agreement between the two young men led them straight to Jayʼs apartment.

Jayʼs apartment was exquisite — his floors were of mahogany wood, light pink walls, and fully furnished in white. Jayʼs body temperature was at an extremity of heat the moment Botlhale came closer to him, his hands reaching the facial sides of Jayʼs, he leaned in for a kiss. Botlhaleʼs fingers caressed Jayʼs face as the kiss felt intense and easily became the best they both had. It wasnʼt difficult to tell which was the bedroom, and so Botlhale picked Jay up into his arms. Entering the room Botlhale then laid Jay on the bed and maneuvered straight to Jayʼs face to not lose the fire between their lips. The flame would not simply be put off as Jay undressed Botlhaleʼs jacket and shirt afterwards. Pinning him down, Botlhaleʼs hands did the same to Jayʼs tank top and he did not resist licking his neck. Salivating down to his flat chest he was intrigued by the pale nipples waiting to be devoured. Leaving a close mouthed moan motivated Botlhale to keep the pleasure going as he kissed Jayʼs arms and stomach. He unbuttoned Jayʼs pants and pulled them down gradually with his white Tommy Hilfiger underwear. Before his lips would kiss any place else, Jay flipped Botlhale to the bed and stripped him off his black skinny jeans accompanied by a black Calvin Klein bikini. “I wanna suck you,” he says, going down on him.

Grabbing the ends of the bed Botlhale was astonished by Jayʼs deep throaty skills, “For a boy who says less, Iʼm glad that mouth knows ways to speak to me still.” And with a release of an orgasm from Jay invited Botlhale to bend him over and bury his face at Jayʼs entrance. It was a sight to see, a sensation worth feeling. The weed wasnʼt reeking anymore and barely did the booze, just pure shea butter. Rubbing the fully erect eight inch penis and Jayʼs entrance with the lubricant he found in the drawer, he finally let his penis shaft the entrance so nicely and slowly. “I am going to make love to you. Youʼll fall in love with this dick,” commanded Botlhale. The ignition from the fire between the two was supportive of the water leaking from the hardcore shafting that they moaned at the same time when Botlhale came 21 minutes and 4 seconds later. It was special. It was a high that transported the two to a place of their own. A relation they had just created and one filtered with alcoholism but intentional.

The morning after was blissful — Botlhale suggested that they both take a shower and head back to the bedroom to give Jay a massage before breakfast — ordered a set of muffins and two cups of coffee. After this lonely time Jay was bombarded with text messages from Thabo. Botlhale suggests, “I think itʼs time for me to head home and get ready for work. I go in the midday. And you need to return to your friendʼs texts. He must be worried. Thank you for such an amazing time. We will catch up soon.”

“Thank you so much, B. I think I am going to be happy with you.”

“So…Weʼre together?”

“I did not choose to bare my heart and body to you last night so we can part ways. I really like you and I want to be with you.”

“Then, I will see you later babe,” Botlhale says and leans in for a kiss. Jay with no company in the meantime calls Thabo to come over and fill him in on what happened right after their meeting last night at the club.

An invitation always had a familiar affair of bringing a bottle of merlot that the two friends loved to do when they visited each other. Jayʼs music player started playing Ari Lennoxʼs “Shea Butter Baby” album and he started to spill the tea: “I think I am in a relationship? Although I am still processing everything that went down, it is good to confirm that after depriving myself of a man I feel positive about this one.”

“Yʼall screwed, right?”

“We made love. Hard, passionate love. Just the way he made me feel reminded me of… (clears throat) It was special. He is special. There is nothing I regret about last night. You know he massaged my ass this morning? I am telling you the stars are aligning for me.”

“Jay, I am happy for you. You know you went through something that I can only imagine is hard to get over. But it really was time for you to move on.” After downing the bottle and letting the music player rest it was Netflix and chill time, and Thabo had something to share: “I too went home with a guy. His name is Shepherd, and I donʼt know… Something about his eyes just turned me on. He speaks Setswana, Zulu, and is learning French. And boy does he know how to speak French, if you know what I mean.” The two started chuckling and had a great exchange of words thereafter. While they were watching a series Botlhale sends a message to Jay: “I will be working the whole afternoon. And I have to be home this evening too. So I doubt we will see each other today. Rain check?” This surely felt like Jay was being blown out by Botlhale, and if you ask me it wouldʼve been worse if he had not texted anything at all. So Jay should relax, right? If it were that easy for him, instead of always trying to pin his past relationship(s) with his present, feeling like heʼs not cared for, that he might not be worthy of having a successful romantic relationship with anyone. Suddenly heʼs not in the mood for a series anymore and asks Thabo to get more bottles of wine to drown his already sunken self.

“We are aware that you are a young adult now, but you still live in our house. So you will obey our rules and respect us. Just because you have a job doesnʼt give you any right to galavant every night and return here the next morning like nothingʼs happened,” commands Botlhaleʼs dad. And with two seconds to clear his mind and say what he feels Botlhale says, “You know what dad, youʼre right. I am a young adult and I should be respected as such. I donʼt understand why I am still under your roof when I have everything under control. My grades are great, I have a job, and I have not done anything here distasteful or whatever. And these are all the things you asked of me. Now I want to ask, “Why canʼt I get my own place since we can afford it?” A grin began rearranging his dadʼs face and there were no signs of order with what he had to say next, which left a young cut in Botlhaleʼs heart: “You will not talk to me like that or have the right to demand anything from me. Itʼs bad enough I still let a moffie live in my house and carry my name, and all because your mother wants to. You will do as I say and not come to this house late. After work you come here. You will stop acting like a bastard!”

Letting his body speak to his dad, Botlhale grabs his backpack and leaves for work. Driving in his BMW M4 GTS he stops by a rental house for information on the costs of the apartments available so he can start planning to move out of his parents house. Nothing was as important as his peace of mind as now because he has been haunted by guilt not telling them about his sexuality his entire life — he knew how to disguise himself as heterosexual — flirted with girls in their presence and played sports in his fatherʼs honor. He called in at his workplace and really wanted to take his mind off of everything, and asked his co-worker to cover for him for the next two days. For the rest of the day he drove to an alley that he and his best friend Tshepi would go and hang away from everyone else. Some alone time is what he needed since things have been almost chaotic for the past few weeks. A need to refresh, a calling to reboot and a step into a chance that will energize his behavior and direction. Thereʼs nothing ill about him. Just a vacuum of expectations and a lot less accommodation was at place. He needed more life.

Next day, Sunday, after months of dodging the fellowship he volunteers to go to their local church and seek something great out of himself. Itʼs fortunate to run to who you know is trustworthy and faithful, especially when you believe it. The sermon was dedicated to the ones who felt neglected and lost — oppressed by their superiors and locked in a room of grey walls. A sudden rush in his chest moved things into perspective. Knowing that these things donʼt just occur but there is a message behind it. Now on a quest for the need to know, he reached out to the pastor after the service: “Greetings pastor. I hope you remember me, Botlhale. I know I have been negligent to the church for the past few months. Things have just been out of order in my life, and now I feel the need to find some sort of control or at least grounding. What do you suggest?”

“Afternoon my son. I hope you are well and it makes me happy to see you after so long. Itʼs okay to cry and let loose sometimes. There is liberty in knowing that you can find yourself in the loss of everything. No need to feel sorry for yourself when you know that you can do better. I may not know what is going on, but you have to trust God and know He will never hurt you or put you in a position you cannot handle. Fight. Be light. Thrive. You will be right,” the pastor said. A flush of regret reflected on Botlhaleʼs face and he thanked the pastor with a hug and an offering of R100, and walked away to head back home and start acting — saving his life.

The Gemini atmosphere is still in full effect as Botlhale asks his parents to sit down for a meeting. Living in a home for 21 years and having no say in your life really teleported his mind to spaces no kid should be in, and he felt exhausted. He felt no remorse in his speech and was going to open up provocatively: “I know, and you guys know, that I have been nothing but respectful to you growing up. I have done all you needed me to. And I appreciate all that you have done for me to be where I am today. I think it is high time…” as he was actively trying to get his message across his father interjects, “Donʼt say anything you would regret, because there wonʼt be any going back from it mosimane.”

“You see, this is what I am talking about. You preach respect but instill fear in me. But I forgive you regardless. As I was saying, I have applied for a bachelor flat to accommodate myself. And dad, since you are out of your way to control me and make me feel bad for being myself you wonʼt have to pay for my accommodation. I have been saving up and I am ready. Mom, I care about you so much and I want you to know that I will always love you. And I will check in on you every chance I have. Please take care of yourself,” with teary eyes and a swallow of confidence down his throat Botlhale professes. He then went to his room and attractively received a text message confirming that he may pay off the deposit and move in immediately. He decides to transfer the money electronically and spend the final night at home. Now that he has found his way through his train of thought he calls Jay after not speaking to him for over 24 hours. Thereʼs a bridge between space and time. No need to romanticize ghosting knowing that how you have presented yourself to the other has profited a promising relationship. Regardless of your tribulations it is evil to ghost someone whom you promised to engage with, and yes nobody owes anyone anything, but a warning to be in solitude is warm. Jay surely wasnʼt willing to entertain any excuses and he ignored all 11 missed calls. Figuring that itʼs best to leave him alone for a few more hours to cool off, Botlhale decides to lay in bed and watch some TV.

“Do you think Iʼm a slut for ignoring his calls? Do you think Iʼm a slut for wanting to have had sex with him on the first day? Am I at fault for feeling like he shouldnʼt have ghosted me and told me to back off?” Jay asks Thabo as he is sleeping over. He respects Thaboʼs opinion and as someone who has been in a situation where he was involved with a guy and then after a month ditched him for another with no concern to even let him know he knew he would understand. With a hand on his chest and a deep sigh he says, “Itʼs not what youʼve done or what he has done that is confusing, but how you guys are feeling about each other right now. I think you should speak to him and figure out a way, chomi. Life e khutswane to be stuck in the mud for the longest. Learn to live. Youʼll never know what you truly have until you open your eyes and realize itʼs gone. You like him, donʼt you?” And with a slight anxious look on his face Jay says, “I do, I really do.”

“Then you know what to do. And if you feel like you shouldnʼt have to do that tonight, wait for him.” And just like the dark of the night Jay feels bittersweet about the whole thing, but has hope for the next day.

The sun rises and hearts are refreshed. Jay and Thabo start off their day with a yoga session. Watching a few YouTube videos has inspired a new routine they are willing to create and keep. And after last nightʼs confrontation it was time to visualize and prepare a life with intentions. And while in their frog pose a knock on the door interrupts them. “Come in!” they yell at the same time. Itʼs Botlhale. “Now thatʼs a position worth stretching it out,” Botlhale says with a chuckle. He liked speaking figuratively with Jay and he enjoyed it. Jay gets up and asks Botlhale that they speak in the kitchen as Thabo continues his yoga in the living room. Thereʼs thickness in this winter morning air and the awkward silence gave it oomph. Thabo isnʼt a fan of such and so he shouts out these words and decides to finish off his session in the bedroom, “Communicate! Communicate! Communicate! Damn!”

A twist on his mouth to avoid speaking first Jayʼs cheeks become rosy red as he stares into Botlhaleʼs brown eyes. His bald head just had a way to help you shift your focus to them. They were the kind of eyes that invited you to know his heartʼs desires. As he lays his hands on top of the kitchen counter Botlhale finally speaks out: “I am sorry for not contacting you as soon as I had affirmed. I have been undergoing a lot of stress and I needed to connect with clarity. And I shouldʼve called or texted you to understand my silence.”

“Look Botlhale, I am sorry too for ignoring your calls last night. Ha I did that on purpose cause I didnʼt appreciate you ghosting on me. And then I thought you wanted nothing to do with me, that I was too forward with you. I get it. I just hope you are feeling better now, and that you should know that I am here for you, for anything.”

“I want to be with you, Jay. I am finally taking charge of my life and I want you to be a part of it. The other day was special, and I will never forget it. I want to create nights like those and days of forever with you.”

“Botlhale…”

Botlhale then silences Jay by putting his finger on Jayʼs lips and says, “Shhh… I feel as though I need to say this with your utmost attention. I am ready to be with you. I have let go of my fatherʼs control of me. I have decided to own my life. I am moving into my own apartment as we speak. And that is some indication that we will be spending more time together to connect.”

“I did not imagine that that was the issue. (takes a deep breath) All I can say is how happy I am that you are here and have taken accountability for yourself. Beautiful to witness and even more great to be venturing into this relationship with you. I, too, am ready for you.”

The moment everyone was ready to have breakfast Thabo had insisted on heading back to his flat so he could have breakfast with his boyfriend, Thami, instead of crashing Jay and Botlhaleʼs romance. “I will call you later, friend. See you soon, Botlhale.” And as he opened the front door he hugged Jay and left. His place was a 5 minute walk from Jayʼs and Thami stayed in the same commune so it wouldnʼt be a hassle to go straight that way as he had already informed him before he left Jayʼs place. The second he saw him he giggled and gave him a hug so caring and the attraction to Thamiʼs temple was evident as he slightly scratched his bare back since Thami was shirtless. Thami is a normal homebody always in his favorite attire — grey sweatpants, slippers and shirtless. He was a thick body covered in dark brown layers and substituted his laziness with knowing the whereabouts of Thaboʼs life. “So whatʼs new with your friend?” Lifting his left eyebrow in irritation but knowing his lips get loose to say whatever to him Thabo responds, “Well… I left without asking anything since he is occupied with Botlhale. But I was obviously eavesdropping and I heard that they both agreed to be together. I am happy for him.”

“Hmm…okay, I guess. Itʼs just weird how Jayʼs relationships always start. Sleeps with a nigga on the first day and gets caught up in the moments. Then gets heartbroken when shit goes down. Itʼs a cycle, and something he is not determined to break. He loves being needed.”

“You donʼt know him. He has been single for two years. Two years is a lifetime for most people to share alone, so you are speaking nonsense babe. I mean sure he has fucked around during the time he was single, you know one night stands and all, but he still wasnʼt needy, or was he?” As Thami was about to respond he put his hand on his neck and grinned, “Babe, youʼre only saying that cause he is your best friend. You just answered your question by the way you described his “situationships”. Donʼt get me wrong I like your friend, but he can do better for himself. I just hope heʼs willing to secure this relationship against all odds by being honest with himself.” Thabo then lifts a finger and places it on the side of his mouth and sighs in agreement.

(Two months later)

The sun blesses the season and the couple remains committed to each other. In a way Cupid had called out for attention, but Jay was caught up in the sky. The afternoon news headlines read that there has been a death of a youth from a prominent family, and itʼs reported to have been suicide. Trevor Dabula killed himself after two years of his marriage to Lerato Dabula. One would wonder why this unfortunate incident occurred. Trevor Dabula, Jayʼs ex-boyfriend, had broken things off with him after his family had forced an arranged marriage for him with Jayʼs former high school best friend Lerato. It was heavy for Jay to digest this discovery as he found out over the internet that Trevor was married. He didnʼt fathom anything and confronted Trevor, but Lerato had already moved into the house and didnʼt want Jay near Trevor as commanded by Trevorʼs folks to sustain the marriage. Two years ago they had disengaged from Jay. For two years Jay has been armored in loneliness. And these very two years now grow a lump in Jayʼs throat while he watches the news.

A sudden shift in the room causes a light change in emotion. Jay began shaking his head in disagreement over the terrible news and swallowed a huge lump in his throat and his voice started shaking, “No…no…no…” and as Botlhale tries to get close to embrace him he asks, “Babe, whatʼs wrong? Why are you reacting this way? I mean itʼs painful that a great amount of the youth are dying from suicide and it hurts me. But why do I have a feeling that itʼs more than that?” and to accommodate the tears in his eyes Jay begins to open up: “I know him. I…we…I am his ex-boyfriend. Trevor and I were together a while ago, and I am just shook. He was never that soulless. I mean sure his parents were evil for… (tears are finally rolling and words are harder to be clear)” so Botlhale decides to go pour him some water. And after those seconds of taking the glass from Botlhaleʼs hand and taking a deep breath he continues, “His parents are the reason we broke up. They knew how much we loved each other and were planning to get married after weʼre done studying, but they were against Trevor being gay. What had broken me down was how he drifted from me and chose to go and get married to my former best friend and not inform me of the situation. I felt a hole in my chest, like I was sinking in quicksand.”

Quickly Botlhaleʼs body became tense as his head rested on the couch and he didnʼt know whether to bombard Jay with more questions or to just process all this information. The two have been together for two months and it feels like one of their closets has just been opened and Botlhaleʼs reaction is soar. “This is all too much to bear. I just want to know something.” And barely making eye contact with him Jay turns his head to Botlhaleʼs side and says, “Yeah?” while having a feeling that the question was going to make things more uncomfortable as they already are. “You still love him, right?” Jay still feels pressured to make eye contact but fails to,

“I mean…he just died Botlhale, why are you being shady?” and the tension between the two rises like oil and water. “I am not trying to be insensitive. I am just trying to understand. You got over him, right?”

“I love him, okay? Or at least I loved him, but now that heʼs gone…” (holding his head with both hands and releasing a loud grunt) “Youʼre kidding me, right? So if he were still alive youʼd want to be with him? Like, what are we doing because clearly youʼre not in love with me?” Still feeling a sense of shame for Botlhale with his interrogation, an incoming call from Thabo clears his throat and he answers it to avoid the elephant in the room. Thabo checks in on Jay and asks how he is feeling about the news. Botlhale feels disrespected that he was ignored and left hanging on a thread. Jay shuts him out as he steps outside to continue speaking on the phone with Thabo. It got heated as the fire was lit up to the knowledge of why Trevor had committed suicide.

Trevor and Thami had been good friends for six years and have been keeping in touch. To no surprise a subject that was relative to speak about was Jay. Thami has been keeping tabs on Jay through Thabo so he could inform Trevor because he still had hope that they would find their way to each other. When Thami told him that Jay finally moved on into a serious relationship with Botlhale, Trevor couldnʼt accept the truth, more so because he had just settled his divorce and planned to come to Johannesburg from Cape Town to make amends with Jay. Hearing this from Thabo, Jay breaks down and releases the grip he had on his phone and lets it fall with him on the cold marble floor. While Jay cries for a good twelve minutes outside, Botlhale feels more unsettled by the situation and decides to step into Jayʼs bedroom as he finds a black diary peeking from his pillow on the bed. He didnʼt mean to pry but by the uncertainty of events he figured only the diary would give him answers. As he opens the first page he sees “DEAR FEBRUARY” ingrained in bold black capital letters. Intrigued to feed his inquisition he peruses all the details of Jay and Trevorʼs relationship — from their first date which led to their first love making, to February of this year which he described how he went to their last dinner place by himself to find means to “let go”. Reading the diary really filled Botlhale with insecurities and his heart began racing, his thoughts were pacing and his bald head was sweating. He sat there for a good long ten minutes to wait for Jay to come.

“What are you doing with my diary Botlhale?”

“You know thatʼs the second time youʼve addressed me with my name and not “babe”. What, youʼve outgrown me already, Mr. February?”

“You had no right… (folding his arms on his chest)… no right to go through my stuff!” and that gave Botlhale no pleasure at all for Jay was still avoiding answering his questions. So he suggests leaving the house. As he walks closer to the door Jay grabs his hand and gives it a tight grip so that Botlhale doesnʼt leave. “Please…please donʼt leave.” Reminiscing about the decisions he made to be where he is today and with Jay, Botlhale feels more intense and avoids eye contact as his face flushed. “I will speak up. I know that you probably have an idea, or more than that since you have read my diary. I am sorry. If you think that I donʼt love you then youʼre mistaken. If you think that I still loved and love Trevor, then youʼre correct. His death has…hit home, you know?”

“Jay, I donʼt think you know the recipe for this. You are not honest with yourself and you are not honest with me.” A teardrop kisses his left cheek and he shuts his eyes for a good three seconds as Jay pleads for him to look at him. “Iʼm sorry, I really am”

“So am I, for believing in you,” and he pulls his hand off Jayʼs grip and leaves the house. Their relationship suddenly became as cold as the weather. No thought at present to encourage trust. Jay felt a familiar rush of misery flooding in his heart. And on the road Botlhale drives off to a bar to either drown his sorrows or fill his head with more doubts and pain. Thabo comes running to Jayʼs and doesnʼt even knock on the door and enters. “Jay…friend…” He witnesses Jayʼs shadow lingering from out his bedroom door and goes in to comfort Jay on the floor.

A crack of the mindʼs walls dissipates fear and draws Jay to confrontation. The only thing that made sense to him was to attract healing. The loss of his parents relationship with him, being susceptible to his extended family, chasing men for love and pleasure, and never offering self-support when need be, surely indicated how much he needed remediation — he took a trip to receive therapy — coursing through his 22 years of life experience in the given 4 months. While he reassesses his life he makes sure not to be triggered by anyone. So he had his phone confiscated, lived remotely in the period, got into physical therapy and attended counselling sessions. And this meant heʼd continue his studies the following semester, which would be next year as it is currently July. Reading into the features of the Spring, itʼs been clear that Thami was against Jay and Botlhaleʼs relationship in sympathy for his late friend Trevor. Fortunately he finally had a chance to meet Botlhale as they surprisingly attended the same university for different courses. He realized that they came to campus at the exact same days and times and thought heʼd give an impression, at least he thought. Dressed in a medium flannel shirt and brown leather pants with Dr. Martens shoes, he approached a lonely Botlhale at the cafeteria. “Hey, Botlhale. I am not sure if youʼve heard of me but Iʼm Thami. Anyways, I think I have the perfect thing, or in this case the perfect guy, to cheer you up. Preferably for pleasure, but you can go down the seriousness of things if you want,” he insists. “Look, Thami? I donʼt know you, and you certainly donʼt know me. Get out of your head and out of my sight with that nonsense. I am good, thanks.” As he grins sarcastically he gets passionate about wanting to hook Botlhale up with a friend. “Relax. I know you still ainʼt caught up with Jay. He is not even here. So I know youʼre bound to be lonely and horny and your hand canʼt be your savior forever. Get some ass, get your life.” Only to ruin Botlhaleʼs lunchtime he leaves his sandwich behind and decides to go, with a tense expression on his face as he had recollected Jayʼs name from Thamiʼs statement.

(typing a message)

“Hey, Jay. I know itʼs been over a month since we spoke but I really wanted to check in on you. Perhaps we could catch up? We need to talk.” And with anticipation longer than he thought no response at sight from Jay. So he figures Thabo will have an idea about Jayʼs whereabouts. Had he known that Jay went for therapy heʼd be calm during these months isolated from him but it hasnʼt been easy — having his credit cards frozen by his father — his work contract terminated — a sudden detachment from friends who are provinces away and never considered to check up on him as he frequently did — contributed to some sort of solitude he needed to rejuvenate. But hearing that Jay will be availing himself back in the city tomorrow afternoon, Botlhale feels a little uneasy. They parted in despair and one would not think that theyʼd like to see each other. Botlhale spent the rest of the day purchasing a book, fruits and a pot plant as an offering to Jay for tomorrow.

With a recharge in energy you can tell by his steady walk, poise posturing, improved skin complexion, a new sky falls upon the rise of Jay. A conquest for a personal relation is heightened as the emotional force between Jay and Botlhale come together at the reception of Jayʼs place. Botlhale came 21 minutes earlier informed by Thabo through a phone call, and he has no regrets when he finally sets his eyes on a familiar body that made him breathe in freedom. “Hey,” Jay says with a smile on his face and an astonishment reflected with his eyebrows motion. And as they entered the house and sat in the living room a vibration started flowing that gave comfort to the voice not to shake in speech, and fear gave in to this union.

“Itʼs so good to see you after so long. I feel like itʼs the first time all over again. Your aura feels different and I have laid pain to rest, Jay”

“I want to apologize for my selfish ways. Botlhale, youʼve shown me a notion that I want as my religion. I now know what love is, and as I sacrificed myself to receive what I was missing I realized that all I needed was already within me.”

“Had I been more gentle with you then wouldʼve made things better, and now I donʼt want you having February as your only month of a love you know of.”

“Botlhale, I am love. You are love. And together weʼre an energy that praises the heavens for the power of creation. February is a month representing a love that has died, one that ended disturbing my peace of mind. And now all I want is to be carried by a new love that erases all that almost broke us. I love you,” says a cheerful Jay. And running into his arms is Botlhale whose eyes are teary and grateful of a beginning that canceled resistance but welcomed commitment in every kind of way, “I love you, babe.”

Written: May 2020