FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL
We got through the rest of the year dropping Samuel off and collecting him from his kindergarten in the far reaches of the northern suburbs. I work from home, and it meant adding a two-hour commute to our morning routine. Obliviously I didn’t mind the commute, but I didn’t want to think about Aida or what reason she may have had for attaching her seemingly unnecessary condition. It couldn’t have been to protect her parental rights should we ever decide to go back to court. Her rights as Samuel’s mother had been clearly established in the High Court when it ruled that, ‘The child belongs with the mother . . . her choice to leave him . . . her right to decide differently . . .’ So, I could only guess that she didn’t want to answer any questions her parents or others may have wanted to ask. All that mattered was that Samuel was back home and we made the most of the daily drive, listening to music and singing along. I can’t sing, but Samuel didn’t seem to mind.
Unfortunately, it did mean that I had to drop Jeremy at his school long before anyone else would arrive. As I watched the boys tossing a frisbee to each other, I felt incredibly proud of how Jeremy had accepted the situation. We were at Boulders beach near Cape Point for the afternoon – it had become a favourite of ours. Its reef had created a natural shallow area for young kids to play in and enjoy the warm waters of the Indian Ocean. The catwalk is a popular tourist destination for visitors to get as close as one possibly could to a breeding colony of penguins, and they seem happy to share their beach with us humans. Naturally, it’s restricted so we don’t try to feed or pet them. They waddle around avoiding us and our beach towels, swim between us and climb the boulders with us. And we get to share and appreciate these flightless birds in their protected habitat. As a parent, I could relax in the shade provided by any of the large boulders, while comfortably keeping an eye out for my children. That day, despite their ten-year age difference, they’d built a sandcastle, climbed some boulders, played frisbee, and despite Jeremy’s psoriasis, they’d spent a lot of time in the water together.
‘They bite,’ Jeremy said, catching Samuel as he attempted to stroke a penguin swaying within reach. As part of the Table Mountain National Park, visitors are asked to not disturb the penguins and there is an entrance fee for the conservation of this endangered African penguin. Moving his head from side to side, Jeremy attempted to distract Samuel by mimicking the penguin’s warning signal. They decided instead to go for a swim. I joined in with a tennis ball to pitch as high as we could to each other while still floating.
Jeremy’s psoriasis started two months into my last marriage. He’d taken a minor tumble while rollerblading and grazed his right elbow, and it just never recovered. Instead, it developed into an endless cycle of dry, silvery-white scales. We tried every suggested form of treatment. At best it would retreat to a faded red reminder, only to have patches of these overachieving cells return and pile up on other parts of his body. On his stomach, back, legs, and even in his hair. He bravely put up with all the medical and alternative treatments that I researched, as well as what his mother tried while he was in Australia. Finally, after yet another uncalled-for suggestion from another concerned stranger, he asked ‘I have to live with this, why is it that you guys can’t?’ From then on, he politely ignored suggestions or the stares he received, and took control of the management of his own treatments. The salty seawater was quite painful and only seemed to aggravate his psoriasis. So obviously, he really didn’t enjoy going to the beach. Yet he always did a stellar job of entertaining and taking care of his younger brother. The little tourist shop, crammed to the roof with straw hats, bathing costumes, fluffy penguins, and an assortment of African curios, additionally sold the obligatory ice creams needed for the road home.
I needed Aida’s permission to enrol Samuel for school. But I’d chosen a school that was a comfortable walking distance from our home. It wasn’t easy and I should have started the process a lot sooner. So, hoping it would support his application and somehow make it easier for Aida to give her consent, I intentionally selected a school with close institutional ties to the school where his grandfather had retired as headmaster. Both schools have excellent records of academic and sporting achievements, and they share similar traditions and teaching methodologies. I’m not sure if it made a difference, but thankfully Aida agreed to sign the required forms. Since his return, Samuel had regularly been having nightmares. Often as many as three or more times a night. But he wasn’t actually awake, so I couldn’t communicate with him or ask him what was wrong. I’d try offering him something to drink but he wouldn’t respond, and he wouldn’t allow me to hold or attempt to comfort him. I simply had to let him be and wait for the episode to pass. Naturally, I was a bit concerned about whether he was getting enough sleep. So, I was possibly a bit more anxious than usual about his first day of school. But I needn’t have worried. Samuel loved his first day. So much so, that he couldn’t wait to introduce me to two of his new friends. Beaming from ear to ear he enthusiastically introduced me to Alan and Otto. They were staying for aftercare and with an assumed can-I-please-stay from Samuel, the three of them turned and took off for the jungle gym.
VALERIA GETS HONEST
I connected with some of the parents from Samuel’s school and we’d started meeting regularly on Fridays at a nearby kid-friendly restaurant. The house we’d rented and made liveable was on the same road as Jeremy’s old primary school, so he reconnected with most of his former friends. We’d employed a professional beekeeper to safely remove an enormous beehive that had collapsed the ceiling of the granny flat before cleaning and turning it into an office. However, stray bees would periodically return, and Samuel bravely took it upon himself to rescue them. The owners had moved away and I’m pretty sure that their rental agent had never bothered to inspect the property. Still, with a fresh coat of paint, a bit of carpentry to fix some bits and pieces and the collapsed ceiling, and some time and energy spent bringing the garden back to life, we had a decent enough home to comfortably accommodate our work-from-home lifestyle.
We used the tandem garage to store the exhibition furniture and equipment we frequently reused for trade shows, so we had more than enough oversized cushions to comfortably invite any number of children over and our home soon became the go-to-spot for sleepovers. I loved having them, the more the merrier, and I quickly learned what to shop for and what meals to prepare that didn’t break the bank. It did, however, surprise me that a few parents from this school-orientated, upper-middle-class neighbourhood would simply drop their kids off without ever introducing themselves. Or more importantly, without coming inside to ensure that their child would be safe with me.
With the business and busy home life – at times it reminded me of a train station – I was kind of used to people sneaking up on me. But I never expected Valeria to be standing behind me while I was on a call talking about her and the fact she was in town. We spoke often enough, and at times I needed to remind her that it was Jeremy with who she actually wanted to speak with. She’d done well from the sale of some real estate and had decided on an extended trip which naturally included visiting Cape Town. She’d collected Jeremy from a friend’s house, and he’d brought her home. After the birth of three additional children, she still looked as captivating as ever casually clad in jeans and a delicate white embroidered shirt. Her Nashville ensemble was perfectly finished with a western belt buckle.
‘Wow, you look great,’ I said. ‘We knew you wouldn’t change, and you haven’t.’
We chatted for a bit, mostly about her trip, until Jeremy commented, ‘You know, I’ve no memory of ever seeing the two of you together in the same room.’
We spoke often enough, but we hadn’t seen each other in eight years and I think we were equally caught off guard. Did she know I’d be at home and was she concerned her husband might not be so happy? But Jeremy wasn’t letting either of us off the hook. He’d been listening to two completely different versions of the same story and now that he had us in the same room, he wanted the truth. It was an uncomfortable situation for all concerned. I thought this would quite possibly be the only opportunity I’d get to make amends.
I started by apologizing for not having been the husband I could have or should have been. Then I ran through my list of faults; my insecure tantrums, the belittling flic of her hair, and the time I kicked her ass. It had happened at a particularly difficult moment in our relationship, but that is no excuse. Still, it landed I lot harder than intended and could have resulted in never seeing my son again. Valeria had no recollection of the incident, so perhaps I was making too much of it. Still, I thought I’d get it all off my chest by owning up to having been unfaithful. Valeria appeared rather relieved and immediately reacted with, ‘Oh, thank God, I thought it was just me.’ Then she took over. I’d like to believe that I somehow made it easier for Valeria to say her piece, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure how healthy any of this was for Jeremy.
Valeria did attempt to regurgitate the story of being afraid of me. However, Jeremy wasn’t having any of it, constantly challenging her version with, ‘No Mum, that can’t be right.’ And he left her no wiggle room for having left his older brother Gareth behind. To her credit, she finally admitted that I was in no way responsible for her decision to leave South Africa. Then she told him the truth about needing a fresh start. The truth is, we’d always been good friends – which anyone would have known if they’d witnessed the two of us after our divorce or overheard any of our telephone conversations – and I’m pretty sure Jeremy knew that. I think he didn’t care what she needed to tell others, he simply preferred she didn’t repeat the story in his company. But he did want her to stop blaming me and to be honest with him, so he could build the kind of relationship he very much wanted to have with his mother. At the end of it all, I still wasn’t sure if we should’ve had this conversation, but I was proud of what Jeremy was trying to achieve and the young man that he was turning out to be.
NOTICE OF ATTACHMENT
It had been quiet for a little while on the northern front. We’d invited Ellen and Aida to Samuel’s sixth birthday, but we didn’t hear back. I really enjoy organizing children’s parties and, if I may say so, I’m pretty good at it. But this year was made so much easier by my recent discovery of Charley’s Bakery, originally located about a minute’s walk from the houses of Parliament. They baked the most spectacular range of magical cakes, cookies, and cupcakes that I’d ever laid eyes on. As per our household’s custom, Jeremy and I tiptoed into Samuel’s room the morning of his birthday. Samuel awoke to the sound of us singing the birthday song and six candles in a colourful cupcake. Grinning from ear to ear he dove back under the covers of his Monsters Inc. duvet, only to emerge as Sulley the monster to frighten the two of us away. I’d ordered a Jimmy Neutron cake for his Saturday party, but it was the colourful cupcakes that delighted his guests, and the wickedly sticky chocolate slices had most mothers asking for directions.
On Monday morning, after dropping Samuel at school along with some party packs for the kids in his class, I was still thinking about how well Samuel’s birthday weekend had gone. But I arrived home only to be handed a Notice of Attachment. The Sheriff’s helpers had already emptied most of the garage and were busy loading our exhibition equipment for removal. There was nothing I could do. Aida’s new company, which unbeknown to me was equally owned by Martin, had claimed ownership. According to the Sheriff, I’d been given ten days to respond, and as they hadn’t heard from me a warrant to attach the equipment had been issued. I don’t want to suggest there was something nefarious going on between Aida’s and Martin’s attorneys and the courts, but it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened and I had no idea how they managed to get the courts to move so fast. The last time, I hadn’t received any notification from the court or their attorneys, and no one in the office had seen or signed anything on my behalf. But I did know that we were a week away from having to deliver one of our biggest events of the year, and if they wanted to cause damage their timing couldn’t have been better.
After we divorced, the last thing I wanted was to compete with Aida for business. If I could’ve gone back to the security of the corporate world, I most likely would have. Fortunately, as it turned out, working from home was so much better for my children – and for me. However, finding a job as a middle-aged white South African male would have been damn near impossible. As South Africans, we have so much to be proud of. For one, there’s the peaceful transfer of power from a white minority to the previously disadvantaged African majority – which was nothing short of a miracle. This was followed shortly after by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, a restorative justice body assembled to invite victims of gross human rights violations to present statements about their experiences at public hearings, and perpetrators were given the opportunity to request amnesty from criminal or civil prosecution. In 1996, under the leadership of Nelson Mandela, South Africa’s post-apartheid Constitution was signed into law. As the first constitution in the world to outlaw discrimination based on sexual orientation, our Constitution is widely regarded as the most progressive in the world. Then in 2006, South Africa became the first country in Africa and fifth in the world to legalize same-sex marriage. With national pride at an all-time high, even I got behind our national side and enthusiastically celebrated their inspirational victory at the 1995 Rugby World Cup. Some people, mostly of European descent, chose to leave South Africa. Those who remained were apprehensive but overall pretty hopeful.
Given our country’s history of discrimination and entrenched inequality, most understood the country’s need to develop and implement an effective affirmative action strategy. But plans are rarely perfect, and change is certainly always challenging. And wherever there’s one dominant political party with unrestricted power, there’s always going to be corruption. What started as a trickle soon turned into a torrent of reports of thinly disguised rampant corruption. Political corruption and instability were leading to slow economic growth and the devaluation of the South African currency. It’s naturally troubling to witness being downgraded by Standard and Poor to non-investment grade speculative or junk status. Most businesses, even a small work-from-home business like mine, could survive the changes with a little bit of self-discipline. We could usually do without those additional loans that carried a premium and that were so much harder to qualify for. But the inflation rate rose, impacting the cost of goods, services, and fuel. And to say the least, for the majority of the previously disadvantaged, who for generations hadn’t been allowed to build equity, it was not easy.
But I still got to complain about corruption, the lack of service delivery, and the growing number of beggars that seem to occupy every traffic intersection, while ordering goat cheese and rocket on Turkish toast. I lived and got to raise and educate my children in one of the best school districts. We still enjoyed the luxury of a domestic worker who never had an opportunity to get an education. The African National Congress called on parents to keep their children out of school in resistance to the 1953 Bantu Education Act. To quote the then Minister of Bantu Education Dr H. F. Verwoerd, in an address to Parliament: ‘When I have control of Native education I will reform it so that Natives will be taught from childhood to realise that equality with Europeans is not for them. People who believe in equality are not desirable teachers for the Natives. Education must train and teach people in accordance with their opportunities in life, according to the sphere in which they live.’
Hendrik Frensch Verwoerd, commonly regarded as the architect of apartheid, went on to become South Africa’s sixth Prime Minister. Verwoerd was an Afrikaner nationalist and member of the exclusively white, secret organization dedicated to advancing the interests of the Afrikaner – the Broederbond (band of brothers). Like many of the members of this organization, Verwoerd verbally supported Nazi Germany during World War II. This particular band of brothers wasn’t just an extremist right-wing minority, they controlled the apartheid government, the judiciary, and reportedly over eighty per cent of the country’s wealth. Martin’s mentor was a suspected member of this secretive society. The billionaire founder of the group where Martin was employed as a director, who also happened to be Martin’s mentor, had me questioning the courts’ previous decision and my sanity.
But what was this latest lawsuit about? Was it simply Aida having a bad day? I’d handed their letter of attachment to an attorney before throwing myself into finding an urgent solution to the crisis we faced of having to deliver our largest event without the use of the equipment which had been seized. In the past, a request to discuss Samuel’s reluctance to go to his mother for the weekend had resulted in losing Samuel for six torturous months. Likewise, informing Aida that my payment of Samuel’s maintenance might be a week late had very nearly landed me in Cape Town’s notorious Pollsmoor Maximum Security Prison for the weekend.
Even though Samuel was living with me, under the terms of our de facto I’d agreed to continue paying Aida by no later than the 7th of each month. I’m not going to deny it annoyed me that I was paying her more than I spent in total on our household budget. But I knew that I had to prioritize my payment to Aida, and I knew that couldn’t afford to allow my feelings to fester into resentment. I hadn’t previously missed a single payment and I had notified Aida I was waiting for a few clients who were late. But it wasn’t more than a few days and the courts moved miraculously fast to have me arrested on a Friday evening and held in prison for the weekend. This was a strategy employed by the family courts in Cape Town to effectively deal with deadbeat fathers who were overburdening the legal system.
Fortunately, the Sheriff was willing to read our de facto agreement and the email I’d sent Aida. Then, seeing with his own two eyes both Samuel and Jeremy at home with me, he agreed to postpone my arrest pending my appearance in court the following Monday. Over the course of the weekend, we received a few of the outstanding deposits that we’d been waiting for, which fortunately enabled me to settle the matter before having to appear in court. I didn’t have to spend a weekend in prison, but in my previous dealings with Aida, I’d lost Samuel. To avoid a summary judgement that could enable Aida and Martin to attach any other assets or any future earnings, I knew I must urgently respond.
But I was procrastinating primarily because I was afraid of losing Samuel, and neither Kathy nor I knew what to expect if Aida didn’t get whatever she was after. And also, I simply didn’t want to admit there was an element of truth to their claim. So, instead of facing up to what I was responsible for, I’d been going around in circles, choosing to focus on the times when I could have legitimately accused Aida of fraud. From before we were married, when she removed all the equipment from her previous business and hid it from her then-partner at one of their suppliers, to the financial irregularities she dumped on me from the business we once shared. From emptying my personal bank accounts while I was in treatment, to fraudulently using my account to purchase a new vehicle – for the very same business that they were now using to sue me.
I would like to be able to say that I hadn’t laid charges simply because she is the mother of two of my children, and it is probably true. However, then and now, my overriding concern was always that I couldn’t risk having Samuel removed from my care.
Essentially, I stood accused of having stolen or removed half of the equipment from our liquidated business prior to the sale of execution. As theirs was the highest bid, the equipment belonged to their new business. I had in my possession enough supplier invoices as proof of ownership for most of the equipment that had been attached, so it would have been relatively easy to contest their claim of ownership.
Except that wouldn’t have been the whole truth, and it would have meant involving a few key clients in our dispute. The vast majority of the equipment we use to design and build exhibition stands is purchased as rental stock. However, some clients prefer to purchase their equipment outright and then employ us to maintain and store their equipment till they’re ready to attend their next event. As there wasn’t enough time for an audit to determine exactly which equipment belonged to clients, I randomly selected from memory and removed about ten per cent. But I wasn’t only attempting to protect my clients’ interests, I also knew that my new business would benefit from having access to the equipment. I could arguably have defended myself, but that didn’t matter. Aida had the right to leave Samuel with me or to remove him at will, whenever she chose, and ultimately that was all that mattered.
It must have been the third or fourth message from the attorney handling the case. After my NA lunchtime meeting, I finally crossed the street to his offices conveniently located on Green Market Square. Stopping briefly at reception to check if he was in, I proceeded straight to his office. Buried under the usual pile of legal files and caught off guard by my unannounced presence, he still managed a friendly ‘Hello, so glad you finally made it.’ Out of the corner of my eye, I had noticed someone waiting at reception – one of the winners from the Big Brother reality show, who happened to have the next appointment. He followed to ask, ‘What the fuck? I’m next.’ It was obvious why he’d won. He’s a really good guy and his comment was friendly enough. Brad politely asked him to give us a few minutes. I hadn’t brought any of the documents he’d asked for and I had honestly no idea up until that moment what I was going to do or say.
‘Tell Aida and Marten they can keep the equipment and I’ll add a hundred thousand!’ came tumbling out of my mouth. A bit taken aback by my offer, he reminded me that they were only asking for twenty thousand in damages. ‘I know, but I’m offering every cent I’ve got. Tell them that it’s money I’ve kept aside in case we ever go back to court.’ Then I added, ‘Between you and me, I’m sure I’ll lose. Samuel hasn’t been back long enough.’ And I finished with ‘Let Aida know we can go back to court, or we can settle our differences once and for all if she agrees to sign over custody of Samuel to me.’
I gazed out the semi-circular bay window, while he got Aida on the line. A friend from the eighties owned a leather shop directly across the road. The side entrance windows remained plastered with a collection of the various celebrities who’d visited his shop. But Kabir had recently been going through a bit of a rough time, so I made a quick note to myself to check in on him.
A little further up Long Street stood the restaurant that Aida and I had frequented on Fridays. We met there for after-work cocktails at the very beginning of our relationship, and I wondered if this moment would finally be our end. The attorney on the phone with Aida had essentially always been her attorney. The same guy I first met on my last day of rehab, who referred us to Kathy and who handled our divorce. And the same attorney who took it upon himself to inform me about the precarious state of business I’d been handed, and who guided me through the foreclosure. But lately, Aida had been using a few different firms which I assumed were somehow connected to Martin. He couldn’t have been on the phone for more than five minutes, but perhaps it was longer than I thought. With a rather amazed look in his eyes, he let me know, ‘She’s accepted your offer.’
Thankfully, Aida had negotiated for only a little bit more and he’d already accepted on my behalf. I’d have to settle their businesses claim at a hundred and twenty thousand – twenty thousand more than the hundred I’d offered – and I’d have to pay their legal costs, estimated to be another ten thousand. Ethically, the two legal agreements simply couldn’t be linked. He could finalize the business dispute, but the custodial consent would be handled by a separate firm. On the way out, I thanked the guy from Big Brother, who unbeknown to him had helped me out on more than just this one rather crucial occasion – when first alone with Ellen and Samuel in the townhouse I’d kept the series running in the background as a form of adult company when the kids were asleep. I should have felt a measure of relief from what just happened, but I couldn’t help but wonder if Ellen was okay and if there was anything we could do to help her.
The day the papers were ready I got dressed in the best smart-casual outfit I had, one that I usually reserved for the first meeting with any new potential clients. The two separate documents needed to be signed by Aida and me at the same time. I wanted to appear more confident than I actually felt. I had been repeating the Just for Today prayer all day and I was still so obviously anxious. I’d arrived way too early for the meeting, so I tried calling my sponsor from my car. When he didn’t pick up, I called a friend from the fellowship. Andy worked in the CBD and was a regular at Green Market Square’s lunchtime meeting. He didn’t know the details, but he was aware that I was in the middle of a custody battle. He’s a good guy that’s dedicated to working the program, but he sounded like was in the middle of something, so he quickly checked to see that I wasn’t about to pick up any drugs. With that out of the way, I just managed to get in that I was waiting for a meeting with my attorney. To which he replied ‘Financial insecurity is a big one for us. But, if you’re worried about money, do the next right thing and you’ll get back double.’
Financial insecurity is a major issue in recovery, and I was about to sign away the little bit I’d managed to save since leaving Aida. But that was the least of my concerns. I wasn’t sure if Aida had perhaps changed her mind and wondered if she’d show up to sign the custodial consent agreement. Still, touching base with Andy helped calm me down and I was grateful he made time to answer my call.
She did, and we didn’t say a word to each other while we waited in a conference room for an assistant to bring through the documents. I signed the two sets of documents and when it was Aida’s turn to sign, she hesitated and turned to me and asked for my watch. It’s a fairly expensive, limited-edition Montblanc watch that I rarely wore. But it wasn’t a part of either agreement and I had been considering selling it to cover some of the costs. Contrary to Brad’s objection, I removed the watch and slid it across the table to Aida. As if to save face, she turned to Brad to tell him that she needed to keep the watch safe for Samuel, and with that, she signed all the documents in front of her.
ART AWARDS
The exhibition calendar year was all but over when I committed myself to pay Aida’s company. I’d said that the hundred thousand was to cover potential application for custody. It was one of the reasons that I was trying to save, but I actually needed the money to cover the business’s year-end costs. There are three exceptionally quiet months at the end of each season, but rent, salaries, and year-end bonuses still needed to be paid. On top of which, I still had a DUI case hanging over my head which I expected would carry a hefty fine – or I might not be around to take care of my kids. But that was my own fault. And of course, I’d have to continue paying Aida for Samuel’s maintenance until our custodial agreement could be sanctioned by the court, after which Aida would no longer be entitled to maintenance – but neither would I. By our agreement, neither Samuel nor I would be able to claim any maintenance from Aida. As agreed, upon the signing of the documents I’d transferred fifty per cent into the attorney’s trust account. However, I had no idea what we’d have left over after our year-end expenses or where the outstanding balance might possibly come from.
I met Claire at meetings, and we’d had a few interesting conversations at various coffee shops where a few of us gathered after. She was looking to change jobs and seemed fairly interested in finding out more about what it was that I did. She was truly awesome, and I liked her as a friend. She knew that I couldn’t consider taking on someone new, at least not until after the new year. Even so, she was still excited to see the exhibition stands we’d designed and built for our last event of the year. We’d walked away with all three of the top design awards, so I was more than happy to show off our handy work. I was busy wrapping up our tour of Cape Town’s new International Convention Centre and thinking about grabbing a coffee or a bite to eat when we ran into a good friend of hers. They knew each other from ladies’ nights on De Waterkant’s pink strip, and I suspected maybe there was a lot more going on between them than either of them had yet realized.
As it turned out, Claire’s friend and the colleague she was with had recently been commissioned to curate a new art exhibition. They’d booked the convention centre to showcase African art and were somewhat deflated after three rather disappointing presentations they’d just attended in one of the conference rooms. They were still looking for an exhibition company to come up with the right concept for the construction and lighting that they urgently required for the show. I’d brought along some swatches and a sample board to introduce Claire to the design process, which just happened to be exactly what they were looking for. We still had a bit of paperwork to do, but while standing in the foyer of the convention centre, we’d all but signed the contract in a matter of minutes.
We’d previously taken on some pretty challenging events, but nothing near the scale of this event. When I was still working with Aida, I’d once delivered a 500 square-metre exhibition stand to Sun City in the northwest of South Africa. Sprawled along the border of the Pilanesberg National Park, Sun City Resort is a two-hour drive from the city of Johannesburg and a two-hour flight from Cape Town. Competitors from Johannesburg, familiar with Sun City, had been reluctant to take on the deal because of its unheard of twenty-four construction deadline. With proper coordination and attention to detail, we managed to deliver with an hour to spare. But then we had a much larger workforce and now we were only a small work-from-home office of six, which now immediately included Claire. This was so much bigger, covering twelve-thousand square metres required to display six different disciplines of soul-searching artworks. A lot of the art focused on the question of identity, race, and patriotism, which all had to be individually handled with care. With hardly any sleep we successfully delivered the largest art exhibition ever held in the whole of the southern hemisphere.
We were paid a few days later, which coincidentally happened to be the same day that I was finally granted full legal custody of Samuel. On transferring the balance, the attorney couldn’t restrain himself from letting me know that he’d needed to separate Aida and Martin. They were both with him, but in separate conference rooms, in order to negotiate who was entitled to what percentage of the money I’d paid. I didn’t get it. Aida was managing a business roughly ten times the size of my operation and Martin had recently been promoted. He was now the managing director of arguably the largest retail chain in Southern Africa, with the pay-off line of Family Values. What was a lot of money to me was probably less than a month’s salary to him, and yet they were arguing? But the last thing that I wanted to be thinking about was Aida and Martin.
I wanted to celebrate with my family. We chose a cosy wood-burning pizza restaurant called Da Vinci. As I watched Jeremy and Samuel scribbling together on paper tablecloths purposely provided for drawing, I felt extraordinarily cared for. I hadn’t paid too much attention to Andy’s comment of, ‘If it’s about money . . . you’ll get back double.’ Sure, I was worried, but money hadn’t been my main concern. Yet, when I tallied all the costs, his forecast turned out to be miraculously accurate, almost to the last cent.
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