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CHAPTER 18

I don't bother asking confirmation as to whether Otis is the father. He obviously is – I can tell by the look of caution shining in his eyes. His drug-induced state has led him into saying something that was better off bottled and now it was out in the open he couldn't take it back. I could do what I wanted with this knowledge.

Frieda's sudden disappearance made more sense now. As for the weight gain, I could see it. Granted, she always wore loose clothes but you could tell she was slim underneath her garb. Now, I noticed her face was rounder and her chin seemed to double whenever she tilted it downwards. Soon she wouldn't be able to hide.

"How many months?"

"Five this week," she forces a smile, as if by telling me this she is more hurting than she is happy.

I look at Otis who is suddenly as dazed as ever – a harmonious balance between a precocious child locked in a daydream and a grown man wanting to escape this moment. I now know why he'd wanted to get higher than a kite and Frieda wasn't stopping him. Parenthood was a future they hadn't planned but it was on their doorstep – four months away and changing the courses of their lives forever.

"Is that why you called me over?" I ask her.

"Yes," she croaks. Just to get that one word out looks like a breakthrough for her.

"Boy or girl."

"Boy," Otis announces. "And boys don't cry."

They both palm Frieda's pregnant belly and in my high state, I suddenly feel sick.

"Well... congratulations."

My reason for being there having been fulfilled, I gather my things and leave them to it. The rest of this moment need not be shared.

My departure is interrupted by the sound of Otis' New Gen ringtone blaring from his phone and he answers it in the nick of time. "Big G mate."

I pause at the mention of George's nickname.

I watch him dial down the volume so we can't hear what George is saying but his expression is evocative of bad news.

"Fuck, where you at?"

Muffled conversation.

"Fam, I'm super high."

The longer the conversation continues, the further his true accent unravels: familiar words tumbling from his mouth like a motor gaining speed down a hill. For some reason, Frieda and I just stare as Otis talks, not even attempting to hide our curiosity. I am spellbound by his canon.

"Alright bell me when you get there."

More sounds on the other end.

Frieda climbs to her feet and suddenly begins opening windows to release the fumes that are clogging our atmosphere. I realise this properly isn't the best setting for her to be in considering her pregnant state. I help her out before returning to my space on the bean bag. I hear Otis hang up the phone just as Frieda is lighting a jasmine candle to emanate through the room.

"What was that about?" Frieda asks.

"You," Otis is staring right at me.

The aghast look smothering his features makes him look even less like himself than before. Maybe it's just my paranoia but he had been acting strange all night; that phone-call seemed to have loosened the final screw that was connecting his brain to his body. He was dissociating from reality.

"Are you leaving?" He asks.

His eyes skit my form like he is seeing me for the first time: jacket on, laces tied, bag shouldered. Suddenly I am worried.