"LAUNDRY"
It starts with some
Nanéca’s Version
Ok so here’s what happened.
I'd just gotten back from campus when my phone rang. Unknown number. Obviously was dit voor Truecaller 'n ding was. I hesitated, but answered anyway. Turns out it was a (particularly handsome) guy from class who had once helped me turn myself into a cyborg for a brief. At that point, the only things I really knew about him were that he had mad Photoshop skills and that he also seemed to enjoy the (occasional but obligatory) chip roll – dit, en die feit dat hy flippen indrukwekkende borshare gehad het!
He asked if he could come over to “make up some time” while waiting to pick up a friend’s laundry from the laundromat. I figured, why not? It’d only be for a few hours anyway – meeste plekke maak mos maar 18:00 toe?
When I stepped outside to open the gate for him, I found him full-on George of the Jungle, perched in a tree outside, apparently trying to get a better view. Weirdo. I let him in, showed him where to park and we walked over to the houthuis, a cosy wooden cabin tucked away behind my aunt’s house. We made coffee and sat outside on a bankie chatting about nearly everything, instantly hitting things off.
18:00 came and went. No laundry in sight. But then, the conversation (and entjies) were flowing, and honestly, I wasn’t mad about it. We ended up sitting there for hours. And I mean hours. One minute we were laughing about Crocs and conspiracy theories, next thing we knew – it was almost 05:00.
Eventually, we called it a night. My best friend Berdine had a sleepover at a friend’s place, so I did a sneaky room-swap: stole her bed and offered Nico mine. The next morning, I woke up to find the entire houthuis spotless – dishes done, everything packed away neatly – and a fresh pack of Marlboro Red Beyonds waiting on the table. And there was Nico, back on the same bankie, having a coffee like he’d been sitting there the whole time. Right there and then is when it clicked – I had found a keeper.
After grilling him about cleaning the houthuis (which, by the way, has never looked better), I asked if he wanted to grab some McDonald’s – because at that point, we were both starving. We chowed, chilled a bit longer, and then – without a single mention of the mysterious laundry – he eventually left.
To this day, I have no idea if said laundry ever actually existed … but honestly, I don’t really care.
Alright, so here’s my version of how it all went down.
It was a Friday afternoon, and I had to pick up some laundry for a friend who was staying in Durbanville, near Pearson where we studied. The plan was simple – grab the laundry, drop it off, and not spend my entire evening stuck in traffic back to Claremont. But of course, things didn’t go that smoothly.
By 16:30, I realised my friend wasn’t home yet, and I had nowhere to be. So, I wandered around the mall for a bit, killed some time, but eventually, I ran out of things to do. That’s when I had the genius idea to call up a classmate and see if I could crash at their place for a bit while I waited.
First call – Mary-Anne. She answered and was super friendly … until she casually mentioned she was in Worcester. So, yeah, not helpful. But before I could even hang up, she threw out another suggestion: "Why don’t you call Nanéca?" And then – without waiting for my response – she just sent me her number.
Now, I barely knew Nanéca at this point, so I sat there for a solid two minutes debating whether or not I should actually call. I mean, was I really about to impose on someone I have hardly spoken to? But then I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? So I called, explained my situation, and asked if I could just hang around for a bit while I waited. And before I even knew what was happening, she’d sent me her location and told me to call when I arrived.
I drove there, not knowing what to expect, and when I pulled up, my first thought was: Damn, this is a big, fancy house.
I am definitely out of my element here. I called her once. No answer. Called again. Still nothing. And then – boom – the gate opened. My life flashed before my eyes because, in that moment, I was convinced some angry oom was about to come yell at me for lurking around. But no, it was just Nanéca, barefoot, in jean shorts, laughing her head off at the fact that she caught me in a tree.
From there, she invited me in, gave me a quick tour of the houthuis, and said that she lived there with her best friend, Berdine (who was out for the night). I explained my little laundry dilemma, but somehow, that conversation turned into many conversations. We ended up sitting outside at this wooden school bench in front of the sliding door, just talking for hours.
We covered everything – where we were from, what we did, school, varsity, life, weird interests, random questions – just chatting and laughing, and before I knew it, I got a message from my friend: "Not gonna make it home, I’ll be back tomorrow." I won’t lie – I was kinda relieved because I really didn’t want to leave. I reluctantly told Nanéca, and instead of kicking me out (which would’ve been completely fair at that point), she just casually suggested we go get some food. And just like that, the night kept rolling.
By the time we got back, we picked up right where we left off, and next thing we knew – it was 05:00 in the morning. At that point, Nanéca graciously offered me her bed while she crashed in Berdine’s, since she was still nowhere to be found.
Now, I think I got maybe two hours of sleep. The whole time, I was just lying there thinking, What am I even doing? I’m in some random house, in some random bed, after talking to this girl all night, and it somehow doesn’t feel weird? Eventually, by 07:00, I gave up on sleeping. I felt bad for over-imposing, so I decided to clean up – washed the dishes, mopped the floor, and wiped the counters. Then, I found the house keys, walked to the nearest Engen, and bought a fresh pack of Red Beyond. Seemed like a fair trade for her letting me take up so much of her time.
By the time she finally emerged at 09:00, she was shook. First, interrogating me about the cigarettes, then demanding to know who cleaned the flat. After the initial shock wore off, we drove to get some McMuffins, ate in comfortable silence, and then – just like that – I thanked her for everything and headed home.
The whole drive back, I couldn’t stop thinking … There’s something here. Why didn’t she tell me to leave? How did we just talk all night without it ever feeling awkward? And man … this girl is something else.
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Nico's Version