Mai Rudo's lunch date...

Mai Rudo starred blankly at the menu, her mind had drifted off, she was trying to figure out the exact moment that had resulted in her current situation.

Was it the day Mr Muza had to come to pre fund his visa card before a trip to China? She had jokingly said, ‘bring me something nice’, and he had responded ‘I will do just that’. Mai Rudo paid no attention to the conversation; it was after all meaningless banter.

Two weeks later a deliveryman walked into the bank carrying a pink gift bag. In it was an Elizabeth Arden Red Door body box set with a card that read, ‘I hope this is nice enough… Muza’

Or maybe it was the day, Mr Muza had complimented her new hairdo. Her reaction to the compliment startled her. For some reason she had convinced herself that once one got married her ability to develop crushes died at the altar. It surprised her that she could still feel fluttery and experience a tummy summersault. She dismissed her unusual reaction, and concluded that she just missed receiving compliments from the opposite sex. That is all it was.

No, it was the day her fan belt broke and she found herself crying at the side of the road. She was not crying about the fan belt, she was crying because Baba vaRudo was so far away, it had only been 3 months but she was already tired. Tired of being both good cop and bad cop to her children; tired of attending all the school functions, family funerals and weddings; tired of the school run; tired of dealing with broken fan belts.

In the middle of crying and scrolling through her phone for the AA telephone number, Mr Muza drove up and parked next to her.

Mr Muza organised for the car to be towed to his workshop where it was to be repaired and he drove her home. She directed him to her house, where he parked at the gate and put a hand on her shoulder. ‘A beautiful woman like you shouldn’t have to worry about cars Veronica’, he said. She thanked him for all his assistance and quickly hurtled out of his car as though the seat was burning.

The fan belt incident had happened a month ago and still Mr Muza would not send her an invoice for the services he had rendered. Instead, he had said she could pay him by sharing a meal with him.

And now here she was, about to order lunch with Mr Muza sitting across the table.

‘What will you have ma’am?’, the waiter asked again.

‘I will have what he is having’ she subconsciously answered.

She scanned the room again to make sure there was no one she knew. How would she explain to anyone that this was nothing but lunch with a client who had helped her with a vehicle breakdown?

Was it really just nothing but lunch, or was it something or was it becoming something?

Mai Rudo reached for her bag and stood up, ‘ I am sorry, I have to go’

She walked away before she could see the reaction on his face…