Authors: Tshetsana Senau
Celeste Mokone is the average 21 year old with big dreams and good intentions. There is only one problem: she's never had a boyfriend. Alongside her best friend Kate, they spend their days stalking boys they are attracted to, and wishing for love and happiness to finally rescue them from their abnormal lifestyle. Celeste still lives with her parents because she cannot decide what it is she wants to do with her life. Everyday she struggles through self esteem issues and using her friendship to Kate as a barrier which prevents her from opening up to the world.
This story is told through Celeste's thoughts, and it chronicles events which lead to her wishes coming true. The only issue, is how she learns to accept changes coming into her life.
By Tshetsana Senau
Text copyright © 2012
Cover by Oteng Kgari
To my one and only
Table Of Contents
Being Celeste is a light hearted story told
through Celeste’s thoughts. Every event that happens in the story, she has a say
in it. It’s as if the reader is getting a glimpse of things through her eyes
and personality. I hope you will have as much fun reading this story, as I did
Happy reading everyone!
“Here’s to us!” He
raised his glass and looked at her, glimmer in his eyes.
“To us,” she replied, looking back at him
like she was about to eat him up. The cold, fizzing from her drink did nothing
to tarnish what she felt in the moment.
They toasted the night away with expensive
bottles of Champaign, clicking glasses, being all in love, kissing. And they
lived happily ever after, the most important factor. It’s kind of hard to watch
a movie, a romantic movie, a chick flick; call it what you must. It’s hard not
to believe that one day it will all come to life,
life. One day I’ll
meet a very chivalrous human being who will love me forever and ever. I want to
believe it’s true, I really do. But once I turn the television off and wonder
if I should have another go at
Pride and Prejudice
and watch as Mr Darcy
falls in love with Lizzy, it never escapes me that there’s a possibility that
I’ll never have what they have in the movies; that man and woman who are so in
love, that they can’t possibly stand to be apart, no matter what. Then again, I
should think of them very unrealistic, I mean it can’t possibly take two hours
to fall in love with someone and run off with them to a land far, far away; a
land of the loved and hopeful. But how would
know, I’ve never been in
My phone rang. It’s never anyone else
really, so why bother checking the caller ID.
“Kate!” I said merrily, playing with a
button on the remote with my thumb. I was all wrapped up in a blanket to keep
the semi vicious cold winter air out. It was my best friend Kate, and she had
called just in time.
“So, what did you think of Sally’s
decision?” she asked.
My ear was devotedly pressed against the
receiver, while I was thinking about an answer. She
of course asking
about the movie that we both just watched...at the same time. It’s our thing.
“I think she should have married Luke. He’s
the safest choice. Her decision was just too spontaneous, choosing a bad boy,
it would never work in real life.”
Oh, one more thing, we also pride ourselves
as chick flick critics/ relationship experts. I can tell you that I’ve watched
a million romantic movies and from that I might as well have earned a degree in
relationship psychology, if there is such a thing. The only one problem is just
using it to land a boy, even if it’s just one boy. A hero in my own movie.
“Celeste,” called my mother from behind.
“Goodness me, what are doing in the dark?” she switched on the light anyway.
“Are you conspiring against us all?”
I really shouldn’t be bothered replying, I
was in the middle of my thoughts, and a phone call, which I immediately ended.
I’d explain to Kate later why we lost connection. I hoped she didn’t overhear
me talking to Kate. “Well mum, I guess I’m not in the dark anymore.” I
smirked, and tried to avoid eye contact. But I couldn’t help it because I knew
she would be staring at me. The look she gave me was very loving, or maybe she
was making fun of me, I’m not really sure. I’m not sure she even thinks I have
a life. It’s Saturday night and here I am, pining at life in chick flicks on my
parents’ couch in my purple pyjamas and a blanket. That’s it, isn’t it? She’s
having a laugh at me, my own my mother is making fun of me. She’s never seen me
go out, ever, because I’m always home on the weekend nights, aren’t I? It’s a
Saturday night and I’m the biggest loser to ever grace the world: highlight the
big, because I’m sure I’m a hundred kilos overweight. Argh! My life is so
horrible; it’s going nowhere except the back and forth of the obvious, and how
sorry it is.
Now mum is going on and on about the plans
she has for the next banquet at church. Old Gladys, her rival: a very uptight
and grumpy woman, always giving poor mum a hard time at church events. I don’t
get why they make it a competition. If you’re making money for the Lord, it
shouldn’t really matter how, or who makes the most money. It should be a matter
of cooperating and working together as one. Isn’t it what we are here for? My
mother will go on for days about how much of a vile and vindictive woman Gladys
is, for raising the most money as the organiser of the previous church banquet.
My father has probably heard enough of it already, so she’s now come to
to finish off her worries. You know, sometimes I think I’ve inherited all
from her. Living life feeling sorry for myself...Nah!
She slumped down on the sofa next to me and
said, “You know what Celeste, I’m going to start working on the menu tomorrow
have to listen to it, all of
it, drop in a few comments now and again, but most importantly, just listen and
nod; there has to be plenty of nodding. At the same time, my mind keeps
scratching at the sentiments overshadowing my boring life. Again, it’s a
Saturday evening and I’m listening to stories about the evil Gladys. My fellow
age group I’m sure is partying the night away at some fancy club or at parties
they are invited to. I’ll be honest, I don’t like going out. Yes, the cool and
happening are out in the night scene right now having the time of their lives,
but I don’t care about all that. I don’t think loud music and people holding
beer bottles is a sight to see or be in. I’m not at all jealous of them. But if
I’m not the type, what should I do to get hip and happening in my sixty year
old simulation of a life.
I probably should
just start this properly. I Celeste Mokone, born and raised in Palapye (one of
the dusty villages in Botswana), have never been kissed, nor do I have any
experience at all with a real life boy. Me, the relationship expert! I’m twenty-one
and I work in a boutique that my parents own. I work with my best friend Kate
and at present, I’m pretty positive that I’ll never get a boyfriend. You know,
it’s not normal what I have: the never been kissed syndrome. I have a feeling
that being single, but having checked snogging off your life list at
age is better than nothing at all. It
isn’t it? Apart from being a
nun, which I’m not, what’s wrong with me? There’s something terribly wrong with
how I’m turning out. It’s embarrassing. I’ve dwelled on the fact that maybe I
have a boy repellent in my system, a defect I was born with. Kate, the smart
one, said it was impossible. Well what does science know? All I ask is for one
thing in my life to be normal, but it’s not happening.
Kate’s been kissed before. We were still in
secondary school. She swears it was an accident. Apparently the boy’s lips fell
on hers and he kissed her. I don’t buy it one second. How do lips fall on other
lips accidentally? I’ve never heard of such an accident. I don’t care though.
I’ll be honest; right now I’m so desperate I’m calling the ‘accident’ to happen
. It will be a step.
Mornings are always rough on me. I never
feel like getting up because I have nothing to live for except myself. I’m
going to drag this in again, but when will I wake up in the morning and think
. Slap a smile on my chubby face because the first thing that
popped into my head is someone else, someone who loves me, someone who has done
the honours and kissed me amidst my boy repellent. Then I have to get ready for
work, which includes gazing at my image in the mirror for half an hour, hoping
that the person staring back at me would be the woman I want to be. Kate is
always the first one at the shop, because she had an
, life is far
less complicated for her.
I rushed into the shop, holding coat orders
which were delivered to my house on Friday. Kate and I arrive fifteen minutes
early because every Monday is
translation: boy stalking
madness. I am aware that we behave like teenagers, but don’t blame us for being
late bloomers. I was late, like always. “What did I miss?” I screamed, between
breaths. Between the heavy coats and the rushing and being overweight, I was
panting like mad.
“You’re just in time, Celeste,” she
replied. She was behind the counter organising the coins in the cash register.
Kate was tall and really slim. The one thing you notice first about her is her
evenly toned dark skin, very refreshing. Although she hides it behind really
big glasses which I don’t think she really needs, her face is the definition of
beauty. I tell her that all the time. Then she goes really shy on me and tells
me I have to say that because I’m her best friend. Then there’s this one
hairstyle she keeps which really annoys me, her infamous pony tail. Every
single day! If she has braids on; pony tail, her natural hair, pony tail! And
glasses. I don’t get it.
Anyway like I was saying, boy stalking;
it’s a tradition of ours. We’ve been doing it for three years now, ever since
we completed secondary school and started working at the shop. We pop into the
shop fifteen minutes before open time, that’s around 7:45, stand behind the
mannequins that are at the big window in front of the shop and spot the guys.
The window overlooks the large car park in the mall complex and a couple of
shops that surround the area, including the very busy supermarket on the far
corner of the line of various shops. We chose Mondays because...well I’m not
sure really, but I think I made the suggestion to make it Monday. I’ll think of
a proper reason later. Kate was feeling rather super in her matching pink
outfit. She was wearing ‘Monday’, which is
day for her I guess: hot
pink jeans (I have no idea where she bought them), a white shirt with
horizontal pink stripes, pink jacket and pink pumps. Tomorrow, Tuesday she’ll
be all geared up in blue. I was watching the other day on the television, a
woman who won a free makeover in the city. It was so great seeing her
transformation. Maybe I should secretly take a picture of Kate and enter her in
the competition. I have no doubt in my mind that she would qualify. I just have
to get my hands on the newspaper, which I have no idea where my father placed
it after he read it. Argh, knowing dad, he’s not going to have the slightest
idea where it is. He has a tendency of being unconscious when he does things. I
don’t think it’s being forgetful. But the entry form is in the newspaper. That
would mean I have to buy a new copy, but I don’t like buying newspapers.