The Mandela Effect

Ch 7

 The next day, Jon crosses the skybridge that connects the hotel and the convention center. He is smiling from ear to ear. Under his arm, the notecards from his remarks.

Jon walks to the hotel atrium railing. He looks up again, taking in the view, before looking down towards the lobby floor. There, something catches his eye. It's Mark, sitting in the corner of the lobby bar. Jon heads towards the elevator. Getting off on the lobby floor, he walks over towards the bar.

"Hey, buddy," Jon calls out to Mark, "how ya doing?"

"Great!" Mark chuckles.

"You skipped my presentation?" Jon asks.

Mark was slightly distracted, signaling the bartender for a refill.

"I caught it," he argues to Jon.

Jon holds up the contents of his hands, "I literally just came from there."

Mark taps his laptop, setup on the table in front of him, "it's 2023, Jon, I don't have to be there to catch it."

"Well," Jon says, "thanks for your support?"

"No problem!" Mark exclaims, "so what's on the agenda for the rest of the day?"

"For you?" Jon chuckles, "I'm guessing drinking away the afternoon?"

Mark is distracted again, looking towards the bartender, but he responds with, "I could think of worse days."

"It's your trip buddy," Jon says, "but I'm off to see the family."

"Oh right!" Mark says, turning back to Jon, "when will you be back?"

"Probably tonight," Jon says, "but maybe tomorrow? I'm playing it by ear?"

"How far away is this place?" Mark asks.

"I'm taking a flight," Jon answers, "from here to East London. Then, a long drive out to the house. Maybe three hours all together?"

"And three hours back," Mark continues.

"If I make the last flight," Jon sighs, "Yea. If not, I'll be back in the morning."

"So, if I don't see you by lunch tomorrow," Mark says, "then I should call the police?"

Jon laughs, "I'm from here, Mark; I speak the language and know the customs. Nothing is going to happen."

Mark shrugs his shoulders, "If you say so."

"You should be more concerned," Jon says, taking on a stereotypical sub-Saharan African accent and with an undertone of sarcasm, "about yourself. Those things don't apply to you."

Mark starts to answer but stops. He looks around the room.

"And don't think you're safe here at the hotel," Jon continues the joke, leaning into the accent, "I mean a drunk, older man – on his own. That is a target around here."

Mark ponders the thought but Jon jumps in again.

"I'm just kidding you," he laughs, back in his normal voice, "you'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow!"

With that, Jon turns to leave. As he exits the bar, he sees a familiar face crossing the lobby.

"Nonhle!" he calls out.

She turns suddenly, shocked to hear her real name, and sees him. A smile spreads across her face and she walks his direction.

"Jongikhaya," she says as she approaches, "you didn't call me last night. My feelings are hurt."

"I'm sorry," Jon chuckles, pulling out the reference cards, "I had my presentation today. I needed to prepare."

"Ahhh," Amanda says warily, "well, that's a new excuse, so I guess I'll believe you."

Jon puts his hand on hers, "I swear, I'm going to call."

"What are you doing tonight?" Amanda asks.

Jon grimaces, "I swear I'm not avoiding you."

Amanda chuckles, "that seems like a likely excuse. Plans already?"

"I'm going to see my family," Jon says checking his watch, "in fact I have a plane to catch that I'm about to miss."

"Oh, well that's nice," Amanda says sweetly, "where are you heading?"

"Down to East London," Jon answers matter-of-factly.

"That's not too far," Amanda says, "a nice short flight."

"Plus a slog out into the bush," Jon adds, "my family is from the countryside."

"You're Xhosa right?" Amanda asks, "I'm guessing just based on your name."

"Yea," Jon answers, "that's right."

Amanda leans in, telling Jon a secret.

"I am as well," she whispers, "well, my parents are. But, don't tell anyone around here."

"Is it still like that around here?" Jon asks.

"Legally, no," Amanda says, "but actually... you can guess."

Jon shakes his head, "some things never change."

"But hey," Amanda continues, "you're just visiting, right?"

"Right," Jon says.

A moment passes without either of them speaking. Jon breaks the silence.

"Are you available tomorrow?" he asks.

"I get off at 4," Amanda smiles.

"Would you possibly want to have dinner with me?" Jon asks.

Amanda blushes and looks at the floor, "I'd love to."

Now, Jon blushes as well.

"But," she continues, "it will have to be outside of the hotel. I can't really be here... socially."

"That's not a problem at all," Jon says, "in fact, we can go any place you'd like."

"Well," Amanda smiles, "I'll have to come up with something."

"You do that. Give me an authentic experience," Jon answers.

"Authentic?" Amanda chuckles, "you sound like a tourist Jongikhaya."

"Oh sorry!" Jon exclaims, "how about..." Jon paused considering his words, "you remind me what I'm missing about South Africa.

"That," Amanda says, "I can do."

Jon checks his watch again, "I hate to say it, but I have to go."

"Plane to catch," Amanda sighs, "the constant refrain around here."

"But," Jon continues, "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"I'll be here," Amanda answers, "if you want, you'll see me."

"It's a date," Jon smiles, "and I wouldn't miss it."

They both look at the floor again, before looking up and meeting each other's gaze.

"Until tomorrow then?" Amanda asks, starting to step towards the front desk.

"Until tomorrow!" Jon says with enthusiasm.

With that, they walk in their opposite directions.