Conversation entre Griessel et son fils qui veut arrêter le lycée pour faire de la musiqueHe got into his car, took his cell phone's hands-free kit out of the cubby hole, plugged it in and drove away to Buitengracht and the Nl.
'Hi, Dad.'
'How's it going, Fritz?'
'No, cool, Dad, cool.'
'Six thousand rand for each ou in the band?'
'Yes, Dad. Awesome, and they pay for our meals and accommodation and everything.'
'That's fantastic,' said Griessel.
'I know. A professional musician doesn't need Matric, Dad, I mean, what for, why must I know about the sex life of the snail? Dad, you and Ma must sign this letter, because I'm only eighteen in December.'
'Bring me the letter, then, Fritz.'
'Really, Dad?'
'Sure. A guy doesn't need more than six thousand a month. Let's see, your flat will cost you about two thousand a month ...'
'No, Dad, I'll still stay at home, so ...'
'But you will pay your mother rent, won't you? For laundry and cleaning and the food?'
'You think I should?'
'I don't know, Fritz - what do you think is the right thing to do?'
'Sure, Dad, that sounds right.'
'And you will need a car. Let's say a payment of about two thousand, plus insurance and petrol and services, three, three and a half...'
'No, Dad, Rohan picked up a Ford Bantam for thirty-two. A guy doesn't need a grand car to start with.'
'Where did he get the thirty-two?'
'From his father.'
'And where are you going to get thirty-two from?'
'I... er ...'
'Well, let's say you save two thousand a month for a car, then that's only fifteen months, a year and a half, then you'll have your Bantam, but we are already at expenses of four thousand, and you haven't bought any clothes, or airtime for your phone, strings for your guitar, razor blades, aftershave, deodorant, or taken a chick out for dinner ...'
'We don't call them "chicks" any more, Dad.' But the first signs of understanding crept into his son's voice and the enthusiasm had begun to wane.
'What do you call them?'
'Girls, Dad.'
'When the tour is over, Fritz, where will the next six thousand a month come from?'
'Something will come up.'
'And if it doesn't?'
'Why do you always have to be so negative, Dad? You don't want me to be happy.'
'How can you be happy if you don't have an income?'
'We're going to make a CD. We're going to take the money from the tour and make a CD and then ...'
'But if you use the money from the tour for a CD, what are you going to live on?'
Silence. 'You never let me do anything. A dude can't even dream.'
'I want you to have everything, my son. That's why I am asking these questions.'
No reaction.
'Will you think it over a little, Fritz?'
'Why do I have to know about the sex life of the snail, Dad?'
'That's a whole other argument. Will you think about it?'
A slow and reluctant 'Yeeeaah, sure.'
'OK, we'll talk again.'
'OK, Dad.'
He smiled to himself in the car on the N1. His boy. Just like he was. Lots of plans.
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