There is a new hat in my life
She has already gone for her first run, too. I’m not sure if she liked it – she wiped sweat off my face, and she got clutched real hard as I struggled up the hills along the ten kilometre route.
I don’t think she has much to complain of, though, because I took her on a royal outing. We ran past horses and a vineyard, she came with to buy chocolate and biltong and fancy cheese, and like any good, respectable hat, she got the total lowdown on the situation of my friend’s love life. Hats are wonderful – their spirits are loving and patient, and they can understand both the good and bad sides of terrible love stories. I think if only I was a hat, I would have been able to give better advice. Hats know how to listen even when you’re not talking.
The hat also got to sit in the car with a guy who didn’t sleep all night, wears hoop earings like I imagine those beautiful gypsey girls do, and has hair much longer than mine has ever been. I think she peeked over the seat somewhere along the way to get a better look, but of course he had passed out. A night of not sleeping can do that to you. Also in the car was his girlfriend, who is a girl of the fun type – she came along to the run and shows up at your new house with flowers and chocolates for no reason at all. I think the hat is liking her new friends.
That night the hat got to stay home, where she hangs onto a railing for my clothes and towels, next to the corner of my new bed in my new flat, while later in the weekend my boyfriend came to fix up some stuff in the new place. He just shook his head when he saw she looks exactly like the Bloody Hat. But I shook my finger back at him.
‘This one is different,’ I said.
‘How?’
‘Because I stuck a promise to her.’
‘A promise?’
I nod and turn the hat over. On the inside, at the back where her drawstring comes out, I have tied the ribbon that came with her nametag – Julienne, it said – pink and frilly and shiny, I don’t know if this one is up for a lot of adventure, to be honest.
‘What kind of promise?’
I shrug. ‘I don’t know.’
A happy promise? I wonder. A promise of trying? A promise of bravery? I don’t really know. All I know is that the pink ribbon on her name tag was a promise and sometimes these things only become clearer much later.
He shrugged back at me and put his arm around me, puzzled but not too bothered. I looked at the hat, hanging there so sweetly, innocently, her promise sticking out like a flirtatious pettycoat. I wonder what waits for us.
