Bowling at the Movies

There’s something so cinematic about a bowling alley. It is a sensory experience in every aspect; one that simultaneously evokes a sneaking sense of delirium and intense nostalgia. Those dim multi-coloured lights sitting in the low ceiling, the hyper-realistic paintings of flaming bowling balls at the end of each lane, and the dark, grimy, galactic-themed carpets all work together to feast on amateur bowlers’ senses. And the shoes – oh, the shoes! Goodness knows how many feet have walked in those smelly traps.

It is a warm night in Jo’burg. Thunder and lightning should dance their way across the dark and heavy sky quite soon. Although the humidity, coupled with the prospect of reeking bowling shoes, is not a pretty thought, Frida and her cousins are happy to be there together. A lot changes in two years, and it’s time to mend familial bonds torn by distance and inconvenience. When so much time has passed between young people, it can feel as if all hope of restoring any sort of chemistry between them is lost. What’s more is, the extraordinary circumstances of the bonding excursion have made things a little more complex, and Frida knows that everyone is thinking the same thing. Maybe they shouldn’t be out bowling when just 24 hours ago, they were mourning their grandmother’s death. Yesterday was also Frida’s youngest cousin, Samia’s, 18^th birthday. The passing was somewhat expected but the birthday… it was forgotten. Which brings us to the bowling alley. Something about this situation feels unnatural, scripted; like one of those movies from the 80’s.

They’re at the head of the queue now, and the older kids are paying for everyone’s tickets. Frida resorts to asking Samia about her studies, thinking it’ll spark a lengthy conversation that could fill the silence between them in the thick, windowless arcade air.

“I think I start next week,” says Samia. “I want a Coke.”

“The drinks are kak expensive here, Sam,” says Layla. “Mo is going to the food court to get.”

Layla is only a few months older than Frida. She isn’t as talkative as her sister, Samia, but she will always laugh at Frida’s jokes.

“Then I’m getting something from Sweets From Heaven when we’re done,” adds Samia.

The cousins have got Lane 1 so they begin to make their way over to the far end of the room. The birthday girl, Samia, is bowling first, and Frida is fifth.

As they make their way over to their lane, Frida remembers the last time she went ten-pin bowling; it must be almost ten years ago now. She was in primary school, and a friend of hers had had her birthday party at the ten-pin bowling place in Grand West. Frida doesn’t remember being particularly excited, she wasn’t a close friend and they didn’t have much in common.  She felt sorry for me, thought Frida. Due to her blatant inferiority complex, this is sadly not an uncommon thought to run through her mind.

Frida tells the group that she hasn’t been bowling in years.

“It’s fine, man,” says Samia. “I’m going first so you can see how I do it.”

“Just watch how she does,” says Layla. “Then you know that’s exactly what you mustn’t do.”

We watch as Samia goes to select her bowling ball. She grabs the green one, a six kilogram, and slides along the wooden flooring in her mismatched socks (“I’m not putting my feet in those stink shoes!”). With the ball held tightly in both hands, she swings it up and forward at a scurrying pace. The ball is quickly and confidently thrown a small distance down the lane, making a hard and worrying ‘thwack’ as it lands on the shiny wood and slowly rolls to the side and down the gutter.

“You see?” says Layla. “Sam, you bowl like that but you telling them they can watch what you do.”

The cousins laugh as Samia shrugs and selects another ball from the ball rack for her next turn.

Frida’s turn comes up, and she goes to the ball rack to pick the lightest one since she has poor upper-body strength. She takes a breath, lowers the ball to her right side, and scurries towards the lane. As she let’s go, the ball awkwardly touches the polished oak before steadying itself and rolling swiftly yet slowly down the ball track. She manages to knock down four, maybe five pins; not bad for a first try, says Mo.

Frida feels that she should ask Samia something else, since she seems to be making an effort to be friendly. She decides to ask her how she’s feeling about starting university next week.

“Fine,” sighs Samia. “I just hope it’s better than high school. Everyone there is just dom.”

Frida flinches internally at Samia’s use of that word, but doesn’t comment. She asks Samia why she thinks people are like that in high school.

…

There is silence as Frida tries to make sense of what her cousin has just said. There are so many problematic things in this anecdote, I don’t know where to start. This is the part in the movie when the background music stops and all you hear is the loud sound of the pins being knocked down in a swift strike, before complete stillness. Why did they think that bowling was a good idea? Her cousin waits for her response as she pauses in shock, and as everything feels tense and silent around her.

Frida sits, silently, and watches as Samia lifts the green ball into both her hands, slides across in her mismatched socks to her address in front of Lane 1, and heavily throws the ball up and slightly forward. The ‘thwack’ of the landing sounds deafening and paradoxical to the sweet pink and purple lights shining down on the rest of the group at the benches. She turns back to the bench immediately, not watching as her ball rolls clumsily down the gutter and passed the pins.

Note: I submitted this for a scene-writing assignment for a narrative literary journalism class earlier this year. I’m quite proud of it, and it was well received by lecturer, so I thought I’d pop it on here. Although this scene is inspired by real events, the names, timelines and exact dialogue have been altered for narrative purposes.