Between Us

Chapter 4: Njabulo Nkosi

Have you ever been in a situation where you try by all means to avoid having a difficult conversation? Zola has, and for the past week, she had been doing an amazing job. She managed to avoid said topic at every turn and she was hoping she could keep it up at least until she moved out. But alas, not all wishes can come true. Eventually, she made a mistake, it was bound to happen. Instead of running out of the house without any breakfast like she usually did, she crept to the kitchen to steal some plain toast. Luckily her father was not around, well she thought he wasn't.

As soon as her hand made contact with the crunchy bread he entered the kitchen through the back door. Crap. It was her fault, if she had eaten her midnight snack she wouldn't need breakfast. Her dad was covered in dirt and he was wearing his big green gloves so that would mean he was tending to his garden, he loved his new garden almost as much as he did the old one. The one back home.

"Oh Zola, I'm glad I caught you. We need to talk." Said the man in question.

"Tata I would love to talk but I am already late for school." To be fair she was late for everything. She was already heading out of the kitchen, not wanting to give her father a chance to stop her and strike up that wonderful conversation she had been working hard to avoid. She would honestly rather choke on her plain toast than talk about 'she who shall not be named'.

"Zoleka Vuyisile Nontanda." Double Crap. "Turn around and get back into the kitchen. Now." Her father bellowed and took his gloves off. That was not a good sign.

What was the connection between parents using your full name and the fear it gives to their children? That remains one of the many mysteries of the world. Zola slowly made her way back to the kitchen and sat herself down, it was going to be a long morning. Plain toast excluded.

"Young lady. When you return from school we are video calling your mother and you are having a decent conversation with her and I am not taking no for an answer. Do you understand?" Daluxolo asked his daughter. Already prepared for her to put up a fight or make a snarky remark.

"Yes. Understood." She replied quickly and quietly, much to her father's surprise. 

"Good. Good."

"Can I go now?"

"Yes, of course."

"Okay."

"Okay."

She figured that it was a waste of time trying to fight it, she could only run for so long. Plus, she was actually late. She wasn't using that as an excuse to run away. Well, not this time.

¤¤¤

Zola was glad to have found a friend in Sihle. She was nice and they had the same sense of humour. Apart from Noah, Sihle was the only one who could keep up with her sarcastic nature and she always had good comebacks to top it off. That's all you could ask for in a gal.

"I hate Wednesdays," Zola said as they walked towards the empty bench under the tree, where Sihle and herself had their lunch. Sihle always brought a meticulously prepared lunch whereas Zola always bought lunch at the school. Did she enjoy her lunch? Yes. Food is food, and it wasn't like she was going to make her own lunch anytime soon. Her mom used to make all her lunches.

"You said the same thing about Mondays and Tuesdays," Sihle replied, setting her scarily full black backpack onto the bench.

"And I'm going to say the same thing about Thursday and Friday too." Zola sat on the bench. With her legs on either side.

"Wait, what's to hate about Friday? People generally like Friday." Sihle contrasted, biting into her ham and cheese sandwich which was neatly cut into four little triangles.