Diane Rucho.

22

On Sunday morning, Sandy woke up to the sight of her mother kneading dough on the kitchen countertop. She was wearing a black apron labeled 'Legit Chef' on the chest. The apron was almost entirely covered in flour. Her hands were white, with her fingers deeply immersed in the thick and malleable dough as she applied more pressure.

She was preparing beef samosas.

Today was September 17th, and every year on this day, her mother would make beef samosas.

It was her father's birthday.
He would have been turning forty-six had he been still alive. Having a samosa beef breakfast was their morning tradition. Sandy remembered how they would sing him a birthday song, and later, they would head down to Junction Shopping Centre where they would let him pick anything he wanted. The catch was that it had to be something that he wouldn't have to bring home.

"Good morning," Sandy said.

Tricia lifted her gaze, and a smile popped on her lips. Her eyes crinkled in delight. "Good morning to you too. You're up early."

Sandy pulled out a bar stool from under the countertop and sat down. She placed both of her hands on the clear granite, but then pulled them back, rubbing at the flour stain on her elbows. "I couldn't sleep with all the noise down here," she said.

"Right, like you'd admit to being obsessed with samosas," Tricia said with a chuckle.

"I know where you're heading. I'm not a glutton."

"I didn't need to say so. You said so yourself," her voice mimicked a chirpy bird. She looked happy. Sandy had expected the worst, which was having to watch her break down at the memories the day would bear. But here she was. Her usual sallow cheeks were bright like the sun's glow that cut through the white kitchen sheers.

"Let me help," Sandy offered.

"Just a moment."

Sandy watched as her mother took a knife from the wooden knife holder and cut the dough in half. "Help me with this, you know... make it as thin as possible."

Sandy used a rolling pin to lay the dough into a circle and then began to press further on the edges as a thin strip began to emerge.

"You forgave him?" she suddenly asked. Then, Sandy realized the mistake almost immediately. What if she had just ruined the mood in the room with that singular question?

To her surprise, her mother didn't appear appalled by the question. She casually asked, "Your father?"

Sandy nodded. "Why did you forgive him so fast?"

"Wanna know how we met?"

"I'd love to hear it."

"After completing my secretarial studies at Nairobi College, I stayed with my parents for a while back in Muranga, Kahuro. I applied for jobs numerous times, but as usual, I didn't get any. There were so many regret letters that I lost hope. I had an aunt who stayed in Kawangware, Nairobi. Eventually, I asked my parents to let me go and stay with her for a little while as I searched for something to do."

"And they let you?"

"Of course, they did. I ended up staying with my aunt for some time and got a job in town as a casual packaging personnel. For someone who had never been employed before, I appreciated the pay. Every morning, I would take the morning bus in Kabiria that would take me to town. One day, I sat next to this young man on the bus home. He was handsome - had the most gorgeous eyes I've seen. He noticed my staring and asked if he had something on his face. We both ended up laughing and on the way, we talked about everything and nothing. When I alighted at Kabiria, I thought I'd never see him again."

Sandy had started to put meat fillings inside the cone-like dough pockets. "But you did see him again?"

"Yes. The next morning, I saw him on my stage, and we ended up sitting together. And every day after that, we sat together."

"He lived around?"

"No. Later, I found out he stayed in Riruta, a little further from Kawangare."

"So he took a bus from Riruta, stopped at Kabiria, and waited for you every single morning so that you both end up sitting together?"

Tricia chuckled softly as she dipped the first samosa into the frying pan, "I called him stupid. But he never once stopped till we moved together and settled in Tasia. Okay, my point is, all this time, I've known your father he has always been good to me. He made sure to provide for me and you in every possible way he could. He never once raised his voice at me. He was always quick to help my parents at home when they were still alive. So why should I not forgive him when he makes one single mistake? We are all flawed in some way. I don't expect you to be perfect, and neither did I expect him to be perfect. So when he told me about the affair and asked me for forgiveness, I forgave him and only asked for one thing - that he never betrays me again," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Why do you still have the photo?"

"I don't dare to put it away."

"Why is that?"

"Your father looked happy in the photo. I don't want to be the one to take away that shine, especially now that he is no longer with us."

Sandy felt a raw ache at the back of her throat. Her eyes began to water. "Oh... mother." She stood to her feet, walked to the other side of the counter, and wrapped her hands around her mother tightly. "I am so sorry you went through that."

Tricia hugged her back. "It's okay. I am good. We are good. Right?"

"Of course," Sandy replied, nuzzling her face a little deeper into her mother's shoulder.

She went back to sit on the stool and said, "There's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

Sandy confided in her mother about her involvement in the Diane Rucho Murder Investigation and how she had joined the team.

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?" Tricia asked.

"I didn't know how to bring it up," Sandy replied.

"Frankly, I am not happy that you are getting involved in police work. You're still in school and have no experience in the criminal world."

"I want to gain a better understanding of this world. There's more theory than practice in university, and I want to learn as much as I can. My father was good at his job, and I would like to be just as good. Maybe helping to solve the murder mystery he wasn't able to would help me find closure. I need to do this, Mum," Sandy explained her reasons.

"I'm not in favour of this."

"Come on—"

"But, I will let you do what you want."

"I'll be careful. I won't handle guns."

"Don't make me change my mind."

Sandy pulled a wide smile. "That was meant to be a joke."

"Not funny."