Crashing into Dane.

8

The doctor took us through the entire procedure yesterday. I wasn't quite ready, I guess, hence, the freaking out.

Dad decided to go in tomorrow, he'll spend the most of this week in hospital. I'll be alone in this cold house, thinking about dad screaming like a mutant in some freaking sci-fi in that hospital bed.

I don't want to leave him there, I want to spend every second by his side, I want him to know all will be okay.
Because it will, because I'm here.
God is here too, right?

I finish brushing my hair and head downstairs. I forgot to buy milk. We need cereal in this house, desperately.

"Dad! I'm going to the shops for some milk, I'll be back in a minute."

I grab the door handle and walk out. Stepping into the moist November air, so humid and hot. At least it's not raining yet, I hate the rain. It just leaves everything so ...wet!

I rub my shoulders to adjust to the temperature and as soon as I'm out of the gate, I wish I'd worn more clothing.

I don't know why, but the mornings are always flooded with people. Random women sweeping their front yard all the way into the street. Ladies in morning gowns gathered for gossip-to-go, kids scantling to school, cars driving to work or wherever, the usual corner boys doing all sorts of things and yelling all sorts of ungodly things to women passing by.

And here I am, parading in freaking shorts and a tank top.

I didn't think this through, I was just thinking about the milk. And it's November for crying out loud!

I hear whistles and cat calls as I pass by.

I wince and stiffen my entire body as I walk past, but not without a mock complement at my legs, of course. I don't really hear anything else they say because I immediately put my earphones in and turn into the next street. My gosh, this place!

I get to the little building and turn my music off. I walk up to the counter and ask for some milk after a brief smile at the man behind the counter. He hands me a couple of milk cartons and I hand him his money and leave.

My heart dreads the entire walk back, I probably should have brought the truck, but I didn't think much of just getting some milk! I see Mrs. Mapanzura by her gate watering her flowers in the street before ours.

"Good morning, ma'am. How are you?" I stop and take my earphones out, though I wasn't playing any music.

"Oh hello Cheryl. I'm alright my child. I heard your father was in the hospital yesterday." She looks me over with concern on the brink of pity and goes on, " let him know we're praying for him, and if you need anything, you can come to me. Alright, my child?"

I nod and add a 'thank you' as I walk away.

Of course she knows our every move. I roll my eyes and think of the nurse I saw yesterday. She probably couldn't wait to fill everyone in about her newly found news.

I glare at the boys by the corner and this time they don't say a single thing, but I feel their eyes on me. This is mentally exhausting.

They had better stay quiet, I'm not in such a good mood after the mention of my ill father.

I walk back home and make some cereal for Dad and I. I take it to Dad's room.
We shifted his room to the room in the corner at the end of the corridor , to exempt him from having to go up and down the stairs whenever he needed something.

I knock lightly and get no response, so I settle my bowl gently on my arm in an effort to free my hand so I can open the door.

I finally get it right and walk in. I carry the bowl to his bedside, but he's still asleep. Dad doesn't sleep a minute past six, no matter how late a night.