Nzwaki opened the fridge and stared uninspired at the few items inside. There was a bottle of milk, some eggs, some tomatoes and an onion; not much for a wife to cook a decent meal for her husband and herself. Her husband had said he would buy the groceries from town, but that was two weeks ago. Joe never did anything around the house anymore. And Nzwaki had learned not to argue or ask for anything – it was pointless. She closed the fridge door with a frustrated sigh and went to get her purse that was lying on the living room couch.

She didn’t have much money on her; just enough to get some chicken pieces and some potatoes. What good is a husband if you can’t rely on him to take care of you, she thought. Joe was now utterly useless. All he did was work and spend time out with his friends at the shebeen. How did they get here? They used to be so in love and happy. But now, after twenty-three years of marriage, and no children, all they had were awkward silences and Nzwaki always at home alone.

“Oh, Mam’Bhele, uzifihle phi? Where have you been hiding?” asked MamSophie, the owner of their local shop. She always addressed everyone by their clan names but didn’t like being called by hers. It made her feel old, she complained.

“Ndikhona, MamaSophie,” Nzwaki responded. “Could I get a tray of chicken please?”

Nzwaki ordered quickly, trying to kill the chitchat and get on with it. If you gave MamSophie too much time, she would fill you in on the latest of everything that went on in Zithulele. But then again, Sophie never needed an invitation.

“Where is that young woman you go to school with?” MamSophie fired off her first question, as she laid four trays of Rainbow Chicken on the counter for Nzwaki to choose from. She made it sound like Nzwaki was a school girl and she was asking about some girl she was friends with. Sophie clearly had heard something and wanted to confirm or share her own opinions – God knows she was never short of those!

“Which one?” Nzwaki stalled. “I work with a lot of women at the school, if that’s what you mean.”

“Lo maan, that one who was dating Mkhize? What’s her name again?”

“I didn’t know Mkhize was seeing anyone.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know; they were keeping it quiet for a while. But now I think things have gone sour because…” and MamSophie went on about how Mkhize was drinking with her husband last night, and her husband asked Mkhize about the young school teacher Mkhize was seeing. This was the one Mkhize, when he’d been drinking, would tell everyone that he was going to marry one day. But now Mkhize had told him that he had ‘no more business with whores’.

Nzwaki didn’t want to hear this. She chose one tray and handed Sophie the money. Sophie was still going on with her story as she counted the change for Nzwaki. For a moment Nzwaki wanted to leave the change and just take the chicken and go. But she hadn’t brought a plastic bag to put it in either, and she couldn’t carry the damn thing as it was. That would also give Sophie something to talk about.

“Nobody has seen her for days. People say Mkhize caught her cheating and now he’s going around calling her names to anyone who will listen. But what if Mkhize killed her? Nobody really knows how his wife died, do they?” Sophie was wrapping the chicken in newspaper.

“Oh hayi Sophie!” Nzwaki protested, annoyed by the woman’s gossipy nerve. “Nora is fine. She has gone to the burial of her aunt in Tsolongo village. She’ll be back soon and you’ll see that she’s not dead.”

At least I hope not, Nzwaki thought privately.

Nora had been missing for three days now; she hadn’t at school since Tuesday. And the Principal had said she had called and said she was in Tsolongo, because her aunt had just died. Nzwaki was shocked when she heard but held her tongue. She knew that Nora had no relatives in Tsolongo, or anywhere else in the Eastern Cape. She was from Jozi and had been transferred from there when the school needed a fresh English teacher. Nzwaki had been worried ever since.

Why would Nora lie about her whereabouts? Where was she? What was going on? Nzwaki had walked by her house on Wednesday just to check. The curtains were drawn and the gate was locked. Nora was nowhere to be seen.

When Nzwaki got home she picked up her cellphone and dialled Nora’s number.

“The person you’re trying to call…”

Nzwaki hung up, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

“Who were you trying to call?” Joe’s voice surprised her as he walked into the house. He looked tired and old. Nzwaki noticed the wrinkles on her husband’s face as he sat at the kitchen table, waiting for his evening tea. He was aging quickly. They were both blessed with good genes that hadn’t before revealed their fifty-two years of age. But now Joe was showing signs. It had to be work.

“Nora’s phone is still on voicemail,” Nzwaki said, putting the kettle on. She told Joe how strange she found it and what the Principal and the rest of the staff was led to believe.

“Nonzwakazi, leave it alone,” Joe said, pressing buttons on his new BlackBerry and turning to give her a silencing look. ‘Mind you own business’ the look said – and Nzwaki had received it way too many times recently. For example, the day he bought himself both a laptop and the BlackBerry – on his salary as an Admin Clerk at the clinic? Those gadgets were luxuries. But then, maybe he needed them for work? Work seemed to rule his life lately. Nzwaki made a mental note to chat to him about it the next day, Saturday, when they were more relaxed.

She put a hot cup of tea in front of her husband. Joe took a sip and his phone vibrated on the table. It was a text, Nzwaki noted, but who from she didn’t know. Joe smiled and responded, taking another sip. He burned his lips and spat out the hot tea.

“Yeses Nonzwakazi, how do you expect me to drink this?!” he complained, pushing the cup away and getting up. He grabbed his car keys and was out of the door without explanation. Nzwaki was used to his antics by now. She knew he wouldn’t be home till the crack of dawn.

*****

On Monday Nzwaki was relieved to see Nora walking through the school gates. But she became worried again when she did not come to assembly. So when it was over and they were dismissed to their classes, Nzwaki went to look for Nora. The high school was a tiny one, only one class per grade, and Nora’s class was three doors down from Nzwaki’s.

“Good morning, Nora,” Nzwaki greeted but, surprisingly, Nora didn’t respond. She was putting question papers on the learner’s desks and her eyes remained on the task at hand. Nzwaki knew something was up; Nora was never rude. And now she wouldn’t even look at Nzwaki.

“I was worried about you. Is everything alright?” Nzwaki tried again. The younger woman’s response didn’t budge. The Grade 8s started filling the classroom, taking their seats, all greeting Nzwaki as they passed. Nzwaki turned and walked out to her class. She tried not to think about Nora or her strange behaviour for the rest of the day. Even when she wasn’t at the staffroom for tea Nzwaki tried not to worry.

Then, during the last period, a girl came running into Nzwaki’s class.

“Ma’am, come quick,” the girl said and rushed out again. Nzwaki followed her, hearing a commotion from up the corridor. The girl entered Nora’s class and Nzwaki wondered where Nora was in all this.

She had her answer as soon as she entered the class. Two boys were in the middle of a fist fight and the whole class was up, cheering. Nora was in a corner by the window silently sobbing. She obviously couldn’t cope with them. Nzwaki told the girl to run and call the Principal.

“Stop this nonsense now!” Mr Manene roared, filling the tiny classroom with his enormous frame. It took a single wrench from him to part the boys. He instructed Nzwaki to take Nora to the staffroom while he sorted the mess out.

“Kwenzekani Nora, what is going on?” Nzwaki tried again when they were in the staffroom alone. But Nora didn’t speak. Nzwaki offered a tissue to wipe her tears.

“Leave me alone. Why do you always trouble yourself with other people’s lives? Is it because you can’t manage your own life?” Nora spat.

Nzwaki tried again.

“Mind your own business. You are a married woman; worry about your husband,” Nora said and walked out.

***

Tell us what you think: What might have happened to cause Nora to react so rudely to her friend?