The wine made their father fall asleep early. The boys lay awake late at night, talking. Marco is on the bottom bunk, and Alfie is above. They both knew they wouldn’t be able to lie like that and talk every night because their father would get annoyed very quickly when he was sober. But that wine made him sleep very deeply, so that wouldn’t be a problem tonight.

Alfie suddenly asked Marco, “Do you know the difference between travelling with Mom and Dad?”
“What?”
“Mom always wants to eat the most.”

Marco had to laugh at that because it was true. When their mother bought food, she never ate with them. Then, it looked like she was the only one who never ate on the trip. But she was eating the whole time and dividing the food. That’s why she was chubby, and their father looked like a marathon runner. He would eat, but only if it was something he really liked a lot. Otherwise, he would be fine without bothering.

The morning they arrived in Cape Town, he bought them a parcel of fish and chips from Captain Doregos. Then, he took a small piece of the fish and left the rest of the parcel for the boys. They couldn’t finish it. While they were sitting there struggling with the parcel of fish and chips, a homeless man came past and asked for something to eat. Their father first tried to chase the man away like a dog, but Alfie gave the man the chips that were left, despite Maxwell losing his mind over the child giving away the food he had worked for. Marco was certain something horrible would happen now, but remarkably, their father just let it go and warned them that they should never do something like that again.

While they walked in silence to the station, to the Trans Karoo train, Marco had thought of a day a little while ago. He and Alfie had stood at the front gate and talked at their aunt’s house. In Bishop Lavis, where their aunt lived, people drank all day. On the weekend, it looked like a bunch of zombies were walking down the street. And while they were still playing their top-five game, Alfie had burst into tears. Marco’s brain had raced to figure out what was wrong with his brother, who had started crying harder. Until he sat on his haunches and sobbed; when he finally composed himself and stood up, he turned his back to the people who were walking by like zombies and said, “My heart breaks for the people who think so little of themselves and who drink their lives away. That’s all. There’s nothing wrong.”

Marco had looked for a long time at the people his brother was crying for, but he felt nothing. Without blurting it out, he’d thought that’s why he loved his brother so much. He had a secret life with secret feelings that he sometimes shared with no one else, only with Marco.