I got up. I saw my mother’s door was still closed. We would both soon be late for school. She even more so, since she needed to be there 30 minutes before me. I knocked on her bedroom door.

“Mama?” There was silence for a bit. “Mama? You’ll be late.”

“What?” There was fumbling. She’d clearly been sound asleep. She knocked something over. I could hear a glass fall to the floor. It didn’t break. “I’m sick. I’ll phone them.”

“Can I get you something?” I said through the still closed door. I tried the handle and it was locked.

“No. I need to sleep. Matlho will bring me tea later.”

“Are you sure? Can you open the door for a second?” I wanted to see her.

“Mimi, please. Take the combi. Get money from my purse in the wardrobe by the door.”

I could do nothing, so got ready for school and left.

“Hey, Mimi,” Boipelo said when she got into the combi. “Why are you taking the combi? Is your mother’s car broken?”

She sat down next to me. “No … she’s sick.”

Boipelo looked closer at me. “Are you okay?”

“Sure … yeah.”

“You don’t look okay.”

“I was up late studying is all. Tired I guess.”

She looked at me and, somehow, I thought she didn’t believe me. I didn’t have the energy to try and sound more convincing.

School went by in a blur. As I was leaving, Aunty E stopped me.

“Mimi hun, what’s wrong with your mum?”

“Sick.”

“I know that, but sick with what? She’s not even answering the phone.”

“You know, I think it was, like, stomach stuff. She was up all night vomiting. I’m sure she’s sleeping now.”

Why was I lying to Aunty E? I wanted so badly to tell her. I wanted her to hold me and tell me that everything would be fine. That parents fought and then they made up. She’d never had a husband but I’d still believe her. And I’d feel better if only I could tell her.

I couldn’t though. Everything was falling apart and I felt disloyal telling people. Our family was respected, looked up to. I couldn’t destroy that image just because my parents had a fight. People would think our family was falling apart; that’s what they would remember. They wouldn’t remember that my father came back home and my mother stopped crying and unlocked her bedroom door. Surely that was happening at that very moment. I wouldn’t tell anyone. It was better to keep things within our family.

At home I wanted so much for things to be back to normal, and at first I thought that they were. My mother was sitting on the sofa with a book, drinking tea from a tea cup.

“Mimi, you’re home,” she said, a fraction too jolly.

“So … is Dad back?” I asked.

“Oh no,” she said. “I told you, he’s going to live somewhere else now. Come sit by me.”

She patted the spot next to her. My mother loved us but she wasn’t one for hugs and kisses; that’s why I knew something was wrong.

I sat down and she pulled me to her. That’s when I smelled the alcohol. My parents drank a bit, at parties and social events. Not at 4.30 in the afternoon.

“Is that … tea, Mom?”

She looked at the cup. “Yes … yes, it is.”

She was clearly lying. “Why didn’t you talk to Aunty E when she phoned? She’s worried about you.”

“Mimi, I wonder if you could just tell her I’m sick. I am. I’ve taken leave for a bit. I had it coming. I just feel a bit overwhelmed. I need to rest.”

“But Aunty E is your friend. She could help you.”

My mother’s face changed. “No. I don’t need people knowing my business. It’s bad enough that …” Her voice trailed off. I waited. She let the anger disappear and took my hand in hers. “Please Mimi, help me. Just let me be alone. Let’s keep all of this quiet for as long as we can. Can you do that for me?”

“Sure, Mom. I can do that.”

Maybe that’s where I made a bad decision. When I look back that’s what I think anyway. I should have never made that promise.

 ***

Tell us what you think: Should Mimi tell Aunty E what’s going on?