Zinhle felt someone softly tap her awake. She opened her groggy eyes and found Pepsi staring at her.

“What’s wrong with your face?!” Pepsi asked, horrified.

“I–” Zinhle reached up to her face and patted her cheeks. Oh, no! The make-up had come off! Zinhle turned away, her face out of sight of Pepsi’s gaze.

“It’s nothing,” Zinhle said, on the brink of tears.

“Your face is disgusting, Zinhle!” Pepsi yelled. “Stay away from me!”

“Pepsi–” Zinhle called after Pepsi’s retreating figure. “Wait!”

Too late. Pepsi had grown wings and flew out the window, into the night.

Zinhle startled awake on the sofa, in a sweat, gasping for air.

“It was only a dream,” she whispered to herself. “Just a dream.” She repeated these words in her mind, as if it were a mantra, guiding her to calmness.

“Sis?” Pepsi asked from the bedroom, wriggling. “Are you awake?”

Zinhle’s hand automatically rose to her face to check if her make-up was still intact. No – of course, she’d washed it off. But Pepsi couldn’t see anything in the dark. She kept still and quiet until Pepsi went back to sleep. In time, Zinhle too drifted away.

* * * * *

“You don’t come around, to see me in the week.
“You don’t have a chance, to call me on the phone.”

Zinhle’s Saturday morning alarm tone, Brenda’s Weekend Special, sounded from her phone. She loved the song and let it play until the chorus: “I’m no weekend, weekend special.”

“Ahhhhg, Sis!” Pepsi yelled. “Make it stop.” She covered her ears with the pillow. “The sun isn’t even out yet!”

Zinhle’s fingers itched to press ‘snooze’, but her better judgement won. She ended up dismissing the alarm and getting up.

After getting dressed, she made sure breakfast, lunch and supper was sorted for Pepsi before quietly leaving the flat. The sun was just beginning to peek through the clouds and it cast an eerie golden glow that bounced off the littered streets and graffiti-marked buildings. It wasn’t the best neighbourhood, but it wasn’t the worst either.

Zinhle plugged in her earphones, blasted her ‘Saturday morning’ playlist and waited at her usual spot.

At precisely 5.30 am, the familiar black car pulled over and Zinhle got in.

Little did she know, Pepsi had stealthily followed her out of the apartment, and watched her getting in. She noted that the driver was a white man, and no-one else was in the car.

Pepsi ambled back to the apartment, wondering what exactly her sister was up to.

* * * * *

The same thing happened on Sunday. Zinhle got into the black car, which sped away. That evening, Zinhle got home and found Pepsi waiting for her, arms crossed.

“How was your day, Sis?” Pepsi asked, eyebrows raised.

“Fine,” Zinhle said, throwing her bag on the sofa. “The usual.”

“Did you take a taxi to work this morning?”

Zinhle walked to the fridge and looked for something to nibble on. “Obviously,” she answered, finding and taking a huge bite out of the leftover pizza from last night. “How else then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe with an aeroplane … or a ship … or a black car!”

Zinhle stood stunned. “How did–”

“I saw you!” Pepsi accused. “Yesterday and today. What aren’t you telling me, Sis?”

Everything, Zinhle thought to herself.

Aloud to Pepsi, she said, “That’s my lift club. I didn’t want to tell you because lift clubs are more expensive than taxis and then you would just say I have lots of money to waste.”

“But there was no-one else in the car. And is your driver a white guy?”

Zinhle gulped. “I’m just the first person. We went around picking up other people too.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Pepsi said, sceptical. “But then why–”

Zinhle was saved by a knock on the door. It was Vusi.

“Hey, beautiful ladies,” he said. “I just dropped by to–”

“Borrow sugar?” Pepsi teased. “Or did our mail get switched with yours? Oh, wait. Maybe you want to check if we saw Nomsa’s missing cat?”

“Pepsi!” Zinhle scolded, although Vusi had really used those excuses to visit recently.

Vusi blushed. “Actually,” he said, “I just came to tell you about the sign outside. That loadshedding is scheduled in our neighbourhood tomorrow from eight to 12.”

Zinhle already knew this. The sign was big and red and hard to miss. “Oh, is it?” She feigned ignorance. “Thanks, Vuse. Do you want to come in for some juice or something?”

“It’s late,” Vusi said. “I should probably get going.”

“It’s only…” Zinhle said, checking her watch, “six o’ clock.”

He smiled. “I’m on the day shift tomorrow so I guess I could stay a while.”

Vusi was great company and he was handsome too. He was also kind hearted and had a well-paid job. Gloria from flat 16A would fake-swoon every time Vusi walked by, and schoolgirls walked past his flat just so that he could smile at them. Then they would giggle and run away. Even Mr Sukhulu’s wife couldn’t resist Vusi’s charms.

Zinhle, however, could not afford to get involved with Vusi – or anyone for that matter. She had to be strong.

***

Tell us: Where do you think Zinhle goes with the man in the black car?