Sthembiso

The dinner table was full of laughter and conversation, but Menzi and I did not join in the conversation. We sat in silence, our faces locked in a silent standoff. My mind kept taking me back to when we were in the garden.

The sizzle of the boerewors on the braai stand had drowned Menzi’s anger. He had poked his finger on my chest, yelling in a hush tone, “You’re a snake.” He hissed under his breath. “It is either you end what you are starting with my sister, no later than tonight or I’ll tell my father.” Menzi’s words echoed in my mind, making my skin crawl.

I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead, and my heart started to drum loudly in my chest. The noise around the table, the clinking of utensils, the laughter, and the chatter faded into the background, replaced by the sound of my own heavy breathing.

I forced the food down my throat, but it now tasted bitter and bland. My stomach kept twisting into knots, making me feel nauseous. 

When dinner came to an end, I looked up from my now clean plate. “I’ll wash the dishes,” I offered. I wanted to escape the suffocating tension that I found myself in.

Melokuhle’s face lit up with a smile. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. You’re our guest.” I shrugged, “I insist, consider it as my way to thank you for the lovely dinner.” 

“You are a good person.” Melokuhle said still with a smile plastered on her face. Menzi muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with poisonous venom as he stared at me. “More like a preying wolf.” His words were like a punch in my gut.

Melokuhle shot Menzi a warning look before turning to Makukhanye. “Hey, why don’t you help him dry the dishes?” Makukhanye’s eyes locked with mine, and for a second, we just stared at each other. I nodded stiffly, trying to hide what was brewing inside me.

Menzi trailed behind me into the kitchen, his voice came out low. “I mean it, Skhumbuzo. End it.” He slammed the plates into the sink, making me take a deep breath. He turned and left seconds before Makukhanye walked in. My heart caught in my throat when I saw her and suddenly, the air felt thick, making it hard for me to breathe. We’d been in the same space all day, but not once had we said a word to each other.

“What’s going on?” Makukhanye asked, her eyes narrowing.

I forced myself to look away from her. “Nothing.” But my voice came out rough and strained.

Makukhanye sighed and pulled out a chair, her eyes fixed on me as I scraped the plates clean. “We haven’t talked much since yesterday,” she said, her voice now soft.

And just like that, the memory of our kiss came flooding back. I had tried to forget, to push it to the back of my mind, but it lingered, refusing to be ignored.

As the water filled the sink it also filled the silence we were in. Makukhanye stood up, her movements quiet, she began to wipe the cups dry. For five minutes, she just worked beside me, without saying a word.

When she finished, she turned to face me, her arms crossed on her chest. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Since you picked me up this morning you have been… Cold and distant? Is it me? It must be me or is it the kiss?”

Her eyes searched mine, desperately searching for answers. As I watched her closely, I could see the uncertainty in her eyes and the fear of rejection. My arms ached to pull her close, to wipe away that look on her face and tell her that she was perfect just as she was. But I stood frozen, my fingers clenched into fists. My voice remained trapped in my throat, as the silence between us grew thicker, heavier, and more unbearable.

She nodded, taking my silence as her answer, she slowly turned around. Her slender back seemed to sag under the weight of my silence. I watched, helplessly, as she struggled to pull herself together, her braids were swaying on the side of her face as she bowed her head.

I watched when she tried to hide her tears, tucking her face behind her braids, but I had long seen the wetness on her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled, and I knew she was fighting to hold back a sob. It was amazing how strong and proud she usually was but now she looked vulnerable and hurt. I watched her walk away, unable to stop her from leaving.

When I finally pulled myself away from the kitchen sink, I dragged myself to my room, feeling like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. I met Menzi’s accusing eyes in the hallway, leaving me feeling exposed.

I slammed the door shut behind me and stumbled into the shower, letting the water wash down on me like a heavy rain. I wanted to wash away the pain of the day, to scrub off the guilt and regret that clung onto me. I hoped that the water could rinse away my torn feelings and leave me feeling clean again.