The silence in the room stabs at Muzi, like a dagger. He glances at his wife, Portia. She is quiet, and Muzi can see that she’s highly disappointed in him.
“Ma, I am very sorry ma.” Muzi sniffs, and wipes his tears with the back of his hand.
Mrs Ntini looks up and her mouth turns into a forced smile, she can’t believe her only son, her only child has finally come back. She studies her son’s face, he is still handsome, with his brown eyes, that were once filled with innocence and big dreams. Her son looked well off.
“What brings you here, Muzi?” Mrs Ntini finally asks, her voice hoarse and slow.
“Ma, I regret everything I did. I am very sorry. I shouldn’t have left you.” Muzi cries, hiccups hitting him. Muzi brings his face up and glances at his old mother, the woman who gave him life and sacrificed her entire life to provide for him.
“Its okay.” Mrs Ntini manages to say, after a small cough.
“I’m sorry ma, but, you’ve been coughing for some time now. Is anything the matter?” Portia interjects.
“I’m sick, my daughter. It’s just flu.” Mrs Ntini replies and smiles sadly at Portia.
Portia nods and keeps quiet.
“Ma, I’ve come back for you, now.” Muzi says, his voice teary. “I’m ready to take you home with me.”
“I am home, Muzi.” Mrs Ntini replies.
“My home, ma. A warm house.” Muzi tells her.
Mrs Ntini shakes her head and brushes her old and wrinkled hands on her worn out brown dress. She stands up and walks to the door. She stands there for a while, without saying anything.
“Ma, please.” Muzi begs.
As she is about to reply, a teenage boy, no older than 14 years comes in, wearing a neat school uniform.
“Gogo, whose car is that?” He asks, after greeting.