Khaya threw open the fridge door like a shower curtain. He checked the freezer, but it offered him no solutions to his stomach’s dilemma. After giving the cold cupboard yet another scan, he made his way to the pantry. On the bright side, he was alone, which meant he could be left alone with his thoughts to figure out what his next meal was without somebody yelling at him about wasting electricity.
“Ooh chips,” He said, finding them behind cans of tin fish.
The house reeked of ash, dust and dirty water. That’s how it had always smelt, it was the smell of home. That and it was always empty. No mother, definitely no father and now... his plans to masturbate in the living room ruined by the sound of people talking on TV.
“Hey, I’m watching that.”
“Now you’re watching this.” He said, throwing himself on the couch and changing the channel.
“Hey, those are mine,” Christine protested.
“Sharing is caring,” He replied moving the packet of chips away from her hands.
“Nx, Why are you here anyway. It’s Friday? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere playing gangster?”
Khaya took a moment to compose himself. “Chilling,” He said, placing his feet on top of Christine’s lap.
“Why are you here?” He asked her. “Shouldn’t you be off in some shady looking golf with a dude twice your age or are you finally loyal to that high school teacher of yours?”
Christine paused, taken aback by her brother’s sentence. Sure, he wasn’t a fan of how she went about her relationships, but they both had an understanding that she did what needed to be done in order for them to eat.
“Chilling.” She said pushing his feet off her.
“Right, sure you are?” Placing his feet back up. “Can’t I spend a day bonding with my family, reconnecting with my favourite person?”
“What favourite person?”
“Ouch.”
“What do you want?” Christine asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then leave me the fuck alone,” She said, thrusting Khaya’s feet off her.
“And then? What’s your problem?”
“Nothing.”
“Christine?”
She hesitated. Fixing her eyes on the TV, but she could feel her brothers set on her like a pair of binoculars.
“Mom’s missing.”
“So? Do I look like a find your mom app?”
“Khaya, I’m serious.
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