Chapter 19 - Chapter 18

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for bed?" I ask, leaning against the doorframe of Zinhle's bedroom. She's setting up her light and tripod like she's preparing to record, but it's a school night and it's getting late.

"Shouldn't you be heading home?" she counters. "Or are you waiting up for Ma?"

Smart-ass.

"I was helping your brother with his homework."

Zinhle quirks a sceptical brow. "You were helping our resident genius with homework he could literally do in his sleep?"

"And we were also talking about therapy." I step deeper into her room. "He was telling me how things have been going with Dr Venter, and I was telling him about my sessions."

"How's it been?"

I weigh my words. Therapy might not be my thing, but based on the conversations I've had with Sphe, he's enjoying it. Thinks it's helping, and I have to agree. It's hard for me to admit, even to my thirteen-year-old daughter, that maybe . . . just maybe . . . I'm getting something out of it too. And what does that say about me?

"Dr Mngadi's alright," I say.

She sets the phone down on her desk and studies me from beneath the lacy edge of her black satin bonnet, printed all over with little Father Christmases because the shops on the Avenue have been in lights since the first week of November.

"You guys talk about Themba?" she asks. "And Anti Nyoni?"

My jaw clamps around the answer, and I make a conscious effort to release the words, because I've discussed this so little before.