Chapter 22 - Chapter 21

"So let me get this straight," my mother says.

I stop washing the sweet potatoes in the sink to glance at her. If looking at Zinhle is looking in a rear-view mirror at my past self, looking at my mother is a glimpse of a possible future. Besides a few lines around her eyes, her skin is still taut and smooth and brown. I'm fairly sure my mother has used Pond's Cold Cream her whole life. I used to watch her smear the thick white cream on at night sometimes. Nothing fancy, nothing expensive, everything straight off a shelf at Clicks, and her skin is fantastic. I can only hope I look like this when I'm her age.

"You thought it was a good idea," she continues, eyes narrowed behind her red-framed glasses, "to invite Siyabonga and his new girlfriend to Nyoni's lunch."

"Mama, it'll be fine." I turn off the tap and put the sweet potatoes in a bowl on the counter. "These are clean."

"Peel them. What's her name again?"

"Vuyelwa."

She knows this. She's asked three times, and my mother could remind an elephant where it left things. Avoiding her sharp gaze, I start peeling.

"I told them lunch was at one. That still okay?" I ask.

"Mmmhmm. She's a cook, you say?"

"A world-class chef, yes." I suppress a smile, because I already know where this is going.

"But she knows I'm cooking this lunch, right?" Mama takes a sip of her Amarula. She doesn't wait for Christmas. "She can bring a few sides, but—"

"She did ask if she could bring something, of course, and I told her we'd love that, but that you're doing the—"

"The lamb, the morogo, the candied sweet potatoes, the mala."

"I'm sure we're safe on the mala."