Siphokazi had a very close relationship with her mother, you would almost think that they were sisters, if you looked beyond her mother’s older face. There were days when you could see the scars of her past on that face, especially around her late husband’s birthday. He was only 8 hours older than her, and they were even born in the same hospital. Sipho used to tease her mom about it, that they were really made for each other. Sometimes she would ask her mom if she remembered whether at her time of birth, there were boys born at the same time. No matter what her mother’s answer would be, she’d tell her that she was still looking for one of them. They always laughed at this statement.
But one time, it came between them, to the point that Sipho moved out. She chose her lifestyle over her mother; she did not hide the fact that she only had sex partners, and that did not sit well with her mother. It really hurt her as she raised Sipho to uphold certain moral values in life.
“What is the use of having someone always telling you what to do and how to run your life, whereas the only thing you need from that person is a hot night of passion?”
Sipho was thinking aloud again; her mother once told her that she was going to go crazy talking to herself like that, and that she could at least get herself a cat.
“Oh kak, I am doing it again!” and laughed out loud.
She was sitting on the balcony of her study drinking hot chocolate. It was a late mid-winter evening in Irene, Pretoria, but to Sipho, it felt like a cool breezy evening in summer after a hail storm. She had her favourite dress-shirt on with slippers; her spectacles in-between her left hand fingers; with nothing else underneath. Each time the cold breeze blew, she watched her nipples harden and lift the shirt, and smiled.