CHAPTER 63: Quiet Days

 

When the restaurant wasn’t busy, life in Empangeni slowed down in ways I hadn’t noticed growing up. Not the kind of slow that feels empty, the kind that gives your chest space to rise properly when you breathe. I usually woke up before Nomalanga. Not because I tried to, but because my body had learned responsibility too well. The kettle would boil while the sky was still unsure of itself, that soft in-between light where night hasn’t fully let go. By the time I poured the tea, my phone would already have one or two messages waiting. Nomalanga joined me later, wrapped in one of my jerseys, hair still messy, eyes half-awake but alert. She always checked her phone first. Ballito had a way of reaching into our mornings before anything else could. On good days, that were rare but precious, days where there were no urgent calls and video calls. In those days, we used to shut the laptops without guilt and stepped outside.

There’s a river not far from our home. The walk there was uneven, grass brushing against our legs, the ground constantly reminding me that we weren’t walking on polished floors anymore. We packed a small picnic basket with sandwiches, fruit, sometimes leftovers and followed the path down to the water.  When we reached the river, everything in me slowed. The sound of the water did something to my shoulders I hadn’t realised how tense they were until they dropped. We took off our shoes and sat on the rocks,  feet in the cold water.

Nomalanga stretched her legs, closed her eyes, and sighed.

Nomalanga: “I forget my body can feel this light “

We talked about nothing serious. We laughed about old nonsense. Sometimes we didn’t talk at all. And for once, silence didn’t feel like something to fill. Some days, we hiked the small mountains nearby. The climbs weren’t impressive, but they burned my legs and cleared my head. Standing at the top, looking down, Empangeni felt smaller, like something I could finally manage instead of something pressing in on me. Evenings pulled us back, gently but firmly. Calls from Bongani and updates from Khaya. But after a day outdoors, everything felt manageable.