Sister, Sister.

IX. Sugar and Doughnuts

SIX MONTHS BEFORE

Kat

Mum's yelling bounced off the walls and travelled down the corridor into the kitchen. Dad's voice was low and soothing, it reminded me of times when he would try to get Krystal to stop crying.

I imagined Mum in the distinct blouse and wrapper she wore every third Sunday of the month. It was the only time she would wear a heavy mask of makeup and flaunt her lastest handbag. She enjoyed showing off at the meetings she attended.

Personally, I found the meetings boring and pointless. Why gather every month to gist and eat? When Mum it was Mum's turn to host the meeting, Karlie and I would be servers and cleaners, cleaning up after middle aged women. Mum's defense of  their meetings is a speech narrating how the association feeds orphans. I argued that you could feed orphans without the fancy attire and monthly gathering.

My eyelids felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. I was still drunk and my mouth was dry. I sipped milk from my spoon, cornflakes floated on the white sea in my bowl like tiny ships.

The kitten heels of Mum's shoes knocked against the marble tiles as she left her bedroom and slammed the door hard so Dad's voice reduced to a muffle. I could feel her fuming. I knew why she is angry, I was the reason why she was angry.

"Where are my pearl earrings?!" Mum appeared in the kitchen with Krystal in tow. Her glare was burning into my forehead. I scooped a spoonful of soggy cereal into my mouth and forced myself to chew. "Don't make me repeat myself, Amokeye. I know you took my earrings!" Her heels clinked against the gleaming floor Karlie mopped yesterday evening.

I rolled my eyes as far back into my eye sockets as it could go and hissed loud enough for Karlie to hear me from inside her bedroom. Her yelling made my temples throb. "I did not take your earrings, Mum."

"That's what you said last time when you stole my watch!" Her coated face was contoured into a sour frown. She banged her fists against the table. "You will not become a thief in my house! You hear me? I will not raise a thief."

"If you gave me money I would not have to take your watch!" I shot back.

"Are you listening to yourself? Why should I give you money? So, you are proud of stealing from your mother." She sounds exasperated and disappointed.

I pushed back the chair, it makes a scraping sound against the titles and I rise to my feet. I did not want to see the look on her face. "I'm going out. Go and check for your earrings in your room." I knew she would not find it there. It is probably dangling from another woman's earlobes.

She watched me with a bewildered expression on her face. "I really don't understand what you are turning into." I want to tell her that I don't understand myself either but I feel that my statement would not be met with pity eyes and sympathy.

I sat on the steps outside our bungalow watching cars drive by. I wondered how long ago my last drink was. I catch myself thinking about the unopened bottle of whiskey under my bed, my throat itches. The door opens and someone drops beside me. I smelt Karlie before I saw her with my peripheral vision.

"You took her earrings," Karlie said.

"Tell her if you want, puppet." I knew Karlie would not tell Mum though, she is loyal like that.

"I won't tell," Karlie said. "But you should stop stealing from her."

"Shut up. She will hear you." I glanced over my shoulder, Mum could be lurking at the door.

Karlie rolled her eyes. "She knows."

"Well, I would not have to steal if they just gave me pocket money," I say. My parents did not see the point in giving us a sum every month. That's not how they were raised. They wanted us to state our needs and they will provide accordingly. I could not tell my Mum or my Dad I wanted a bottle of whiskey. I could, but they would not buy it. And my parents were not drinkers like that so I could not steal drinks from them. They drank beer occasionally. The taste and smell of beer made me want to throw up, just like the smell of cigarettes.