A happy meal
891 Words
By the time they left the airport, Nkanyezi was fast asleep, her little body curled up in the backseat, thumb resting loosely near her mouth.
Josh didn’t turn the car toward home. Instead, he took the off-ramp without warning.
“Pa?...” Nomadlozi asked gently.
Josh just grunted, eyes on the road, and pointed at the sign ahead: McDonald’s 24hr Drive-Thru.
He didn’t need to say anything. She already knew — this wasn’t random. It was deliberate. Soft. Familiar.
They pulled into the queue. Nomadlozi sat quietly, staring out at the blinking menu screen.
“You know she’s asleep, right?” she asked, surprised.
“She’ll wake up when she smells nuggets,” Josh muttered, a small smile cracking through his face.
He placed the order like a pro — 4 nuggets, small chips, apple juice. No ketchup. He already knew.
They paid, got the bag, and Josh tucked it next to him as they drove back into the estate. But instead of pulling into their driveway, he kept going... past the main house... past the security lane... toward the quiet east side of the estate — the part nobody spoke about.
Nomadlozi sat up straighter.
“Pa?”
Josh didn’t answer. He just smiled — that half-crooked, deep-in-thought smile that aged him gently under the streetlight glow. The kind of smile that made men fear him less, but love him more.
He parked near a small, hidden picnic area shaded by tall trees. It was quiet. Peaceful. The only sound was the engine ticking as it cooled.
He reached into the backseat and gently rubbed Nkanyezi’s shoulder.
“Sweetheart… wake up.”
She stirred. Slowly.
Josh unwrapped the Happy Meal and held out the box. “Your McD is here, girl.”
Like clockwork, Nkanyezi sat up, eyes still puffy with sleep — and grinned. “For real?”
“Go sit over there,” he nodded toward the table under the tree. “Eat before Gogo sees the packet and wants a bite.”
Aiva giggled and hopped out the car like she’d done it a hundred times. She took her food and sat neatly, feet swinging as she munched.
Nomadlozi blinked in surprise. “She really knew?”
Josh gave a short chuckle. “We come here often. She never tells anyone. Not even your mother.”
Nomadlozi shook her head. “That child tells the neighbours when I eat bread after 9pm, but keeps this quiet?”
Josh shrugged. “Some secrets… are for peace.”
They both got out and opened the hatchback of his Mercedes V6, sitting with their legs hanging, the cool night air easing around them. From where they sat, they could see Nkanyezi clearly — happily chewing, lost in her own world.
Josh took out his black tin, started rolling his joint with steady, weathered hands.
Then, without looking at her, he asked quietly:
“What exactly happened, mtanam?”
“You know your mother’s not going to let this go.”
Nomadlozi hugged herself, the oversized coat pressing against the softness of her belly and arms — her body still carrying the chill of shame from earlier.
“I just...” she sighed, her throat tightening, “I don’t understand why this is such a war. The Radebes still held up their end of the alliance.”
Josh shook his head, puffing out a cloud of smoke that lingered in the night air.
“It’s not about business, my girl. It’s about loyalty. It’s about family. You were supposed to put your sister first.”
“But what about me, Pa?” Her voice cracked. “When do I get to put myself first?”
Her tears came harder now, soaking her cheeks and disappearing into her shirt. “Every day I wake up and carry a body I’m told isn’t good enough. I get dressed with shame. I eat and hear their stares. I fall in love and still, somehow... I’m the villain.”
Josh looked at her, really looked at her. His heart clenched.
She wasn’t just his daughter.
She was his blood, broken under the weight of sacrifice, shame, and womanhood.
He placed his hand on her back — firm, warm, solid.
“Sisi... when it comes to family, you compromise. Always. Doesn’t matter how, or what, or why. You do it. No questions.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. Her chest rose and fell slowly, defeated.
Josh took another long drag of his joint, then exhaled as if breathing out decades of pain.
“It’s fresh. Too fresh. Give it time. I’ll speak to your mother. I’ll try to make her understand.”
He looked over at her again, his voice gentler than the night itself.
“But for now, mtanam... keep your distance.”
She nodded, wiping her face again with her sleeve. Her body felt too big for her spirit tonight — heavy, unbalanced, like she was crumbling inward.
Josh reached over and squeezed her hand. His grip was rough, but it said what his words never did:
"I see you. I love you. You're still my child."
In the distance, Aiva waved her last chip in the air and shouted, “I’m finished!”
Josh smiled, then stood up slowly, joints creaking. “Let’s go, sisi, I'll handle it.”
- Writer
