Chapter 2: The rebel with love

 

Chapter 2: The Rebel with Love

It was a cloudy Thursday, the kind of day that made Khaya feel restless. He sat with his friends at the corner tuck shop, the same place where three weeks ago, he had met her. The church girl. She had shown up like a light cutting through the haze of his life, and since then, she was the only thing he could think about. He didn’t know her name, didn’t know where she lived—she was a mystery he couldn’t solve.

One of his friends handed him a half-burnt cigarette. He reached out to take it, but as he brought it to his lips, the taste felt different now. Memories of that Sunday afternoon flooded back, and he exhaled after just one drag, passing it on without a second thought.

"Take it, I don’t feel like smoking."

His friends exchanged glances. It wasn’t like Khaya to turn down a cigarette, and one of them finally voiced the concern that was written on their faces.

"Ntwana, you good?"

"Yeah, I’m good," Khaya said, brushing it off. He glanced at the watch on his wrist—it was later than usual. He stood abruptly and addressed the group.

"Let’s hit the city and work, boys."

The others looked at each other, confused. Khaya was always the one with a plan, and it wasn’t like him to suggest leaving this early. Plus, they never hit the same spot twice in a row. Still, they trusted him. Khaya was the smartest of the group, the one who always had a way out when things got tight.

The drive into the city was quieter than usual. Khaya sat in the driver’s seat, his thoughts elsewhere. The hope of seeing the church girl again had begun to fade, and with it, a part of him felt hollow.

"Khaya bro," one of his friends said hesitantly, "don’t you think we should maybe hit another block today?"

"No, boys," Khaya said firmly. "We rest another day. Not today."

The car fell silent again, until a phone rang. Khaya glanced at the screen—it was his little brother. He ignored the call, something he never did. The phone rang again, and this time, he answered.

"Boy, are you good?"

"Khaya," the voice on the other end said, "Mama said you’d pick me up after soccer practice. We’re done now. Can you come get me?"

Khaya hesitated. He checked the time. There was a job to do, but he couldn’t let his little brother down.

"Why isn’t Mama picking you up?"

"It’s Thursday, Khaya. You always pick me up. Mama’s with the church ladies at the house."

Khaya sighed. "Alright, I’ll be there. Wait for me, and don’t talk to strangers, champ."

He ended the call and turned to his friends. "I’ve got to go. I’ll drop you off at the corner store."

"Sure, Khaya, no problem," one of them said.

He dropped them off and drove straight to the soccer field, arriving a little later than he’d promised. His brother stood waiting, arms crossed.

"You’re late," the boy said, a playful scowl on his face.

"Ah, come on, Mr. President," Khaya teased, ruffling his hair. "How about we grab some ice cream before dinner? Don’t tell Mom, though. Let the church ladies have their time to pray."

His brother’s face lit up. "Yeah, let’s go!"

Khaya opened the car door for him, as he always did. They drove slowly, talking and laughing about school and soccer practice. By the time they pulled up to the house, the church ladies were outside, chatting and saying their goodbyes.

Khaya didn’t notice her at first. His focus was on his brother, who was still chattering away. But she noticed him. The church girl stood with her friend, who nudged her and whispered, "Isn’t that the guy you lectured about a cigarette?"

They both laughed quietly, but the church girl’s eyes lingered on Khaya.

"It is," she whispered, almost to herself.

Her friend noticed her staring and asked, "What’s with you?"

Before she could answer, Khaya’s mother joined them. She smiled warmly as she gestured toward the car. "Those are my two annoying sons," she said.

The church girl’s curiosity got the better of her. "Do they ever come to church?"

"The little one, yes," Khaya’s mother replied. "But the older one? He’s a rebel with love. I wish he’d come to church too. Maybe someone could convince him." She smiled wistfully. "You know, he reads the Bible to me before I sleep. He’s my pride and joy."

The church girl’s cheeks flushed as she glanced at the car again. Khaya’s mother noticed her interest and added with a teasing smile, "Maybe one day, he’ll read that Bible to someone else."

The two girls laughed, and with that, they said their goodbyes and left.

Inside the car, Khaya and his brother were still laughing when their mother called them inside. As they walked in, Khaya’s little brother wasted no time tattling.

"Khaya was late to pick me up!"

Their mother smacked Khaya lightly on the head. "Ehhh, but I said sorry!" he protested, grinning.

Despite the scolding, Khaya couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Somewhere in the blur of laughter and scolding, the image of the church girl lingered in his mind like a faint, unspoken promise.