The plates sat in the sink like stubborn witnesses.
Greasy water clung to the edges of the basin, carrying tiny islands of pepper and oil. The kitchen smelled of stew, smoke, and the sharp scent of detergent Mama always bought from the woman near the junction. Outside, rain tapped softly against the zinc roof, but inside the house the air felt hotter than boiling rice.
"Kimara! Come here!"
Ruth's voice cracked through the room.
From the parlor came the lazy sound of slippers dragging across the floor. Kimara appeared at the doorway with one eyebrow raised, chewing groundnuts like a queen inspecting prisoners.
"You're just an idiot," Ruth snapped. "Didn't Mama tell you to wash these dishes before she left?"
Kimara leaned against the doorframe. "So because she told me, your own hands stopped working?"
Ruth hissed under her breath.
"Mama will come back and start shouting at me again. Abi that's what you want?"
Kimara laughed once, short and sharp.
"Every time, me me me. Kimara this, kimara that. Are we not living in the same house?"
Ruth turned back to the sink, scrubbing a plate so hard it squealed beneath the sponge. "Then come and help."
Kimara walked closer slowly, the way people approached stray dogs they didn't trust.
"And if I don't nko?"
Ruth dropped the plate into the rack with a loud clack.
"Better come and wash these plates before I give you one dirty slap."
Silence.
Even the rain seemed to pause.
Kimara stared at her sister, then burst into laughter so loud the curtains trembled.
"You? Slap me?" She pointed dramatically. "Ruth wants to become a boxer!"
Ruth hated that laugh. It always sounded like someone tearing cloth.
"You think I'm joking?"
Before Kimara could answer, the bedroom door creaked open.
Little Tobe peeked out, sleepy-eyed and clutching his torn pillow.
"Una don start again?" he muttered.
"Nobody called you," both girls said together.
Tobe sighed heavily like an old man trapped in a child's body. He shuffled into the kitchen, opened the pot on the stove, sniffed it, and frowned.
"Mama didn't leave meat for me."
"Close that pot!" Ruth barked.
Tobe rolled his eyes and shut it.
The house fell into another uneasy silence. Water ran from the tap. Plates clinked. Somewhere outside, a generator coughed to life.
Then Kimara suddenly grabbed a plate from the sink.
Ruth blinked.
"What?"
Kimara shrugged. "If Mama comes back and sees this kitchen, all of us will suffer equally. I'm protecting innocent citizens."
Ruth almost smiled but stopped herself.
The two girls washed quietly for a while, shoulders bumping now and then. Not peacefully. Never peacefully. Their kind of love wore boxing gloves.
Tobe climbed onto the counter and swung his legs.
"You people know Daddy is coming back tomorrow?"
The sponge slipped from Ruth's hand.
Kimara stopped scrubbing.
The kitchen changed temperature instantly.
"When did Mama tell you that?" Ruth asked carefully.
Tobe shrugged. "I heard her on the phone."
Kimara snorted, but the sound came out weak.
Daddy.
That word carried weight in the house. Heavy, invisible weight. Like a locked trunk nobody wanted to open.
Ruth turned back to the sink slowly.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
And somewhere deep inside the house, fear quietly woke up.