Sonia struggled to sit up, buried as she was under a pile of blankets fortifying her against the chilly dawn, then bolted upright as her alarm rang on the phone still held tightly in her now sweaty palms.
The sun came up slowly, kissing the horizon, gently lighting up the dark sky and colouring the clouds from a fiery red to a burning orange dashed with pink before fading into a washed out purple that subtly turned to blue.
Hundreds of miles away in a dark room plastered with fading posters of various wild-eyed musicians, a gangly teenage boy sat dialing random numbers, pranking anyone who picked up with an ominous ‘I know your secret’ before hanging up and chortling foolishly to himself.
I know your secret,” a muffled voice came over the phone, cutting off so suddenly that Sonia, clutching the phone to her ear, frowned in confusion. It was so early in the morning only the birds flitting outside and tweeting mutedly were awake.
Sonia struggled to sit up, buried as she was under a pile of blankets fortifying her against the chilly dawn, then bolted upright as her alarm rang on the phone still held tightly in her now sweaty palms.
“Turn it off,” her husband Kiarie mumbled, pulling a thick duvet over his head.
Swinging her warm feet off the bed and into a pair of fluffy slippers, Sonia was filled with dread. ‘I know your secret?’ Who was that? And what did they know?
Sonia’s hunched shoulders relaxed as she made her way to the kitchen and set the kettle to boil.
What was there to know?
Nothing, she concluded after a quick mental scan of her life. She had no secrets; not really, nothing big she could recall. And so as she poured herself a frothy cup of steaming coffee spiced with cinnamon, she made up her mind to forget the call.
The sun came up slowly, kissing the horizon, gently lighting up the dark sky and colouring the clouds from a fiery red to a burning orange dashed with pink before fading into a washed out purple that subtly turned to blue.
Early start
Early as it was, Sonia was already done with her morning routine, even managing to get her son Tom up in good time for once.
As he shuffled into the kitchen bleary eyed, his uniform askew, she set a bowl of fruit and a plate of buttered toast in front of him. He had protested attending kindergarten as was routine, but at least today Sonia had time for his tantrums.
“You didn’t cut my bread,” the three-year-old sniffled, pushing the toast away.
“I forgot,” Sonia acquiesced, choosing to avoid a battle that would end in ear-splitting screams.
“Here you go,” Sonia said as she cut the bread. But she would not allow him to be spoiled or entitled.
“What do you say?” She prompted Tom, whose adorable cheeks bunched into balls as he sulked.
“Thank you ma,” Tom said grudgingly, then tucked into his breakfast.
It was a long moment before he looked up suddenly to where Sonia stood, occupied with how many slices of an orange she could fit into his bright red lunchbox, and cried out, “I want Koko!”
“Who?” The word slipped easily out of her mouth as she panicked and pretended she’d forgotten Koko, a stray neighbourhood cat her son loved to feed and play with as he dangled a string and watched fascinatedly as the cat danced about on its hind feet.
“Koko the cat,” Tom wailed, bits of chewed fruit dribbling down his chin from his open mouth.
‘I know your secret.’
Sonia’s fists balled up in panic and she plastered a toothy smile, averting her eyes from Tom’s distraught face.
No one had seen her, how could anyone know? The street had been empty the night she’d accidentally ran over Koko, who’d come bounding up to her car expecting a treat.
She’d been sad about it, but really, it was no one’s cat and so who could she report it to? So she’d simply put the incident behind her.
But had someone been peering through their blinds? Was the anonymous caller a nosy neighbour?
“You know Koko comes and goes as he likes,” she busied herself, measuring a cup of juice for him, “Now finish…”
“I want Koko!” Tom started to cry, just as Kiarie walked into the kitchen, a frustrated look on his face.
“Finish your food and we’ll go look for Koko, okay?” Kiarie patted his now placated son’s head and turned to Sonia, who immediately bent over to clean the already shining counter, hiding her guilty eyes.
“Have you seen my green tie?” he walked over to where she stood working vigorously and poured himself a coffee, “You know the one I like? My lucky tie?”
“Your lucky tie?” Sonia choked out, struggling to keep her voice steady.
“When was it ever your ‘lucky’ tie?”
She polished the counter harder.
“You know I like it,” Kiarie replied, “I wear it to all my big presentations.”
Sonia tried not to hyperventilate.
‘I know your secret’.
Disappearing tie
Could it be? No, there was no way anyone could know. She’d burnt that hideous puke-coloured tie in the garden one afternoon when Kiarie and Tom had gone out to the park.
But maybe someone had seen her through the slits in their backyard fence or from the windows of one of the houses across the street.
The kitchen was suddenly too hot. Sonia could feel herself turning red. She had to leave else she’d be found out.
“Don’t know, I’m late,” she called over her shoulder, blowing her bewildered husband and sulky son kisses as she rushed off to work. She would deal with everything later.
Hundreds of miles away in a dark room plastered with fading posters of various wild-eyed musicians, a gangly teenage boy sat dialing random numbers, pranking anyone who picked up with an ominous ‘I know your secret’ before hanging up and chortling foolishly to himself.
