Here Comes the Sun (36 page)

“Wellington Estate, ma—I mean, miss.”

“Wellington? Like the rum and coffee plantation?”

“They also own properties on the coast. Alphonso Wellington is the one in charge.”

Alphonso.
The one Margot works for? The one who promoted her to general manager for his new hotel? Somewhere remote and off the beaten path, according to Margot. Verdene covers her mouth with one hand as everything takes shape in her mind. How many nights has Margot been with her, knowing that this would happen? Verdene reaches for the doorknob.

“I—I have something on the stove, if you don't mind,” she says. “Let your boss know that my lawyer will be in touch.”

“Miss, we can't—”

But Verdene stops listening as the door closes behind her. She takes slow, careful steps toward the kitchen, seeing but unseeing. She sits at the table and cradles her pounding head in her hands. Margot knew how much this house meant to her. Not once did she let on that she was aware of the details of this development. The night when Verdene returned to the house shaking with relief from surviving the meeting at Dino's, Margot gave her a bath. She had climbed inside the tub with her and gently cooed in her ear that it's a sign for them to leave River Bank. “
You, me, and Thandi can live together in the house I bought. For us.
”

“I'm not letting them destroy my mother's house.”

“You're a property owner. You'll get your money's worth.”

“I need a lawyer before I make any decisions.”

“Why go through all that trouble to hire a lawyer and drain the life insurance money Miss Ella left you? For what? For them to read a couple pages that you can read yourself? All I'm asking is for you to trust that I can take care of you. Consider my offer. The new house is in a gated community where no one will bother us. You don't have to suffer like you suffered here. This house might be your mother's legacy, but our new house is ours.”

“I need some time to think.”

“Verdene, jus' give it a rest.”
Margot pulled her back into the tub.
“Jus' trust me.”

Verdene begins to chuckle, clutching the edges of the table as her body gives way to trembling. Her eyes fill with tears. She had been fooled. Tricked into being vulnerable. By the type of woman who gave her the urge to sing along to the radio, feeling light and heavy at the same time. The type of woman who makes her think of rain-soaked October days in the midst of a drought. The type of woman who brought her to the kitchen—once on all fours—to lovingly cook her meals. And when they make love, the type of woman who cries as though Verdene has given her the best gift in the world. And yes, Verdene gave her everything—her whole self—and wanted for nothing. She thought that being with Margot would make up for lost years. She had begun to look forward. Verdene wipes her face. She feels old. Worn out and old. She smells something burning and remembers the pot of water for the cerassee tea. It was her mother's favorite pot. One she has kept and cared for over the years. Verdene moves quickly to the kitchen to turn off the stove. She stands over it for a long time, peering inside the blackened interior where the water has evaporated.

38

W
HEN JULLETTE LOOKS UP AND SEES THANDI, HER EYEBROWS
furrow and her mouth twists to the side. She's hovered over a pail, catching water from a pipe. Her face is wiped clean of the makeup Thandi saw on her at the restaurant. Once again she looks like a teenage girl, Thandi's age. Her hair is parted in a straight line in the center and twisted into two French braids. Her loose-fitting dress billows in the wind like a parachute filling up with air, revealing a pair of long skinny legs and white cotton underwear. She holds the dress down with one hand while the other remains fixed on the standpipe. She probably made the dress herself. Thandi can tell by the slightly uneven stitching along the hem, though it is near-perfect. Jullette has been making her own clothes since Thandi can remember. She used to sketch dresses, blouses, and skirts, which she would then attempt to make from fabric given to her by Miss Priscilla, the fabric vendor (who is also Mr. Melon's common-law wife). Miss Priscilla and Miss Violet were good friends, and when Miss Violet took sick, Miss Priscilla gave the little girl anything she asked for—even if they were just scraps of material.

“What is it yuh want?” Jullette asks. Thandi holds out her hands. It's a humble gesture, she hopes. She needs her friend's forgiveness before she can ask for her brother. But something about Jullette's face lets Thandi know this might not be possible. She cuts to the chase: “I came to look for Charles. He told me that he's staying with you.”

“Chucky?” Jullette claps her hands together and laughs out loud. “God mus' ah come!” Jullette says, laughing. “What in Jeezaz' name can Thandi want wid me brother? My pickey-pickey head, dry-foot, old, crusty brother?” Jullette puts her hands on her narrow hips. They jut forward as she rests most of her weight on the enhanced parenthesis of her bowlegs. “If ah remembah correctly, he isn't your type. So if is come yuh come fi carry him to di police station, then forget it. He's not here.”

“Where is he? I need to find him.”

“Fah what? Yuh own selfish needs?”

“We're together, did he tell you?”

“Him nevah mention yuh name. An' I'm sure up until dis point, yuh neva mention his to yuh uppity friends either.”

One of the many secrets they had shared as girls was what they'd want their future husbands to look like. Thandi never wanted a boy as dark as her to be her husband. Neither did Jullette. Thandi looks down. There is nowhere else to look, and meeting the mockery in Jullette's eyes isn't an option.

“Jus' leave us alone,” Jullette says very calmly. “You wanted nothing to do wid us, an' now yuh coming aroun', expecting me to trust yuh? I know what yuh really want. Money. Well, ah have news fah yuh. Charles not here. Him gone long time.” Thandi stands there with her feet planted firmly on the ground, her toes digging into the soles of her shoes. Inside, Thandi's heart bangs against her rib cage. Charles cannot be gone. This cannot be true. Can it?

“So yuh g'wan leave now?” Jullette puts both hands on her hips again. Thandi notices that her nails are painted red. “Likkle Miss Perfect. Yuh expec' everyt'ing to be handed to you. Yuh nuh know struggle, don't?” Jullette asks.

“I'm not perfect,” Thandi responds. “And what yuh mean, I don't know struggle? We grew up in River Bank together.”

“Me an' you was different from day one, Thandi. Two different peas. Yes, we was friends, but yuh mother neva like yuh 'roun me a'tall. She did always want you to have a special-type of friends, ones who neva have to beg fah food.” Jullette taps her pale wrist to indicate the lighter shade. “Dat was di first difference between me an' you. Yuh was trained to be di opportunist, an' me was suppose to be yuh doormat. Di one who would always come to yuh rescue when those children used to bully you pon di playground. Is like yuh always did need me there, but neva return no favah as a friend. An' then yuh stop talking to me right aftah yuh pass yuh exam fah dat school. Yuh wear yuh white uniform wid nuff pride, suh much pride dat it blind yuh. Yuh walk pass me like me neva exist.”

“Jullette, I'm sorry.”

“Listen to you. Dat twanging yuh do. Yuh can't even talk patwa no more. Yuh soun' like a foreigner. As soon as yuh become ah Saint Emmanuel girl yuh mind twist.”

“I can't believe after all these years you still have me up for getting into Saint Emmanuel.”

“It's not dat, Thandi.”

“Then what is it? If it's not jealousy, then what is it?”

“I'm not jealous, Thandi. Ah can't be jealous if it's clear dat yuh neva learn ah t'ing in school anyway. Yuh come out more confused than evah. Look at yuh skin!”

Thandi touches her face. She hasn't been using the creams in a while, but traces of its results linger.

“Why yuh so upset, Jullette? A mistake is a mistake. It happened long ago. Let it go. Yuh acting like it happened yesterday.”

“Yuh is a fraud. A lizard wah change color anywhere it go. Yuh don't know yuhself. Yuh don't have no roots, no grounding. Yuh don't even have a mind of yuh own. Yuh is a puppet, Thandi. Delores use yuh. Margot use yuh. Even if you an' Charles did have something, I woulda mek sure to not mek it happen. Him is too good fah you.” The scowl deepens in Jullette's face. “So keep on moving. Di sky is dat way. We don't want yuh 'roun here.”

Thandi burns with rage, her face twitching from the hard slap of Jullette's words. She thinks of Jullette parading around with that man in high heels and a skirt too short. Thandi was sure Jullette had seen her too. “You acted like yuh neva saw me at Sea Breeze when you were with that man, yuh client.”

“Whatever, Thandi,” Jullette says. “Who are you for me to waste my time wid? I learn to mek money to survive. Is long time me an' me brothers surviving on our own. But you wouldn't know dem t'ings. If it was you, yuh woulda end up dead. So don't yuh dare judge me.”

Thandi hisses like a rattlesnake: “I might be sheltered, but at least I'm not a
whore
.” It's a stone thrown too far. Thandi claps her hands over her mouth as soon as she says it.

“Yuh think yuh betta than me?” Jullette asks Thandi, her voice still measured but quieter now. Her eyes reveal something nasty and reptilian. “Well, ah have news for yuh. Look in di damn mirror. No apple nuh fall too far from di tree.”

“What yuh mean by that?” Thandi asks.

“Tell me where yuh get money fah yuh schoolbooks an' fah yuh school fee. Yuh suh wrapped up in yuh own world dat yuh believe anyt'ing people tell yuh. Yuh probably believe dat di likkle scrap Delores an' Margot mek can put togethah to sen' yuh to dat school. Yuh really t'ink likkle chicken-feed money can afford dat deh school, Thandi?”

“I got a scholarship.”

“Ha!” Jullette laughs. “Yuh neva realize dat a scholarship is for a year? Ministry of Education nuh dat generous, m'dear. Is di empire dat fund yuh precious scholarship.”

“What yuh talking about?” Thandi asks.

“Yuh sistah, Margot, eva tell yuh what she do fi mek ends meet?” she asks Thandi instead.

The last person Thandi wants to talk about is Margot. “She works at Palm Star Resort. Has been there for eleven years,” Thandi says, swallowing.

“Jus' ask har again,” Jullette says, narrowing her eyes. “Ask her where she get extra money from fah yuh school fee, the nice clothes she wear, the money she just put down on the villa in Lagoons.”

“She just got promoted as hotel general manager,” Thandi says through her teeth. Jullette doesn't know what she's talking about.

“Next time yuh see Margot, ask her
who
help her to get dat promotion,” Jullette says, with that nasty reptile look in her eyes. “Bettah yet, ask her how many of those
big-money
man she sleep wid. Ask 'bout her empire. Ask har about the girls she owns. Yuh sistah, Margot, is more of a whore than I will ever be. She's the biggest pimp on di North Coast. Yuh sistah sell out River Bank. She's di one who g'wan manage dat hotel dey destroying River Bank to build.”

Jullette sneers when she sees Thandi slump as though physically wounded. “Ask yuh sista, she'll tell yuh. An' yuh know what she tell the girls weh work fah har? Girls like me? Yuh know what she tell anyone who would listen? She tell dem seh it's all fah her sister, who g'wan be a doctor. Her precious, perfect Thandi, who can do no wrong. Her dainty, stuck-up Thandi, who, in my opinion, will one day kick dirt in har face as soon as she reach somewhere, because she wouldn't want to associate wid har own color.”

“Enough!” Thandi clamps her hands over her ears. She stoops down, resting on her haunches as though cowering from the sun. She cannot let Jullette see the shame that reddens her face. “What yuh get from telling me this?” Thandi asks Jullette, raising her head to meet her eyes. “How much bettah yuh feel from letting all this off yuh chest?” Jullette seems taken aback by this question. Thandi sees a glint of her former friend—the one who stood up for her on the playground when they were girls in primary school. Jullette is breathing heavily from the exchange, her chest rising and falling under her loose dress, as though she's struggling to maintain her hardness. Very slowly her shoulders lower as though melting in the sun. In a soft voice she says, “Thandi, some people run. Some people mek up fantasy to deny or forget. While some people stan' up an' face di storm, whicheva direction it blow. Ah was hoping dat yuh would come outta yuh fantasy one day. I neva mean to say it like dat.”

“You meant every word.”

“Forget ah said anyt'ing. Jus' do what's best, Thandi, an' leave us alone. Yuh done cost my brother a lot already.”

“I love him.”

Jullette says nothing at first, allowing Thandi's professed love for Charles to linger like the smell of breadfruit roasting in the yard. The dark soot carries in the breeze and thickens the air. Jullette cocks her head to the side. “Then ah want yuh to do something fah me.”

“Whatever you want.”

“I want you to jus' let him be. Is fah di bettah. Yuh only going to lead him on an' destroy him.”

Jullette walks off and heads toward the house. Thandi follows her, but stops when Jullette slams the mesh door in her face.

“Is he here? Charles! Charles!” Thandi calls out.

“He's not here. Jus' leave us alone.”

Thandi begins to bang on the door. “Please, I won't leave until you tell me where he is.” The neighbors are looking at her, but she doesn't care. She wants Charles to remind her that she has the capacity to love and be loved despite where or what she comes from. They can run away together and make a new life. The familiar ache dissipates and in its place is a violent instinct to throw herself against the door until it breaks. She takes gulps of breath between sobs. She bangs and bangs, feeling as though she's in a dream where she's screaming without making a sound, or like she's moving but is really stuck to the ground. She's Thandi, the one who would make it. The scholarship girl who would make everything better for her family. As graceful as a skirt tail blowing in the wind. Now here she is, banging down the door of a boarded-up house of a prostitute in search of a street boy.