where it lay like a tiny stunned snake.
"He's only eleven! You can't throw him out for making noise! Anyway, he has to live here by law!"
"Oh, you going to call the law on me, girl?" Long Joseph's undershirt was stained at the armpits. The nails on his bare feet were yellow and too long. At that moment, Renie hated him,
"You can't do that!"
"You go, too. Go on-I don't need no smart-mouth girl in my house. I told your mama before she died, that girl getting above herself. Putting on airs."
Renie stepped around the table toward him. Her head felt like it might explode. "Go ahead, throw me out, you old fool! Who will you get to clean for you, cook for you? How far do you think your government check will go without me bringing home my salary?"
Joseph Sulaweyo waved his long hands in disgust. "Talk that shit to me. Who brought you into this world? Who put you through that Afrikaaner school so you could learn that computer nonsense?"
"I put myself through that school." What had started as a simple headache had now transmuted into spikes of icy pain. "I worked in that cafeteria cleaning up after other students for four years. And now I have a good job-then I come home and clean up after you." She picked up a dirty glass, dried residue of milk untouched since the night before, and lifted it to smash it on the floor, to break it into the thousand sharp fragments she already felt rattling in her own head. After a moment, she put it down on the table and turned away, breathing hard. "Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"God damn it, you know who! Where did Stephen go?"
"How should I know?" Long Joseph was rooting around in the cupboard, looking for the bottle of cheap wine he had finished two nights before. "He go off with his damn friend. That Eddie. What you do with my wine, girl?"
Renie turned and went into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. It was impossible to talk with him. Why did she even try?
The picture on her desk showed him over twenty years younger, tall and dark and handsome. Her mother stood beside him in a strapless dress, shielding her eyes from the Margate summer sun. And Renie herself, age three or four, was nestled in the crook of her father's arm, wearing a ridiculous bonnet that made her head look as big as her entire body. One small hand had wrapped itself in her father's tropical shirt as if seeking an anchor against the strong currents of life.
Renie scowled and blinked back tears. It did no good to look at that picture. Both of those people were dead, or as good as dead. It was a dreadful thought, but no less true for its horror.
She found a last spare battery in the back of her drawer, slotted it into the pad, and phoned Eddie's house.
Eddie answered. Renie was not surprised. Eddie's mother Mutsie spent more time out drinking with her friends than home with her children. That was one of the reasons Eddie got into trouble, and though he was a pretty good kid, it was one of the reasons Renie was not comfortable with Stephen staying there.
God, look at yourself, girl, she thought as she waited for Eddie to fetch her brother. You're turning into an old woman, disapproving of everyone.
"Renie?"
"Yes, Stephen, it's me. Are you okay? He didn't hit you or anything, did he?"
"No. The old drunk couldn't catch me."
Despite her own anger, she felt a moment of fright at hearing him talk about their father that way. "Listen, is it all right for you to stay there tonight, just till Papa calms down? Let me talk to Eddie's mother."
"She's not here, but she said it was okay."
Renie frowned. "Ask her to call me anyway. I want to talk to her about something. Stephen, don't hang up."
"I'm here." He was sullen.
"What about Soki? You never told me if he came back to school after-after you three got in that trouble."
Stephen hesitated. "He was sick."
"I know. But did he come back to school?"
"No. His mama and dad moved into Durban. I think they're living with Soki's aunt or something."
She tapped her
"He's only eleven! You can't throw him out for making noise! Anyway, he has to live here by law!"
"Oh, you going to call the law on me, girl?" Long Joseph's undershirt was stained at the armpits. The nails on his bare feet were yellow and too long. At that moment, Renie hated him,
"You can't do that!"
"You go, too. Go on-I don't need no smart-mouth girl in my house. I told your mama before she died, that girl getting above herself. Putting on airs."
Renie stepped around the table toward him. Her head felt like it might explode. "Go ahead, throw me out, you old fool! Who will you get to clean for you, cook for you? How far do you think your government check will go without me bringing home my salary?"
Joseph Sulaweyo waved his long hands in disgust. "Talk that shit to me. Who brought you into this world? Who put you through that Afrikaaner school so you could learn that computer nonsense?"
"I put myself through that school." What had started as a simple headache had now transmuted into spikes of icy pain. "I worked in that cafeteria cleaning up after other students for four years. And now I have a good job-then I come home and clean up after you." She picked up a dirty glass, dried residue of milk untouched since the night before, and lifted it to smash it on the floor, to break it into the thousand sharp fragments she already felt rattling in her own head. After a moment, she put it down on the table and turned away, breathing hard. "Where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"God damn it, you know who! Where did Stephen go?"
"How should I know?" Long Joseph was rooting around in the cupboard, looking for the bottle of cheap wine he had finished two nights before. "He go off with his damn friend. That Eddie. What you do with my wine, girl?"
Renie turned and went into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. It was impossible to talk with him. Why did she even try?
The picture on her desk showed him over twenty years younger, tall and dark and handsome. Her mother stood beside him in a strapless dress, shielding her eyes from the Margate summer sun. And Renie herself, age three or four, was nestled in the crook of her father's arm, wearing a ridiculous bonnet that made her head look as big as her entire body. One small hand had wrapped itself in her father's tropical shirt as if seeking an anchor against the strong currents of life.
Renie scowled and blinked back tears. It did no good to look at that picture. Both of those people were dead, or as good as dead. It was a dreadful thought, but no less true for its horror.
She found a last spare battery in the back of her drawer, slotted it into the pad, and phoned Eddie's house.
Eddie answered. Renie was not surprised. Eddie's mother Mutsie spent more time out drinking with her friends than home with her children. That was one of the reasons Eddie got into trouble, and though he was a pretty good kid, it was one of the reasons Renie was not comfortable with Stephen staying there.
God, look at yourself, girl, she thought as she waited for Eddie to fetch her brother. You're turning into an old woman, disapproving of everyone.
"Renie?"
"Yes, Stephen, it's me. Are you okay? He didn't hit you or anything, did he?"
"No. The old drunk couldn't catch me."
Despite her own anger, she felt a moment of fright at hearing him talk about their father that way. "Listen, is it all right for you to stay there tonight, just till Papa calms down? Let me talk to Eddie's mother."
"She's not here, but she said it was okay."
Renie frowned. "Ask her to call me anyway. I want to talk to her about something. Stephen, don't hang up."
"I'm here." He was sullen.
"What about Soki? You never told me if he came back to school after-after you three got in that trouble."
Stephen hesitated. "He was sick."
"I know. But did he come back to school?"
"No. His mama and dad moved into Durban. I think they're living with Soki's aunt or something."
She tapped her
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