fingers on the pad, then realized she had almost cut the connection. "Stephen, put the picture on, please."
"It's broken. Eddie's little sister knocked over the station."
Renie wondered if that was really true, or if Stephen and his friend were into some mischief they didn't want her to see. She sighed. It was forty minutes to Eddie's flatblock by bus and she was exhausted. There was nothing she could do.
"You phone me at work tomorrow when you get home from school. When's Eddie's mama coming back?"
"Soon."
"And what are the two of you going to do tonight until she gets back?"
"Nothing." There was definitely a defensive note in his voice. "Just do some net Football match, maybe."
"Stephen," she began, then stopped. She didn't like the interrogatory tone of her own voice. How could he learn to stand on his own two feet if she treated him like he was a baby? His own father had wrongfully accused him of something just hours earlier, then thrown him out of his home. "Stephen, I trust you. You call me tomorrow, hear?"
"Okay." The phone clicked and he was gone.
Renie plumped up her pillow and sat back on her bed, trying to find a comfortable position for her aching head and neck. She had planned to read an article in a specialist magazine tonight-the kind of thing she wanted to have under her belt when career review time came around-but she was too drained to do anything much. Wave some frozen food and then watch the news. Try not to lie awake for hours worrying.
Another evening shot to hell.
"You seem upset, Ms. Sulaweyo. Is there anything I can do to help you?"
She took an angry breath. "My name's Renie. I wish you'd start calling me that, !Xabbu-you make me feel like a grandmother."
"I am sorry. I meant no offense." His slender face was unusually solemn. He lifted his tie and scrutinized the pattern.
Renie wiped the screen, blotting out the schematic she had been laboring over for the last half hour. She took out a cigarette and pulled the tab. "No, I'm sorry. I had no right to take my . . . I apologize." She leaned forward, staring at the sky blue of the empty screen as the smoke drifted in front of it "You've never told me anything about your family. Well, not much."
She felt him looking at her. When she met it, his gaze was uncomfortably sharp, as though he had extrapolated from her question about his family to her own troubles. It never paid to underestimate !Xabbu. He had already moved past the basics of computing and was beginning to explore areas that gave her other adult students fits. He would be constructing programmer-level code soon. All this in a matter of a few months. If he was studying at night to make such a pace, he must be going without sleep altogether.
"My family?" he asked. "That means a different thing where I come from. My family is very large. But I assume you mean my mother and father."
"And sisters. And brothers."
"I have no brothers, although I have several male cousins. I have two younger sisters, both of whom are still living with my people. My mother is living there, too, although she has not been well." His expression, or the lack of it, suggested that his mother's illness was nothing small. "My father died many years ago."
"I'm sorry. What did he die of? If you don't mind talking about it."
"His heart stopped." He said it simply, but Renie wondered at the stiffness of his tone. !Xabbu was often formal, but seldom anything but open in his conversation. She put it down to pain he did not wish to share. She understood that.
"What was it like for you, growing up? It must have been very different from what I knew."
His smile came back, but only a small one. "I am not so certain of that, Renie. In the delta we lived mostly outdoors, and that is very different, of course, from living beneath a city roof-some nights since I came here I still have trouble sleeping, you know. I go outside and sleep in the garden just so I can feel the wind, see the stars. My landlady thinks I am very
"It's broken. Eddie's little sister knocked over the station."
Renie wondered if that was really true, or if Stephen and his friend were into some mischief they didn't want her to see. She sighed. It was forty minutes to Eddie's flatblock by bus and she was exhausted. There was nothing she could do.
"You phone me at work tomorrow when you get home from school. When's Eddie's mama coming back?"
"Soon."
"And what are the two of you going to do tonight until she gets back?"
"Nothing." There was definitely a defensive note in his voice. "Just do some net Football match, maybe."
"Stephen," she began, then stopped. She didn't like the interrogatory tone of her own voice. How could he learn to stand on his own two feet if she treated him like he was a baby? His own father had wrongfully accused him of something just hours earlier, then thrown him out of his home. "Stephen, I trust you. You call me tomorrow, hear?"
"Okay." The phone clicked and he was gone.
Renie plumped up her pillow and sat back on her bed, trying to find a comfortable position for her aching head and neck. She had planned to read an article in a specialist magazine tonight-the kind of thing she wanted to have under her belt when career review time came around-but she was too drained to do anything much. Wave some frozen food and then watch the news. Try not to lie awake for hours worrying.
Another evening shot to hell.
"You seem upset, Ms. Sulaweyo. Is there anything I can do to help you?"
She took an angry breath. "My name's Renie. I wish you'd start calling me that, !Xabbu-you make me feel like a grandmother."
"I am sorry. I meant no offense." His slender face was unusually solemn. He lifted his tie and scrutinized the pattern.
Renie wiped the screen, blotting out the schematic she had been laboring over for the last half hour. She took out a cigarette and pulled the tab. "No, I'm sorry. I had no right to take my . . . I apologize." She leaned forward, staring at the sky blue of the empty screen as the smoke drifted in front of it "You've never told me anything about your family. Well, not much."
She felt him looking at her. When she met it, his gaze was uncomfortably sharp, as though he had extrapolated from her question about his family to her own troubles. It never paid to underestimate !Xabbu. He had already moved past the basics of computing and was beginning to explore areas that gave her other adult students fits. He would be constructing programmer-level code soon. All this in a matter of a few months. If he was studying at night to make such a pace, he must be going without sleep altogether.
"My family?" he asked. "That means a different thing where I come from. My family is very large. But I assume you mean my mother and father."
"And sisters. And brothers."
"I have no brothers, although I have several male cousins. I have two younger sisters, both of whom are still living with my people. My mother is living there, too, although she has not been well." His expression, or the lack of it, suggested that his mother's illness was nothing small. "My father died many years ago."
"I'm sorry. What did he die of? If you don't mind talking about it."
"His heart stopped." He said it simply, but Renie wondered at the stiffness of his tone. !Xabbu was often formal, but seldom anything but open in his conversation. She put it down to pain he did not wish to share. She understood that.
"What was it like for you, growing up? It must have been very different from what I knew."
His smile came back, but only a small one. "I am not so certain of that, Renie. In the delta we lived mostly outdoors, and that is very different, of course, from living beneath a city roof-some nights since I came here I still have trouble sleeping, you know. I go outside and sleep in the garden just so I can feel the wind, see the stars. My landlady thinks I am very
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