the warm blanket gathered at her neck.
The chipoko picked up Vimbai’s t-shirt and skirt off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll dry your clothes and bring them to you. Go rest now.”
Vimbai followed Maya, sulking a little—how come everyone but herself knew about this workaround? Then she remembered sitting by the window while Maya explored, but didn’t feel better for it.
Maya led them into the living room and opened the doors of the cabinet that housed assorted plates, dishes and knickknacks they didn’t quite have a place for. The knickknacks were gone now, subsumed by a path carefully marked in white sand, leading into a copse of tall and narrow trees—they lined the path like columns, and their branches twined overhead, creating a filigreed tunnel, black against the pale grey sky.
“Where are we?” Vimbai asked.
“Pantry,” Maya said, and shot her a smoldering look. “You really need to get to know the house, you know. It’s getting bigger every day.”
“But why?” Vimbai whispered, overwhelmed with the weight of accumulated disbelief. “What is happening to us?”
“Who knows?” Maya shrugged. “Who cares? Enjoy it while you can, why don’t you? There will be tons of boring shit in your life, okay? I promise.”
“Okay,” Vimbai sighed and followed along the path, next to a very clear and very fast brook that silvered between the trees. The path turned into a doorway Vimbai did not recognize, past a few skinned couches and a folded ladder dripping fresh white paint. Vimbai decided not to ask, since the questions were likely to yield only additional frustration instead of answers.
Maya grabbed her hand and squeezed hard. “Look, Vimbai,” she said. “It doesn’t matter why or how, don’t you understand? Back home, girls like us, we’re nothing. We work hard and make good, and sometimes someone might compliment you for it. But we don’t run things; they are run by white guys and rich people. And here, now . . . we make the rules, see? It’s ours. Maybe the house will grow bigger, and we’ll get some milk from ShopRite and come back here. We can be queens here, queens of all we see, of crabs and ghosts and oceans. We can float like this forever, and no one will ever tell us what to do.”
“What about Felix?” Vimbai said.
“What about him?”
“Nothing. Just haven’t seen him in a while.”
Maya shrugged and let go of Vimbai’s hand with one last squeeze. “You can be the queen of Felix if you want, I don’t mind.”
Vimbai wished Maya would hold her hands just a bit longer. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, it sounds nice. But we’re going back, you know? This feels like make-believe. A pretend world that doesn’t really matter. Wouldn’t you rather matter in the real world?”
“The queen of New Jersey,” Maya drawled, and laughed. “Maybe.”
They rounded the last outcropping of furniture and rock covered in what looked like fur, and Maya pointed at the mouth of a cave that yawned at them from between two striped signposts. “See? Can’t miss it.”
“Where does it lead to?” Vimbai asked.
“The hallway by Felix’s room,” Maya answered. “It’s interesting, both Peb and I noticed it—no matter how much this house changes, the paths stay constant. So you can’t get lost. Well, you could, but not really, not for long.”
“You spoke to Peb,” Vimbai said. Not really a question, just a statement of fact heavy with implication.
“Well, yeah. You were either staring out of the window or on the porch with your face in the water and butt in the air. What was I supposed to do?”
Vimbai shrugged, pleased that Maya was so willing to have this argument rather than dismissing Vimbai’s words or denying her any demands on Maya’s time and attention. “I’m just surprised. Where are your animals?”
“Roaming somewhere.” Maya entered the cave, swallowed by the darkness, and only her voice reached Vimbai, strong and clear. “Funny
The chipoko picked up Vimbai’s t-shirt and skirt off the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll dry your clothes and bring them to you. Go rest now.”
Vimbai followed Maya, sulking a little—how come everyone but herself knew about this workaround? Then she remembered sitting by the window while Maya explored, but didn’t feel better for it.
Maya led them into the living room and opened the doors of the cabinet that housed assorted plates, dishes and knickknacks they didn’t quite have a place for. The knickknacks were gone now, subsumed by a path carefully marked in white sand, leading into a copse of tall and narrow trees—they lined the path like columns, and their branches twined overhead, creating a filigreed tunnel, black against the pale grey sky.
“Where are we?” Vimbai asked.
“Pantry,” Maya said, and shot her a smoldering look. “You really need to get to know the house, you know. It’s getting bigger every day.”
“But why?” Vimbai whispered, overwhelmed with the weight of accumulated disbelief. “What is happening to us?”
“Who knows?” Maya shrugged. “Who cares? Enjoy it while you can, why don’t you? There will be tons of boring shit in your life, okay? I promise.”
“Okay,” Vimbai sighed and followed along the path, next to a very clear and very fast brook that silvered between the trees. The path turned into a doorway Vimbai did not recognize, past a few skinned couches and a folded ladder dripping fresh white paint. Vimbai decided not to ask, since the questions were likely to yield only additional frustration instead of answers.
Maya grabbed her hand and squeezed hard. “Look, Vimbai,” she said. “It doesn’t matter why or how, don’t you understand? Back home, girls like us, we’re nothing. We work hard and make good, and sometimes someone might compliment you for it. But we don’t run things; they are run by white guys and rich people. And here, now . . . we make the rules, see? It’s ours. Maybe the house will grow bigger, and we’ll get some milk from ShopRite and come back here. We can be queens here, queens of all we see, of crabs and ghosts and oceans. We can float like this forever, and no one will ever tell us what to do.”
“What about Felix?” Vimbai said.
“What about him?”
“Nothing. Just haven’t seen him in a while.”
Maya shrugged and let go of Vimbai’s hand with one last squeeze. “You can be the queen of Felix if you want, I don’t mind.”
Vimbai wished Maya would hold her hands just a bit longer. “I don’t know,” she said. “I mean, it sounds nice. But we’re going back, you know? This feels like make-believe. A pretend world that doesn’t really matter. Wouldn’t you rather matter in the real world?”
“The queen of New Jersey,” Maya drawled, and laughed. “Maybe.”
They rounded the last outcropping of furniture and rock covered in what looked like fur, and Maya pointed at the mouth of a cave that yawned at them from between two striped signposts. “See? Can’t miss it.”
“Where does it lead to?” Vimbai asked.
“The hallway by Felix’s room,” Maya answered. “It’s interesting, both Peb and I noticed it—no matter how much this house changes, the paths stay constant. So you can’t get lost. Well, you could, but not really, not for long.”
“You spoke to Peb,” Vimbai said. Not really a question, just a statement of fact heavy with implication.
“Well, yeah. You were either staring out of the window or on the porch with your face in the water and butt in the air. What was I supposed to do?”
Vimbai shrugged, pleased that Maya was so willing to have this argument rather than dismissing Vimbai’s words or denying her any demands on Maya’s time and attention. “I’m just surprised. Where are your animals?”
“Roaming somewhere.” Maya entered the cave, swallowed by the darkness, and only her voice reached Vimbai, strong and clear. “Funny
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