WHEN 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.