Verdene is lying on her back next to Margot, her head turned to the window, where she can see the shadows of the waving branches of the mango tree. She thinks of other firsts—the first time she ever flew a kite, the first time she dove into the river, headfirst; the first time she’d ever been free and open, reveling in her girlfriend’s ecstatic moans in their dorm room when Verdene made love to her. Not since Akua has Verdene felt so optimistic, so invested in new beginnings. At the university in Kingston on a chemistry scholarship Verdene had been free from her nitpicking mother, who was far more concerned with how well she could balance a book on her head, iron a pleat or a collar, chew with her mouth closed, and speak without raising her voice. On campus she was encouraged to have an opinion and form relationships outside her family’s claustrophobic circle. The girls on the university’s campus were highly affectionate. They walked around holding hands. In the dorms they combed each other’s hair, lay in each other’s beds, hugged up on each other during lunchtime and between classes, and sat in each other’s laps. More than schoolmates, they were sisters. Verdene was closest to Akua, her roommate. Akua had a wide face, though her features were too small for it, and slow-moving eyes that could make people cry; all she had to do was blink those heavy eyelids once and they would remember how she suffered. Her almost bald head—with a reddish tint to her hair, most of which had fallen off with the chemo—was there to remind them too. The cooks gave her extra servings of meat and mashed potatoes, and the janitor, Mr. Irving, let her walk on recently mopped floors. “Dat poor chile!” She wore a headband to accessorize; but it was her smile—a dizzying white—that stole all the attention. An ember that glowed from within. Whenever Verdene felt sad or angry, Akua’s positive attitude and constant jokes were there to remind her that all battles can be won.
“You’re only four hours away. You always used to have time for me. I need you here too,” Ella would say, begging Verdene to visit more. And Verdene would feel guilty about how much she preferred to be at school.
Akua would bolster Verdene’s resolve. “Listen, she’s yuh mother. She’ll understand if yuh can’t go home this weekend.”
“But she needs me.”
“What she needs is to get used to the fact that you have yuh own life now.”
Verdene wanted to be around Akua more and more. As an only child, Verdene had no reference for true sisterhood, but she had observed her aunt and her mother. They were close like the girls at school, cackling about this and that over the phone, sharing everything with each other, down to the intonations in their voices and the expressions on their faces. But Verdene learned that there was a thin line between sisterhood and something else she had no name for. She and Akua ended up crossing the line numerous times, taking things further than the other girls. Their hugs became kisses, and their gentle brushes became direct touches. Not to mention the fights. They were messy, each girl’s tongue sharply edged, capable of puncturing the ego. They knew which buttons to push. Likewise, they knew which string to tug to reel the other back.