“I’ll do it.”
“All right. Tonight at Lux Bar and Grill.” Margot eyeballs the girl’s outfit. “I’ll have something nicer for you to wear.” Margot walks quickly toward the exit and the girl catches up with her again, holding on to her elbow. “Margot! Ah mean, boss lady?”
“Yes?”
“Me is not like dat. Not because me agree mean dat me go dat way.” Her eyes are burning into Margot, their radius expanding, pleading, a blue streak of terror inside each iris. “Me is not like dat a’tall.”
“Nothing wrong if you are,” Margot says, meeting the girl’s frightened stare, identifying what exactly she sees beyond the dread. “The more versatile, the bettah.” And with that, she walks away.
15
“WHEN WILL THIS DROUGHT END?” THANDI ASKS CHARLES, her head tilted to the strips of white clouds in the sky. The sun hangs low to the water, searing the sand on the beach, and bearing down on Thandi and Charles until they must slow down, unable to carry such weight.
“Dunno,” Charles says, wiping perspiration off his face with his hand. “It bettah be sooner than lata. The soil is bad fah di produce dis year. Ah saw couple farmers crying in di field wah day ovah dem yam, sweet potatoes, dasheen, an’ corn. Even the passion fruit decay pon di vines before time.”
Charles hasn’t said anything about seeing her naked in Miss Ruby’s shack, so neither has Thandi. She knows, in a remote corner of her mind, that he hasn’t forgotten. Small talk about the drought relieves them of the intimate pressure. So she plays along, pretending that it never happened. Though that damp warmth that courses through her body lingers as long as the drought. They are walking along the beach barefoot toward the castle. Up close Thandi can see where the rooms might be. Once they’re inside it, they exhale from escaping the sun. As soon as he catches his breath, Charles surprises Thandi by twirling her around in the empty space like they’re a couple dancing to slow music. The area is spacious, with massive cylindrical columns. “Maybe it’s going to be a dance hall,” Charles says in a whisper, as though anyone might be around to hear. Their voices echo. “Men will dance in their tuxedos wid their women like this—” He dips Thandi, holding her back so that she won’t fall. Thandi squeals and giggles in his arms. She lifts one leg up like the ladies do in movies. For a second they stare at each other, Thandi unsure if he’ll kiss her and Charles looking like he’s deciding whether it’s the right time. They pull away as if simultaneously arriving at a consensus to wait at least until the sun sets. Charles’s eyes drift to an empty pool. It’s carved out like someone took a big ice-cream scoop to it. Around them are tools the construction workers use—wheelbarrows and pipes and planks. Outside there are several bulldozers parked. Thandi inhales the smell of cement as they stand inside the empty place. She imagines that she’s in the mouth of a whale, looking up into the roof of its mouth—the crisscrossing of the bone structure and teeth—feeling small. Insignificant. She follows Charles to another area where she can see the sun slowly disappearing, its death march across the sky finally coming to an end. It’s here that they settle. Charles spreads his towel for her to sit. He sits facing her.
“When do you think they’ll be done?” she asks.
“By Christmas, maybe. Definitely by high season. More tourists come then.”
“How long ago did they start?”
Charles shrugs his shoulders. “’Bout March, thereabout.”
Where Thandi lives—the part farthest from the fork along the Y-shaped river—there is no construction activity going on. There’s also no indication that what happened to Little Bay will happen to River Bank too. After all, River Bank is scrunched under the nose of a hill and the river overflows when it rains. It’s not exactly a tourist attraction like Martha Brae, Black River, or Rio Bueno. Also, the beach won’t be ideal for amateur swimmers, since one can easily drown if not aware of Pregnant Heidi’s wrath.
“They been coming around, giving out papers,” he says.
She’s sitting Indian-style with her hands on her knees, her uniform skirt falling between them, and her head turned. She fixes her eyes on the arches above her head.
“Papers?” she asks.
Charles shrugs again. “I guess for the bulldozing noise. Mama can’t get rest wid all di banging and drilling.”