Thandi stands alone on the pier that evening, watching her classmates on the dance floor. She fights away thoughts of Charles, but no one asks her to dance. No one directs her to the table with snacks and soda. A feeling of alienation creeps up on her, cold like the night air. She fidgets with a piece of napkin folded in her damp hands, standing knock-kneed in the shadows. The other girls walk right by her as though they don’t know her. Dance-hall music soars in the open air and Thandi adjusts her dress, hoping someone will ask her to dance. All the pretty brown boys have found all the pretty brown girls. The boys stir with excitement and jump on the girls’ behinds, riding them to the rhythm of the music on the dance floor and against the rails. The girls don’t seem to mind. They’re oblivious to moist foreheads, smudged makeup, and damp collarbones where sweat sparkles like glitter. The more self-conscious ones fan and dab themselves with tissue, pretending not to be concerned or flattered by the looks from other boys, lining up and waiting their turn. Their smiles and skin glow under the disco lights.
Laughter takes everyone’s minds off the awkwardness of trying to impress each other. The music changes to Dennis Brown and there’s an unspoken acknowledgment that each person should find a partner. There is one boy left standing in a corner like Thandi. Their eyes meet. His dimples are visible from her vantage point. She moves from her corner and slips between the bodies on the dance floor. The boy stands up straight. Thandi tucks her hair behind her ears, confident that he can see her lighter, brighter face. She has dreamed of this moment, approaching a fair-skinned boy as though it is her birthright. The boy holds Thandi’s stare. With a slight drop of his head, he looks her up and down as she gets closer and closer to him. As Dennis Brown’s voice hits a high note, soaring into the star-filled indigo sky, the boy’s dimples disappear and he wrinkles his nose and walks away. Thandi has been acknowledged and dismissed in the time it takes to get to the other side of the dance floor. The belly-skip of possible love with a cream-skinned mulatto is nothing compared to the vile liquid that presently shoots through her veins. Her hope wilts on its stem before it can bloom into promise. Miss Ruby was wrong. Bleaching her skin doesn’t make them see her as beautiful.
Thandi walks to the restroom with pieces of her heart cradled to her chest. On her way, she spots a familiar face. She squints to see if her eyes are playing tricks on her. Jullette is sitting with a man at the bar—a foreigner who looks more than twice her age. He’s a deeply tanned white man with silver hair, casually dressed in a white polo shirt and khaki shorts. He has one hand on Jullette’s exposed brown thigh, the other around a drink. Such an unlikely couple they are, sitting there. The man leans in and whispers something in Jullette’s ear. She laughs out loud above the music, cupping her hand over her mouth. Her face is a colorful mask of violets, greens, and reds. She playfully taps the man on the shoulder, and he drains her drink for her.
“Jullette?” Thandi calls from the end of the bar where she stands. When Jullette hears her name, she turns. The beam fades from Jullette’s face. Her eyes, which are a startling hazel from the contacts she wears, widen. She quickly looks the other way.
“Jullette!” Thandi calls again, strangely happy to see her old friend since they had fallen out. The people at the bar glance at Thandi as though she has lost her mind, with her shouting to get Jullette’s attention. But Jullette buries her face in the crook of the man’s neck and whispers something. Soon they both get up and vanish from the bar.
23
THE PANTRY IS EMPTY. THE OPEN CUPBOARDS BARE THEIR SKELETAL insides filled with nothing but a can of chicken noodle soup. No crackers to moisten with tea. No tea bags. The refrigerator hums, its cold breath on Verdene’s face. No eggs for breakfast either. She has no choice but to go to the market. She counts the last of the insurance money her mother left her. It’s enough to sustain her, for the time being. Very slowly, she puts on her market dress. She zips the side and watches the dress fall over her knees, covering up everything. An attempt to gain respectability like the other women. She picks up her basket, the one her mother used to carry.