“But you should have seen the way they all loved me!”
“It is a wonderful feeling.” Mr. Tau smiles for a moment, then his face draws tight and sorrowful. “Nomvula, I wish I could be with you longer. There are still many things that need explaining, but I’m afraid soon your trials will be your own. Your choices will quickly become more difficult than whether or not you choose to save a girl’s life.”
Mr. Tau sets the half-finished wood block aside and pats his lap. “Come here, child,” he says, his voice smooth and comforting.
Nomvula takes a seat and drapes her arm over his shoulder. He preens her wings affectionately.
“I want you to know this, Nomvula. Even if you have nothing but good in your heart, you will fail. You will hurt people from your actions. Weep if you must, but do not let your failures define you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, baba,” she says, though she cannot imagine hurting a soul. She can’t imagine not having these happy bees buzzing in her stomach, one for each of her believers.
Mr. Tau squeezes her tight, then kisses her forehead. And then all at once, a warmth swells up between them, the eternal bond between a child and parent, of love, Nomvula thinks. It’s a feeling not completely foreign to her, but this is the first time she’s felt that love back.
“Yes, baba,” she says again. She likes how the word tastes in her mouth, not just a term of respect, but one of kinship as well. Her heart swells at the idea of finally belonging to a real family.
Mr. Tau’s front door bursts open. The air is sucked from the room, and from Nomvula’s lungs as she sees her mother standing there like a monster within Mr. Tau’s doorway. Her skin sags on her bones. Her eyes are completely bloodshot, burning like twin red suns. Nomvula quickly tries to cover up her nakedness then scrambles to find her skirt and shirt.
“What have you done to my child?” her mother says, approaching Mr. Tau with giant, stomping steps, lean muscles bulging and flexing and quivering like they’ve just woken from years of slumber. She reaches out and lifts him from his seat by the collar of his shirt. Nomvula has never seen her mother perform an act requiring so much strength.
“Mother, he’s done nothing but love me!” Nomvula shrieks.
“Filthy child-whore.” The back of Ma’s hand smacks hard against Nomvula’s face, sending her to the floor. Mr. Tau doesn’t fight or struggle in her grasp, just hangs there like a rag doll as she drags him outside.
Nomvula clutches her clothes to her chest and runs after them, caught off guard by the mob formed in Mr. Tau’s yard. Her mother had never been able to get anyone to listen to her, but now it seems the whole village is here, fists full of stones. Then Nomvula sees Sofora, a tight smirk on her face, oh, so much satisfaction in her eyes. She did this. Nomvula knows it in the pit of her stomach. That silly Sofora probably had been following Nomvula around all morning long, trying to catch her in the act of doing something wrong, and what could be worse than finding her at Mr. Tau’s home?
“I ask of you now,” her mother screams at the crowd. “Which one of you will dare call me crazy? This man who raped me, destroyed me, defiled me with his evil has now seduced my own daughter and filled her with wickedness, using her flesh for his pleasure.”
“Mr. Tau never touched me like that!” Nomvula stands up to her mother, but another backhand sends her to the ground. Dirt cakes her wet cheek.
“My daughter the dirty rag!” Ma kicks her in the side, and Nomvula drops her clothes to protect herself.
“Baba, do something!” Nomvula shrieks, then grits her teeth. Something’s broken inside her, hurts so bad it makes her dizzy.
These people have already made up their minds, Nomvula. Mr. Tau’s voice comes right into her head, a whisper among the jumble of her thoughts. Now hush, or they’ll have your hide, too. I love you, my child.
He looks away, up into the sky, the same sky they’d shared when they’d both had wings and had almost touched the sun. Why doesn’t he fly now? Show them all? Nomvula thinks that he will, but with each moment that passes, the people grow angrier. Ma pushes him down to his knees, then backs away toward Nomvula.
Someone hefts a rock, smacks Mr. Tau right in the chest.
“You don’t understand him,” Nomvula begs at her mother’s feet. “Mama Zafu!” she says, turning to her auntie who stands alone in the distance, arms crossed over her broad chest, and eyes refusing to go in Nomvula’s direction.
Ma pulls Nomvula up by her hair, arms so thin and so strong, so high Nomvula’s feet dangle above the ground. Nomvula kicks and struggles, and silly Sofora laughs and points out her nakedness to her brother Letu and the other kids she bosses around.
“Let this piece of refuse be an example to you all!” Nomvula’s mother shouts. Foam clings to the edges of her mouth. “Worn out and used up like a bitch mongrel, sexed by every stray dog who sniffs at her. Who’s next? Who else will have a turn?”
Her mother pushes her into the crowd, and she’s swallowed up, hands grabbing at her breasts, fingers poking between her legs. Laughs. Wicked laughs. She cries out to Mr. Tau, but she only hears his yells as the sound of stone against bone rings above everything else in her ears. They push her down to the ground. Nomvula fights with everything she’s got, biting and kicking and screaming, but it’s not enough. Three boys pin her down, two pulling her legs wide apart and laughing at what’s between them. They call her a filthy dog, a whore, all those things her own mother had called her, so how can they not be true?
“Ugly,” Sofora says, breaking into the ring of boys. She’s got a long stick and jabs Nomvula in the rib, right below her breast. “We’ll make something so ugly of you, you’ll wish you would have been the one stoned.” She leans down, her breath hot and vengeful in Nomvula’s face. She stares for a moment, like she wants something of Nomvula, that greedy look like she gets when she’s playing upuca and is about to snatch up all those pretty stones. “Your eyes,” she says with a wicked exhale.
Sofora stands and turns back, her shiny skirt twirling around her, then pulls Letu out from the crowd.
“Do it,” she says to him. She slaps her stick against his chest. “Get me her eyes.”
Letu stands there for a moment, grimacing at Nomvula’s body. “Sofora, this isn’t—”
“I said do it!” Sofora shouts, and with a whack to the back of the knees, Letu drops down next to Nomvula, pulls a knife from his pocket. Nomvula trembles at his touch, feeling weak and dirty and dizzy with pain.
“He’s dead,” Nomvula hears her mother’s voice shout. The smell of blood rides heavy in the air. “He’ll never hurt another girl again!”