Here Comes the Sun(77)

“We’re flush with cash, Alphonso, and you know it,” Margot says. “Sweetness alone is bringing in seven thousand a week. The other girls are just as profitable. We can do this.”

“So ten grand and we solve everything?” one of the developers asks.

“Yes, ten grand,” Margot replies. “I suggest we tell the constable about it so that he can relax his force. This money will have the residents of River Bank scouring every nook an’ cranny for the criminal. In the meantime, we send Sweetness to the police station.”

“Sweetness?” Alphonso asks. “Why Sweetness?”

“Because if you’re going to take over a quarter of the island, then you should at least be smart about it. Be nice to the police. They can be your biggest allies or worst enemies. Like women, they love it when you bring them gifts.”

The men in the room laugh. Alphonso laughs too.

“Margot, you’re brilliant,” he says.

···



Again people gather at Dino’s. There’s a search warrant for Charles and a prize of $10,000 in U.S. currency offered by the police department for the person who turns him over.

Word about the reward money spreads. No one knows why there’s such a high price to find a scrawny boy who killed a drunk in a bar fight. Macka thinks the money has to do with the development in the area. “Those developers don’t want no killah roaming ’bout di place. They want di worthy guests of dey hotel to be safe.”

Some men have already paid a visit to Miss Violet’s shack. They ransacked the place looking for Charles. The fact that they came in on a helpless woman means nothing to them; they were looking to fill pants pockets that only knew lint and loose change. They were already imagining the insides of airplanes and the promise of America. So when Miss Violet told them that she didn’t know where her son was, they grabbed her by the throat and pulled her hair. One drew a knife and the other one a rope. Her screams were heard only by Miss Ruby, who ran from her shack to find the woman tied up in her bed with cuts on her face.

Thandi is paralyzed with regret. She lies on the bed, curled up under the covers. She clutches the towel she never returned to Charles and sniffs it, trying to inhale the memory of him.

“But is what is dis?” Delores asks, standing over Thandi. “Me leave an’ yuh in bed. Me come back an’ yuh still in bed. Ah wah do yuh?”

Thandi shifts under the cover, quickly wiping away her tears. “Jus’ tired,” she says.

“Tyad? Somebody can tyad so long? Yuh don’t have nothing to do now the exams are finished? Get up!” Delores pulls the covers off Thandi. But Thandi doesn’t move. “If ah count to tree an’ yuh still lay dung, me will geet to yuh. Yuh know how much ah clock ah strike? Yuh have graduation rehearsal tomorrow, don’t?”

Delores starts to move around in the kitchen to prepare dinner. Thandi sits up in the bed.

“Bwoy, me ah tell yuh ’bout dem yout’ wid no ambition,” Delores says as she slices open the skin of a green banana and drops the skinned banana into the pot. “Membah Violet boy, Charles? Di ole brute who used to come ’roun here fah food? Him deh pon di wanted list now. Ten thousand U.S. dollah.” She whips around from the boiling pot to see if Thandi is listening. “Yuh hear? Ten thousand dollah! Yuh know wah dat can do?” She pauses as though Thandi is obligated to speak. When Thandi doesn’t reply, Delores answers her own question. “It can buy we nuff t’ings!” She returns to skinning bananas. “But ah feel so sorry fah Violet now. Di poor woman lose everyt’ing ’cluding all di screws in har head. But I can tell yuh one t’ing, though. If she tell di police where her son is, she will get di money an’ have a bettah life. True, true! She will be a rich woman if she send him to prison. Fah all di pain dat boy cause har. But dese hooligans ’roun here so hungry dat dem will t’ief it. Suh she should leave town an’ not tell ah soul. See how dey do har wah day? T’ink she would tell dem where him hiding?” Delores peers at Thandi when she whips around again. Her eyes narrow. “I know ’bout you two. John-John saw di both of ’oonuh in Sam Sharpe Square hugging up like lovers. Yuh t’ink me nuh ’ave eyes ’roun here? If yuh know where he is, yuh should call it in. Do it fah all ah we. Yuh know how long ah could use a break? Every single day me bruk me back wid dese damn baskets.”

Her mother is standing still by the stove, harping as if to the shadows that are perched nearby. “If yuh guh pick up wid a street boy, then yuh mus’ at least get something out of it. Because what can a dutty, wingworm, gully bwoy who don’t even own a pair of shoes do fah you, eh?”

“He’s more than just a street boy,” Thandi says when she regains her ability to speak.

Delores whips around. “Oh, suh yuh know where he is.” This is a statement, not a question. Thandi doesn’t like what she sees in her mother’s eyes. It’s a look she has seen before when asked about school and her grades—the image of herself crouched at the table with her books under the glare of the kerosene lamp mounting and mounting in her mother’s pupils—a mammoth creature of her mother’s lofty goals and dreams. It fills her mother’s eyes, expanding the blackness and roundness that reminds Thandi of the look Miss Gracie gets when she experiences one of her holy visions.