Here Comes the Sun(79)

31


THANDI GOES OUT TO THE BEACH, WHERE THE BOATS ARE TIED. Asafa’s boat is the brightest one, painted in red, yellow, and green. Over the years it has suffered some wear and tear, rusting on the sides. The letter A is missing from Asafa’s name. Thandi makes her way to the boat and climbs inside. She sits on the rear wooden seat. By her foot is a white pail that she imagines Asafa used to store the lobsters he caught. From where she sits Thandi looks out at the ocean glistening in the sunset. This must be what Charles sees when he’s out here alone. The waves are gentle, rising and falling like breath moving through a living body. The sea is liquid gold as the sun dips on the horizon. One by one the nocturnal insects hidden in trees inside the cove start to sing. The waves get louder in the presence of the new moon. They crash to the shore, their urgency driven by an invisible force. Thandi lies on her back inside the boat and listens to them. They speak to something stirring within her, something raging within her. The water rises and rises until it blurs her vision of the dotted stars above. It trembles at the corners of her eyes, then rolls down her cheeks.

“What color is di sky now?”

Thandi jumps when she hears his voice. She wonders if she’s imagining it. But when she blinks, he’s still there. She leaps up from the boat and into his arms, breathing in the familiar pawpaw musk mixed with smells of weed and sweat. His face is pressed into her neck. And Thandi thinks she feels something warm and wet. When she pulls back, she wipes his face with her fingers. “If yuh t’ink it blue, look again,” he says. But Thandi is not interested in looking anywhere but at him. She flings her arms around his neck and kisses him. Charles climbs into the boat and they lie together between the seats.

“Yuh came out here to look fah me?” Charles asks.

“I missed you. They’re looking for you everywhere.”

“I leave for Kingston in a couple days. I’m only here to say goodbye to all this.” He inhales deeply as if to take in all the air.

“Who yuh staying wid now?”

“Jullette.”

“Jus’ be careful.”

“I didn’t mean fi kill him.”

“We don’t really know if is you cause it. It could be anything. Don’t be so hard on yuhself.”

He cups her chin. “It was my fault. I’ll accept di responsibility.”

“I want to come with you.”

“Yuh can’t come wid me.”

“How will we stay in touch?”

“I will find a way.”

Thandi relaxes into him. She meets his passion with equal fervor, allowing this heat to take over, spread throughout her limbs, her core. The night forms a protective cloak around them. Their bodies move inside the boat like seals trapped inside a net, fighting to free themselves. The agony, the terror, the surrender.

Charles helps her out of the boat. He kisses her one last time before he departs. Thandi holds on to his hand. “I want to come with you,” she says again.

“Not now. I’ll let you know when. Right now it’s not safe.”

“What about Miss Violet?”

“Jullette will tek care of her. She moving wid har to St. Elizabeth.”

Thandi wonders if he knows what Jullette does to make money. That moving out of Montego Bay wouldn’t be good for the type of business she does.

She grips his arms. “Jus’ take care of yuhself.”

He kisses her goodbye and leaves her to the sound of the waves crashing.





32


MARGOT LEANS BACK IN HER NEW OFFICE. SHE KICKS OFF HER shoes and inhales. Through the partially open louver windows on her left she can see into the hotel lobby, though no one can see her. Right behind her are the beachfront suites where visitors lie flat on their backs and bellies in the bright sun while maids dash in and out of rooms with mops and linens. The walls in the office are decorated with accolades the hotel has won over the years, most of which were acquired during Reginald Senior’s tenure. She’s in charge in the interim as Alphonso still scrambles to replace Miss Novia Scott-Henry. It’s up to her to prove she can do the job, which will also give her practice for the new hotel. She runs her hands along the wide mahogany table where all the paperwork sits in an orderly fashion, stacked and awaiting her signature. Pens and pencils are kept inside a steel cylindrical holder. Important folders are stacked solemnly inside a drawer at her feet. Margot brings her cheek to the surface of the table.

She breathes, carefully exhaling into the open room, afraid to disturb the silence. Her lipstick leaves a mark that she quickly wipes clean. She swirls around in her adjustable chair a few times, glad that no one can see her. Happiness feels like an office with good air-conditioning, a chair that adjusts to her back as though it is made for her, a mahogany desk with her name on it, a better view of the beach, the ability to slip out of her shoes and wiggle her toes, and a door she can keep locked. She can’t believe that Miss Novia Scott-Henry had all this to herself yet chose to leave the door wide open. Margot will only respond to visitors who call in first through Kensington.

So when Sweetness barges in unannounced, Margot nearly falls out of her chair. She scrambles to slide her feet back inside her shoes and sit up straight. “Who let you in?” Margot asks the girl.

“It doesn’t mattah now. Yuh secretary out there reading har Bible.”