Chanda's Secrets (6 page)

Once they're gone, Mama goes back to Sara, and I start to prepare soup stock for supper. I put two pails in the wheelbarrow and go to the standpipe to fetch water. The lineup isn't too bad. People have heard about Sara and say a few words of sympathy.

When I get back, I make a small fire in the pit, fill the pot with water, toss in a few bones and root vegetables, add a little dried chicken meat hanging from the wire by the kitchen window, and set the pot over the fire to simmer for the afternoon. Then I rake the dirt by the front door, so everything will be nice when Mr. Bateman gets here.

After that, there's nothing to do but sit on a stool and wait.

Mr. Bateman arrives at one-thirty. I run to his car and slip him his money. “Sorry I'm late,” he says. “I got held up by a last-minute client.”

He's not the only one who's late. Jonah still isn't back. Am I surprised?

Mama greets Mr. Bateman at the door and takes him to the bedroom. Sara is laid out in her good dress. She's holding a flower from the garden. She looks so tiny and cold.

“What a dear, sweet thing,” Mr. Bateman says. “It's such a pity.”

He wraps Sara in a thin cotton sheet, sews the sides together with a loose stitch, and writes a number across the center with gray chalk. “We'll take good care of her,” he promises. “You can pick her up at three, day after tomorrow.”

Mama nods silently. She kisses the bundle, and watches Mr. Bateman lay it in the back seat of his car. As he drives down the road, she waves good-bye. When the car turns the corner, she stands there, lost.

“Mama?” I whisper. I want to hold her, but she raises a hand and shuts her eyes. A deep breath, and her eyes open. Staring into space, she wanders into the house and closes the door. Inside, I can hear her howling.

Iris and Soly arrive home with yellow tin rings and a new toy. It's a coat hanger bent into a square with pop cans for wheels. Soly insists it's a truck. Iris insists it's a bus.

I invite Esther to stay for supper, but she says she better get back to her auntie's or she'll get a beating. We hug and she bikes off, promising to return Wednesday to help cook the burial feast.

Once she's left, I lift the soup and we gather around the table for supper. Mama's eyes are closed. Iris and Soly pretend not to notice. They've gotten very quiet since coming back.

“What's the matter?” I ask.

Iris stares at her spoon. “Where's Sara?”

I look to Mama for an answer. She doesn't move.

“Sara's gone on a trip,” I say carefully. I see Mama nod slightly.

A pause.

Iris frowns. “Why didn't we get to go with her?”

“You were on a trip with Esther.”

“Oh.”

Another pause.

From Soly, “When's she coming back?”

“You're awful nosy,” I say. “Did you like the bus ride downtown?”

“It was okay.” They start to fidget, full of questions, but it's clear nobody's going to answer them. It's also clear that they aren't really sure they
want
an answer.

We watch our soup get cold. Finally I get up and pour our bowls back into the pot. “Supper's over,” I say.

Iris and Soly drift into a corner and play with their toy. I do the dishes, light the lamps, and change the bedding on the mattress where Sara lay. Then I settle down to try to read my book for English class. Only the words won't stay still; they swim off the page until I'm all mixed up.

Iris tugs at my elbow, Soly beside her. “What's wrong with Mama?” she whispers. I look over. Mama's still at the table with her eyes closed.

“Mama's fine,” I whisper back. “She's just thinking, that's all.” Iris isn't convinced. “You've seen Mama thinking before,” I tell her.

“Not like this.”

“Tonight she's just got more to think about, is all.”

“Like about what?”

“Like about things that are none of your business.” I stroke her cheek. “Don't worry. Everything's fine. Mama won't be thinking much longer.”

I'm right, too. There's a sudden rapping at the front.

“Ko ko, it's only me,” Mrs. Tafa calls from outside.

Mama's eyes snap open. She taps the hollows of her cheeks, squares her shoulders, and answers the door.

Mrs. Tafa gives Mama a big hug. “So you're finally up for visitors!” She cups a hand to Mama's ear. “Oh, Lilian, I know what it's like, losing a child. When my Emmanuel passed, I
wanted to throw myself into the grave with him.” She steps back. “At any rate, I won't keep you. Just wanted to let you know, your relatives have phoned from Tiro.”

“I'll be right over,” Mama says.

“No need. I took a message,” Mrs. Tafa beams. “After all, what are friends for?” She waltzes past Mama and plunks herself down at the table. “Your sister Lizbet will be representing the family. She'll be down on tomorrow's bus. The rest of your brothers and sisters send their love and regrets, but they can't make it, it being such short notice, and no one to look after the cattle. Now what am I forgetting?” She taps her head. “Oh yes, your daughter Lily and her husband wanted to come, but Lily's belly is full—congratulations—and she's afraid she might give birth en route, the roads being how they are. And your mama's taking care of your papa. He's laid up in bed with bad bones, but you're not to worry.”

She pours herself a glass of water. “All the same,” she continues, “they want to contribute to the feast. They're sending sacks of cornmeal, onions, carrots, and potatoes with Lizbet. Also salt. They expect your man is providing the cow. Oh, and by the way, who's Tuelo Malunga?”

“A family friend,” Mama says tightly.

“Well, your papa says, ‘Tell Lilian, Tuelo Malunga sends his condolences too. Also tell her how he and his wife have just had their eighth boy.' All boys in that family, your papa says. He must be quite the man, that Tuelo Malunga.”

“Papa always thought so.”

Mrs. Tafa glances at Iris and Soly. “By the way,” she whispers, “have you found a place to put the little ones during the you-know-what?”

“Jonah's sister Ruth will take them in, most likely.”

“Good.” She hesitates. “I don't mean to be unkind, but where is Jonah?”

By the time Mrs. Tafa leaves, we all have headaches. At least her visit's brought Mama back to normal. She pats Iris and Soly on the head and tells them to do their bedtime business. After they've cleaned their teeth, gone to the outhouse, and washed their hands, she tucks them under their sheet.

Iris won't let go of her arm. Her bluster's disappeared.

“What's the matter?” Mama says.

“Nothing,” she answers.

Mama rubs noses. “Can you tell me about this nothing?”

Iris trembles. “Did you give Sara away?”

“Yes,” Soly echoes. “Did you? Are you going to give us away too?”

“How could you think such a thing?”

“B-because you told Mrs. Tafa we'd be taken in by Auntie Ruth.”

Mama shakes her head. “You weren't supposed to hear that.”

“But we did,” they sob. “Please don't give us away! Please, Mama!”

“Nobody's giving anyone away,” Mama says firmly. She hugs them close. “Sara's on a trip, that's all. Auntie Ruth's having you for two days only, because there'll be lots of grownups around here, and you'd be bored.”

“No, we wouldn't.”

“Yes, you would. At Auntie Ruth's you'll have cousins to play with, and before you know it, you'll be back home with Chanda and me.” A pause. “All right?”

The whimpers subside. Iris says, “Will you sleep with us tonight, Mama? Please.”

“Of course.” She kisses both of them on the hair. “I love you. Don't you ever forget that.”

As Mama gets up to finish her chores, Iris looks her in the eye. In a clear, still voice, she says, “Is Sara's trip like the one Soly's papa went on?”

Mama takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

There is a long silence. No one cries. Mama and I leave quietly. At the door, I hear Soly whisper, “Iris... will we ever see Sara again?”

“Yes,” Iris whispers earnestly. “One day, one day the world will disappear, and we'll all be together again. Sara and your papa and Chanda's papa and everybody. They're making a place for us right now.”

“Where?”

“It's a secret.”

“But where?”

“In the most beautiful place you can ever imagine.”

“Where's that?”

“You'll find out when you're older,” Iris whispers, like a mama.

“I want to know now.”

“Too bad.” Her mama voice disappears. “Go to sleep.”

“Not till you tell me where. Wheeeerrrre? Where-where-where-where-where???”

“Go to sleep or else.”

“Or else what?”

Iris pokes him. He giggles. She pokes him hard.

“Ow.”

“What's going on in there?” I ask in my stern older-sister voice.

“Nothing,” from the two of them. A moment of silence, till they think I'm gone. Then giggles, sounds of “Shhh!” and in a moment, everything falls still.

I wake up in the middle of the night. There's a ruckus in the front yard, loud singing, curses, a kicked can clatters against the wheelbarrow. Jonah's friends have brought him home for the night. They toss him toward the house and run.

Jonah staggers to the door. He's too drunk to lift the latch. He slobbers a few words and slides unconscious to the ground. By the light of the moon, I see Mama across the room, lying next to Iris and Soly. Her eyes are open. She's staring at the ceiling.

Most nights, I'd help her drag Jonah inside. I'd flop him on their mattress and leave her to take care of his boots.

Mama says I shouldn't judge Jonah, that he has reasons for why he drinks. Maybe he does. But right now, I don't particularly care what they are. Neither does Mama. We lie in bed, and listen to him snore.

T
HE BUS FROM
T
IRO IS REALLY A PICKUP TRUCK.
It stops wherever people flag it down, and drops them off wherever they're going. Tuesday is normally a quiet day for travel, and we expected Auntie Lizbet in the early afternoon. She arrives after dark with her satchel and three sacks of vegetables.

“The truck ran out of gas. We were stuck for hours while the driver hitched to the nearest garage on a mule cart. Dear
lord, and me already seasick from being bounced around all day on top of your onions.” She collapses. “I can't walk. You'll have to carry me. And I'll be needing some ice for my lower back.”

Mama and I cross our arms and hold hands. Auntie Lizbet wiggles aboard. She clutches our shoulders and we haul her indoors to the rocking chair. While she continues to whine, I bring in the sacks and her satchel, and Mama takes a hammer to the block of ice in the icebox. Mama wraps the chunks in a tea towel, puts the towel in a plastic grocery bag, and tucks it behind Auntie's tailbone.

“Aee! Aee!” Auntie wails.

If it was anyone but her, I'd feel sorry. As it is, I want to laugh.

Iris and Soly are smart enough to stay in their room pretending to sleep, but Jonah sticks his head out of the bedroom. He's been hungover all day with the dry heaves. Mama tries to get him back to bed, but he insists on publicly begging her forgiveness. “I'll never touch a drop again. I swear.”

Auntie Lizbet raises an eyebrow. “So you're the new one.”

We go to bed. Nobody sleeps, except for Auntie. “Wakey, wakey,” she crows bright and early the next morning. With her around, who needs a rooster?

I rub my eyes. It's Wednesday. Two days ago, Sara was alive. Today she'll be home for the laying over. Tomorrow we put her in the ground.

Auntie Ruth arrives at nine for Iris and Soly. She and Jonah have a pleasant conversation, which is surprising considering that the last time he was at her place he tried to steal her jewelry. In addition to babysitting, Auntie Ruth's arranged the meat for tomorrow's
burial feast. Jonah's family wouldn't pay for a cow, but she shamed them into contributing two goats. I hope it's enough.

As Soly and Iris leave, Esther arrives to help out. A load lifts from my heart. And the work begins.

Bateman's has provided an open-air tent for visitors staying the night. Mr. Tafa and his male lodgers raise it in the front yard near the cooking pit. Meanwhile Mama, me, Esther, Mrs. Tafa, and Auntie Lizbet get down to cleaning. It's important the house be spotless for Sara's last visit. We start by moving all the furniture and belongings out back.

In less than two trips Mrs. Tafa has worked up a sweat and Auntie Lizbet's griping about her back. They take a break, sipping lemonade and gossiping for the rest of the morning. Esther is a major topic of conversation. At first they whisper in each other's ears, but pretty soon they're being rude right out loud.

“Those are quite the bracelets,” Auntie Lizbet hoots to Mrs. Tafa as Esther passes, hauling a chair. “They're so big I'm surprised she doesn't get bruises.”

“That's the least of her worries,” Mrs. Tafa roars. “If she bends over she'll be showing her panties to the neighborhood.” She and Auntie Lizbet laugh so hard they almost fall out of their chairs.

Esther stops in her tracks. She sets down the chair, faces them, and sticks out a hip. “Don't worry, Mrs. Tafa,” she smiles sweetly. “I won't be showing off my panties. I'm not wearing any.”

“You shouldn't say things like that,” I whisper to Esther at the back of the house. “They'll spread it around as if it's true.”

Sure enough, on my way back, their tongues are flapping.

“She's always been wild, that one,” I hear Mrs. Tafa cluck. “A bad influence. I've warned Lilian.”

“Where's her mama?” asks Auntie Lizbet.

“Dead.” Mrs. Tafa taps her nose.