The Water Man's Daughter (27 page)

Although the compound still sits large behind her, Nomsulwa feels like she has walked a long way before she comes across a small figure huddled at the base of a wide acacia tree. The canopy, like an umbrella, shelters Claire’s body.

She is shivering. The moonlight is disappearing, and the remaining light reflects from her pale, exposed skin.

“Jesus, Claire. What are you doing?”

Claire doesn’t answer.

“It’s not safe out here. We keep the fence closed for a reason. There are hyenas and snakes, and the bloody cold will kill you first.” Nomsulwa takes off her sweatshirt and wraps it around Claire. Then she tries to force her to stand. Claire resists actively and yanks herself away from Nomsulwa.

“It’s freezing. Please. Let’s go back.”

“They are wrong. They are wrong about him!” Claire says to the wide expanse in front of her.

“Okay. Sure.” Nomsulwa holds out her hand. “Be reasonable. We have to go back.”

“No!” Claire turns to Nomsulwa. “You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was like. He would have done something to help them if he’d been able to. If he’d understood …”

Nomsulwa stands, fixed, feeling as if the goosebumps on her skin might literally tear off from her body. Claire trails off. Nomsulwa reaches down once more. This time, Claire rises to her feet.

“Come back, Claire. It’s dangerous. I’m sorry this upset you. I really am.” Nomsulwa reaches out to wrap Claire in her arms. She wants to hold her tight enough that the apology has no choice but to make its way in. “Come here. I’m so sorry.” Nomsulwa repeats the apology like a mantra.

N
OMSULWA WAKENS BEFORE THE SUNRISE, FEELING
the lack of sleep in every muscle. Mira is waiting to see her. She has to talk to him before Claire wakes up.

Nomsulwa leaves her bed silently. The room is still dark. If it weren’t for the cacophony of birds outside the window, there would be no indication that morning was close. She pulls jeans on over her boxer shorts and slides a bra on under her shirt. There is no time to find new clothes. She needs to leave fast if she’s going to catch Mira. Claire, after last night, will sleep through her absence. She has to.

The car starts noisily. Nomsulwa checks behind her to make sure that no lights have flicked on. She drives carefully, taking the corners with her foot half on the brake. Her hands are shaking. She doesn’t turn on the radio or roll down the window. The car fills with the grumble of the engine and the sound of her heart in her ears.

When she can no longer see the compound in the rearview mirror, Nomsulwa dials Mira on her phone. He picks up immediately and tells her that he is twenty minutes out.

“Meet me at the store, the spaza near the church. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Why don’t I just come to the compound?” Mira sounds exhausted, ready to lie down and sleep and forget for a moment that he is on the run.

“We don’t want to bring them in on this. It’s our problem, and the others will only ask questions that complicate things. You must keep this secret. You haven’t told anyone, right?”

Mira grunts in the affirmative and hangs up.

Nomsulwa parks her car near the edge of town behind a gas station and walks the rest of the way towards the church. Out here things start slowly. Unlike in Phiri, people are still asleep when the first light rises over the edge of the small sand dunes. She is alone and unseen as she waits.

Mira takes thirty more minutes to arrive.

“Where have you been!?” Nomsulwa yells at the window of Pim’s car before he has a chance to open the door.

Mira opens the door and squints up at her. “I had to stop and get gas. It’s fucking expensive out here.”

“I’ve wasted most of the time I have waiting for you. Claire will notice if I’m gone too long. You should have stopped on the way back.”

“Fuck the white bitch. What are we going to do?!”

Mira pants when he speaks, his tall body bent over the wheel. Nomsulwa crouches down to be level with the car’s seat and puts a hand on his shoulder. She kneads his neck. His bent backbone threatens her own resolve. She can’t have him fall apart on her.

“What did they find?”

“I don’t know. How could I know? The point is that they found
something
. At my house.”

“We can’t plan if we don’t know what they are working with.” Nomsulwa points out the obvious, hoping this will trigger Mira’s memory. What could possibly be in his house?

“Stop asking impossible questions and help me!” Mira raises his voice. Nomsulwa tries to calm him down.

“Look, you didn’t do it. You didn’t kill him. She can’t prove you did something you didn’t. Suka la uyisiphuku-phuku. She’s going to know you ran. She’s going to think it
was
you.”

Mira is looking at Nomsulwa as though she is a stranger. “She can still throw me in jail. She can still put me away for the water man.” He grabs her arm, squeezing the skin so hard it rises between his fingers like bread dough. Nomsulwa shakes herself free from his grasp. He stands up and pushes towards her, his breath hot on her face. “I was there.”

“This is what we’re going to do. You will go back to Phiri. You will get word to the police that you had a family emergency. Have that bastard you always smoke with tell his contact in the department. Then you’ll go home and sit tight until this all blows over.”

“Ukhuluma ngani, sisi? What are you talking about? This isn’t a plan.” Mira spins on his heels and runs his hand over his head, taking in every crevice with his fingers. He looks to the sky as if this might be a good moment to start praying. “I can’t go to Sun City. I’ll die. I’ll die in there. You have to get me out of this.”

Nomsulwa yanks him back towards her. “What you need to do is lie low. Is everything set for the pipe purchase?”

“Yes, yes, we only have to meet them at the farm to complete the sale. I’m supposed to call once I’m there.”

“You can’t be the one to go anymore. Go to the community centre, a place where you will be easily spotted. Do some work. Pretend to do some work. Do something that seems inconspicuous. Get one of your boys to go to the farm for you. We shouldn’t be anywhere near those pipes when they’re bought.”

“But I can’t –”

“Do as I say, Mira. Go back. I’ll be there in the afternoon. I’ll meet you at the office. I have to go. Claire is waiting. Do as I say, Mira. Promise me.”

He nods and returns to looking to the sun for salvation.

Nomsulwa steps around to the front of the spaza. She knows that her cousin is still standing in the spot behind the store. Still glancing around, ready to be arrested at any moment, ready to be hauled off to the pit where so many of their friends ended up. For doing less. They ended up there for doing less.

N
OMSULWA EXPECTED TO BE BACK BEFORE
C
LAIRE
woke up. She was counting on it. After last night, she can’t let the girl be unsupervised. She might run off into the desert again, this time for good. Nomsulwa needs to focus her energies on returning her to the city, depositing her on a plane bound for Canada, and forgetting they ever met.

The part of Nomsulwa that missed Claire, even that morning on the drive to meet Mira, the part of her that bristled when he called her a white bitch, that part takes over when she enters the compound. Zembe and Dadoo made it clear that they are ready to get rid of her. But Nomsulwa’s not sure she’s ready to let her go.

“Where were you this morning?”

“I had a meeting. We needed to find some people before they started work.”

“You didn’t tell me you had another meeting.”

“It was just small. I wanted to let you sleep.”

Claire doesn’t look convinced. “Sure, right. Thanks.”

“Are you ready to leave?”

“I just need to get my stuff.”

“Well, I’m packed so … whenever you’re done.”

“We can go. Of course.”

Nomsulwa opens the door. Neil is sitting at the breakfast table eating a steaming bowl of pap. She has no energy to keep up the charade. She is undone by Mira, completely blown open. It feels dangerous.

“For breakfast?” Nomsulwa greets him, trying a smile.

“Always. You off?”

“Yeah, she kind of wants to escape after yesterday.”

“I get that. Shame though. You know, we could have done a lot of work if you’d have stayed a few more days.”

“I know, I know.” As Nomsulwa starts up the stairs, Kwanele appears above her. He is wearing nothing but a pair of rumpled shorts, and his face is creased from sleep.

“Where is she?” he mumbles.

“Good morning,” Nomsulwa answers, avoiding his eyes. She is sure it is all over her, the silent film of Mira and the knife. She is terrified that her friends, that Claire, can see the awful image in her eyes.

“Is she all right?”

“She wants to head out. She’s on the porch.”

“We ran them off successfully,” Neil calls from the kitchen.

Kwanele nods. He turns, continues down the stairs, and Nomsulwa hears the door slam.

O
NCE THEY ARE IN THE CAR
, N
OMSULWA TRIES TO
concentrate on driving, but she is feeling light-headed. She didn’t eat and can’t eat. The minutes creep by, each passing vehicle a surprise as it swerves around them. This is dangerous. Claire is noticing the erratic driving, growing more and more nervous. Suddenly a large minibus careens across their path, the horn sounds out.

Nomsulwa touches the brakes, which cuts the car to the right. Claire gasps. Nomsulwa grips the steering wheel, yanking their car back on course.

“What are you doing?!” Claire exclaims, fury in her voice.

“Sorry, that bus came out of nowhere,” Nomsulwa mumbles, her own heart beating too quickly.

“I’d rather get home in one piece if you don’t mind.” Claire crosses her arms in front of her chest. Nomsulwa recognizes the signs of an outburst waiting to happen.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you keep saying that? It’s like a tic, sorry, sorry, sorry.” Claire’s voice gets faster and higher.

“I know you’re angry –” Nomsulwa tries to engage calmly.

“Angry? No. I should have known,” Claire almost yells. Then she pauses, purposefully shuts her mouth, and stares out the window.

Nomsulwa feels the pain in Claire’s reaction. “I know I messed up, okay? I didn’t mean for you to see the protest. It was supposed to be a meeting, a small gathering, that’s all.”

Claire whips around, more irate than before. “I thought you were my friend. I thought you were someone I could trust. I felt
safe
with you. You told me that we were there to see my father’s water project, where he stayed, what he did while he was there. But you lied to me so you could drag me out to the middle of nowhere and humiliate me in front of … everyone.” Claire’s voice drops at the end. She looks down.

“I’m so –” Nomsulwa stops herself before she says, “sorry.” She wishes she understood how to make Claire feel better.

“Look, just forget it. I came to find out who my father was …”

Nomsulwa doesn’t know how to respond. She feels the weight of the morning, the weight of the week and the week before that. She imagines moving backwards, to before the water men. She, now, is not sure how she thought she could have kept the truth from Claire, and maybe a large part of her
didn’t want to. She has this urge to share with the girl next to her every tiny piece of her life, the township at lunchtime, her office bustling with mamas painting banners and signs, the thrill of a meeting where a community vows to come together and change their own future. It was selfish, the assumption that she could get close to Claire without it costing anything.

“Alvin called. He said that your flight home is booked for the day after tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know.” Claire seems shut.

“You must be ready to get back home.”

“For what? What am I bringing back with me? I didn’t find out anything new, I didn’t find … I found nothing here. I don’t know why I came.” Claire turns to look at Nomsulwa driving, stares at her tense muscles and feeble attempt to focus on the road, which, despite her willing it not to, becomes busier, the tall landscape of Joburg emerging in the distance. Nomsulwa prepares herself to say goodbye to Claire.

“We’re here.” Nomsulwa says after she has pulled up to the hotel, cut the car’s engine, and waved off the assistance of the man at the door.

“Thanks.” Claire sits there, so still and quiet, staring at her own hands.

“Do you want me to take you to the airport?” Nomsulwa asks, putting on a brave face.

“No. The hotel arranges transport.”

Nomsulwa feels herself shrink in the car. “Do you want some company for the rest of the day?” She manages one last attempt.

“No.” Claire looks unsure, then stolid again. She sticks to her answer.

“Okay.”

“You’ve done enough already.” Claire looks directly at Nomsulwa. Her eyes are still full of anger and, behind that, hurt. She looks like she might cry and holds herself stiffly like it’s the last thing she is going to let herself do.

“Goodbye.” Nomsulwa says, hoping she will think of something more to keep Claire in the car. But Claire is already opening the door. She tugs her bag from the back seat, looks in one last time, and leaves.