pencil toward herself.
T handi comes home and finds Margot counting money. Sheâs in her work uniform, hunched over the table where the envelopes are piled and where a small flame burns from the kerosene lamp, though itâs still early. Sheâs so engrossed in what sheâs doing that she doesnât notice Thandi. Margotâs mouth moves steadily with each bill she counts. The light from the flame caresses her face. By the pale green hue of the bills, Thandi can tell that they are U.S. dollars, not Jamaican. Where does she get so much money? What does she do with it? Margot stashes a few bills away in one pile. She then rolls the second pile, securing it with an elastic band. She doesnât take it to the old sweat-stained mattress with the exposed spring where she and Delores usually store money to pay bills. Instead, she puts it away inside her purse. When she looks up and sees Thandi, she jumps. âHave mercy pon me, dear God! Thandi, donât you scare me like dat!â She gets rid of the evidence, dropping her purse onto a nearby chair. âWhat yuh doing home so early?â Margot asks Thandi. âYuh donât have extra lessons?â Sheâs nervous, her eyes briefly scanning Thandiâs face before returning to the now-empty table.
Thandi sits on the bed and takes out a book, aware of her sister fumbling around. âI donât have extra lessons today. Remember?â Thandi leafs through a math book, staring down at equations. âWhere yuh get so much money from?â she asks her sister. She looks up in time to see Margot crossing her legs.
âOvertime,â Margot explains. Thandi peeks at the purse on the chair, slumped like a black leather pillow.
âAre there any openings for summer?â Thandi asks Margot, who idly removes a clip from her straightened hair to let it fall around her shoulders. She uses both hands to fluff it. Something Thandi is learning how to do with hers, but, because of her hairâs finer texture, she can never achieve.
âWid your education, you can get bettah work than what Iâm doing,â Margot says, leaning back to ease her feet out of her high-heeled shoes. A fresh odor of sweat floats up to Thandiâs nostrils from Margotâs stockinged feet, and Thandi takes comfort in it. âFocus yuh energy on school. People should be working for you. Not the other way around,â Margot says, pointing and flexing her toesâthe sanguine nail polish she wears visible through the sheer stockings.
Thandi gets up and joins her at the table. Margot removes the purse from the chair so that Thandi can sit. Once she sits, Margot lifts both legs and rests them on Thandiâs lap. âThat hairstyle suits you,â Margot says. Itâs the first she has ever commented on a hairstyle that Thandi did herself. All she did was a single French braid, the end secured by a black rubber band. Thandi massages her sisterâs feet, watching Margotâs head roll back and eyes close. Margot sighs loudly as Thandi runs her hands up her calves, applying pressure. More than the velvety feel of the stockings, Thandi delights in the sturdiness of Margotâs calves, conjuring up memories of her running track at the small secondary school she attended. Margot made it to girlsâ champs and could have gone further in track and field. But for some reason, she stopped training and fell off the path. When Thandi asked her why, Margot responded with a casual shrug. â It wasnât worth it. â
Margotâs lips part, letting out a low guttural sound that reminds Thandi of a purring cat. âI wish I didnât have to go back to work so soon,â Margot says, her eyes still closed. âIâd stay here just for this . . . Youâre good with your hands.â Thandi decides that this would be a good time to ask for what she wants. âCan I have some money?â
âMoney for what?â Margot asks,
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