White Dog Fell from the Sky - By Eleanor Morse Page 0,44

responded with half herself. His emotional vagueness, which drove her crazy, had been in her too—like a disease passed between them. Never mind what he did. She needed to account for her own half there–ness, for the deprivation and narrowness of that life with him, and the rage that followed when she woke.

A wolf spider sat on the wall by the kitchen pipes, hairy, fanged, as big as a small plate. She clapped a pot over it and slid the top on. She felt brave, capable. Out in the garden, she set the pot down, took the lid off and made a run for it. As she headed for the house, she heard a cat yowl behind her. She turned, and the ghost of Horse walked toward her on rangy, long legs. He was twice as gaunt as before. “Where the hell have you been?” Horse followed her into the kitchen, inhaled a can of sardines, and another, before settling into a rattling purr. “Where were you?” But he only purred and purred. Mr. Magoo came into the kitchen to investigate, hissed and put his back up. Then some ancient memory surfaced. His tail went up, and he dragged it under Horse’s nose.

18

In the wild part of the garden behind the tall aloes, the flat rock stored its coolness in the shade of the jacaranda trees. Out here, he could think, and Itumeleng could not find him to shout her sillinesses. When he put his palm on the rock face, he felt connected to something beneath, all the way to the center of the Earth. He’d been in Botswana for seven months now. He’d had three letters from his mother and one from his mother’s employer, Hendrik Pretorius. He wondered if Boitumelo were yet married. He tried not to think about her. It made him half crazy, but his mind went there like a wandering goat.

Still, it was something else he’d come to this rock to think about. This morning, as he was leaving Amen’s house to go to work, he asked his friend, “Where’s the bicycle?”

“I sold it,” Amen said. “I needed the money.”

Isaac couldn’t believe his ears. “You sold it? It’s not mine.”

Amen had lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “A bicycle is nothing to a European. Tell her that it was stolen, and she’ll buy another, and then you’ll have a bicycle again.”

Isaac punched him. It was the first time in his life that he’d punched another man in the face. Amen took a step back, not quite falling to the ground. He was a big man, but he didn’t strike back. He’d prefer, Isaac saw, to catch him off guard. He didn’t know when he’d retaliate, but it would come. Living with Amen, there would be no rest now. He’d need to be watchful, and Kagiso—he saw it in her eyes—would be watching too. He felt bad for her, the way each day another sparkle fell out of her eyes onto the ground.

It would take a year of wages to save enough for a new bicycle. He needed to find another place to live, but there was no place to go. He’d need to confess about the bicycle. He was late for work this morning, and she’d noticed he hadn’t ridden it. He’d told her that he had to mend a puncture. It is said that the end of an ox is beef, at the end of a lie is grief. That lie slipped off his tongue before he could bring it back. Now he needed to decide if he must tell her that he’d lied as well as lost the bicycle. He thought he must tell her everything. If you climb a tree, you must climb down the same tree. But he would wait a few days.

He left the rock and cleared the lemon tree of weeds and checked the six chili peppers, which were in little pots, waiting to be transplanted into the garden. He gave each pot water and touched the plants. Somewhere he’d heard that plants respond to touch, even to love. She who must not be called madam had asked whether he could grow hot chili peppers. The old man had given him eight seeds in a folded paper. Six seeds had germinated, one had not. He’d kept the last seed for Kagiso to plant, but it was lost. Each of the six pepper plants now had strong green leaves. He wanted to take a leaf on his tongue to see