The Monster's Daughter (26 page)

“You were brave. My brother, Zweli, he …” Prudence put her hand to her mouth again. It took her a moment to speak. “I will help you.” There was a quiet dignity about her, her words a statement of purpose. It was a faint flash, a vision of a future Flippie had never thought about, her life alongside his. He had accepted being alone as his fate, but he suddenly saw this woman, the possibility of more than himself, more than loneliness in a country that had pushed him to the margins. Flippie watched as Prudence walked toward the lorries, then he picked up his suitcase and followed her to Meadowlands.

“I would like to bring a final motion to the floor, ladies.”

Tessa sighed as the Free State Women's Agricultural Union's representative from Verkeerdevlei stood up. She was a hawkish woman, her lips permanently pursed, her hips too narrow to bear normal-size children. Tessa glanced at the enormous clock on the wall. It was three already. She'd never have enough time to run her errands.

Being in Bloemfontein brought back too many memories. As Tessa drove into town early that morning, she wondered what had happened to the
plot
, resisting the temptation to drive by it. She had left, what was it, seven years ago now? The realization shocked her. The passage of time seemed so irrelevant while you were living it. Only in hindsight did it become monstrous. She had had to steal away from her home like a thief, waiting on the platform all night, taking the first train out, getting off in Bethlehem. Two days later, she was employed as a housekeeper by a farmer named Booysen, a cantankerous widower. It was Booysen who had asked her to attend the annual meeting. “Women interfering with men's business,” he had said. “Go listen what they are yammering about.” As far as Tessa could tell, he was right about the yammering. Every motion was a charade of self-delusion and frivolous absurdity.

“We will hear the motion,” the chairwoman said.

The representative from Verkeerdevlei folded her hands in front of her. She tilted her head to the left, her eyes looking up at the ceiling while she spoke. “Apartheid has been our way of life for some time now. Yet our dairies still accept milk and cream from Native farmers and mix it with those of Europeans. If we are to maintain apartheid in all spheres of life, I move that Native milk and cream be kept separate from those of white farmers and be designated strictly for Native use.”

Next to Tessa, a bullfrog of a woman nodded her head vigorously.

“Mrs. Nel brings up a valid point,” the chairwoman said. “We will open the floor to discussion.”

“I second the motion.” A plump woman with stiff hair and big hands stood up in the second row. “Nettie van der Spuy. Parys district.” The woman turned to the assembly. “Separation is in the Bible.
God's plan. If we are to follow His will completely, then it is only right that we separate our food as well.”

A round of applause followed.

“This is a waste of time.” Tessa bounced up before she could stop herself. Heads turned in her direction.

“Please identify your district, missus?” The chairwoman raised her thin eyebrows. In her pink suit, she looked like a newborn rat.

“Miss Theresa Morgan, representing the Booysen farm, Bethlehem district.”

Tessa's neighbor looked up at her, disapproval written in the folds of her face.

“Proceed.”

“I would just like to point out to the representatives from Verkeerdevlei and Parys that the milking on dairy farms is certainly not done by the farmer or his wife. It is done by Native farmworkers. Do the representatives object to black hands touching the milk, or merely to ownership? And if it is the former, would they wish to do the milking themselves, or do they perhaps employ white farmworkers? If that is the case, I think they should share with the rest of the room how they manage to keep labor costs so low.”

The chairwoman's hand covered her mouth in slow motion. There was complete silence in the room. The representative from Verkeerdevlei looked mortified, a crimson hue creeping up over the high collar of her dress, climbing up to her cheeks until her whole face was aflame. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Tessa didn't know. And she didn't care. She had sat all afternoon listening to motions, one more absurd than the next.

The chairwoman cleared her throat. “Miss Morgan certainly brings up a valid point.” She paused, waiting for a response from the ladies. When none came, she turned to the representative of Verkeerdevlei, a placating smile on her lips. “I believe it might be premature to put this to a vote. I move that we discuss it with our men first and put it on the agenda for next time. And now, if Mrs. Nel would please lead us in a closing prayer?”

By “Amen,” Tessa was already heading for her car. She had almost reached it when the representative from Verkeerdevlei stepped in front of her.

“You call yourself a Christian, Miss Morgan?”

“That is certainly none of your business, Mrs.…?”

“Heyns. Well, I thought not.” The woman lifted her nose in the air. If she hadn't been so annoyed, Tessa might have burst out laughing. She walked around the woman.

“So you live alone with a man on the farm?” The remark was full of innuendo.

Tessa turned around. “Jan Booysen is as old as the gates of Hell, Mrs. Heyns. I keep house and cook for him, that's all. I'm sorry you feel the need to insinuate something unseemly.”

Mrs. Heyns looked ready to explode, her lips pursed so tight that new lines formed on top of the wrinkles around her mouth. “You have no respect.”

“I have yet to find anyone here who warrants my respect, Mrs. Heyns. Good day.”

Mrs. Heyns took a sharp breath. Tessa didn't wait for her to recover. She got into her car and drove off, leaving Mrs. Heyns in the dust of the show grounds, her mouth opening and closing like that of a fish on dry land.

Tessa drove into the city center. Booysen needed new overalls and she wanted to pick up a few things for herself. Bloemfontein had almost doubled in size since the last time she'd seen it. A big haberdashery had opened next to the pharmacy, with a sweet shop and a new department store just up the street. Tessa felt like a child again as she walked into the Woolworths, examining everything, stopping by a perfume counter and letting the saleslady dab a musky odor on her wrist. She selected new stockings and a hat for church, worrying that its blue flowers and wide rim might be too extravagant for Bethlehem.

“Tessa.”

Tessa turned around. It was Ben. For the last seven years she had tried not to dwell on the past, but he had been on her mind since Booysen had asked her to come to Bloemfontein. For a moment she wondered if he was real. He was dressed in a gray suit, his pale-blond hair slicked back under his hat. No longer a boy, he carried himself with an air of authority. There was a maturity in his face that she hadn't remembered.

“Ben,” she stumbled, clutching her packages in front of her. “I …” She wished she could see his eyes behind the dark glasses.

Ben's full lips curled into a generous smile. “I'm so happy to see you.” His voice was a relaxed, honeyed bass. He leaned in and kissed her formally on the cheek.

“How have you been?” Tessa managed. She suddenly realized that she had missed him. You couldn't spend that many years sharing a secret with somebody without it altering you.

“Well … quite well.” He looked around the store. “Still living on the
plot
. I hope you don't mind. I had nowhere else to go. If you need me to leave …”

“No, it's—”

“I kept up with the payments.”

“I guess it's yours, then.”

“I always thought it would be ours.” He looked vulnerable, like the boy that had brought her back her schoolbag. “Perhaps we could talk? Tea at the hotel,” he said quickly when Tessa hesitated, “that's all I ask.” He smiled reassuringly.

Tessa nodded.

The restaurant bustled with women in hoopskirts and men in smart suits. Tessa pulled at her cardigan, feeling underdressed and self-conscious. Life on the farm didn't call for keeping up with the latest fashions. Ben pulled a chair out for her before sitting down on the other side of the table, his slender hands folded on top of the white linen tablecloth, an excited glint in his eyes. “Shall I order wine?”

It struck Tessa that she had never had alcohol in a public place before. Not only had she looked too young, but there was never money for that sort of thing. “Rooibos for me,” she said apologetically.

“
Ja
. Of course.” Ben looked put out.

“How have you been?” Tessa tried.

“I'm at the university now.” Ben said it as if asking for approval, or perhaps waiting for praise. “Degree in biology.” There was a light in his eyes. “I want to study this molecule that's been discovered. It's very exciting. It encodes our genetic instructions, see? They call it deoxyribonucleic acid. My professor says it could be the secret to what we are.”

“I don't …” Tessa was unsure of where he was going with this.

“We always wondered why we were different.” There was a tremor
in Benjamin's hand. “I have the journals, Tessa. Of the man who caused us to be this way. Dr. Leath. I'm working to find what he did. How we began.”

Tessa took in her breath at the mention of Leath. He was a dark creator, casting a shadow across time from the recesses of her imagination. What he did to her mother, to Sarah, was the work of madness, and she was his creation. She had watched people around her being born, blooming and withering in the blink of an eye. She should have been an old woman by now, yet she still wore the blush of youth.

Ben studied her face. “You knew about this?”

“My
ma
told me.”

“You never told me.” A frown spread across Ben's brow. He crossed his arms. “How could you keep something that important from me? You … you're a liar, Tessa. You always lie.” His words held a mixture of regret and menace. It made the hairs at the back of Tessa's neck stand on end.

“I'm sorry, I don't think I can stay.”

“No. Please listen to me.” The intensity of Ben's gaze scared her. Tessa hovered on the edge of her seat. “I wanted to die when you left, Tessa.” His words took on a frantic quality. “I didn't know how to go on without you.”

“I'm sorry, Ben, I—”

“I wanted to end it, be rid of you in my head forever. I just couldn't … but then God spoke to me, see? It changed everything. I love you, Tessa. God help me, I still do after what you did to me. And seeing you today …”

“Ben, I—” Tessa looked away, seeking refuge in the faces of others.

“You are the only thing that makes me believe that our kind is not destined for Hell.”

Tessa searched for the right thing to say, to calm him down. “God creates everything, right? So maybe He allowed for us to happen. Evolution.”

Ben brought his fist down on the table. People glanced in their direction.

“I need to go,” Tessa said, getting up.

“Sit down, Tessa.” He put his hands in the air. “I'm sorry. Please, sit down.”

“I know your life has been hard, Ben, and that I didn't make it easier.”

Ben's eyes softened. “I think God will spare us if I do as He commands. He meant for us to be together.”

“Ben, I can't.”

“Give me a chance, Tessa.” His eyes bored into hers. “The house is ready for you. I have some money. We'll be comfortable.”

Tessa felt that familiar pity, the need to make things right for him, but she shook it off. “I have a different life now, Ben.”

“Playing maid on a farm?” Ben sneered, his eyes suddenly hard. “Is this what you wanted your life to be?”

“How …?” Tessa's mouth felt dry.

“I've known where you were all along, Tessa. I know the right people now. There's nowhere you can go that I won't find you.” The way he said it terrified her.

“I need to use the ladies' room.” Tessa managed a weak smile. She got up and walked away, vaguely aware that Ben was calling her name.

It was dark outside, the streets quiet after the day's bustle. Tessa crossed Preller Plein as a late bus to the
location
pulled away from the stop, leaving the square deserted. She didn't need to look back to know that Ben was following her. His presence lurched in the shadows, reached out to her, chilling her to the bone like the Free State winter. Booysen's truck was parked two blocks away. Tessa lengthened her stride.

“You can't run from me, Tessa.” Ben rammed her against the side of the car.

Tessa screamed. Ben lifted her off the ground like a rag doll. Tessa kicked against the side of the car as her feet left the ground, pushing him back, catching him off-balance. Ben loosened his grip for a moment. Tessa tore away from him and ran back to the town center, to the safety of people. She heard Ben's footsteps behind her. He could always outrun her.

Ben grabbed her hair from behind, pulling her back. He spun her around. “For always, Tessa. Remember? Always.”

Tessa scratched at his face. Ben let out a low grunt and his palm made contact with her cheek. Tessa felt disoriented. He threw her down, suddenly on top of her, straddling her, his bulk crushing her,
his hands on her throat. She kicked, her legs wild. He was too big, too strong. Tessa's movements weakened to ineffectual flutters. Her lungs burned, the pain in her throat like a hot poker. Was this how it ended? She had thought of life as protracted misery, her gift of time a punishment. But now that it was being taken away from her, she would sacrifice anything to keep it.

Tessa looked up at Ben. She found a hatred in his eyes that could only have come from something that had once been love. Desperate, she mouthed the words. “I love you.”

Confusion crept into Ben's features. He relaxed his grip just enough for oxygen to seep into her lungs. Tears blinded her. Violent cough spasms ripped through her body. His weight was suddenly gone. Tessa rolled onto her side, struggling to clear her throat.