The Monster's Daughter

by Michelle Pretorius

  “No!”

  “You promised a hug. This is the same.”

  Tessa struggled, trying to get away from him, a shrill, desperate sound escaping her lips. The man let go of her thigh and pushed his palm against her mouth. His arm wrapped around her torso, pinning her arms. He lifted her onto her feet and dragged her toward the school buildings. Tessa kicked into air, her petite frame struggling against his sinewy strength.

  “Hey! What you doing, kaffir?” A boy’s voice came from far away.

  Tessa bit the man’s palm and screamed for help when he let go. She fell on gravel, small pebbles digging into her palms and knees.

  “Hey! Get him.”

  Footsteps, young men running, a garble of voices passing by. Three burly teenagers gave chase, joined suddenly by Mr. Hugo. “Come here, boy!” one of them shouted. “I’ll beat the kak out of you!” The Voortrekker scouts in their brown-and-khaki uniforms were suddenly there too, faces crowding to see Tessa.

  “What did you do?” One of the older girls accused. “A kaffir boy? Sies, man.” They were all staring as if she had grown horns.

  Tessa got up on shaky legs. “I didn’t do anything. He …” She realized the futility of trying to convince them of anything as she looked from one face to the next. She pushed past the gaping girls. All she could think about was getting away from their leering. Tomorrow the story would be all over the school grounds. They would snigger and point. She would be the girl that had been seen with, been touched by, a black. As if his essence had rubbed off and made her as dark and rank as he was, something foul and shameful. The teachers would discuss it over tea. Andrew would be called to school. She wished she could disappear, go where Sarah was, let it all be over.

  “Hey, wait. Come back.” Someone was following Tessa, a gangly boy. She ran faster, but he kept up. “Your b—. Your b—. Wait.”

  Tessa was halfway up the street before she dared to look at him. The boy was almost a foot taller than she was, his white hair shaved close to his scalp with cowlicks in strange places. His pale eyebrows seemed to disappear against porcelain skin that was tightly wrapped over the sculpted contours of his face. She started when she noticed his pale silver eyes, their almost imperceptible slant giving him a strangely graceful air, belied by the sharp angles in his body and the awkward way he moved. It was like looking at a memory of herself, familiar, but different.

  “You l-l-left it.” The boy’s stutter was jarring.

  Tessa realized that he was hugging her schoolbag. “Give it here,” she said.

  The boy dropped the bag on the ground and took a step back. “I d-didn’t s-s-.” His face contracted as he tried to get the word out. He took a breath. “S-steal it.”

  Tessa grabbed her bag, holding it in front of her like a shield. “I didn’t say you did.”

  The boy’s pale eyes followed her every move. “Did the b-black hurt you?”

  Tessa had to think about it. The rush of adrenaline, the others staring at her, it was over so fast, it felt unreal, like a nightmare confusing reality. “I’m fine,” she said tersely.

  “I s-saw you at s-school.” He frowned. “You s-sit al-lone.”

  “We just moved here.” Tessa felt defensive.

  “I’m B-Benjamin. I can s-sit with you.”

  “I don’t need to sit with anyone.” Tessa turned and started walking away, not sure why she felt scared of him.

  Benjamin followed. “Nobody s-s-sits with m-me either.”

  Tessa glanced over at the hole in the big toe of his shoe and the shiny well-ironed lines of his brown shorts. “Doesn’t mean we have to be friends.”

  “I’ve n-never had a f-friend.” Benjamin sighed despondently. “I-I was in a h-hospital f-for a l-long time. B-because I d-didn’t grow.”

  Tessa stopped. Sarah had said the other babies like her had all died, but she’d always hoped that it wasn’t true. “How old are you?” Her eyes narrowed, issuing a challenge.

  Color rose to Benjamin’s cheeks under her scrutiny. “M-matrone said I should say I’m el-leven last year when I came to this s-school.”

  “Who is Matrone?”

  “I l-live with her.”

  “She’s your mom?”

  Benjamin shook his head.

  Tessa thought for a moment. “When is your birthday?”

  Benjamin shrugged. “Matrone s-said they aren’t imp-portant, only J-jesus’s b-birthday, so I count those. I’ve counted more years than t-twelve.” He looked down at the ground, his voice growing soft. “More than t-twice as many. M-maybe three t-times.”

  Could it be true? Was Benjamin really like her? Tessa had spent so many years denying what she was to people that she didn’t know if she should trust him. “I’m thirty-six,” she ventured. “I was born in March … 1902.” If he turned on her, she would deny everything, pretend that it was a joke. She had learned long ago that people only believed things that fit their views of the world, brushing aside or ignoring anomalies. She knew that was also the reason Andrew insisted that they move when someone noticed that she was different. Once people started believing that the improbable was true, there was no way to talk them out of it. She watched Benjamin’s reaction closely.

  “M-maybe me too?” Benjamin looked at Tessa in anticipation. “We could be—”

  “Maybe.”

  Benjamin’s brow knotted. “I r-remember everything f-from every d-day. F-fr-from the t-time I was l-little.”

  Tessa dropped her guard. “I see better than other people in the dark,” she blurted before she could stop herself.

  Benjamin nodded, his eyes wide. “And I understand the Bantu l-languages.”

  Tessa felt a strange wonder looking at him. She reached out and touched his face, pale skin like hers, eyes like hers, the world suddenly opening up. Benjamin touched her hand, wordless understanding passing between them. They alone lived in that moment, sealed together in secret knowledge. Tessa suddenly wrapped her arms around him. His body jerked in response, but she refused to let go. She held him close, scared that he might not be real.

  “I’m Tessa Morgan,” she whispered into his ear.

  “I kn-know.”

  “Will I see you at school tomorrow, Ben?”

  “J-ja.” Benjamin’s breath came in an airy rattle, his body relaxing in her arms.

  “Then we’ll sit together?”

  “J-ja.”

  Tessa pecked him on the cheek, her limbs tingling with excitement. She wanted to tell him everything Sarah had told her, about the doctor, and the other babies, but he looked so happy that she stopped herself. It could wait until another time. They had nothing but time now. She kissed him again, leaving him in the middle of the road as she ran home to tell Flippie and Andrew that she’d found someone like her, that she wasn’t the only one. She turned off the asphalt road onto gravel, her steps light, a smile lingering on her lips. The twilight disappeared, her feeling of elation heightening as darkness wrapped its tender arms around her.

  Tessa closed the back door behind her and found Flippie at the kitchen table, reading. He could have been a young version of Andrew as he sat there in the candlelight, his European features betraying the expectations of his dark skin. Intelligent eyes moved across the pamphlet in front of him, the page resting lightly between the thumb and forefinger of his slender hands. When Flippie refused to acknowledge her, Tessa slammed her bag down on the table.

  “You weren’t at school, Flippie.”

  “You got here just the same.” Flippie calmly turned the page.

  “I was waiting for you and then there was this man …” Tears welled in Tessa’s eyes, more from his neglect than the actual trauma of the event.

  Flippie glanced sideways at her, agitation infecting his angular face. “What now?”

  “Why didn’t you come for me, Flippie?”

  “I forgot.” His tone was dismissive, his indifference scathing.

  “I’m telling Pa.”

  Flippie folded the pamphlet and stood up
, his eyes almost black. “You’d better not. You know how he gets. And then it will be all your fault.” He walked out of the kitchen with the candle, a fleeting silhouette in the doorway. A door slammed down the hall moments later.

  Tessa’s eyes burned. Even thoughts of Benjamin couldn’t drive away her loneliness. She moved around the kitchen in the dark. Flippie had left some lukewarm maize pap on the stove. She dished everything for Andrew, then covered the plate carefully and set it aside for when he came home. She got into bed without bothering to brush her teeth or do her homework, wishing that morning would never come. Her light sleep was interrupted an hour later by dissonant male voices as Andrew’s modulated baritone intertwined with Flippie’s staccato anger.

  “—a telephone call. The principal. I asked you to look after her.”

  “I’m not her nanny.”

  “We’re not discussing this again.”

  “I have to hide or pretend to be the garden boy and mind Tessa like a lackey. Only Ma cared about what happened to me.”

  “Phillip.”

  “It’s true.” Flippie’s voice broke.

  “We’ve done all right, old man,” Andrew said after a long silence. “We’ve managed.”

  “I need things too, Pa. All I have to look forward to is saying Ja, Mies, Ja, Baas, for the rest of my life. That isn’t a life.”

  Tessa crept out from under the blankets and shuffled toward the dim line of light under the door. She slowly turned the knob and peeked through the crack. Flippie had his arms crossed, his head down. Andrew sat at the table, hollow and ragged. His shoulders were always drooping now, his hair completely gray. Sarah had been the glue, wordlessly bearing the insults and insinuations so they could be together. Now their tenuous bond threatened to disintegrate, each of them wandering around aimlessly through the house.

  “You can study, son. Make something of yourself.” Even Andrew didn’t sound convinced.

  “A kaffir college?” Flippie seethed. “So I can learn to be what? An educated slave? You know what that National Party’s stance is. Their own man, Le Roux, said it beautifully.” He deepened his voice, reciting in a mockingly officious tone. “We should not give the Natives any academic education. If we do, who is going to do the manual labor in the community?”

  “Things will change.”

  “Things are changing, Pa. But not the way you think. There is hate in this country for anyone who isn’t white, and it’s getting worse. Have you heard the talk about the trek? They say there’s going to be a revolt. That they’ll refuse to sing God Save the King, once they get to Pretoria and try to take over the government.”

  “It’s talk, nothing more. The Afrikaners will never stand together. We still control—”

  “You are blind if you don’t see what’s happening, Pa. My people, the African National Congress is fighting for the black man to have a say in his own land—”

  “We are your people, Phillip, not the ANC. I’m your father. Tessa’s your sister.”

  “She’s not my sister. Look at her.”

  Andrew sighed, the circles under his eyes looked even darker in the candlelight. “We only have each other, son. Don’t throw that away. Your mom wouldn’t have wanted that.”

  Flippie’s hands clenched at his side. “Did they catch him? The man who grabbed Tessa?”

  Andrew nodded. “We should be thankful that she wasn’t harmed.” He got up from the table and touched Flippie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry this is so hard.” His hand fell away when Flippie showed no reaction.

  Tessa scurried back to her mattress and burrowed under the covers, closing her eyes as Andrew’s footsteps approached. Light danced on her eyelids as he opened the door to check in on her, disappearing moments later. She waited until she heard him close his bedroom door, the sound of his movements quieting down. Slipping out of bed, she trod lightly, avoiding the spots where the old planks creaked under the weathered carpet as she made her way down the hall.

  “Flippie?” Tessa slowly opened his door.

  “Go away, Tessa.”

  Tessa slipped inside his room and closed the door behind her. “Flippie, why are you being ugly to me? I didn’t tell Pa, promise.”

  “I know.”

  Tessa stood quietly in the dark, watching him curl up in a ball on his mattress.

  “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

  “You have your own bed.”

  “I don’t want to be alone. Ag, please, Flippie?”

  “Go sleep by Pa, then.”

  “He snores. Pretty please, man.”

  “Stop talking like that. You sound like one of those stupid Dutchmen.”

  “Sorry.” Tessa shrugged it off in the dark, forgetting that he couldn’t see her. She’d spent so much time copying her classmates, pretending she was like them, that she didn’t even realize she was doing it anymore. There was a rustle as Flippie opened the covers.

  “This is the last time, hear? And I don’t want to feel your rough heels anywhere near me. Stay on your side or I’ll kick you out.”

  Tessa scooted to the edge of the mattress. “Hey, Flippie?” She hesitated, not sure if she should broach the subject. “Where were you today?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Ag, tell me.”

  Flippie sighed. “There are people, Tess. They talk about the way things are. About what we can do to change them, you know?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like black people taking back their rightful place. Not being treated like children.”

  “What are they going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Take a stand. Fight against the oppressor.” Anger sputtered through his words, his body tensing beside her.

  Tessa sat up. “Are you angry at me?”

  “No.”

  “You are.”

  Flippie turned his back to her. “You won’t understand. You’re white. White women have a vote, a say. Blacks have nothing.”

  “Do you think I don’t know what it feels like to be treated like a child?” Tessa’s cheeks burned hot with indignation. “I’m older than you, but you forget that. I’m older than some of my teachers and I have to act like they’re better and smarter than me. Like I’m dof and don’t know what’s going on.”

  “At least you have freedom.”

  “What freedom? All they care about at school is that my uniform’s hem isn’t too short, and that I act like a lady. Learning anything useful is only important if you’re a boy. The only freedom I have is to choose between becoming a teacher or a nurse. What if I don’t want to be either of those things? Or do you mean I have the freedom to go and get a husband and become a housewife like Nienie Prinsloo from next door who quit Teachers’ College after a month because she had a ring on her finger? So even if I can vote someday, it doesn’t matter. Men control everything anyway.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so just shut up before you wake Pa.”

  Tessa clutched the pillow. She had been bursting to tell Flippie about Ben, but she was too angry now. Her mind flitted from one thing to the next, listening to him breathe in the dark. “They don’t hate you, you know? The whites, I mean. They don’t mix with black people. How can they hate you if they don’t know you? I think what’s really going on is that they’re scared.”

  “What are you talking about?” Flippie sat up in bed, pulling the covers open.

  Tessa tugged at the sheets, drawing them over her against the cold. “There are a lot of black people, coloured people, Indians, you know? Many more than the whites. If you didn’t know them, wouldn’t you be scared?”

  “I already am, Tess.” Flippie sighed. “Go to sleep now, please?”

  Tessa turned over. Sounds and images overlapped into a haze of dreams, interrupted too soon by gray light creeping through the thin curtains, and a rooster announcing the day on a neighboring plot. Her body jerked alert at the click of a la
tch trying not to be heard. She realized that Flippie wasn’t next to her anymore. She found him in the kitchen, his schoolbag open on the floor, his two good shirts folded neatly inside, a half bag of maize meal and dried fruit piled on top. His clothes looked too big for him, as if his suspenders were the only thing that kept his pants up. Tessa stood still in the doorway. He caught sight of her as he turned around, his expression immediately changing to a scowl.

  “What do you want, Tessa?”

  “What are you doing, Flippie?”

  “Keep your voice down.” He tore a chunk of bread from a loaf on the table and tucked it away in his schoolbag, like a secret. Tessa noticed a small pouch with a check pattern. She had made the pouch for him in her second-grade sewing class. He always kept his best marbles in it.

  “Are you going to look for work?”

  “I’m leaving for a while.”

  “Don’t, Flippie. Pa will find you a good job. Just wait. You won’t have to be a garden boy or a trash man.”

  “It’s not that simple, Tessa.” A distant hurt lodged behind Flippie’s eyes. Tessa knew that it had been there for a long time, but it still surprised her, like when she sometimes realized for herself why something worked a certain way, even though her teacher had made her recite the lesson about it with the rest of the class many times before. It was all just words, until it connected with something real in her mind.

  “Are you coming back?”

  Flippie closed his bag. “I don’t know.”

  “I’m getting Pa.”

  Flippie grabbed Tessa by the arm as she dashed for the door. He put his hand over her mouth when she tried to yell. The violent memory of a black hand over her face rushed at her, fear sour and irrational in her stomach. The eyes of the old man peered at her from Flippie’s face, and she bit his hand.

  “Eina! Dammit, Tessa.” Flippie looked at her in disbelief, slowly shaking his head. He grabbed his bag without a word, hesitating briefly at the back door before disappearing.