The Monster's Daughter

by Michelle Pretorius

  Pity softened his anger. “When?”

  “Last night.”

  “You didn’t call.”

  “I needed to be alone.”

  “With a black man?” Fear and anger cracked through the veneer. It always lingered so close to the surface.

  Tessa crossed her arms. “Don’t.”

  “There are laws, Tessa. You kissed him. Both of you can be locked up.”

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “Then what?”

  “Ben, please.” She hung her head.

  “Who is he? Answer me.”

  Tessa sighed. “That was Andrew’s son. My brother, Phillip.”

  Benjamin’s lungs filled again. “You never told me.”

  “He left. A long time ago. When Pa got sick I went looking for him. I found the deed for land Pa owned—”

  “Blacks can’t own property. He can’t take it from you.”

  “That’s not what it’s about. For God’s sake, Ben.”

  “Don’t use the Lord’s name.”

  Tessa frowned. “Sorry.”

  “It’s late. Where were you?”

  “There’s no phone in the location. I had to let him know that Pa was gone.” She turned to go into the house, but Benjamin blocked her way.

  “Ben, please. I’m tired and it’s cold.” Her spirit seemed gone, the hardship of the past few months too much to bear. Benjamin longed for her to look at him the way she used to.

  Tessa suddenly reached for him, her hand resting on his. “I don’t want to fight.” She stepped closer. “Please. Hold me.”

  Benjamin wrapped his arms stiffly around her. He felt foolish for doubting her. Things would get better now, he was sure of it. “I’m sorry about your pa,” he said. She needed him, and he would take care of her. Soon she would be his Tessa again. They would be happy.

  Tessa kissed him on the cheek, her face wet against his. She held on to him, her lips searching for his, her left hand rubbing the back of his neck. It always calmed him, this simple gesture. He kissed her, a tenderness between them. Tessa unbuttoned his uniform’s buttons, running her hands over his clavicles and down to his chest, her touch awakening every nerve ending in his body. They’d experimented with these things before, always with restraint, aware of the line that shouldn’t be crossed, but something now felt different.

  “Tessa, don’t.” Benjamin pushed her hands away, fighting the raw gnawing need, his skin clammy, his heart racing. He had always walked God’s path, followed the rules. It had taken every ounce of his willpower never to let things go further, but it had to be right when they went before the altar, both of them pure, their union blessed.

  Tessa stepped away from him, vulnerable, her eyes pale as the moon, pain lodged so deep that he suddenly doubted whether he would ever be able to bring her back. She walked away from him, disappearing into the house.

  “I’m sorry,” he said when he caught up to her. “When we’re married …”

  Tessa’s slight frame was outlined by the soft light falling through the kitchen window. Her hands fumbled behind her back and Benjamin heard the sound of her zipper. Benjamin wished the dark would mask the truth for him, just like it did for everybody else, but when her dress fell to the ground, he didn’t look away. She was beautiful, her body lean and pale. He knew he’d be able to circle her waist with his hands if he tried. The thought of touching her skin woke a desire so strong that he panicked.

  “Put your clothes back on.” The words came out harsher than he intended.

  “For one night, can’t we just be human, Ben?” Tessa’s voice pleaded, quiet, desperate. She searched his face, tears flowing down her cheeks. She unhooked the clasp of her bra and let it fall to the floor, revealing full breasts that before now he’d only ever guiltily imagined. She slid her stockings down and stepped out of her underwear. He could sense the heat of her body, his own rising in turn.

  Tessa stepped closer. She took his hands and cupped them over her breasts. “Please.” Her lip quivered. “I need you.” Her hands guided him, running them over her softness, guiding him inside her until his will succumbed to hers, his body banishing his mind as they came together, the same being, one, before God.

  Tessa

  Tessa ran her eyes over the pews as she walked out of the church. Nobody had come to mourn Andrew. He had spent his life hiding her from people and ended up hiding from the world himself. Flippie had stayed away, but he had no choice, there would probably have been a scene if he had tried to enter a white church. She had been alone with Andrew when he died, having watched his body struggle for months, losing by measures, death robbing him of his quiet dignity. He hadn’t even known she was there in his last hours. She had said goodbye as he fought for his last, rattling breath, her lips on his weathered palms.

  “Ready?” Ben held the Chevy door for her. He was lean enough to fit into one of Andrew’s suits, but had grown almost six inches while in the army. She had let out the seams as much as possible, but he still looked like a teenager in borrowed clothes.

  “Tessa?” Mrs. Uys stood outside the church in her Sunday best, her hair speckled with silver, her figure crumpled. “I saw the obituary in the paper. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Tessa wondered why the woman had come to gawk at her suffering.

  “Every dark day is always followed by a brighter one,” Mrs. Uys smiled, looking at Benjamin. “I’m sure funeral bells will be replaced by wedding bells.” Ben smiled shyly.

  Tessa clenched her fists. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

  “You’re in my prayers,” Mrs. Uys said.

  Tessa didn’t answer her. “Wedding bells,” she muttered under her breath as they drove away.

  “We have to decide on a date.” Ben turned onto the main road.

  A possessiveness had crept into the way Ben talked to her since Andrew’s death. He had taken charge of the funeral and other arrangements with an air of authority she hadn’t thought him capable of. He now refused to let her out of his sight, wouldn’t even leave her alone to grieve. It was suffocating. Tessa had always believed that it was her destiny to be with Ben. Finding him had meant that she wasn’t alone anymore, that there was one person she could be completely honest with, a person who would be able to walk life’s journey with her. He had always been like a lost child, eager to please, clinging to her like she was his salvation. And she had always felt that it was her responsibility to make up for the bad he had been through in his life, a life she had been spared because of Andrew. Perhaps she had mistaken that responsibility for love. After their night together, Tessa had realized the truth. She didn’t love him, at least not the way that he wanted her to.

  “I think we should wait,” she said. She knew she was a coward, but she didn’t have the energy for a fight.

  Ben glanced over at her, his boyish face contracting in an adult frown. “We have waited, Tessa. It’s time we make it right.”

  “I don’t want to get married, Ben.” Tessa felt relief as soon as the words left her mouth.

  Ben kept his eyes trained on the road. In the sunlight coming through the windshield, his high cheekbones cast dark shadows, making him look gaunt, hollow.

  “Did you hear me?” Tessa searched his face for any sign of emotion, relief turning to feelings of guilt. “Ben?”

  “We already are one before God, Tessa. The rest is a piece of paper for the scrutiny of men, a matter of formality.”

  Tessa stared at him in disbelief. “I don’t want to. Don’t you understand?”

  Ben turned into the plot’s driveway and parked the car. He got out and opened the door for her.

  “Ben! Are you listening to me?” Tessa got out. Her childhood friend was gone. Before her stood a stranger, a man who was demanding a lifelong obligation. “I need time alone,” she said. “To figure things out.”

  “We’ll figure them out together, Tessa. We’re together now, like we always talked about.” He was close to her now, his arm
s around her. “You’re all that matters. I won’t let you go.” He had grown strong in the army, his embrace unforgiving. He put his hand behind her head, weaving his fingers through her hair, pulling painfully at the roots. “Tell me for always. Like you promised, Tessa.” He touched the silver cross around her neck with his free hand, caressing it tenderly. “Promise. For always.” His grip tightened forcefully when she didn’t respond.

  Tessa gasped, fear opening her eyes. “For always, Ben,” she whispered.

  Benjamin

  Benjamin threw the covers off, the predawn cold creeping on his bare skin. “Tessa?” He touched the indentation in the pillow next to him. Her clothes were draped over her desk chair, her shoes kicked into the corner, where she’d left them the night before. He got up and pulled a sweater on. “Tessa!”

  He stumbled through the house, room by room. The kitchen was cold, empty, as was the living room. Tessa’s toothbrush lay on the sink in the bathroom, her towel damp on the rack. He glanced out the window, feeling somewhat relieved when he saw the Chevy still parked under the awning. She had probably gone for a walk. He decided to go join her. But Benjamin hesitated outside Andrew’s bedroom, a nagging feeling taking hold of him. Tessa hadn’t cleaned out the old man’s things yet. The thick curtains were drawn, the dank air inside the room stifling. He opened the closet. Next to Andrew’s two pairs of shoes, one for work and one for church, gaped a space where an old leather suitcase was usually kept.

  Benjamin ran back to Tessa’s room. He frantically opened the top drawer of her dresser. Conspicuous rearrangements camouflaged the spaces where her favorite things used to be—a baby-blue cardigan, a cream scarf, a pair of stockings. He opened the next drawer. Her brown skirt, her sun hat, the small jewelry box. He turned all the drawers over, clothes piling on the floor. Her shoes with the kitten heels, her flower-print dress. Something sharp dug into his bare left foot. Tessa’s silver cross lay on the ground, entangled with a sock. The realization hit home with such force that Benjamin thought his heart had stopped. Tessa had left him. He sunk down on the floor, reeling from the pain in his chest. Shadows flooded his mind. He was a boy again, never telling what happened in storerooms or in hospital bathrooms. He tried to breathe but the air held no oxygen. He knew now that he deserved that punishment, that shame. Not even Tessa could love him. How could he go on without her?

  “I’ll do anything you want, God,” Benjamin murmured. He repeated the words, his body shivering on the cold floor. “Give her back to me. I’ll do anything.” Light had overpowered darkness and succumbed again by the time His answer came.

  Benjamin slowly pushed himself off the floor. His limbs felt strange, alien, reborn. He took a few trembling steps, feeling the flutter of renewed strength awakening inside him. He would find Tessa, no matter what it took. God had promised to show him the way.

  The Maitland Hotel was doused in opulence, the gilded mirrors lining walls that reflected crystal chandeliers and dark oaks, vulgar and obscene as the jewels and gowns that walked past Benjamin. Condescending glances rested momentarily on the disheveled intruder in the ill-fitting suit. It would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle. Benjamin glared back at them with disdain as he walked through the marbled lobby, the emptiness inside him trumping any pride.

  Jooste waited at the hotel bar, a brandy in front of him. He looked at ease in these surroundings, as if the smoky haze were an extension of himself, a stench that infiltrated the cracks and crevices of the room, clinging to every person there who, in turn, carried it out with them into the world.

  “So you’ve changed your mind,” Jooste said as Benjamin sat down on the stool next to him. The bartender poured another brandy without asking and placed it in front of Benjamin.

  Jooste nodded at a man walking by. He turned his attention back to Benjamin. “Well?”

  Benjamin took a sip of his brandy, swallowing caution with the burning liquid. “I need things,” he said when he emerged from the numbness.

  “What are we talking about?”

  “All the journals.”

  “Ja?”

  Benjamin didn’t take his eyes off his glass. “I want to join the Broederbond.”

  Jooste paled slightly. “What do you know about the Bond, boy?”

  “That being a member opens those doors you talked about. Gets you access to work, an education, information.” Benjamin had frantically searched for Tessa for days, not sleeping, barely eating. He had even gone to the location to try to find the black she had been with. She had simply disappeared. Members of the Broederbond had connections, reach, a network of eyes that stretched across the country. They could find her for him.

  “We are a cultural organization, no more. I don’t know what you think—”

  “I know what you are, Mr. Jooste. Cultural organizations don’t need to operate in secret.”

  “The Bond is an organization of leaders. We’ve united the Afrikaners, raised them up economically, spiritually, politically. To do that, we need to operate without scrutiny.” Jooste gave Benjamin a calculating look. “What could you possibly offer us? You’re nobody.”

  Barely contained anger tickled Benjamin’s extremities. He clenched his jaw, keeping his voice low. “You and the Broeders plan to make the Afrikaners a superior race.”

  “I never said—”

  “You want to play God, Mr. Jooste? You’ll need His monster. That makes me somebody.”

  Jooste eyed Benjamin, his drink poised in the air. “The girl—”

  “She’s gone.”

  Jooste narrowed his eyes, the thin flesh folding over shallow veins. “What do you mean?”

  “You might be her father, Mr. Jooste, but know this, she belongs to me. If you go near her, I will kill you.” As Benjamin said this, he knew he meant every word.

  “I’m not scared of idle threats, ja.” Jooste took his hat off the counter. He downed the rest of his drink. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with, boy.”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  Jooste hovered for a moment, a tug of war between desires in his expression. “I may have underestimated you,” he said at last. “You have more backbone than Frank said you did.” He asked the bartender for a pen and scribbled an address on a piece of paper. “Be here in the morning.”

  “Be strong!” Benjamin called after him, mocking the Broederbond motto. Jooste didn’t look back. Benjamin emptied his brandy and ordered another on the old man’s tab.

  6

  Monday

  DECEMBER 13, 2010

  Professor Koch’s large desk loomed in front of Alet. Behind it, a wall of books lined the windowless office, arranged alphabetically. Everything about the room indicated a careful, methodical mind, but Koch was not at all what Alet had expected while talking to him on the phone. She had envisioned a man not unlike her father, stern and studious. In real life, Koch reminded her of a rubber ball with too much bounce, short and round and always fidgeting, a lisp sidling into his speech when he got excited. He had a full head of gray hair, a scraggly goatee, and porcine eyes obscured by heavy glasses, the frames at least ten years out of date.

  Koch squinted over the rim of the case file. “I need to examine the body.”

  Alet shifted, uncomfortable in the straight-backed wooden chair. “I have to check with my captain about a transfer.”

  “Never mind that.” Koch waved his hand, his short fat fingers blurring together. “I’m not new at dealing with the police. It’ll take a month of paperwork. By that time, the evidence will have been compromised by some nincompoop who thinks he knows what he’s doing. I’ll come to you.” He jumped out of his seat as if he was ready to start the journey right away.

  Alet suddenly felt sorry for Dr. Oosthuizen. “As I explained on the phone, Professor, we don’t really have a budget to pay your consultation fee. I was hoping that—”

  “I suspected as much. Don’t worry. The university administration smiles on my cooperation with the SAPS. Helps with
fund-raising.” Koch curled the corners of his mouth in distaste. “Justifies their existence, come review time.”

  Koch dialed a three-digit extension on his office phone. “Mike? Could you pick up some samples? This has priority.” He put the phone down and lifted Oosthuizen’s preliminary autopsy report to his face again.

  “Thanks for agreeing to this, Professor.”

  “Well, you did drop Adriaan Berg’s name.” There was a note of hostility in Koch’s voice. “And since you brought your father into the conversation, I don’t mind telling you that I am not one of his lackeys.”

  “I didn’t think—”

  Koch held up his hand to silence her. “Under normal circumstances I would have put the phone down, but you had the good sense to identify your purpose first. I will give this case my full attention, but any sign of Adriaan Berg getting involved and I will leave you to your own devices. Understand?”

  “I understand.” Alet tried to hide her nervousness with a smile. It had taken a few phone calls, but she had tracked Professor Koch down at the University of Cape Town. Convincing Mynhardt that they should bring an outsider in on the case was a lot harder. He only relented when she hinted that it might have been her father’s idea, playing up the high-profile cases her dad and Koch had solved together. If this led nowhere, she would be on traffic duty for the rest of her life.

  There was a knock at the door. A slender man in his mid-thirties stepped into the room. Sandy hair encroached on his shirt collar. He had a full beard, neatly trimmed, masking sculpted features, his eyes framed by thick black-rimmed glasses.

  “Constable Berg, this is my colleague, Mike Engelman. Mike, this is Constable Berg from Unie Police.”

  Mike’s gaze lingered momentarily on Alet’s bruised face before he extended his hand. His grip was firm, his hands not as soft as one would expect from a typical academic. “Nice to meet you, Constable.”

  “You too, Mr. Engelman.”