The Theory of Flight

by Siphiwe Gloria Ndlovu

  ‘But he is not important!’

  Krystle turned her back on Genie. An impotent gesture since Genie could not see her in the dark, but one that allowed Krystle to feel self-righteously wounded all the same.

  ‘And if we didn’t play the bad guys, then he wouldn’t have four o’clock tea with us.’

  Krystle frowned, confused by this. What did Genie mean? Her four o’clock teas were a privilege. Privilege – another word she liked. She knew what a privilege was because Mrs Ketz, the headmistress of the all-girls primary school that she and Genie attended, would, during assembly, particularly and pointedly, look at the row of black girls, the handful that the school had recently admitted, and say: ‘You should all feel honoured. This is a school of great renown. It is a privilege to be allowed inside these hallowed walls.’

  Mrs Ketz herself had attended the school as a girl. Many of the girls who had attended it had grown up to become the successful wives of politicians, businessmen and farmers. One had even grown up to become the wife of a prime minister.

  ‘Marcus should feel honoured to be invited to my four o’clock teas. So should you. They are of great renown. It is a privilege to be allowed inside their hallowed walls,’ Krystle said into the darkness.

  Four o’clock tea was an elaborate event that usually lasted until dinner time, which was at 6.30 p.m. It commenced with the consumption of tea and biscuits. The ‘tea’ was diluted blackcurrant syrup. The biscuits were invariably Choice Assorted. Everything was served on Krystle’s fancy pink tea set that her grandmother had bought her for her fifth birthday. It was perhaps because she owned the tea set that Krystle was always the hostess. Genie was the neighbour who always somehow dropped in at exactly four o’clock, just in time for tea. Marcus, when he was there, was another neighbour who miraculously chose four o’clock as his visiting hour as well. His long absences during the school term were explained away by Marcus being a ‘secret agent’ who was often assigned to the Soviet Union to do what he called ‘spy work’.

  Krystle had four teddy bears and five dolls – nine children in all. Three had been bought in America and six in South Africa. None, and this was a point of pride, had been bought locally. Her children were always there for four o’clock tea. Her husband, the father of her nine children, was an ar … chi … tect. She had met him when she was a jet-setting, internationally renowned ballerina. They had quickly fallen in love and married; a whirlwind romance. Now he was never at home because he was always flying all over the world building gorgeous buildings. Krystle did not seem to mind his absence.

  Genie always attended four o’clock tea with her two children – the love-worn Penelope and the no-longer bespectacled Specs. Krystle felt sorry that this was all Genie had to show by way of children, but Genie was more than happy with her lot. Genie had no husband and had never been married. She simply came with her two children to every tea party and never explained how it was possible to have children without a husband.

  Marcus always attended alone. He was a bachelor, he said with pride, as though it was a mark of distinction. He had no children. But he had lots and lots of cars – the perks of being an international spy. Sometimes he came to tea on his model Lamborghini, sometimes his model Jaguar, sometimes his model Rolls-Royce.

  And so it was. And so it had always been … Then, one Saturday afternoon, when Genie was thirteen years old, she went to a double feature of Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Dirty Dancing at Kine 600 with Suzanne Da Silva and came back transformed.

  Suzanne was the only addition Genie had made to her life since moving in with the Masukus. She came from a place called the Philippines, a place that Krystle was still to locate in her world atlas, and therefore a place she doubted existed at all. Suddenly best friends, Genie and Suzanne spent all of break time at school giggling as they paged through Archie Comics and Sweet Valley High novels that Suzanne had smuggled into school.

  Krystle had not been allowed to attend the double feature because, as Genie explained, both films were PG-13 and Krystle was only ten years old. Krystle understood enough about rules to know that they were there to be strictly obeyed, so she was totally persuaded by Genie’s explanation. What she did not understand was how the same rule did not apply to Suzanne, who was only twelve.

  ‘Because Suzanne can pass for thirteen,’ Genie said, a little too matter-of-factly for Krystle’s liking. This matter-of-factness was all the evidence that Krystle needed to prove what she had suspected from the moment Suzanne befriended Genie – Suzanne was not a good influence on Genie.

  ‘I’ll tell you all about it when I get back, I promise,’ Genie said as she walked out of their room with a flourish.

  It did not seem to have occurred to Genie, the way it definitely had occurred to Krystle, that this was the first time in the three years they had known each other that one of them would be going to the movies without the other.

  And Genie kept her promise: she told Krystle all about it – everything. Where they sat (front row), what they ate (chocolate-covered peanuts, Milko bars, and Freddos), whom they sat next to (an elderly couple who smelled delightfully of antiseptic soap on their right, and a group of teenage boys from Plumtree High School on their left who whistled for a long, long time when Jessica Rabbit came on the screen). ‘Who is Jessica Rabbit?’ Krystle asked, although what she really wanted to know was why the boys had whistled at her.

  Genie removed a packet of chocolate-covered peanuts, two Milko bars and two Freddos from her pink, heart-shaped purse, lay on her stomach next to Krystle, took a deep breath and for the next two hours told Krystle all about Roger and Jessica Rabbit and Johnny Castle and Baby, as they shared the chocolates. Genie spoke with the excited energy of someone who has just discovered something important.

  Afterwards, Genie stood up and started humming and dancing. The only word that came to Krystle’s mind as Genie hummed and danced around the room was … buzzing. She was suddenly like a bee – noisy, restless and for ever busy … buzzing.

  After that day, everything changed. Genie now bathed in their shared bathroom with the door locked. She no longer changed in front of Krystle. She emerged from the bathroom fully clothed. She no longer had time for Vaseline fights or lip-syncing in front of the bathroom mirror. Krystle suspected that this new occurrence had something to do with the two small lumps that had suddenly made themselves at home on Genie’s chest.

  In addition, Genie’s vanity soon became cluttered with Impulse, Anaïs Anaïs and MUM 21, an impossible amount of lip gloss, every imaginable colour of scrunchy and Alice band, and a rainbow of bangles. Neon green and shocking pink became her favourite colours; if an article of clothing had polka dots, she had to have it; and the only denim she would even consider wearing had to be ‘stonewashed’. Genie would stand in front of the mirror trying on clothes that she now called ‘outfits’, striking various poses, and, as though that were not enough, she spent an unforgivable amount of time talking to Suzanne on the phone.

  Way too easily ‘Krystle and Genie’ became ‘Genie and Suzanne’. The entire situation was made even more unbearable by the fact that whenever Krystle asked Genie to explain something about her new transformation, Genie would say: ‘You’re too young to understand.’ Their three-year age difference had never mattered before. It appeared to make a world of difference now.

  Worse still, this new transformation seemed to require that Genie no longer attend Krystle’s four o’clock tea parties because, as Genie explained, she no longer played with dolls. Penelope and Specs sat on Genie’s bed, seemingly content to be mere decorations as they smiled pleasantly at nothing in particular. Krystle pouted for days and let herself feel the rejection that Penelope and Specs would not allow themselves to acknowledge. Her mother explained with a sad smile that Genie was now a teenager and on her way to becoming a woman, and as such was leaving childhood things behind.

  Her mother’s explanation would have made perfect sense had Genie left all childhood things behind, but she had not.
She had left all childhood things behind except Button Moon. Genie was obsessed with Button Moon. She watched it religiously every Wednesday at 3.05 p.m. Her obsession with the television puppet show had always surprised Krystle, who had never understood the attraction of the obviously handmade puppets attached to visible strings as they walked and gestured jerkily through their imitation of life. Krystle had never been able to suspend her disbelief and travel across Blanket Sky with the Spoon family – Mr Spoon, Mrs Spoon, Tina Tea-Spoon and Tina’s friend, Egbert – to Button Moon. She instead preferred She-Ra, Dungeons & Dragons and Danger Mouse – she liked her cartoons to have definite heroines and heroes and definite villains, or ‘bad guys’ as Marcus called them. But Genie loved Button Moon with a steadfastness that Krystle suspected had to do with bigger things that she was not privy to. She had never asked what these bigger things were because she strongly suspected that they had to do with the ‘time before’, the time Genie and Marcus had spent on the Beauford Farm and Estate. She did not ask now because she was afraid that Genie was going to tell her that she was too young to understand.

  One Wednesday, the two of them were waiting near the main gate of their school for their mother to come pick them up. Pickup time was between 1.00 and 1.30 p.m. Krystle sat on her brown school suitcase. It had her name, misspelled KRYSTEL MASUKU, stencilled carefully onto it in white ink that did not interfere with the design of road traffic signs printed on the suitcase. Genie alternately stood or paced … buzzing. Finally she fished out two Everlastings – a black one and a brown one – from somewhere in the depths of her satchel. She held them both towards Krystle, giving her the first choice – liquorice or toffee. Krystle made as though to grab both of them. They both laughed. And then Krystle chose the toffee. They each ate their Everlasting methodically. They both bit off a chunk of candy big enough to fit comfortably in the mouth. But whereas Genie would suck on the sweet, savouring the anise flavour of the liquorice, Krystle munched through hers, chomping the toffee flavour to nothingness before quickly taking another bite.

  As always, Krystle finished her Everlasting first, looked up at her big sister, then at her remaining half of the Everlasting. Smiling, Genie bit off a comfortable chunk and gave the remainder to Krystle.

  ‘Come on, get up. Let’s go,’ Genie said, glancing at her shocking-pink digital wristwatch.

  ‘Where to?’ Krystle asked.

  ‘We’ll go to your father’s office.’

  If Genie had just said, ‘We’ll go to dad’s office,’ perhaps things would have happened differently. But she had not. And things had happened the way they had.

  When Genie had first arrived to live with the Masukus, she had been asked to think of Krystle’s parents as her new mother and father. Then she had been asked to call them mum and dad. Then she had been told to call them mum and dad. She never did.

  ‘I don’t wanna go,’ Krystle said, sitting back down.

  ‘Button Moon starts soon,’ Genie said, heading towards the padlocked gate.

  There was a waiting room outside their father’s office. And in that waiting room, mounted on a wall, there was a black-and-white, slightly snowy television set that would have to do under the circumstances.

  ‘I’m not coming,’ Krystle said, folding her arms.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Genie, prying open the loosely chained gate and squeezing through. ‘I’m sure your mum will be here to pick you up soon.’

  A school bell sounded and almost instantly there was the cacophony of laughter, running and general chaos. Krystle watched as girls in white shorts and T-shirts ran down the courtyard steps and towards the field. What if she was coerced into playing a sport she absolutely did not care for, like volleyball – all that irritating sand in your takkies? She got up in a flash and followed Genie out of the gate.

  As soon as they were out of the gate, Genie took Krystle’s suitcase from her, grabbed hold of Krystle’s hand and started running as fast as she could. They ran down Borrow Street, zigzagged on pavements and crossed the street at Ninth Avenue in a dizzying dash that Krystle had to admit was thrilling and exhilarating. Luckily, 1.35 p.m. was not a popular time for traffic. By 1.45 they were at the clinic.

  But as soon as Genie and Krystle turned the corner to their father’s office, still hand in hand, they realised that something was wrong. One of the two nurses who assisted their father – the pleasant one who always smiled at them indulgently and gave them lollipops or Sugar Babies – was ushering patients out and looking very embarrassed. ‘Please go wait in the main lobby. I will come and call you in a little while, I apologise for the delay,’ she said, smiling nervously. She looked at Krystle and Genie, confused to see them there. Without knowing what else to do, she allowed them to follow her into the waiting room.

  It was their mother’s voice that greeted them. She was speaking so loudly that even the shut door to their father’s office could not muffle or mute the sound of her voice.

  ‘It is the sheer disrespect. The utter disregard that I take umbrage with.’

  ‘Umbrage?’ Krystle and Genie were now close enough to hear their father’s voice as well.

  ‘Yes, umbrage. What? You think you’re the only one who is smart, because you have MD after your name? Smarter than the housewife? You forget, Dee, that I was on my way to being somebody when you knocked me up. Twice. And this man … this associate of yours … The Man Himself … he comes into my house, my home, and says because he owns you, I’m his property too.’

  ‘You must have known.’ Their father’s voice was soft, concili-atory. ‘The house, the lifestyle, it came at a price – you must have known, Tee.’

  Their mother’s voice was broken as she responded. ‘How dare you put me in a position like that. How dare you … you compromise me in that way. He didn’t touch me. Not this time. But next time …’

  ‘There won’t be a next time. I promise.’

  ‘Oh, there’ll be a next time. He wanted us both to know that. He wanted us to know that there will be a next time, and that neither one of us would be able to do anything about it. In prostituting yourself, you’ve prostituted me too. You were supposed to not let me down, Dee. What happened to not letting me down?’

  Suddenly Genie grabbed Krystle’s hand and they were off running again.

  ‘Mum’s crying.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Suzanne lives close by. Maybe we can watch Button Moon at her flat.’

  Krystle did not like Suzanne da Silva at all. Understandably. ‘No. I’m not going.’

  ‘You want to go back there?’ Genie asked, pointing a shaky finger in the direction of their father’s office.

  ‘You just want to watch stupid Button Moon.’

  ‘Look & Listen says this is the very last episode,’ Genie said, looking at her shocking-pink wristwatch … buzzing.

  ‘Go. You don’t care about me. You don’t care that my mum is crying. You don’t care that my mum and dad are fighting. You don’t care about us at all.’

  ‘I care.’

  ‘Liar.’

  Genie bent down and put an arm around Krystle. ‘Parents sometimes fight. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.’

  ‘Did your parents fight?’ It was the first time Krystle had ever mentioned Genie’s parents.

  ‘No,’ Genie said honestly. ‘All parents are different.’ She hugged Krystle. ‘If you’re not coming with me, then promise me you’ll not go back to the waiting room. Go sit in the lobby.’ She hugged her again. ‘I’ll bring you something nice. Suzanne’s mother likes to bake. I’ll bring you some biscuits.’

  ‘I want a Cornish pasty.’

  ‘You always want a Cornish pasty,’ Genie said with a smile. ‘Remember to stay in the lobby. Make sure the receptionist knows you’re there,’ she added before running off.

  Krystle went back to the main lobby. It was chock-full of people; stifling. A man next to Krystle gurgled a cough that sounded highly contagious and
she decided it was best to follow Genie after all.

  She ran out. By the time she turned the corner Genie was ready to cross the street opposite the Sun Hotel. She waited impatiently … buzzing … for the traffic to whizz by. Krystle ran along the pavement as fast as she could, trying to catch up. Traffic cleared. Genie started running across the street. Krystle called out her name. Genie successfully crossed the street. Krystle called out her name again. Genie turned around. Saw Krystle approaching. Ran back across the street and …

  That was when it happened. There was the screech of tyres as Kuki Carmichael’s car came to an abrupt stop. And the next thing Krystle saw was Genie flying through the air, looking like something truly wondrous. There was a collective gasp of shock, awe and horror from the lookers-on. Before Krystle could even comprehend what was happening, Jesus swooped in and carried Genie away in his Scania pushcart. And as Krystle followed Jesus to the clinic, she believed that everything would be fine.

  When Krystle returned to her father’s office the waiting room was populated again. Someone had turned on the television and Button Moon had already started.

  Her mother came out of the office just then, a mauve lipstick smile freshly painted on. Her father was close behind her with a smile on his lips as well. It was as if nothing had happened. ‘Chris! What are you doing here?’ her parents both exclaimed at the same time, and then together they looked behind her expectantly. ‘Where is Genie?’ her father asked while her mother looked at her watch. ‘Oh dear … I was supposed to pick you up two hours ago,’ she said. ‘But where is Genie?’

  Krystle told her parents what had happened – that Genie had flown briefly through the air like something truly wondrous, on her way to Button Moon. ‘She is all right though,’ she said to the worried frowns that had suddenly creased their foreheads. ‘Jesus saved her.’

  KUKI

  As Kuki Carmichael watched Jesus walk along the pavement of Tenth Avenue pushing a Scania pushcart, she thought, and not for the first time, that he was the bravest man that she had ever known. It was while she was watching him that it happened. A girl went flying through the air and Kuki knew that all the important moments of her life had been leading to this exact moment and so, quite naturally, her life flashed before her eyes.