Every Time a Rainbow Dies (11 page)

“I will be gone a month,” he told Mr. Moon.

“No job when you come back,” Mr. Moon replied.

“How can you be like that, Mr. Moon? I have to see my father in Jamaica.”

“No come, no job.”

In spite of the finality in Mr. Moon's tone, Thulani was not worried. He could get his job back if he had to. It just wouldn't be easy.

He lifted his newly repaired camera to take a picture of Mr. Moon. As usual Mr. Moon quickly put his hands up.

Ysa, on the other hand, posed for many pictures in her graduation dress, which she had designed herself. She had chosen a bright white fabric that picked up colors when hit by the sunlight. Iridescent, she called it.

He took pictures of her in her cap and gown standing with a camera-shy Tant Rosie. He managed to get one close-up of her face at the moment that her hand touched the fake diploma.

Ysa was anxious to have photographs taken of the dress. Once the ceremony was over, she removed her blue robe and cap and gave them to Tant Rosie to bring home, while she and Thulani went to the park. There Thulani tried to capture Ysa in her dress as the sun set off its many colors.

He promised to bring her copies of the photos when he returned from his trip.

“No, no. Mail them to me,” she insisted. “I want to look forward to receiving them.”

“I'll be back soon,” he promised, but she did not seem satisfied. Her eyes were sad. She said, “I wish we could be together one more time, like we were.”

He kissed her on her lips and on her closed eyelids as she had always done for him. “I'll be back soon,” he said.

They sat on their bench. She said, “Tulani, I want to tell you something, but I don't want you to be upset.”

What?

“I felt pain.”

“Ysa.” He squeezed her hands, but she pulled back.

“No, no. Not how you think. I mean, I felt what we
did. That we were together.”

He took her hands again, gently. She said, “I want us to be together one more time, so after you fly away, I will still feel us together. Inside.”

He tried to laugh at her, but she was serious. “I'll be back before you miss me,” he promised. “I just need to see my father. You'll see.”

“Tulani, that's what you say. But you will see the place you were born. Your father. How rich the land. You'll be home. I know.”

“I'll be back before—”

“Ssh, ssh,” she said. “Let's sit here and not speak.” After a while she said, “You can sing me my lullaby.” And he did.

 

Shakira gave Thulani the addresses of her relatives and directions to his father's house. Eula gave her uncle a drooly kiss. Truman had already given him the bankbook, and that was all that he would give.

Truman and Shakira had already begun packing for their new home. Thulani wanted to leave before the house was stripped of everything his mother put in it. He did not want to be there when they left. He had to be the first to go.

He packed neatly. His clothes and possessions all went into one large duffel bag. He would carry the box
of photographs and the camera with him on the plane.

He looked back at his bed, the dresser, the nightstand, and finally the walls. He had to let go of everything. Everything except the skirt, which he saved for last to pack. He removed each nail carefully so as not to tear the fabric. This took some care, as he had driven the nails deep into the wall. The silklike fabric fell into his arms with ease when he released the last nail. He laid Ysa's skirt out on his bed and folded it in half, fourths, then eighths, turning the gold and turquoise on the wrong side. Even so, he could still see her eyes before him, opening and closing, opening and closing, opening and closing….