Vydia 5

I'm morose as I walk out the door. Fatima jumps on me. I wish she would just go away.
The boys have a football game going. Sunil, an unknown quantity, is in goal. As I watch, he makes a rather brilliant stop. His teammates cheer loudly.
I don't really want to look at Fatima, so I watch the game.
"So what happened to your father?"
"On a gold dredge on the Mazaruni River, in the north west."
"That's a dangerous job?"
"He didn't die dredging. All drunk, poker game, argument, stabbing."
"Why was he working there? You have a store."
"Fatima, years ago the store did better, lotsa vid rentals. The PPP, Puritan Peoples' Party came to power, banned almost everything produced for adults. Only films they let in are Disney and Disney-type from America and children's films from India."
"So that's why that store is 1/4 vids, 3/4 used books. Do they censor books?"
"Almost nothing is banned, even politics they disagree with. Only sex upsets them."
"They check books for that?"
"No, cost too much time and money. Only pictures offend them, not text."
The bell rings. Sunil has put on a fabulous show, stopping three certain goals, is loudly cheered by his buddies. It really is that easy for boys, I reflect, absorb a new one easily.
Rest of these girls pretend not to notice Fatima and I are even alive.
As we head back, she asks quietly, "why are the girls like that?"
"Like what?"
"Rude, cold. Why?"
"Listen when you hear the names called. I'm the only girl with a traditional Indian name. Rest are named after movie or soap opera stars. View me as very old fashioned."
She smiles warmly, "we do have something in common, traditional name."
At lunchtime, the three of us are walking home. Derek starts uneasily, "sorry Vydia, gonna cancel our study session today."
You roach, I think uncharitably, how brain dead can you get. Shoulda said this privately.
"See it's like this, everyone wants Sunil to get a good start. After school, another game, want him to make friends you know."
I reflect bitterly that is how a man or boy is. The one day friendship takes precedence over ours of three years. Still, if I ever dared to say that, he'd be bigtime sniffy. We're just supposed to be understanding.
Fatima jumps right in, "well then, I'll come with you."
Inspiration strikes, kill two birds with one stone. Get Mum off my back and dump her after school.
"You wouldn't like it, too boring."
"How so?"
"Be there for an hour, maybe hour and a half. Dead time of day, almost no customers. She is nagging me to finish inventory. Terrible boring job."
"It is? Tell me about it."
"Two racks to finish, Historical Romance and Harlequin. I loathe both with an absolute passion. Don't mind doing westerns or mystery or sci fi or"
"So what is the job?"
"I hafta look at each individual book. Pick out any that look shopworn, set them aside. Mum will decide whether to mark down. Take inventory at retail price, means copying hundreds of prices. Mum gets the easy part, run a tape."
"So if I helped, what would I do?"
"You'd hate it, so deathly boring. I have to view them, I'd know what Mum is likely to mark down. I'd call prices, you'd write til your hand is sore."
"Good, I'll be there, more fun than my house."
I stare into the distance, see the heat haze shimmer the sights. What on earth do you do about someone like that? How can you say no, yet still not offend a foreigner?
We get both racks done. Now I feel free as a bird, it was the only thing Mum was nagging me about. Mum invites Fatima to stay for supper, after she has phoned home.
It's pumpkin again. The way we sit, I don't get to pull the pitcher stunt. On top of that, Fatima likes the pumpkin.
I soon see the boys' plan toward Sunil. Mere social acceptance - mere fitting in - forget that. They are going all the way. They will make him happy, forget the family tragedy which brought him here.
Their imagination is staggering, beyond any and all belief.
Second school day is windy, a rarity in Guyana. They all fly kites, show him Guyanese construction methods.
Swimming the next day.
Day after, a trek to the old sugar mill, abandoned since Antiquity, to explore.
Sea wall.
Tour of a rice farm.
Public library.
Rental of an Indian vid.
Tour of a bakery.
Endless dinner invitations. Parents all like him, polite, well-mannered.
I'm happy to see him fit in. I'm happy to see the sheer generosity of spirit which drives the boys to these good deeds.
But I'm also jealous. My friend Derek has vanished, doesn't know I'm alive.
Fatima clings with the determination usually associated with tropical foot fungus. She is unshakable, every school day, til supper time. And since Mum won't let me go out and about after supper, means I'm a virtual prisoner.
That itself, I could cope with. But every time I see Fatima's face, 100 times a day, the roommate thought dogs me.
And every time I see that mother of hers coming to visit Mum, my heart goes into palpitations. Is this It?
Fatima's father settles into the pattern of lotsa drunks here. Couple days work, drink a day or two.
As week follows week trapped in this science fiction stasis field, I am becoming a nervous wreck.
Signposts start flashing by. Derek's marks in quizzes and mini-exams take a nose dive. Sunil, he doesn't have a hope, of passing even.
My marks are higher than ever, must be all that bitten energy. Fatima is coming second in almost everything.
Hmm, so the journey is unpleasant, but productive.
As for the girls, they have not wavered one iota in their attitude. They still act as if Fatima and I do not exist. So the good example of the boys cuts no ice with them.