Us lying on Grieta backward. Mavala’s head is hanging off the front of the grave. There’s a scratch on her left cheek from a thorn. She’s eating cheese. She holds it out to me.
“No, thanks.”
“You don’t like Cheddar?”
“I do. I ate.”
“What did you eat?”
“Tuna and cabbage soup.”
“Who made the soup?”
“Dikeledi sent it over.”
“Dikeledi, Dikeledi, Dikeledi. You men like them silent. Why am I so hungry all the time? These condoms. If I’m pregnant, I don’t want a kid that looks like old butter.”
“I look like old butter?”
She kisses my chin.
“Sorry, but in certain light, yes.”
“I don’t need to listen to this shit. I could be in a real bed. Alone. Unharassed.”
“Why did you come here?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“What?”
“To come and save all the dark babies.”
“Come here, Teacher.”
“You come here, Teacher.”
“Tell me more about Snowy Pinkus.”
“Rainy.”
“Snowy’s a bitch.”
Our legs are twined up. She’s still holding the hunk of cheese.