CHAPTER FORTY

EVELYN FILLED THE TEAPOT with water from the tap, then placed it on the stove top. No one could start their morning without tea and some small piece of bread with butter or jam. She hummed to herself while she grabbed two plastic cups from the shelf. The Old Ma would say that she shouldn’t worry herself, that Poady, their small girl, would prepare breakfast for them. But Evelyn found that preparing the water, stirring the tea, cutting the bread, actually calmed her as she woke up and began her day. It was a ritual of sorts, one which had soothed her since she was a very young girl. And after last night’s dreams, she needed soothing. At least this morning, unlike the last few, she was not overcome with nausea.

She saw a trio of mangoes on the counter and realized that Poady had already been to the market. Evelyn smiled and grabbed one to cut; the mango would be sweet with bread and tea. Poady was a good girl.

In a few moments breakfast was ready, and Evelyn placed it in the center of the kitchen table. She set a place for herself, a place for the Old Ma, and a place for Poady (even though she knew the Old Ma wouldn’t approve; this was the new Liberia President Tolbert was inelegantly inching them toward, and it would require all of them to make adjustments). The teapot tooted as steam rose from the top. Evelyn had just turned off the burner and grabbed the pot when Poady burst through the doorway, breathless, clutching the Observer. Evelyn jumped and dropped the metal pot on the floor, sending scalding hot water all over.

“He dead! He dead!” Poady shouted, thrusting the paper and its big, lurid headline at her. MURDERED! It read. “They killed him in his sleep!”

Evelyn watched her arm slowly move across the expanse of water she had spilled on the floor to meet Poady’s and take the dreadful paper. SOLDIERS ASSUME COMMAND; DOE SAYS COUP NECESSARY TO RESTORE ORDER, she read in the subheadline. Bile rose in her throat, and then the vomiting began.