The Whiteness of Bones Read Free Page A

parasol.
    Mamie would read aloud. She tended to choose mysteries or suspense stories that would best lend themselves to serial reading. It was understood that the book was only to be read together in the grove, and even though Mamie was often tempted to read ahead on her own, she never cheated. She read from a Judge Dee mystery: “ ‘She was clad only in a transparent underrobe; her white, muscular legs hung down on to the floor. Her thin bare arms were flung out, her brokeneyes stared up at the ceiling. The left side of her throat was a mass of blood that was slowly spreading on the reed-matting of the bench. Fingermarks in blood stood out on her bony shoulders. Her heavily made-up, mask-like face, with its long nose and distorted mouth that showed a row of small sharp teeth, reminded the judge of the snout of a fox.’ ”
    Mamie paused dramatically and they slowly sipped their cool drinks, eating the vanilla ice cream with long plastic spoons. Jimmy had already eaten his cheese dog in two snapping bites.
    While Mamie completed the day’s episode, the hundreds of curving palm trees were silhouetted blackly against the streaked rose sky. Mamie stopped when there was no longer enough light to read. The girls and the mongoose looked as if they had been set on fire.
    “Orval likes you,” Claire said.
    “No, he doesn’t.”
    Jimmy whined and nervously wound himself around them. He was still hungry. McCully said that Claire had unbalanced the poor animal by forcing him to change his nocturnal habits. Claire didn’t care. She was not troubled by things like the sleeping habits of small animals.
    “He has
cho-cho
lips, anyway,” Claire said.
    “Who?”
    “Orval. What is wrong with you? You’ve been weird all week.”
    Claire seemed to be made more delicately than Mamie. It was a deception. Her hair, cut short like Mamie’s, was a lighter brown and her small, quick eyes were green. She was not as brown-skinned as Mamie. She stayed out of the sun because it gave her freckles. She had small, plump hands and feet.
    “I saw you walking through the camp this afternoon. You know what Mother said last time,” Claire said.
    “She doesn’t understand. It’s because she’s not an island girl. Father doesn’t mind.”
    “He grew up in the camp practically.”
    “Well, that’s what I mean,” Mamie said irritably. “He knows it’s safe there.”
    “Not with Orval around.” Claire stroked Jimmy with growing passion. “Oh, Mamie, Mamie, Mamie …” she moaned. Jimmy watched her fearfully as she twisted and massaged his little peaked ears.
    Mamie stood in the now gloomy, dark grove. “You don’t know anything,” she said.
    Claire writhed provocatively against a palm trunk as a terrified Jimmy twisted to get away. He scratched her.
    “No mice for a week!” Mamie heard her sister say furiously to the confused, frightened animal.
    Mamie found her way home through the maze of black trees.
    In the living room, open to the verandas, Gertrude was turning on the lamps. There were no shutters or curtains, as the deep veranda eaves provided all of the shade needed during the hot day, and at night, the house was isolated between the dark ocean and the dark grove. Mamie could see Gertrude moving indolently from room to room. Gertrude’s coarse black hair, hanging to her waist, swayed back and forth as she moved.
    In the kitchen, Mitsuya, the cook, was grating coconut for the icing of a warm yellow cake, and her helper, Sharlagne, whose father worked at the mill store in town, was washing rice. Mary had told Mitsuya many times that rice no longerneeded to be washed, but Mitsuya, who was seventy-eight years old, liked to do things the old way. Sharlagne counted aloud as she swished the rice in the cold, cloudy water. It made a pretty sound, like the tumbling rush of small rocks and shells left behind by a wave.
    “That’s eight washings,” Sharlagne said, wiping her hands on her
muumuu
. “I like go now.”