“Why is mom crying again?” Lola asks. At six years old, she seems more intensely reactive than others to the gloom that surrounds her. Often eager to help teacher Rose, as everyone calls her mother, her tiny frame limits her. Yet, teacher Rose often ties her angst to her daughter. Lola’s school mates say she is odd. Some even admit being scared of her, actually, of her eyes.
Teacher Rose looks away. Tante taps her sister on the shoulder, and gestures as if urging her to respond. Lola walks over and rests her head on her mother’s forearm. Teacher Rose strokes her braids, and sighs. Tears trickle down her face. Moments later, Lola slowly gets up and heads for the door. “Don’t go there again,” Tante screams, pain, not panic manifest in her eyes this time. The door is closed, but it flings open as Lola approaches it. “No, no.” The sisters’ voices drown each other, making it more difficult to tell between souls that reel in pain mashed by misery. As the steps behind her slow, Lola hesitates, turns somewhat, and then stops. She must have heard the thud, but she continues.
They gesture to Lola to come back, the motion clearly hard for teacher Rose, who is still prostrate on the floor. Lola is reticent, and trudges on, even as the blend of pleas and gripes must pinch her, and outspread hands supplicate behind her. The door remains open. It shrieks once in a while. Suddenly, the floor trembles. A vase falls off the central table, spilling roses and soil. Only Lola does not start. Tante, wobbly, helps teacher Rose back into the scooter.
The tremors become stronger. Tante tries to pull Lola back as a blast of dusty air rushes in. She slips, almost falling, too weak to avoid the puddles the vase extrudes. Teacher Rose calls her sister, hardly able even to speak. “She will come back.” Her voice is faint, buried in vivid exasperation. She starts to cough, choking as she tries to speak. Tante applies the brakes, securing the scooter, and goes for a glass of water. When she returns, teacher Rose is already beside her daughter. They are holding hands, gazing, and the object apparently distant. They are silent, clearly entranced.
Gentler, fresher wind drifts in. Tante, a half-empty glass of water in her hand, is plainly mystified. She calls her sister, then Lola. They do not respond. She starts to quiver, and sweat. “Come back,” she mutters. She looks here and there as if following something in motion. She staggers toward the door, and then stops. She then paces back and forth between the scooter and a chair in one corner of the room. She leans slightly over teacher Rose who is now gazing at Lola enquiringly. Tante seems to be listening to something when near her sister that she mutters to the chair afterward. She seems to be the link in an imaginary communication relay.
“Let her go.” Lola repeats her plea a few times, still apparently spellbound.
“I’m fine. I’ll be alright.” Tante slouches into the chair, only just audible.
“No, you are not. That’s why mom cries so much.”Lola briefly turns round. Teacher Rose remains in her scooter, in the same position, still at first, then she manoeuvres the scooter facing Tante.
“I told you not to buy it.”
“I know, but I had to. You need the scooter.”
“That was all the money you had, and you have your problems too.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” Tante seems more alert. She explains to her sister that she feels obliged to help her even if she has to suffer for it. But teacher Rose seems unimpressed. She moves closer to Tante. Moments later, they both start to sob.
Tante is a few years older than her sister, whom she considers her baby having raised her since their mother died of cancer when Tante was just fifteen years old. They never knew their father. Tante recalls their mother saying he was a hard-working man, who loved his family very much. For some time now, her sight has been failing. Her doctor blames this on her uncontrolled diabetes. Recently, no longer able to thread a needle, she quit her job as a sewing mistress. Despite her dwindling finances, her kindness is legendary.
She often says that she made a pledge to her dying mother she intends to always keep. She does not tire recalling the pain that her mother endured resigned to penury, left without essential treatment. Months earlier, teacher Rose narrowly survived an accident that almost wiped out her family. Tante moved in with her not long after the accident. She tells her sister she will not let poverty put them through pain as it did their mother. For Tante, it is a matter of honour. Yet, she seems ready to face pain with fortitude so long as it leaves her sister alone.
Tante still sees her doctor, but she does not always comply with treatment. This is mostly because she cannot afford to buy her medications. She spends the little money she has making her sister, and others around her comfortable. Teacher Rose seems just as determined to help her sister. They often argue over health matters. Tante always insists she is fine, but the increasing bout of giddiness she experiences seems to tell her sister something different. In fact, Tante’s doctor has recently been expressing serious concerns about her health. When teacher Rose reminds her about this, she gets the usual reassurance from her sister.
“You don’t look okay,” teacher Rose says after a while that she has been closely observing her sister. “Please call your doctor.”
“Not today. I need to buy some drugs for you first thing tomorrow, and Lola needs to have surgery on her eyes soon.”
“Those are not urgent. You need to call your doctor now.”
“Okay. I’ll call my doctor in a while.” Tante has a smile on her face that seems to be tilting sideways with time. Teacher Rose is mute. Her eyes well up in tears.
“It was not your fault, Tante.” There was instant silence. “Did you hear that?” queries Tante. The sisters look in the direction of the door. The voice is apparently familiar. “Mom?” Tante screams, getting up. Lola is still on the same spot, ostensibly in her own world. Then she turns round, slowly. Her eyes glowed with kindness, her hands supine, outstretched. She has a peaceful smile, and seems to say something. “Mom, Mom,” Tante, her tone now subdued rushes forward. She reaches for Lola, who takes her hands. Just then, Tante slumps, motionless on the floor.
