Page 52 of The Compound

I thought that he would go outside, but he stepped back into the hall, and started up the stairs. I didn’t have time to move: he saw me sitting on the top step. I could smell his cologne from here. I smiled at him. He turned and went outside, and I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

—

The girls nolonger met on the patio for iced coffee, and I didn’t see Jacintha as often as I once had. I spent so much of my day with Sam now, making up for lost time, and while I knew that she didn’t care for Carlos, I sometimes saw them engaged in serious, urgent conversations. They would stop speaking if anyone approached, even me. I hadn’t spoken to her in a while, and I wondered, with a feeling of terrible sadness, if she no longer wanted to be my friend.

I found her by the swings one afternoon, and sat next to her, pushing myself off the ground and swaying lightly.

“Hey, you,” I said.

“Hey,” she said curtly.

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

I swung for a bit, not high, just enough that the tips of my feet brushed against the ground. It was too hot to be out, but I’d grown more tolerant of the extreme temperatures. My skin had been porcelain when I arrived, but now I had a light tan all over. There were times when I looked in the mirror and didn’t immediately recognize myself. My hair had grown an extraordinary amount, so that it now hung down to my waist. It was frizzy and damaged from the heat in the first couple of weeks, but after I earned products and sprays it was now luscious and full; my skin was glowing, and the teeth-whitening strips that Vanessa had left behind made my smile whiter than I had thought possible. I now had an extensive wardrobe of clothes—things I never could have worn at home: crochet bralettes, tiny denim shorts, fabulous dresses that we wore in the evening, linen trousers, scarves that we wore as tops. It was a pleasure to dress every day. I used Vanessa’s old wardrobe space to hold my shoes.

When I glanced over at Jacintha, I saw that she was staring at me. “What?”

“I said, where have you been?”

“Oh, just in the gym with Sam.”

“I hardly see you anymore.”

“That’s not true. We did two tasks together this morning.”

“You know that doesn’t count, right?”

“Is something the matter?”

“No. I just need someone to talk to, is all.”

I dug my feet into the ground to keep the swing still. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Carlos,” she said. “I just don’t like him like that.” Her voice cracked, and there were suddenly tears on her face. “I miss Marcus. I wish he hadn’t gone.”

I went to her and hugged her. I rubbed her back and said soothing words. When she pulled away, she wiped her face and looked at the house. “Carlos asked me last night to be his girlfriend.”

“What did you say?”

“I said I didn’t know. He was nice about it, but I can’t lead him on. I don’t know what I’m doing here anymore.”

Part of me wanted to tell her to forget about Marcus and stay with Carlos until we made it to the final five, but I wasn’t sure that I would have listened if she had told me to stay with Ryan. I held her hand. She glanced north, to the sparse line of vegetation. “How long do you think we’ve been here now? I’ve lost track. I don’t know why they don’t give us a clock, or a pen and paper. It’s cruel. Don’t you think it’s cruel?”

“We don’t need those things. Just like we don’t need phones or televisions. We’re better off without them. And besides, we have so many other nice things.”

“I don’t know if I do have nice things,” she said. “I havethings,sure. Do you know, they keep sending me wigs? Long and straight. One of them was pink.” She touched her hair, which she usually wore naturally. “I wore a black one for a little bit. I keep dropping hints for things—abonnet, conditioner that works for my hair, darker concealer. But then I kept getting gifted these clothes—stuff I’d never wear. When I put the stuff on, I don’t look like myself.” She looked at me steadily. “I look like a Black version of you.”

“I’m sorry, Jacintha. I’m sorry they did that.”

“There wasn’t even a Black resident here for the first three years. I don’t know how much this feels like progress.”

I didn’t know what to say. I felt a surge of guilt that I hadn’t spent more time with Jacintha recently. She was my first and truest friend there. I squeezed her hand. “You know I’d be lost without you here, right?”

“I don’t know,” she said tiredly. “I don’t know if I get the point of it anymore—to build up relationships only to see people leave, and worse, to be secretly happy when they go because it means more for yourself.”

“That’s not how I see it. I think that we learn to value each other, is all.”

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