The Old Drift

by Namwali Serpell

She felt a pang as she saw the rusty old knife on the ground next to a mound of hair. How much pain Sibilla must have endured to shave and scrape it all from her body! How raw! Adriana shook her head. Was this what she had always wanted? The daughter without the curse? Sibilla did not look more human for it. Her skin was greenish and shadowed with tiny black holes, almost the texture of the snowflakes that were now falling steadily across the high window of the larder. Sibilla stood and turned around. Adriana’s pity bled briefly into anger – was the girl trying to punish her with guilt? But no. Sibilla’s gaze was kind, gentle even. Christ, she was beautiful! You could see the planes of her face, how articulate it was in the language of form. ‘Don’t preoccupy yourself, Mama,’ Sibilla said mildly. She looked casual, her hands in the pockets of her shift. ‘It will grow back.’