The Country of Ice Cream Star (24 page)

‘Glad this never come to you. That … they ain’t rape yourself.’ His voice be hoarse uncertain then. Is mostly like a question.

I tense against this. ‘Pasha said they ain’t?’

‘Said he figure this.’ El Mayor look to me wary.

‘Sure, ain’t been.’ I shrug. ‘They roaches never bother me this way.’

His face soften with relief. ‘Truth, Mamadou ain’t do this foulness to you. Been honest sort.’

This ‘been’ go ugly in my mind. I fumble for the wrap of cigarettes First Runner given me. My hand be bruisen stiff, is careful work to strike the match.

El Mayor say on nervy, ‘Ya, I know he done this crime. But still be sorry work, his killing. Been a friend to me, some time.’

I look by at the cat, she blinking there with preyish joy. ‘Ain’t known him for myself. Fought with him in war, is all.’

‘I known him years. Gone trading there most weeks. Child was honest as a drum. An enfant for all tricks. Shoo, one time, I bring a china cup to him for trade. Got a tint I make myself, was green. Been any work to get this green, yo I been Lowell proud.

‘I take this out to Mamadou. Can see the man confuse. He say,
“It got some better use?” Mischief in me, you know how. I say this green be pharmacy. Put water in, the water greening. Make you drunk like papa tea. I tell him he must try this. He drinking water from it, and when he say he ain’t feel nothing–’

My voice break loud. ‘He been allow this foulness to Susannah. Been allow this foulness, any a time, to all they simpers.’

‘Ice Cream, sure–’

‘How they less than me?’

‘He ain’t hurt you? Truth?’

‘Nay, how they less than me? I ask this.’ I hear the weakening in my voice. Hold nervy, suck my cigarette.

El Mayor’s nosy face be tight in thinking. Silky robe and shaven face uncanny on him then. Like his outside clean, but inside live all grieving dirt.

Then his voice come rough like mine. ‘You asking, how they simpers less than you? Most children less than you. Sure Mamadou seen. Ain’t mattering to us, our kindness ain’t depend in this. Armies different, all is honor. Deserving, this be all that Mamadou known.’

My brain be twenty-odd directions, but I say, ‘Is simple lies. Susannah ain’t deserve this.’

He flinch like he been stung. ‘Nay, truth. She ain’t.’

I wait for more dispute from him, but he staring long. A minute pass while we both sorry kept, look past each other. I flick some ash into my shirten pocket.

At last he rouse himself and say, ‘Can ask a cigarette from you? Mine all been packen.’

I find the cigarettes, say clumsy, ‘Sorry for my mouth. Ain’t strong to talk about this trouble.’

‘Sure. Ain’t strong myself this day.’ He light his cigarette with eyes on me, unquiet. ‘Been arguing all night, to start my moron children leaving. Some still keep behind. First Library ain’t coming for no reasons.’

Be a breath before I comprehend. Then I say miserable, ‘Nay, how? Thought you all leaving. Pasha said.’

‘We mostly leave.’ El Mayor shrug defensive. ‘Most two dozen staying.’

‘So tell them that they leave. You El Mayor. Can boss them this.’

‘I trying, bell, be sure. I worn my voice with arguments. But they believe what they prefer. Already got one runner missing. Fool gone hid himself.’

‘But they Christings coming, ya? You told them on the roos?’

El Mayor shrug. ‘I told and told. But John, he terrify from life. Ain’t want to hear no changes.’

‘Damn! They got no house to use. How they will even stay?’

‘Stay here. The mill.’ El Mayor grimace sorry.

I frown at him a moment longer, then my spirit tire. I sit back to the bed. ‘When we leaving? Or … you ain’t told me this already?’

‘Leave tomorrow,’ El Mayor say soft, like couraging an enfant. ‘My children scrambling now to pack. All downstairs look like hurricanes.’

‘My Sengles ready. They all coming, if I got to tie them.’

‘Bone. Be gratty company.’

I check to him for sarcasms, but his brown eyes be only sorry. I force a smile and find my wrap of cigarettes. Fish another. Thought go past my mind that I be smoking now like Pasha, two by two. Then my heart change peculiar. Mind flash on the stank of gunshots, stank of growing blood. And I see how Pasha look to Mamadou, check he dead.

This sight repeat in me. Roo look, and look away like nothing. His face be hollow white. Roo say, ‘He also?’ and he shoot Karim like simple task.

But it been for myself. Ain’t wrong. Been war, been for my life.

I light my cigarette and say uncertain, ‘One thing this evil day produce. Pasha, how he risk himself. Be sure, he faithful something.’

Then I surprise, how El Mayor go dark. He flinch away, contain his face like he get some bad taste.

‘Been rescue me,’ I say. ‘Sure he … kill some children. Ain’t think
he done this, if it ain’t been needful.’ I stop on this and feel an afterbreath of booze inside my mouth.

‘Been defense,’ say El Mayor in rough voice.

‘Ya, defense.’

‘What he said.’

I grit against my memory. Recall the feather in the simper house, shot without no cause. But I say with forcen lightness, ‘What you got toward Pasha Roo? You fools had some argument?’

‘Nay. We fine as … yo, we townie, ain’t been argument.’

‘So what it is?’

El Mayor sit forward nerviose, unsettle his whitish cat. She leap away indignant, flash her tail.

Then El Mayor look by to me. ‘Yesterday, you got my note? Been said, about the proofs.’

‘Ho, right. He shown you proofs about the roos? What this been?’

‘Was photographs. You know this object?’

‘Sure. Is sleeper loot, a picture looking like real life.’

‘Nay. Be took from life.’

‘Any a picture took from life.’

Now exasperate, go into explanations. Be like his bossing self when he do so, is seriose and plain. Still it take me time to comprehend, yo then I ain’t believe. Cannot see how this exist, in any normal world.

At last I say, ‘Can be. Will trust this, so you quit explaining. But how these photographs convince you nothing?’

He look by frowning. ‘Been photographs of wars before. Things in these wars.’

‘Wars? You got these photographs?’

‘Nay, he keep them.’

‘Foo, so how they been?’

El Mayor frown like difficult feeling. ‘Been two sorts. First sort, they give to every roo. Show these to children for impression. Been planes and war machines, all thousand roos with rifle guns.’

‘What he saying, right. But how this anger you with Pasha?’

‘Nay, been the other sort. These photographs his own. From his own life.’ El Mayor look to me, some bitter meaning in his face.

‘Ho, you meaning Pasha got a … camera? What you saying?’

El Mayor shake his head. ‘Had one, sometime. But it ain’t this.’

‘So what it is?’

‘Pasha’s photographs shown killings.’ He look at me. Can see he hope for understanding in my face.

‘Nay.’ I huff my breath. ‘Roo making photographs while children killing all about? Ain’t to believe.’

El Mayor grit his mouth. ‘Nay, been made after. Shown the dead.’ He wedge his hands between his thighs, look complicate and tired. ‘One photograph shown a street. Roos walking down this street, dead children all around like unwant trash. Other photograph, been a photograph … some littles dead, and hounds been eating them. One, shown living children with their noses cut away. It be a punishment they do. You comprehend, these photographs was made by Pasha self. He said.’

My mind stop back from this. My trust in photographs go weak. ‘These been the photographs? This – cut-off noses.’

‘Been other pictures, sure, of only people that he known. But these of killings, been a dozen like.’

Then I breathe relief. ‘Can be, he lying that he made them. Found these pictures somewhere, showing things … some feary things that been.’

‘Ice Cream, nay.’

‘Ain’t know him like I do. The child a liar born. Be sure, he find these photographs. He only want to fear you.’

El Mayor sit up, be almost anger that he show. ‘One shown your Pasha. He sworn me not to say. But sure, ain’t worry me to break this promise. Roo been standing by a murdern little, got one foot upon. Little can be eight years old. Neck cut most through.’

I shake my head. ‘Can be, this only look like Pasha. Roos–’

‘Seen his teeth. The roo been grinning. Grinning, damn. Is truth.’

I shake my head again, but I be thinking of the simper house. The fourteen boy that Pasha shot, no reason.

I say, ‘You only frighten. Yo, some other roo can have these teeth. Any a child lose teeth.’

‘Ice Cream, ain’t got to trust him like you do. Pasha frighten me, yo sho, or I ain’t think to leave. Must show these photographs to all my Firsts before no child agree. Will frighten any person, what these been.’

‘But why he keep no pictures like? If they been his. Be only blames.’ Now my voice be like it beg some help. Hands gone in aching fists.

‘I ask him this.’ El Mayor’s voice come thick. ‘He said, “It be my life.” He got no other life. Said this himself.’

Now El Mayor reach by and take my hand. Press my bruisen fingers, and he say, ‘When he come in carrying you … first, I thought he tore you up himself. Like a jumbo cat that carry in a bird.’

‘Foo, Pasha got no vicious in him. Ain’t like … sure, he know a gun. He know a gun, is truth.’

‘Can be that he changen now. A person change sometimes. But I ain’t trust him, all it is.’

‘I ain’t change.’ My mind skit to Karim. ‘Ain’t like no mally changes.’

‘Shoo. Be saying, he better now. If he change.’

‘But I ain’t want to change.’ My voice come foolish, but I cannot stop. ‘Be difference in our life, I know. Myself, I going to stay myself.’

El Mayor smile at this, and loose my hand. ‘Foo, you change into my love pony, come the day.’

I laugh surprise at this familiar talk. ‘Sure, when you change from a goat. Goat with pony … nay.’

We both laugh, a bouncy feeling leant against this bed. Then I sit forward nervy. Reach for cigarettes, then I remind, I be already smoking. A minute pass, then I look by at El Mayor.

He watching on me strange feroce. Frown and say, ‘When you come in … I seen you hurt. Ain’t never felt a thing like that.’

‘Foo, was scratches mostly.’

‘I ain’t known.’

I make dismissing face. But he say hard, ‘I love you painful, Ice Cream. Ain’t deny me this.’

Then we looking at each other, while my heart be dark and sorry. Be noticing how his eyes set wide apart. A horsen face he got. But it have a handsome sense, is right like all his rangy body. Every girlish child be raw and weak for El Mayor.

He reach and put his fingers to my wrist. The tips touch light. ‘I know it ain’t no time for this. But can be, we get no other time.’

‘Sure,’ I say uncertain.

‘Ice, you stay with me tonight?’

‘Yo sho, must stay if Sengles stay.’

‘Goddamn, you know what I be asking.’

Then he lean to me, his lips touch careful at my cheek. Hand gentle on my nape and rest my head into his chest. I breathe there nerviose. Been thinking weak, is right. Been always right. Even Driver wish this for me. Be no better love to find.

But all thought of love end with my hand on Mamadou’s chest. Slip helpless in his dying blood.

Sudden, I pull away. El Mayor flinch back startling.

‘Will think,’ I say in frighten voice. ‘But Sengles waiting on me now. I got to be below.’

He breathe out harsh. ‘Ain’t pushing you to this. Was only asking.’

‘I worry for my Sengles, truth. Will think, but … be all tasks.’

‘Sure. Got tasks to do myself.’

A longer moment, he gaze on me, his face a cheaten hurt. Then he stand up clumsy. Pull his robe around himself, and say in careful voice, ‘You think. I be here from middy night.’

‘Will think.’

‘Room 124. Any Lowell bring you here.’

Want to say I been here any times, but this catch in my heart. ‘From middy night. Yo sho.’

He start to the door. But when he reach it, he look back. Ya, his face show that this look feel like a shaming weakness.

I say, strange with want, ‘Be gratty. Gratty for your help.’

His face grit up in sudden anger. But he shake his head, say light, ‘No help too great for my love pony.’

Then he go out the door, his footsteps hasten to their hush.

28

THE PAPA SICKNESS

I find my Sengles in the Weave Room. This be a grandy hall, two minutes’ walking end to end. Place fill with looms, these be machines is making cloth from new. Most is rusty left, be sleeper artifice from old and past. Some bone to use, though never a child make yarn enough to feed them well.

Time I arrive, my Sengles all ferocious at my missing self. The littles run to beg at me; my jones call angry questions. Now we leaving Massa seriose, their tempers all gone fickle. Noise be hostilities and frights and grumps.

Jonah say, is Vember month, and sure we going to freeze, without no townie evacs to inhabit. Marlboro mention nasty that if Crow been sergeant, we ain’t left. All be vex at Lowells, who took their knives in confiscation. ‘Yo they pack their loot,’ say Keepers in disgust. ‘Ain’t worth to rob.’ Mouse and Foxen drawing swears in lipstick on the wall, while Shiny Eleven Angels sit by helping with suggestions.

Driver ain’t be here. Was brought apart, up in a sleeproom. All I can learn about him be: our good child’s pistol ain’t been took, and this be stank injustice. Yo Pasha Roo ain’t by, nor any a child know where he gone. Worst news, my Asha Badmouth took in birth. Be howling in a sickroom, turning out her baby enfant. Ain’t like to think how these two going to travel any length.

Ain’t strong to tell my violent day, nor this be fit for littles’ hearing.

Say only, been a skirmish to the Armies. I show my petty wounds and let Baboucar touch my swollen lip. Say, ‘This trouble gone. Been only chicken problems, like they is.’

Soon my jones go off, to booze or gossip in their custom pairs. But still the littles clamber to me, needy. Maple Two begin a play where he call out my name. When I answer, he say ‘Nay!’ and laugh. Story Four tell how her maginary animose, the Pickle Beaver, been a Lowell once. He own a bath with science fish: one been chocolate, one been red. Best Creature Five wedge different objects in between my naked toes. Aim to fill each space, and cavil when I let a spoon fall out. Yo ABC come jumping on myself as I be cladding shoes, while different mutts charge at her, bark excitement.