The Country of Ice Cream Star (26 page)

Ain’t recognize this girl for nothing. In the moonish blear, is shy feroce.

I say, ‘Salue, my stranger. What you need?’

She tug at her hair-cloth. Say up scary, ‘Brung this horse. For trade.’

Her voice bruise in my memory. Be the simper from the Armies, girl who given me her knife. And it remind, how I been call the simpers from the camp. Ain’t seen this girl inside the house, but sure she heard this call.

Now she come, I got all dread against. Be like I cry out in a nightmare, invite its spooks into my day. But I square my heart and say, ‘Be welcome. Sure you come with me.’

When she step forward, all her shape be fear. Flinch when the horse step close, is like a six who never ride before. She lead him on a halter, and I wonder if she walken all this way on naked feet.

When she get close, she say, ‘Horse was stolen, this be right?’

‘Ain’t need no horse. You bring yourself, my simper.’

‘Yo, I be stolen also.’ She set her mouth, defiant frighten.

Truth, Lowells ain’t take stolen loot. Be people living on their
trade, ain’t like no disagreements. But I say firm, ‘They laws be by. Nor theft got shame among my people. Sengles’ help be yours, you keep by us.’

‘Ain’t ask no help for help,’ she say in pitchy voice. ‘Got trade.’

‘Yo sho.’ I nod to First Library. ‘My First, will take this horse for me? Can speak to El Mayor tomorrow.’ I give her meaning look, ain’t want no squabbles. But she nod and smile.

Then Second Library start to close the gate. The simper tense and stare at this, and when the gate lock to, she close her eyes and mouth a word.

‘Ain’t hold you here,’ I say. ‘Can leave, if this become your wish.’

She look round sharp at me. ‘Nay. Going to stay.’

I smile back nervy. ‘Bone. Come by inside.’

Got no knowledge where to take her. So I lead her to the diner, empty in this nightish hour. This be a grandy tilen room. Got booth tables fixen to the wall, with petty sofas to. Yo be other various tables, set with wooden chairs. On the wall is all their rostas, wiper boards writ up with task.

Most times, this be a pigly stew. Mess faster than it clean. But this nighting hour, the diner washen plain as silence. Only on the sofas, heren there, be cats asleep.

As she come in, the simper laugh. Muttern something to herself, sound most like fisher Panish. Then she say in happy nerves, ‘They eating here?’

‘Yo sho. The diner be.’

I start the lights. As they flash on, the simper catch her breath. Cats look up riling from their sofas.

I say, ‘Be lectric light. Ain’t risky none.’

‘I know. Be sure I know.’ She stretch one hand up toward the lights, like she will feel their heat. Now it notice, from her shoulder, swing a pinkish sack. Is cloth, and got a face embroider. Most this face be worn away. One eye be only dangle threads. Smiling mouth half gone.

‘I grown in a place, been most like this,’ she say.

‘Before they took you?’

‘Yo sho, lectric place. Been finer. But is lights like this. Whole city like.’

Most every simper say she from a wonder town of all richesse. Brag how her people going to come and war for her with brave explosions. But these science children never appear. So I ain’t heed this much. I only say, soft as I know, ‘Can come and sit. You safe by us.’

I go to a table, sit myself in wooden chair. Then the simper laugh again. Come to her chair unnerven, seem to question how it use. But before I can explain, she sit and smile around. Smile pinch down queery, like she bite her joy.

Yo, in this showing light, can see her face be scarren every way. Eyes blackish prettieuse, but got one eyelid skew and thick. Her nose been broken sometime, take a gentle corner in its length. Along her skin entire, be nicks and lumps.

And on one cheek, it be two blacker spots. Can think, they scars alike. But from all days I watch on Driver’s skin, I know them straight. Be posies.

I look down nervy at the table. Got smears of soap upon, some small custodian ain’t wipe it proper. My hand inspect this surface, and I say, ‘What be your name?’

She scoff breath. ‘Foo, I be a simper. Use no name.’

‘Must call you something, sure.’

‘Call?’ She pooch her lips uncaring. ‘Who I be, they call me Hak’s girl.’

‘Hak’s girl? OldKing Hak’s?’

‘This be myself. Thought you may know.’

‘Ain’t Sengles knowing much of Armies.’

Her eyes change in some puzzling, like she magine how this be. Then she laugh nerviose. ‘Ain’t know much. Can see this right. Heed, you know how simper girls be took?’

‘Sure.’ I shrug unliking. ‘Bound and took.’

‘Nay, what doing after.’

Must be, I look finicky, for she give her scary laugh. ‘Ain’t mean
they
doings, sure this be … Shee, they rapes. Shee.’ Then her face go twisten. Tears come up, she rub them as they come. Get a stubborn look in this, like these tears be put on her.

I say low, ‘Ain’t got to tell me nothing. Be no need.’

‘Nay, story be wolfen. You like this.’ She look friendly through her tears. Like she offer a gift, hope it can please.

I swallow at my unwant. ‘Yo sho.’

‘How it being, so. Myself been took by Hak and Bardo. Hak ain’t been King or nothing then, a feather like another. Sure they ruin me well, ain’t any mystery how Hak be.’

‘Can guess.’

‘Nay, you ain’t guess.’ She laugh up harsh, rub at her teary eye. ‘You think a million times and never guess. What they do first, they break my leg, so I ain’t flee nowhere. Then all they feathers trying me. I lose two teeth in this, been choking blood. And they all laughing, glad. No sho, you guessing how this be.’

‘Sure,’ I say weak. ‘Ain’t know.’

Then she recollect herself. Sniff nose and say, in lower voice, ‘Ya, when this finish, how they do. Taken girl be sobbing well. Mostly will be bleeding, but ain’t no child bear this prettieuse. Then the NewKing come. Ain’t show himself before, no sho. He give them plenty time.

‘So, NewKing going to the feathers, “How you hurt this child, this poory girl?” Go chase them off. And he bring her to his hut, he give her any care. Pet her. Clean her wounds.’

I shiver, stare some loathen feeling. A memory pass of Mamadou, how he daub me with booze.
Clean your hurts. Is what we use
.

Simper say on, ‘Yo he talk, “You feary, child? Ain’t fear no more, I keep you safe.” Girl, she ain’t know nothing. Feel this be the only child she trust. So he tend her there, and when she heal … how you thinking? What she do?’

‘She stay?’ My voice come dry.

‘Ain’t leave for nothing.’ Simper laugh hard, grimace her face. ‘Sugar, they simpers never leave. Seen when you call them out? “You free! Can go to Lowell mill!” No sho, they leave. Ain’t never be in life.’

She give her thin-kept smile. And here it realize, she hide her teeth. My stomach gripe again. ‘This been with yourself? This … cleaning wounds?’

‘Ho, my story. Right.’ Her scars all work in smiling. ‘So, in my time, been NewKing Sayd. He take me to his hut, but I ain’t talking. How I been, no sho. And he go on his “Where you hurting, treasure? Now you safe.” Try to pet my head. Myself …’ Her face grit up in sudden hate. ‘I push him in the fire.’

A moment pass. She pinch her mouth, scorn past me at this memory.

I say low, ‘Was vally done.’

‘I be from other people.’ She wave her hand around. ‘People like this here. Never was handled by no male before. Cannot like no handling.

‘So yo, continue like this, me and Sayd. He try some times, then he tell Hak, “You like this bitch? She yours.” I ain’t fight no less with Hak, but this ain’t worry Hak. Yo, how he using me, I ain’t been prettieuse to any another. Been nothing good to see.’

She laugh hard, grimace her face. Reach in her jacket pocket, get a cigarette. Light her match with one hand. As she suck this cigarette, she look at me with bliss content. Like all her hopes accomplish.

I look down to her pinkish sack, set floppy on the table. Now I see, along its cloth is written words in filler pen. Ink wash out mostly, lines is pale. Words go in twos, and every pair been written by a different hand. Nor these words ain’t recognize.

Then it comprehend, is names. Was written on her bag in friendship. And slow, it follow in my mind, these been from children in her home. Must be, she keep the bag through all this time.

Then all my misery be, how this been years. I try to think what years it be since Sayd been NewKing of the Armies, but my mind go flat and tired.

Sack written: Tino Alvarez. Maidali Guzman. Camilo Araujo. Cari Guzman. Ink washen grayish light.

At last I say, ‘This why you given me your knife?’

‘Sure be so.’ She look at me, eyes prideful. ‘Ain’t had this chance before. But you be worthy well.’

‘Shoo, how you know my worth?’

‘How I ain’t know? A simper going to know all talk. Know pox on all these Lowell companieros. Foo, you think there be a male in Massa woods ain’t visit simpers? You think!’

I frown discomfort. ‘Sure, cannot be all boys do this.’

‘Ain’t it?’ she say unconcern.

‘Nay, think. Be boys is skew.’

‘Ain’t skew every day of life. No sho, they try all means.’

‘Nay, cannot be every child. Ain’t every male the same.’

‘Foo, ain’t distress. Truth, some Christings never come, is finicky. “Go with harlots,” be their talk.’

‘And some Sengles, sure.’

‘Can be. Ain’t necessary I know all names of Sengles.’

Something trouble in her then. She get up to her feet, hug jacket round herself like chills. Smile nervy at me, then she cross by to a redhead cat. Stoop, touch soft between his ears. He wake and sniff up drowsy.

Then she look back, shaming in her eyes. ‘Been talking ugliness. Can feel this. Hope I said no harm.’

‘Ain’t harm.’

‘Had only Hak to talk with, mostly. Feel I ain’t know how to be.’

‘Ain’t got to be no way. Yo, this be by. We going to leave this place. Ain’t be no Armies in this story.’

‘Can hope.’ Her mouth fret close. ‘But … you ain’t worry if I say?’

‘Say?’ I force a smile. ‘Ain’t knowing what it be. But sure, you tell.’

She frown back sorry to the cat. ‘Hak say they got to kill you. For Karim and Mika kilt. Mamadou
telling
how it been your roo, but Hak ain’t want to hear. Go rile the others, sure he do.’

My mind struggle, try to fix this into sense. ‘How … Mamadou told?’

‘That Deema roo can die, be gratty. No one weep for him. But ya Karim and Mika! Hak never care for them before, but now they be his boys. “She kilt my boys,” and all his noise. Mamadou been the one was hurt. He ain’t got nothing at you.’

‘Mamadou ain’t been kilt?’

‘Ho, I see. You thought he kilt? Nay, been torn up some. He broke his shoulder bone behind.’ She touch herself, close at her collarbone, show where this bullet strike.

I say blind, ‘I been expect, a person shot must die.’

‘Foo, can live. Some children shot three times, can live.’

I try to think how this can be, but nothing remember in my mind. Been blood on him, Karim crouch by. I touch this blood myself, but never wonder if he live. Ain’t hope.

I sit back, stare my struggling thought. Mamadou come back in my mind, alive. But now he be the NewKing of the simper’s tales, of laughing rape.

On a rosta board across, can see where someone writ up large, AIN’T PACK BOOKS. PACK FOR NEEDS. Some other child writ under this, NEEDS: CIGARETTES, BOOZE. Word ‘booze’ bother at me, recall the Army camp its stank. Mamadou hold my hand so gentle, clean my injuries. How he done with every slave. And Deema rape Susannah by, like Mamadou done all years. Ya, in time of NewKing Sayd, he been a feather like another. When they rape this girl, he been among. So been his life. And I always known – but I refuse to know for selfishness. Dream stupidities of love, and never care beyond.

By the rosta board, a clock be hung. First, I stare through it, gnaw my guilts. But slow, a question bother in me. Can almost laugh when I find that I wonder: yo what time it be?

Ain’t cleverish for reading clocks, but this be simple news. Both arms is pointing twelve. Then I shock peculiar, pondering this perfect time. Be like an answer spoken. I look to Hak’s girl like she going to comprehend, can share.

She waken from her thought, frown up. ‘You fretting something? Expect, Hak never chase you. Be his braggeries.’

‘Nay, ain’t fretting.’ I stand to my feet. ‘Should only go. Be tardy.’

Simper startle, budge her cat. He squirm free and brandish tail. ‘Sure, you go,’ she say unhappy.

‘Can put you with my Sengles, if you like.’

‘Nay.’ She raise her hand, most like she guard from me. ‘Be better here. Only … ain’t think these Lowells rid me?’

‘Nay, I go bespeak their El Mayor. Can rest, you safe.’

‘Safe.’ She nod uncertain.

‘They Armies gone, is surely gone.’ My voice come hard. ‘We leave this place.’

She nod again, consideration frowning in her brow. Then she turn back to the cat and say, ‘You keep the horse. Ain’t Lowell’s.’

Simper smiling dreamy, stroking on the cat, as I go out.

30

BY MIDDY NIGHT

My Sengles sleeping hushen when I look into the Weave Room. Pasha there, lain on a sleepen bag, with Keepers curlen to. Hounds is gone. Can guess a Lowell cat been in this history. Ain’t nothing here to keep me, I go on.

On the stairy landing, I stop by the big back windows. Look down on the tumble bridge, the fussing light on river’s back. Ain’t know how this change, but I come gratty in my temper. Feel like every difficult evil solving into right.

Mamadou living, but I swear my heart forget his love. Behind the simper’s tale, this love be filth. Be detestations. Get even angry wish that he been dead. Been grief, but clean to feel.

But always been this better choice. Must only walk some carpet distance, step into a soften room. And in my heart perverse, I crave this choice, like war its wild forgetting.

In the window, my face show, is ghosten in reflection. Face delicate made, its swollen injuries look pitieuse. Girlish child with skinny collarbone – be small in size and feeding, but her eyes be good feroce.