The Country of Ice Cream Star (60 page)

‘Swear my head, they bone!’

She cry perilous mean, ‘Why no one come? Been walking days, and no one come. We starving there!’

‘My ten, we never known!’

‘But – El Mayor be bone? Ain’t lie!’

‘Ain’t lying! Bring these to the Ministerio! Be all rooms there empty.’

Now she recollect her pride. Snuff nose, and say in pickety voice, ‘Thought this ourself. But where it be?’

‘Can follow our car! We going now!’

As I turn to point, Crow be there, crashing to me huge. He grab my collar scruff and yell, ‘Damn, what you doing? What you thinking? What?’

‘Shee!’ I yell back hot. ‘These be the littles come from Massa! Ain’t you see?’

‘Ain’t only littles here! Is every people! Damn, come back!’

He start to haul me by my collar, while my Money startle. Pick her feet, neigh warm and smelly in our face. I laugh and call back to First Runner, ‘Mind, you chase our car!’

Then I turn, go jogging back with Crow, while he still swearing mean. But by our car, now be some dozen soldiers, gather to Taco–Donx. Crow balk, throw out an arm to stop me.

‘Crow, it’s good,’ call Donx in boring voice. ‘They’re ours, it’s cool.’

Then Taco saying something low. All soldiers startle awful. Go stoop a hasty courtesy to me, while Taco grin his face.

‘Come on,’ call Taco. ‘You got to hear this. Jimmy, tell the story.’ He nod toward a bigly soldier with a bandage hand.

Jimmy look up shy. ‘Yeah, I was only saying, it’s over.’

‘No, the story.’ Taco shove his shoulder, grin to us. ‘Jimmy was with Simón’s boys uptown. They was shooting it out with Inúds from barracks there, when all those kids come through.’

‘Yeah.’ Jimmy make a nervy smile. ‘We was in the park up there, just killing each other, you know. And suddenly, a thousand little kids walk smack out into the middle.’

‘And it all
stopped,’
say Taco.

‘So it start again, now they all past,’ say Crow.

‘No, mano.’ Taco flap his hand dismissing. ‘Think. What do they do, those Massa kids, whenever they see grown people?’

‘Ask for food,’ Donx offer.

Taco point to Donx and nod. ‘And then it’s a conversation, what it was. One second, people’s shooting each other. The next second, it’s a mess of kids. And those kids go up to Inúds, to anyone. They don’t know the difference. Beg for food, and the next thing, they’re
telling their whole sad story. Well, our enemy, they got real confused. Jimmy, tell them.’

‘Yeah, the best part,’ Jimmy say. ‘Then, Simón, he jumps up on a car and gives a speech. Somebody shoots at the man, he doesn’t even shut up. Simón, you know.’

‘That’s what he’s like,’ say Donx.

Jimmy nod. ‘So he tells them how the apostles was planning to sell us all … you know. The whole thing.’

‘And you realize,’ say Taco, ‘these guys all fought with him before. He’s the goddamn general.’

‘That was it, senyora.’ Jimmy smile. ‘The enemy, they just listened. Like they all come there to hear a speech. And then they marched off after him like ducks. Barracks of Inúd, who these guys were. The faithful.’

‘The
last
of the faithful,’ Donx say.

‘People, it’s over.’ Taco draw a finger across his throat. ‘We won.’

Then only be two blocks to drive, but it take careful minutes. Always be some littles, wandern stupid in the road; be soldiers climbing on the car joyeuse. Yo, in this petty time, I start to feel my tired body. Cut palms begin to itch; my stabben chest feel sorry hurt. But all these pains be gratty now, feel heavy like a gift. Keep thinking how I go see Driver. Sleep by him in company. Can tell him how we get the cure in petty days, all problems done. Say this, then we both sleep like heaven.

And we stop to the Ministerio steps. They litter spectacular with glass from gunshot doors and windows. We step out in a throng of soldiers who skit back, gasp blessing words. I drowse afoot as I go up. Look back for Crow, but he be bickering still with Taco in the street. They mix into the thousand littles coming slow like clouds. I go on toward the entrance hall, where dandelions still be lit – yo, now their dangles stir from wind invading through the broken windows. Come to the door, duck through its missing glass.

In middy hall, it be a clutch of my own redcoat guards. I start toward them, grinning mouth, but they all look away. Their manners be severe, like they uneasy for some problem. I hold my step, considering sudden if some guard been kilt for me.

Then Julio step from them hasty. His reddish coat unbutton sloppy, face gone panic bright.

I say confusing, ‘Julio, you bone? They never catch you?’

‘Senyora,’ he say hoarsen. ‘Is your brother.’

My sleepiness go weak with fear. ‘Nay, Driver? What it be?’

‘Hospital, he go.’ Julio look frighten to the door. ‘Hour past.’

‘Nay, what been?’

‘His sickness. Bleed inside, they say. Take him for help.’

A moment, I cannot take breath. My heart fill all my chest. Then I gasp somehow, ‘Can be, my car still there. We–’

‘Yes, senyora. I stop them, yes.’

Julio run out the door. A moment, I be only frozen, staring into nothing. Want to shout some argument, how hard it been, ain’t justice. Then terror rise, and I go run. Come out on the steps, and dodge through littles coming up. Be this careful movement, and be the blackish sky tremendous overhead, its dull, uncolor moon. As I see the car, with Julio waving by, a red distress, my terror bite into me worse. Be like no feeling that I known. Is like a killing sickness. I catch my hand up to my throat and go on with this terrify evil breaking in my heart.

Quinta hospital be the home where this white terror live. Come in a bleary whitish hall, and Julio shout his Panish at an enfermera there. She scramble to find papers. Mutter panicking, while I grip fingers sweaty in my pockets. Then we go down halls with rubber smell of pharmacies and illness. Be blue medicals scrambling past us, like a pulling wind; be tear-face children leaning to the walls. Our enfermera talking feary Panish, until I ask in fright, ‘What she saying? Driver worse?’

Girl hush at this, look down with shamen eyes. ‘No,’ Julio say
hasty, ‘she say, is sorry, they busy from the war. Too many sick here.’

As he say this, we come to the elevator hall. Here stand two medical children with a rolling bed between. A fifteen boy in soldier clothes lain there, got redden bandages to his throat. He breathing scary fast, stare at the medical boy beside, who muttern over–over, ‘Tranquilo, tranquilo.’ Our enfermera start explaining to them, waving hands. Then the medicals stare to me, stoop courtesies with muttern prayer.

Ya, the injure soldier make a face of beggary. Struggle a hand toward me, make a breathen noise without no voice. His body straining while the medicals hush him nerviose.

Julio say soft, ‘He want a blessing, senyora. Is scare.’

I nod without no mind. Step toward him, and he ease back, tears beginning in his eyes.

I say what Panish prayer I remember, voice dim from its fear. Injure child watch on my face with hungry hope, eyes gentling. When I finish, a medical whisper, ‘Gracias, bendita reina.’ I look to her, and she be weeping – a scary fourteen with lips blooden from their winter chapping.

Then the elevator open, and the soldier shut his eyes. Face clench back to its hurt.

Two twelvish girls come staggering from the elevator, sobbing awful. One be wailing, ‘No, if he’s not here – they said. He got to be here.’ The other hushing her, look shame to us as they push by.

Then we all shove in this elevator, be no moron courtesies. Ya, all its floor be footprint blood. I shut my eyes to this, my terror sharper. Pray to the nothing I believe that all these children save. Pray this war forgive, or that I die for any guilt. If any person die, it be myself. Ain’t Driver die for this.

Injure soldier and his medicals leave on second floor. Ya, we go upward to the fifth. In this petty time of waiting, our enfermera talk again. I look staring to her, but now I only think of bleeding inside. How this happen. How any person stop this, once it be. And
Julio say, unmeaning in my fear, ‘She say, these floors be only for sarcoma. Good help they give. You not worry, is good.’

Take me a breathing minute before I remind, sarcoma meaning posies. Then my mind start babbiting Panish –
sarcoma, tranquilo, bendita reina, gracias
– in some reaching madness.

Elevator open to another hall, is white the same. The enfermera go up to a door across, stop quick. She whisper another endless fear, and Julio say to me, ‘Is here, can go. Only, you are quiet for him. He need sleep.’

I breathe out, try to relieve. But my heart stuck in that terror. Be like the world become a brainless light, deep in my eyes. I reach to the doory handle with this terror sprinting past and past.

Inside, is dimmer light. Driver there in gentle darkness, lain into a bed with rails beside. I close the door behind and feel its petty noise in all my blood. Then I go terrify to my brother.

Bed be clean as enfant snow. His sore hand bandage white. With the heapen blankets, his body showing healthy size, and even his shut eyes look happy, like they drowse in good content. But he be dead.

Cannot tell how I know. But when I look into his face, my whole self scream that he be dead. I reach my shaking hand up to his nose and feel for breath. Touch to his neck, feel for no heartbeat. And my mind be running fright, how Driver breathing loud these weeks. Ain’t be no quiet in his life. He dead, is dead.

Come a moment lost while everything shrink hard in me. I sit heavy to the floor. Feel like I going to die myself, my heart be like some crushen mouse. In my mind, I say to Driver,
Brother, no one seen you dead but me. You can come back, nobody ever know
. Clench eyes shut and make a prayer to my nothing god – whatever god it be, whatever ghost can hear this prayer. Yo, can almost feel a listening there – a misten sympathy, like darkness sunlight in shut eyes. I reach out to this feeling, beg and beg with gritten teeth.

But this spirit hear me with a sad refusal in itself. All my magination cannot make it answer yes.

And I open eyes on Driver’s stillness, cold the same. My fear turn somehow, and I comprehend, it ain’t been terror. Been grief too big to know. I whisper, ‘Damn, I love you worse, my brother. How this got to be?’

At last, I take a corner of his sheet and wipe my eyes. Look to the door. Be like I never seen a door before, its shape look some ridiculous. Wonder how doors be even useful. Why no person making doors, when it be children dying. And I stand up weaken, feeling sore in all my body. Bend to Driver, and kiss him on his forehead – cool and dry and gone – and kiss him again, and stand up frightening, how I never kiss him another time. But I make myself turn to the door. Come out, and Julio leaning to the wall, face blank in weariness. Enfermera by, is looking at her fingernails. They both startle up, grit into worry at my sight.

I say soft, ‘Julio, he dead.’

‘Dead?’ He look confusing to me.

‘Ya, he dead, my soldier.’ I swallow on this saying, taste a bitter something in my throat.

Julio narrow to me, clutch his hands up into fists. Glance frighten down the hall and whisper, ‘Your Sengles are there. Was wait by him.’

‘They ain’t know he dead?’

He make a gentle grimace. ‘No, senyora.’

I breathe out long. ‘My Pasha ain’t here? Jesus?’

‘No, senyora. Don’t know where is Jesus.’

I nod weak, feel some unknowing love for Julio, how he helping. But then a bitter hurt seize in me. I say hoarsen, ‘Julio. How many floors it be here, for sarcoma?’

He look uncertain. Turn to the frighten enfermera, ask low. She frown with seeking eyes to me. Say careful, ‘Senyora, eight.’

‘Eight floors. Right, you see this?’ I say rough. ‘Why this war been. We going to end this now. Goddamn this, cannot be.’

Then I turn unthinking, start to walk back where we come. Julio follow, saying, ‘Senyora, you don’t want Sengles? Is good, people help.’

‘Nay.’ I pause my step. ‘Ain’t nothing help.’

Then my tears come blinding, and he lead me by my arm. I stumble in the elevator, thinking of that moon rain. Salt that last forever, grief that live beyond all life.

62

OF NAVIDAD ITS FINAL GRIEFS

Be one more meeting in this evil morning of our victory. I ride back seeing only tears, hands clutching in their cuts. And when I step out to the Ministerio, El Mayor be there.

He waiting on the steps, and when he see me, all his body change. He start toward, then halt uncertain. Raise a gloven hand.

First, he look good familiar, and my heart reach to him in its pain. But as I coming to the steps, I reach down for my skirt, how I will lift it climbing stairs. When it ain’t there, I shock peculiar. Remind Carola’s clothes and all disorders of these hours. How Mamadou tell El Mayor our loving histories. How Felipe say, with shaming smile,
He’s not alone tonight
.

Then I see El Mayor again – his bitter mouth, his hard respect. And I know, I cannot even tell him on my Driver. Ain’t brave to say this news to his unlove.

With this, my hurt be by. Is like I step out of my awful heart. And I walk up the steps without no conscience, why my legs be weak. Why I must wipe my face. Come to El Mayor and I say plain, ‘Salue.’

He nod. ‘Come from Felipe. Business, ya.’

‘Can tell me quick? Should sleep.’

El Mayor’s eyes hurt fresh at this. A moment, I expect he going to start in accusations. Yo, all my body sicken sudden. Be only breathing, concentrating how I keeping on my feet.

But he collect himself, say stiff, ‘What it be, the Quantico girl come to Felipe. Now our rebellion done, Marines want you at Quantico. Negotiations, what she said.’

I shrug without no mind. ‘When I will go?’

‘To middy day. Felipe send a car.’

‘Foo.’ I make a weaken laugh. ‘Felipe send me there?’

El Mayor frown. ‘Felipe want to go for you, but Quanticos ain’t want him. Ask for yourself, and that Simón. How Simón be general, can see. But for yourself …’

‘Right, why they wanting me? They ain’t believe Marias gods.’