The Country of Ice Cream Star (61 page)

‘Ain’t know. But it be only talks. Can think, you coming back tonight.’

‘Be bone. I going, sure.’

Then, from nothing, we both catch into precarious silence. He narrow to the steps, the glass and ice in trails of glittern blue. Yo, I stare empty at himself. He dressing fine, like all these days – coat smooth like pony’s flank, boots perfect in their leather shine. But his face be hurt precaire. Look like he live ten years in hell, and come back younger somehow, foaly for no difficult life.

At last, I say, ‘My Pasha here?’

A moment, El Mayor stare on, unheeding. Then he say, ‘Nay. He at Felipe’s, talking with that Marine girl. War informations, you know how.’

‘He ain’t resenting how I left him?’

To this, El Mayor frown, like he figuring something ugly in his mind. Then he say rough, ‘Sure he resenting. Cannot do like that.’

‘Do how?’

‘Using people.’ El Mayor squint his face. ‘And then they rid. Forgot like nothing.’

‘Nay, I – ain’t like that.’

Now El Mayor look hard to me. ‘People here, they want to kill him now. Guess you ain’t heard? This morning, been a crowd out by Felipe’s, calling for his murder.’

I swallow at my fear, say rough, ‘No sho. Why anyone kill Pasha?’

‘He Russian. Ain’t a bony day to be a Russian here, no sho. Felipe’s own guards want to kill him. Ya, that Carola want to give him to them. Fear her life.’

‘But they ain’t–’

‘Nay.’ El Mayor pooch his lips, most like this be a disappointment. ‘But Felipe had his work to rid them. Nor it help, that you been gone.’

I nod stupid. ‘Been wrong to leave him, sure.’

El Mayor smile like bitter jokes. ‘Ya, first they find you gone, roo swearing Anselm’s people took you. Say you never left him without force. Then this morning, Mamadou come and said you gone to him. Roo suffer this, be sure.’

A moment, our eyes meet precaire. I say, ‘Nay, Pasha blame me, truth? Ain’t be … from yourself?’

For a risky moment, El Mayor’s face fill with rage intentions. But he grit mouth against. Put hands in pockets and say cold, ‘Ain’t want to know why Mamadou come?’

I shake my head. ‘Be tired. Can like–’

‘Was bringing news. Who he murder.’

We both tense to this heavy word. Can feel my terror start again – the whitish evil growing big – and I say quick, ‘Yo sho, been war.’

‘Been murder,’ El Mayor say cold. ‘What Mamadou done, he gone up to Inúd, their Residencia. Bring some Quinta soldiers, say he got a message for Pedro. No one known him there, he go in straight. Shoot Pedro, and they shooting Pedro’s guards. Then he find Soledad.’

I flinch. ‘How, Soledad?’

‘She living there. She gone there when you rid her.’

‘Ain’t rid her. It–’

‘Yo, ever it been. She there. And Mamadou seek her through all rooms. You comprehend, this killing ain’t been chance. He saying this.’

Now my mind go vicious black. Remind the roof at Reese. How I told Mamadou of the threats to kill me for unvirgin god. How he say,
And the simper known
.

Then El Mayor take ragged breath, say like his final strength, ‘I know she kilt his feathers. He an Army, need his vengeance. But–’

‘Nay,’ I say without no breath. ‘You wrong. He killing her for me.’

‘For you?’ El Mayor grit his face. ‘Be vally mad, ain’t for yourself.’

I shake my head, a blank exhaustion gone through all my blood. ‘Kilt her … sure I ask him. I ain’t name her, but …’

‘Ain’t name her, but you ask him? Ain’t no sense.’

I think without no mind, Been for my safety, El Mayor. Mamadou thought she telling how I done with him at Army camp. But Soledad never even known. I lying to her, and she trust me like an easy fool
.

Be standing now with tears gone helpless on my face. I say thin through my achen throat, ‘Cannot explain. Been something she known … he thought she known. But ain’t been his.’

Now El Mayor’s face weak in ruth. ‘Ice, nay. He doing this, ain’t yours.’

‘You wrong.’ I clutch myself, gone shivering. Now can smell my stank of fear, is sharp like nasty pine. ‘Yo, I should sleep. But tell them I will go to Quantico. Be bone.’

‘Nay, heed. I know I said some nonsense, all these weeks. But truth, you blind to trust. This secret male of yours – it been the NewKing? How this even been? And Pasha, he your friend? Ice, you ain’t seeing what you need.’

‘Ya,’ I say rough. ‘Should sleep now, truth.’

‘Ice. You watch yourself.’ His eyes fix to me, sad uncertain. ‘Whatever been between us … cannot want you hurt.’

I say quick with aching voice, ‘Be gratty, but should sleep.’ Then I turn sudden, dash up skittery on the icen steps. Can hear him call behind, and I run faster, gasping breath. Duck through the broken door, and look back frightening through its jags of glass. El Mayor stood footless. He got one hand out, reaching toward, like he can catch me still.

Then something in me know, I never seeing him again. Feel Quantico’s distance, and the warry deaths around us both. How he eighteen. How children dying real. Ain’t only fears, is real.

My heart stab hard, and I call foolish, ‘Ever it been, I love you! Ain’t never quit to love you, never!’ Then I turn again, go hasty like I flee my words.

Yo, as I reach the elevator, I hear his voice, small like a thought: ‘I love you also! Ice? Ain’t risk yourself! Ain’t need to risk yourself!’

My farther day be lost to me. At the iglesia, I go stumbling wild to Driver’s bed. Weep into gratty sleep – and wake again to Keepers talking something, sitting on my waist. Hate You come and lift her off, but I say, ‘Nay, she good. Ain’t like to be alone. Ain’t leave me.’ Someone try to tell me Driver dead, and I turn harsh away. Curl stupid to my pillow, ain’t got the bravery to say I know. Then through my sleep, be Sengles whispering by, sat on the floor. Sometimes I wake and talk some nonsense sadness that I ain’t remember. Hold to Asha Badmouth’s hand or take a cigarette from Jermaine. And always be some children weeping, with the sorrow that I know.

Ya, they keep me company in dreams. Be reveries of snakes who taking Driver off to live with them, of caverns where he trap in ice – and always be a Sengle in my dream who whisper help. Once, I wake to find Crow sleeping by, curl on the covers, face beweepen like the rest. Then I dream into a burial yard where Crow be saying, ‘Driver living underground. Come back, once they explode the city.’ Then I look and see, this burial yard stretch past all long horizons. And Crow show me a greenish gem, which be a magic weapon, kill all roos. I say, ‘But Pasha be a roo.’ Crow say, ‘Is right, you got to choose,’ and I wake panicking in tears. ABC stand up, put her wet nose against my nose, and Keepers look up from the sofa saying, ‘You ain’t going to die, now you be sergeant?’ Then I wake from this, and Keepers sleeping on the floor, my ABC be gone, and I ain’t know if the question been a dream or real.

At last, I wake alone. Clock be eleven, and my task remember. I rise in brainless weakness, wash myself before I start to think. Clad a murder dress and diamonds. Go sit weary to the mirror, but forget to look. And I smoke two cigarettes, sat blind before this mirror.
Think how I parley to the Quanticos, while Driver dead. And Driver dead.

In this, my Sengles start to gather again, ask scary questions. I rouse my wits, go call them round. Try to explain my leaving, but my smalls object in voice. Mustafa Five begin a game, where he announce I coming back tonight. I say, ‘Can be tomorrow,’ and he shout, ‘Tonight!’ and it go on, till all my scratchers yell ‘Tonight!’ together with exciting rage. In this, Keepers go and bring Kalash, huge on her shoulders. I say with weaken laugh, ‘For killing roos,’ and she say strict, ‘Only must kill them if they mally. Or shoot they feet, be better.’

Then it be clocken twelve. I clad my furren coat, and Jermaine go down the elevator with me. Kiss my cheek in by-salue, and I go out the door, guard Julio following with my journey case. Be two trucks, then be my car, a grandy sort with bigger wheels for riding on rough ground. Got some child driving I ain’t know. Ya, in the car’s back seat be Pasha.

Roo look grim and unbeslept. One lip still swelling from our violent yesternight, is lopside red. When I shove in beside him, angling Kalash sidelong, he flinch away. Grit like anger, look down to his hands.

We ain’t say nothing. I close the door, the driver say some Panish courtesy, that I repeat without no mind. Then we driving, and this motion take me in accustom tiredness. Be like my warry night continue, but I feel how Driver been in it somewhere, and now he ain’t. Ya, the chill feel like this absence, how the windows bloom their cold. And Pasha by, in strange unsympathy, while we drive away from every other child I love.

Riding down through Loisaida, we sit in this porcupine silence. I lean my forehead to the window, feeling wrong with painful life. Watch dumb how Loisaida pass, its shamble homes and trash. Feel Pasha watching by, but got no bravery to look at him. I think to speak, but all I got to say be
Driver dead
. Yo, now my grief begin to
gather teary. I think away from it, bite hard into my lip. But they nuisance tears come on, until my breath hitch up and gasp. Then I be only leaning to the window, sobbing in shamen misery.

‘Ice?’ say Pasha cautieuse.

I wave a shooing hand. Rub eyes and swallow feroce, but nothing help. At last I say, between two sobs, ‘Why you be here?’

‘Ice, ain’t got to cry.’

‘Yes, I got to cry. Why you be here?’

‘Quanticos ask.’

‘Yo why you got to be like that?’

‘Ain’t being … Ice? You cry for this?’

I take a ragged breath and turn my ruin face to him. He look almost tears himself, is clutching scary fists.

Here the driver ask some worry Panish. Pasha answer soft, then say to me, ‘You needing something? Driver ask.’

I shake my head, mind gone in awfuls, how this be a driver. How the city full of drivers, like this word been chosen for my pain. And this grief dabbit to its end, while Pasha frown his apprehensions.

At last, he say in hoarsen voice, ‘Ain’t mean to be no way. Was sad myself, Ice. All it be.’

‘How you been sad?’

‘Sad.’ He make a face. ‘How I being.’

‘Been wrong to leave you. Sure I know. But I been only stupid, Pasha. Ya, I got nothing left to grieve with. Be finish, be too much.’ Tears start again in this, while Pasha watch with strange attention. Is like he work some problem while I rub my messy nose. I wipe my snotten hand off on the seat, and Anselm’s voice say in my head,
That really is disgusting, santa reina. New heights
.

Then Pasha say into my thought, ‘Ice, I going back. Why I be sad.’

‘Back how?’ I keep eyes toward my knees. ‘You ain’t go to Quantico?’

‘Nay, heed … Ice?’

I take a ragged breath and nerve myself. Look back to Pasha
where he sitting tense with shamen eyes. He got one hand upon my coat, clutch in its fur unhappy.

‘Heed,’ say Pasha careful. ‘Quanticos got capture roos. Patricia going to put me with them. When they trade prisoners, I go back.’

‘To roos?’ I scoff a disbelieving breath. ‘Marines ain’t rid you there. Ain’t theirs to rid.’

‘Nay.’ He make a painful frown. ‘I ask. They promise this for my help.’

Now I stare at him with only fright. ‘What help? Nay, what you saying?’

‘Help. Give informations. Yesternight, I do already.’

‘But – you go back real? Ain’t for some tricks?’

‘Go back.’ He shrug. ‘I stay by roos.’

‘Nay, you cannot. Why? Why you even saying this? Cannot.’ My whitish terror back, hard in my chest.

‘Ice, ain’t right I being here.’

‘Ain’t right? Ain’t say that. Why it ain’t?’

‘Seen, when you left from Metro. Ain’t right.’

‘Nay, I need you,’ I say breathless. ‘How this happening? Now you going to leave me? For … been for they fools who want to kill you? Because I leave you there?’

He look down to his fisten hands. ‘Ain’t nothing that you done. I only want this. Cannot stay here.’

I think desperate, but cannot find sense. He go back to his roos – the murdering children who he hate. Left him in Metro for one night, and this be his insanities. Ain’t even justice he decide this, I ain’t known this going to be. Never left him for one second, if I guessing this. And I seek in memories, why Pasha want to leave me so. Seek, and feel this terror blind against my searching thought.

At last, I say in feary breath, ‘What El Mayor think – he always think you wanting me for love. Ain’t this somehow?’

Pasha tense, frown to his hands. Face start to show his pink embarrass.

My heart beat jags, but I say on, ‘It be no sense. You love a person, why you going to– shee, this driver comprehending?’

‘Nay.’ Pasha smile, look sidelong to me. ‘Quanticos want no English driver. Hear secrets.’

‘Bone. Nor I want this, right.’ I swallow weak, say softer, ‘Pasha, if you needing this, I do … ever you need. Should know. But why we ain’t continue like we been? Ain’t see how this be awful so. A month, can go on for a month. I only need some help.’

He clench against this. ‘Nay, ain’t so simple. Be nothing you will comprehend.’

‘How?’ I laugh up weak. ‘It be some rooish feeling we ain’t get?’

‘Can be.’

‘Shoo, been a joke. What feeling? Seem like you be a mammal, mostly.’

A long time, Pasha hush, but I can feel his answer gathering. We come up on the bridge, and the sweep of battern Marias City widen everywhere around. Car rise among its hundred towers, jag and windowless, and we break into sky, with only steely webs of bridge above. Be children working at the edge, and they all turn to watch. Pasha put his hand up to them, smiling weak, then rub his eyes. We come out over sparkling water, bridge posts blurring past, and he look back to me in his blue grief.

‘Ain’t told you, Ice,’ he say. ‘I had a daughter.’

63

PASHA ROO HIS WARS

Pasha get his daughter in an African place call Lagos. Be a city for boats, set scattern to the sparkling ocean. Time Pasha come, the roos been ruling this for twenty years of peace. Keep soldiers there to hold the city, but got no killing war to do.