The Country of Ice Cream Star

by Sandra Newman

  I dismount and tie my Money up, go climb their cleanish steps. Always I get shame for Sengle pigliness when I come here. Be no showing litter. House smell only of new food. All be painten white as white, and this the story’s end.

  John say, ‘Greeting in His word.’

  ‘His word enduring,’ I polite him. Then I nod at that glass brock. ‘Somebody told you I be bound here? Sure you ain’t pour cider mornings for your only self.’

  ‘You my second visit.’ John get face like bad reminders.

  A moment, I get curiosities, what this visitor been. Must be awful persons, if it giving John unhappiness. But I fix back to my need. ‘I come with parley to you, brother. Thinking, is business you can like.’

  ‘Be gratty heard,’ John say, distracting still. ‘Christ’s welcome to our home.’ He pour my cider tall and lead me to their sofa room.

  Sofa room be where the Christing enfants spend their day. So it be enfants round your neck and grubbing on your leg, their fingers worming in your pockets. At Tophet, I known all these littles since they was a fatly belly.

  This day Boy Japhet tend them. He be a seriose twelve with Tophet’s maple skin and cow respect. Now he running desperate among the scarum enfants. Unpick their fights, tell disapprovals, answer screamen questions. When I come in, he line them up and make them say Peace on you, sister. Then they fall to strife again, and Japhet chase behind.

  John call to the kitchen wives, require a guesting meal. Sit me to a fatty sofa, and he start in slow politeness, asking on my hunts. But all my conscience heeding to the kitchen, guess which wife will come. Can hope it be their kindly Hannah, or Jane Moron, slow to argue. Worst be Beanie, who dislike all Sengles and all asks.

  Yo, when Susannah step into the room, I discourage well. This girl be the crown of wives. Got plum lips and thinking eyes, is never stepping wrong. She born the May that I been born myself, we be moon kin. Both love salty more than sweet. We both is handy quick. Been occasion, in our twelvish years, we riding cows together. Do races, and we talk into the dusking hours, like friends.

  But she the smarter brains of Tophet. Try no trickeries, she name them to your face with easy laugh.

  She bring a plate of apple fritters. Sit by me, and littles gather round her knees for food. Then all must thank the two-stick god before we eat. The thanking go: ‘God be great and God be good, and we thank Him for our food.’ I know this saying well, and say it firm. Ain’t loss in good respect.

  Then I say, ‘These apples vally fine. Sure, your god bless all they trees with luck.’

  Susannah leave this flattery heedless. Nod straight to my belt and say, ‘You wearing pistols now, Ice Cream?’

  ‘Ho, is right,’ John say. ‘This pistol new. Ain’t notice this correct.’

  ‘Ya,’ I say with hasty thought. ‘So be my business to yourself. Is where I jack my gun, be vally tales.’

  ‘Ain’t bought from Lowell?’ John say frowning.

  ‘Nay, my John,’ I say. ‘We catch a roo. This gun been his.’

  Susannah fold her hands and mention Jesus.

  ‘Shoo!’ Japhet spit into his palm. ‘Ain’t no roos, it be a story.’

  ‘Ain’t existing,’ John agree.

  ‘Nay, truth,’ I say. ‘We catch a boy, look like a roo or yellow sleeper. Skin as white as teeth.’

  ‘Christings got some light-skin people, sure.’ Susannah doubt her mouth. ‘Aaron of Christ been so. Was callen Aaron Sleeper, also.’

  I shake my head. ‘This be two differences. Roo’s hair got no curling in it. Be like wolfen fur.’

  ‘Ain’t be a wolf?’ say Japhet.

  John laugh, frighten. ‘Sengles catch a wolf and think they find a roo.’

  ‘May be a sleeper,’ I say. ‘Run out from a sleeper house we burn.’

  ‘Foo,’ say Japhet. ‘The littles hear. You spook their dreams.’

  ‘What we hear?’ say Baby Leah, curiose. Some other littles perk and ask what they did hear.

  ‘Hush, hush, be a rabbit in the bush,’ Susannah say.

  ‘Yo sho,’ I tell the littles, for I now feel mischief. ‘Been a boy who fall asleep, and sleep a hundred years. Then come a fire that wake him. He run outdoors, and poom! Your vally Ice Cream thieve his pistol.’

  Susannah laugh. ‘Is bone, you found new friends to rob. It save our eggs. But how this be no business?’ Now Baby Peter crawl up on her knee. She take him to herself and jog him there. Her eyes keep sharp on me.

  I make a scouty frown. ‘How Driver say, we must consult. A roo be every person’s risk.’

  ‘Can kill it?’ John say nerviose. ‘Is beasts or thinking people?’

  ‘Foo, is people,’ I say quick. ‘Can talk. Been murder, if we kill him.’

  ‘He talk?’ say Japhet. ‘What he said?’

  I nay my hand. ‘Be different words. Like fisher Panish, or … ain’t English.’

  ‘How he kept?’ John say unhappy.

  Now my trickery scent its game. I make a thinking frown. ‘Kept? Ain’t know. I guess he been in ropes, when I depart.’

  ‘You guess?’ John say. ‘How, you ain’t know?’

  I wave my hand dismissing. ‘Villa there to watch. Ain’t worry this.’

  ‘Villa?’ Susannah laugh in disbelief. ‘You try to breed this roo?’

  ‘Truth, Villa ain’t responsible,’ say John with worry face.

  ‘Foo, most our children hunt these days,’ I say. ‘But if you fearing, you can take him. Got your cellar there.’

  John flinch. ‘Our cellar?’

  ‘Ya, he safer here,’ say Japhet exciting. ‘I can watch him.’

  ‘Nay, shoo,’ say John. ‘A roo ain’t Christly beasts, to live with people.’

  ‘We only thought you worry,’ I say unconcern. ‘Your cellar safest. Driver thought you maybe want him there. But if you ain’t …’

  Susannah give me narrow glance. ‘If we ain’t, he watch by Villa?’ She swipe her finger through the fritter plate and offer it to Peter to lick.

  ‘Today he do,’ I say. ‘But what we thought, if you ain’t want him, we go sell him to the Lowells.’

  John blink to this. ‘You sell him? How, this roo be something worth?’

  ‘Yo sho.’ I make impressing face. ‘The Lowells curiose for roos. They sure to want him awful.’

  ‘And what the Lowells pay?’ say Japhet.

  I shrug. ‘What Driver thought, they pay a horse.’

  ‘A horse?’ say John. ‘Is worth all this?’

  ‘Be sure.’ I make surprising eyes. ‘A roo be scarcer animals. But how you friends, we give good price.’

  ‘Can pay you something.’ Japhet turn to John. ‘What we can pay?’

  To this, Susannah break in laugh. Say through her giggling breath, ‘You heed, Ice Cream? We take him, and we pay.’

  Japhet frown. ‘Nay, how this being jokes? Can sell him after.’

  Susannah nay her finger, grinning. ‘If Lowells going to buy him, Ice Cream been at Lowell mill this hour.’

  John sit back frowning. ‘Nay, she said …’

  ‘Be Sengle sayings.’ Susannah nod to me. ‘Ice Cream want to rid him, so she try to fool our simple brains.’

  Japhet think a moment, then turn indignant face to me. ‘No sho?’

  ‘Foo,’ I say discourage. ‘Sure, I try to fox you something. But truth, we got no walls to keep him. Ya, our children … how they is.’

  ‘Ho, Sengles got some badness?’ Susannah laugh. ‘Be new discoveries.’

  I shrug. ‘Ain’t careful people. And truth, your cellar bone for this. Kept prisoners there, when it been wars.’

  ‘And now we keeping apples there.’ Susannah shake her head, put Baby Peter from her knee. ‘The apples you be eating, sister thief.’

  ‘Be right.’ John ease his face. ‘No person wanting roos. Ain’t natural beasts.’

  ‘But he safer here,’ say Japhet.

  Susannah scoff her breath. ‘Roo living underfloors? And all our littles roundabout? No sho,
we–’ Then she catch her voice. Fold hands and turn to John respecting. ‘But it be your judgment, husband. Must ask Jesus word.’

  To this, John get important looks. He mention something from their Bible book and close his eyes in thought.

  This shut-eye posture mean a Christing pray advice from their stick god. But truth, their Jesus only tell them answers they already like. So I wait with plain frustration. Ask be lost, and Driver sure to blame myself somehow.

  But as John bow his head, the kitchen door bang open loud. John look up in startle, ya Susannah–Japhet stiffen harsh. Only the littles keep their jumble noise, chase without care.

  Child in the kitchen doorway be their posy wife, Jemimah. This girl gone in sickness. All herself be thin like winter branch. Face swollen out of shape, and cover thick with crusting sores. Only one eye be showing – ya, it got no white, no seeing color. Is only bulging red. Her breath come scraping, short, and she peer round her awful face, like seeking in blindness for her air.

  By Sengles, when a child be took with posies, they be callen dead. No person talk to them, nor use their name. Is bad taboo. So when Susannah speak to Jemimah – like to any person – I get superstition chills.

  ‘My sister, rest yourself,’ Susannah say. ‘We care for this.’

  Jemimah say in wheezing voice, ‘He gone?’

  ‘He gone, be sure,’ Susannah say. ‘Was only trading here.’

  ‘Ain’t talk like I be brainless,’ say Jemimah. ‘Know why he been here.’

  John say, ‘Was buying cheese, for truth.’

  ‘Cheese! He seen our Hannah?’

  ‘No sho, he ain’t,’ Susannah say. ‘You rest.’

  ‘Rest? Ain’t going to–’ Then Jemimah choke. Cough and wheeze her air, a sound like strangling. And something happen in my heart. Driver’s cough remind, all terrors of this passen night. I cringe and stare unbreathing to her face, her struggling chest.

  Then, like she feel my dread, Jemimah push back. Slam the door behind. Can hear her wheeze, her dragging foot, as she go slow away.

  Susannah put one hand soft on my shoulder. ‘Be sorry, Ice Cream. Jemimah never known you here. She blind these days.’

  ‘Foo, ain’t no matter,’ I say shaken. ‘Be your house.’

  ‘Nay, you guests,’ say John unhappy. ‘Wish you bone respect.’

  ‘Be no disrespect,’ I say. ‘But who she fearing for?’

  To this, all change their looks. Get faces of disliking memory. And John say heavy, ‘Who been here before, was NewKing Mamadou.’

  ‘Ya,’ Susannah say in quiet voice. ‘Their Army queen be dead.’

  Take me a breath to comprehend. Then hurt change uncanny in my blood. ‘You going to lose a wife, can see. Be sorry.’

  ‘Be right.’ John sigh. ‘He come to see.’

  ‘Choosing.’ Japhet scowl disgusting.

  Susannah frown to Japhet, like she warn him from some misbehavior. ‘Be what it is. Ain’t tell them nay.’

  ‘He ain’t take you,’ say Japhet low. ‘I nay him, if he wanting you.’

  ‘Ain’t ours to choose.’ John shake his head.

  ‘Can give him Mary,’ Japhet say. ‘Or Beanie, no one want her. John, you told him he ain’t take Susannah?’

  Susannah stand up now. Her face be tired like regrets. ‘Child, we cannot tell him how he do. It be the Long Agreement. But sure, ain’t guess the NewKing choose myself. I got two enfants born.’

  ‘Ya,’ say John. ‘If Armies take her from her enfants, this been bad respect.’

  Now Japhet break in rage. ‘They care for no respect! He ain’t! He staring at our girls like animals. Ya, their queens be bell, and all it is. Ain’t care for us!’

  The littles hush, look scary to Japhet. Become a troubling silence. Then Baby Leah laugh at last and throw her fritter to the floor. Susannah stoop and take it, with her eyes still brooding on Boy Japhet. I grit my jaw and breathe in deep. Hold this sorrow breath.

  ‘Foo conversations,’ say Susannah soft. ‘Ain’t know until we know. Now it be guests, you going to hold your mouth. Our husband pray decision.’

  Then I must wait John’s pointless prayer, if they will take the roo. I use this time to breathe myself to semblance, though my heart be knives. Heed their last refusal of the roo with patient face. I even think to beg some apple-picking from their orchard, in pology for disappointment.

  Yo, when I leave, the sun be scarcely risen to its height, although the morning feel so long. This day feel old and tired of me.

  6

  OF PASHA ROO

  I tie Money in our horsen field. Then I go to a briar gully, overgrown and lonely, for first testing of my gun. Ain’t brave yet for Sengles. Fear they asking on my visit. Ya, ever my troubles be, this pistol be a simple goodness.

  First I check the magazine, and wonder on its missing bullets – if these been children shot or meat. I pick one out to learn their make. Is parabellum nines, a common sort the Lowells keep. Yo, I allow myself five bullets for this testing practice.

  I shot my brother’s pistol before, and this gun be like; is almost disappointing normal. Still, she shooting where I aim, her trigger flighty quick. Spring back to my hand with leap joyeuse.

  But through this, my mind keep turning back to posies, find its hurt. Remember Popsicle and Lily of Gold, dead in this passen year; Abel of Christ who been the Christing husband before John. All been nineteen when they gone sick. Ya Sticking-bone live old, was twenty-one in posy dying. And my mind go through all dead I known, remind their posy age. Be some friendly twenties in this list, ya most be nineteen years. But be eighteens enough, and these names gather, sticking in my dread. Ya, Jemimah self be eighteen years, the same as Driver.

  Ever I pull my mind from this, the NewKing waiting dark in mind. Time I shoot the final bullet, my hand trembling awful. Gun mostly leap out of my grip. The bullet skew to nowhere.

  Then I swear in underbreath. Poke the gun into my belt and head to Sengle town.

  Town be a sally mess. Tents up since the yester rain, their orange color gone in grime. Is mudden trash around, and ashy circles from the evening fires. Across the town from me, one trickle fire still be lit. All littles scramble round it, and our hounds in bark delight. Some brats camp beneath the eating table, some hunt bluey caterpillars, some play war. Hate You Fourteen watch all these, while Mari’s Ghost boil soup upon the flames. Yo on the easter side, two trees from me, be Keepers and the roo.

  Keepers got a yo-yo and a cigarette. She blow smoke rings and send the yo-yo upward through the rings. Ain’t successful, but this been her aim. The roo lean on a piney trunk and smoke a cigarette self.

  The roo stand free. Ain’t bound. Ain’t guard except by petty Keepers. Like a prideful mouse go guard a bear.

  Keepers spot my coming, and she run to me with grinning face. Drop the yo-yo at my feet and cry, ‘Roo’s name be Pasha! I been speaking roo all morning!’

  I hold my speech. Be studying the roo. Standing, he goliath big, is sure a glory animal. Though his ghosty color spook me yet, he shapen normal. And as I look, he nod, the way a Christing will in greeting.

  I nod back with skeering heart. Recall the children took by roos, for meat or slavery. But pride insist, must show no fear. I fetch Keepers’ yo-yo from the dirt and cast it down. It rise fleet and fit my hand, while I ware on the roo.

  Keepers say, ‘I learn his talk so quick, it been like science. Next I go and learn the talk of deer. I go convince the deer to come be meat for us.’

  ‘Deer ain’t talk language, small. Be brainless creatures.’

  ‘Ain’t. Nor I ain’t small.’

  Here her victory ain’t contain. She break, run pelting to the roo. He brace his arms and toss the cigarette. My heart freeze hard. His hands as big as Keepers’ face. He going to go and squash her ribs, he throw her at the tree. Be late to shoot, my Keepers kilt in blood.

  She run and raise her arms and leap. He catch her in the air and sault her high above his head. Keepers screami
ng in her joy. He turn her high above, and set and seat her to his shoulder. There she perch, grip with both hands upon his furry head.

  I swear at her like any baby. My pistol wakeful in my hand, I ain’t remember how.

  Keepers call out, ‘Roo’s whole name be Pasha Sleeper! I invent him this last name.’

  Roo fix on my gun, until I put it back into my belt. Then he ease. Smile up at Keepers, houndish warm, like any another child.

  I say, my heart fresh with relief, ‘He cannot be both roo and sleeper.’

  ‘Ain’t so,’ say Keepers. ‘Roos the same as sleepers, I figure this.’

  ‘Sleepers all been roos?’ I laugh thin and walk to them. ‘Is curiose and wise. You be a well of truth, my Keepers Eight.’

  ‘You guess how old he be?’

  ‘I guess that you untie him.’

  Keepers close her fingers on his hair and pull. The roo go startle, then he laugh and swat her fingers loose. Lift her to the ground, then go complaining in his rooish talk. When he grin, it be a thing to see. Child lack half his teeth. Be science how he going to chew.

  Keepers say with knowledge face, ‘Must guess! How old?’

  ‘Nay, think what you do. You risking danger, but be older children face the danger. How I going to tie him now, without no Driver here?’

  ‘You guess, then give me talk.’

  ‘Where be Jermaine? I left him here to watch.’

  ‘Roo eaten him. Jermaine done talk too much and never listen.’

  ‘Keepers–’

  ‘Roo be thirty years! Pasha Thirty Sleeper, older than nobody else!’

  I chill down to my ankles. Put my hands behind me like this thirty be a catching fever. Yo Keepers look up at the roo joyeuse. Her eyes shine and convince. Is like she see the number thirty written on his brow.

  ‘Nay, he lying,’ I say weak. ‘Or you ain’t comprehend. Must teach him how to speak in words.’

  ‘Roos live longer, ya. We been discussing well in roo.’

  ‘Each beast live the same. Horse and hound and person live their eighteen–twenty years.’