Song

by Michelle Jana Chan

  Song watched her go. Halfway down the road she turned to look back. Her bicycle wobbled. He thought about her mismatched eyes. How beautiful they were because they were at odds. Not unlike his own life, from where he was seeing the world.

  After that encounter Song looked out for her from his window. She pedalled along the street in the early morning. Bronco always nodded at her. She’d release a hand from her handlebars to wave at the big man. Song could not understand how he had not noticed her before with two eyes, and now she was all he could see with one.

  One morning she stopped in the street and Song watched her offer Bronco a crescent-shaped biscuit. It obviously was not the first time. She held it up in front of his face and blew. A puff of icing sugar shrouded his face and he sneezed. She laughed. It was a melodic childish laugh for such a womanly figure.

  ‘Who’s that girl with the biscuits ?’ Song asked Bronco later.

  ‘On the bicycle ?’

  ‘The one with the funny eyes.’

  ‘Hannah. Mary Luck’s daughter. Of Mary Luck’s Lucky Bakery. She used to supply Louis till he got a better deal from that woman on the west side. Known Hannah since she was a baby. Tough mother. Not a tyrant but tough.’

  Song tried to remember something about the Lucks. Her bakery was not on the good side of town and Jingy wouldn’t have approved. Song had probably walked along their street before, mostly late at night when he took the long way from Chi’s to Ruby Lou’s. He tried to picture the street in the day, searching his mind for a bicycle leaning against a fence. For the glance of a girl as she pedalled off down a road, turning once to look back.

  Song wanted to meet Old Man Kuros alone. He asked Bronco. The big man knew everybody’s routine, which was a near miracle since all he did was stand outside one shop in one street almost every day of every week.

  ‘Do you want to see him inside or outside of his shop ?’ Bronco asked.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I just don’t want Farad around.’

  ‘Try the shop between twelve and two on a Wednesday. Farad plays bridge with Nutt that day. But sometimes they close the shop and the old man sleeps. Depends how he’s feeling. Out of the shop, ask Sugar. He pays her to walk him around town. Not that he pays her a lot. She ain’t got no loyalty to him so she’d tell you anything you need to know. You know he buys one pack of cigarettes a month from Louis. One pack! Says he doesn’t like to smoke more than that. Bad for his eyes. Bad for a blind man’s eyes, I ask you ? Truth is he’s tighter than a drum. Takes a puff, pinches the end; won’t take another till the next day.’

  Song went to see Sugar. The girls at Ruby Lou’s would do anything for him, and told him as much. Song was different, they said; Ruby Lou treated him like a son she’d never had.

  ‘Sure, lover boy. I got it,’ Sugar said. ‘I get a message across to you about where we’s goin’ so you can just turn up somewhere and it seems like we’re plum running into you. That right ?’

  The next day Bronco whistled up to Song just after lunchtime. Song came to the window. Bronco pointed west down the street and held up ten fingers. Ten minutes. End of the street.

  Song was there early. He saw them coming.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mr Ashkanzi. It’s Song.’

  The old man stopped. ‘What you doing waiting at the end of the street ?’

  ‘How did you know that ?’ Sugar snapped.

  Song talked over her. ‘I’m waiting for a friend, sir.’

  ‘How did you know he was waiting here ?’ Sugar asked again.

  ‘Man without eyes got feel,’ Old Man Kuros said. ‘He wasn’t walking when we came upon him, was he ?’

  Song tapped his finger on his lips to signal to Sugar to be quiet.

  ‘I heard you lost an eye,’ Old Man Kuros said. ‘That true ?’

  ‘Only one.’

  ‘Don’t go losing the other.’

  ‘I’m not planning on it.’

  ‘You lose the other and you have to rely on some untrustworthy fella to be your eyes. Like me. I’ve got my own cheating son to look out for me. Cheat his father ? Surely not his own father, you say ? In a heartbeat, I say. That boy stole from me the day he was born. Took his mother from me. That was the start of it and it’s never stopped. If he could steal from me when the two eyes in my head were as quick as a cat’s just think what he’s doing now.’

  ‘It can’t be that bad,’ Song said.

  ‘My own son, I tell you. My own flesh and blood.’

  ‘Can I walk with you ?’

  ‘I thought you were waiting for a friend.’

  ‘I am, but I won’t take a minute of your time. He’ll wait.’

  ‘Be my guest.’

  Song held up five fingers to Sugar. She nodded and dropped back.

  Song took Old Man Kuros’ arm. ‘Do you know anyone in Georgetown I can trust ?’

  Old Man Kuros snorted. ‘I don’t know anyone in the world you can trust.’

  ‘I want to set up a direct channel to Georgetown. I need a big player. I want them to be able to take everything I bring out. Ideally a sole operator.’ Song dropped his voice. ‘Someone who’s willing to see gold undeclared and split the difference. I can pay you for the introduction or a commission – without going through the shop. Farad doesn’t need to know about it.’

  Old Man Kuros chuckled. ‘You asking me to cut out my own son ?’

  ‘That’s up to you.’

  ‘How much gold are we talking about ?’

  Song hesitated. ‘How much would it have to be ?’

  Old Man Kuros muttered some sums. ‘What you brought into the shop – half a pound. Every week.’

  ‘No problem,’ Song said bluntly.

  ‘Every week. Not one week good, one week bad.’

  ‘Every week. That, sir, I can do.’

  ‘Mr Ebenezer is the man you want. I’ll write you a letter of introduction. You take it with you. Sealed. It’ll cost you two hundred dollars. You can pay me when you bring back the harpy. I’m not interested in taking a bit here and a bit there. Two hundred flat.’

  ‘With the harpy ? It might take a while getting her fixed up. Are you sure you want to wait that long ?’

  ‘You bring the money when you bring back my bird. I’ll get Sugar to bring the letter across.’ He snorted. ‘Now go and meet your friend.’

  *

  Song had chosen to take the long way to Chi’s that day, which would take him past Mary Luck’s Lucky Bakery. When he turned into her street he felt nervous, even a wave of shyness, something he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy. He tried to hold his head up, to walk tall, following the lyrics of Lady’s song.

  There were kids playing cricket in the street. The ball came near Song and he picked it up and threw it to one of the boys. He chipped it deftly at an angle back at the bowler but one of the street dogs rushed in and grabbed it in his mouth and bounded off. They chased him down, shouting till he dropped it.

  Song continued down the street. He studied more closely the neighbourhood where she lived. The houses had all been pretty at one time. Each was painted a different colour, like teacakes, but the lemon yellows and pastel pinks were faded now. The roofs sagged under the weight of age and the fretwork needed fixing, but the front yards were not heaped in scrap wood or junk, and on every porch neighbours sat out in rocking chairs drinking something soft from tall glasses or swinging in hammocks with a leg hanging out, pushing from time to time at the side of a pillar to keep swaying.

  Song startled himself when he saw Hannah. He had lost count of the houses he had passed and he was suddenly in front of hers. She was sitting on the porch brushing her mother’s long undone hair. Mary Luck noticed him first and Song could tell by the way she looked him over and slightly lifted her head to speak that she was asking her daughter about him.

  Hannah looked up and saw Song. She did not wave but smiled. Song’s heart lifted. He raised his hand as if to say hello.

  Then he saw her lean down and say something to her moth
er, before she continued brushing her hair, softly pulling the bristles downwards.

  Song continued walking past her house, until he could not see her out of the corner of his good eye. He longed to turn around and catch sight of her one more time. But he didn’t want to rush in. He needed to take it slow, like when he was sifting sand upriver; the only way to win something precious was with patience.

  The next afternoon Song walked again to Mary Luck’s Lucky Bakery. Hannah was not yet back from her deliveries but her mother was there.

  ‘You’re the one who walked past the house last night,’ Mary Luck said.

  Song saw where Hannah got her directness from. ‘Yes ma’am.’

  ‘And you’re back again.’

  ‘Yes. I wanted to place an order.’

  ‘For ?’

  ‘For one of everything you sell ?’

  ‘One ? One of everything ? I hope you’re kidding.’

  Song took a deep breath. ‘I’m not.’

  ‘What do you want with one of everything ? You setting up a business ? Trying to steal my ideas ?’

  ‘No ma’am,’ Song replied. ‘I was looking to find out what I liked best so I’d know what to order in the future.’

  Mary Luck gave a big sigh. ‘It’s a lot of fussy work to pack one of everything. Never had an order like that before. When do you want it ?’

  ‘Tomorrow ?’ Song said.

  ‘Tuesday,’ Mary Luck wrote down in her book. ‘Well, we don’t make everything every day. So tomorrow you can have one of everything we make tomorrow. On Wednesday you can have one of everything we make on Wednesdays except what you’ve already had on Tuesday. And Thursday you can have one of everything that you haven’t already had on Tuesday or Wednesday. And we can do that until we’re all exhausted and clean out of ideas. What do you say ?’

  Song laughed. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Orders around here getting crazier and crazier,’ Mary Luck said. ‘People around here getting crazier and crazier. What’s your name ?’

  ‘Song.’

  ‘Pretty name.’ She wrote ‘Song’ down on the receipt. ‘Address ?’

  ‘Opposite Louis’.’

  Mary Luck pursed her lips. ‘Don’t mention that man’s name to me,’ she said. ‘You know where he gets his cakes now ? Some heathen who keeps her sugar in a vat outside her door. Outside the door, I tell you. I’ve seen drunk men pee in that vat, mark me. You ever seen sugar stuck together in clumps ? That’s what it is. Sugar stuck with pee. Nothing to do with nothing else, don’t let anyone tell you neither. Louis is a mean old man who goes for price and not quality. That’s why he has that big man out front. Worried customers’ll get sick and come banging on his door. You can tell him I said so, too.’

  ‘I think I will,’ Song said.

  ‘You should.’ Mary Luck handed Song the receipt. ‘You going to be eating all this yourself ?’

  ‘Yes,’ Song said.

  ‘Well, looks like you need to. Why you so skinny ? And what happened to your eye ?’

  ‘I lost it.’

  ‘Well, don’t go losing the other. Hard to get by in this world without your eyes, one or two. My mother went blind, although it was a fall that eventually killed her. But it was the blindness that made her fall. If you can’t see where you’re going, you’ll fall over and die and that’s the wrong order. We should be dying and falling over, not the other way around.’

  Hannah walked into the shop carrying a dozen empty baking trays.

  ‘About time,’ Mary Luck said. ‘What you been doing ? Taking a sight-seeing tour of the neighbourhood ?’

  ‘A darn dog got in my way,’ Hannah said, ‘and everything went flying. It took a good half-hour to stack up all the trays and fix ’em up tight again. Took me another half-hour to get the chain back on.’

  Mary Luck tutted. ‘She spends her life falling over,’ she said to Song. ‘Wrong way round, mark me.’

  Song was looking into Hannah’s face trying to see her mismatched eyes again. There was a streak of black grease on her cheek.

  ‘You want to hear what this young man wants ?’ Mary Luck said to her daughter. ‘It’s the one who was on the street last night. He just walked on in here and ordered one of everything. What do you make of that ?’

  Hannah looked at Song. ‘I’d say he has good taste.’

  ‘I’d say so,’ Song replied.

  Hannah’s green eye flashed.

  Song knew Mary Luck saw the look that passed between him and her daughter.

  ‘You two know each other ?’

  ‘You know him, too,’ Hannah said. ‘He came by here with Father Holmes years ago. Don’t you remember ?’

  Song didn’t remember, but he was glad she did.

  ‘How’m I supposed to remember something that happened years ago when I can barely remember what happened this morning ?’ Mary Luck was examining the corners of the trays. ‘You’ve dented them. You’ll have to hammer them out. You make more work than you do, chil’. Can you stop wasting time chit-chatting in the shop when there are trays to scrub out the back ? Excuse me, mister, but you’ll have to go now. We’ll send your one-of-everything order tomorrow. Then you can figure out what you like and what you don’t like.’

  Song wanted to stay there rooted to the floor forever, listening to this mother and daughter banter. He knew what he liked. He already knew what he wanted.

  CHAPTER 19

  Song saw Hannah every day that week to receive his order of cakes. She was always late, her face damp with sweat, and she would rush off before they’d had even a minute’s exchange. But it was enough time for Song to notice more about her. There was a lightness to her. She was playful, almost childlike in nature with her clumsy ways and sticky hands that she’d lick or wipe on her apron that was already smeared with the pink of guava jelly and the yellow of pineapple jam. She was always on the move, running late but always smiling. Entirely natural, free. She reminded him of the swifts darting about the waterfall at Kaieteur.

  On Friday afternoon Song went back to Mary Luck’s Lucky Bakery.

  ‘You should be pleased to know you’re looking fatter,’ Mary Luck said, looking him over. ‘So you decided which recipes you’re going to steal from me ?’

  Song laughed. ‘I like them all. I’ve got another strange order for you, ma’am. Can you just send me something sweet every day. Anything. I’m not there all the time but Bronco can have it when I’m gone. I live across from Lou—’ Song stopped himself mid-sentence.

  ‘I know exactly where you live without you telling me again. Been sending enough cakes there this week to buy myself a new house. Problem is we now go from twenty-two cakes on one day down to one. How’s a woman meant to run a business like that ?’

  Song laughed again. He wondered if there had ever been a Mr Luck.

  ‘Don’t tell me you came all this way to place an order for one cake a day ? Have you got nothing to do with your days except eat cakes ?’

  ‘I also wanted to ask you,’ Song hesitated, ‘if I could take Hannah for a walk tonight ?’

  Mary Luck looked up. ‘Ah, I see. Would this be a short walk or a long walk ?’

  ‘Not too long.’

  Mary Luck did not reply for a minute or two. Then they both started to speak at the same time.

  ‘I—’ said Song.

  ‘I—’ said Mary Luck.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Song. ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re asking me,’ Mary Luck said. ‘You’re not asking me to go for this walk, are you ? I’d certainly say no if you were. Hannah’s got a mind of her own to be deciding if she wants to go for a walk, long or short. With you or anybody else. There ain’t a man in this family to stop you asking her direct.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am.’

  ‘And who’s your family?’

  It had been a long time since Song blushed. He felt awkward telling her his story. He hoped it was good enough. ‘Father Holmes looked after me, ma’am. You might have hear
d he was on the Falmouth three years ago. That was the boat that went down. Before that I came on the Dartmouth from China. My mother let me go so I might find work. My father had already passed on.’

  ‘Well, they’d be proud to see you today – even though you’re skinny and lost an eye on the way. You can’t have everything. Friends can be as good as family, especially in a place like Bartica.’

  ‘I think you’re right, ma’am. I have friends here I’d trust with my life.’ Song thought of Jingy and Bronco, maybe Chi, although he wasn’t sure there was anybody else.

  ‘Well, just because you’ve got nice friends doesn’t mean you have to go trusting them with your life, or forgetting your family either. At least you have some family you know about. There’s plenty of chillun running around here who don’t know where they come from. You know who your family is, at least.’

  Song nodded. ‘I do, you’re right.’ But he thought how far away they were. How his memories were fading. He wondered if they were even alive.

  ‘Ever think about going back ?’

  ‘I promised I’d go back, but I couldn’t face that journey again.’

  Mary Luck nodded. ‘Fair enough. You wouldn’t get me on a boat either. But it don’t matter. Your mother knows you’re safe and well. Mothers are smart like that.’

  ‘I’ve sometimes hoped that she believes me to be dead, rather than the son who never came back after promising everything.’

  Mary Luck scoffed. ‘Those kind of promises don’t count. Never have. Never will. They’re just said out loud for drama. She’d rather you were alive, trust me. Mothers want what’s best for their children, not what’s best for them.’

  Song felt heartened by her words, but didn’t know if it was the truth.

  ‘Best thing you can do is fatten yourself up and take care of that other eye of yours. Now you go and find Hannah to see if she wants to join you on that not-so-long walk of yours. That girl seems to think she’s got more time on her hands, mark me, than the laziest stray in Bartica. Always late for everything. I’ve no doubt she’ll think she’s got time for a walk, too. I on the other hand can’t be talking all day. Remember I got one whole single cake to be making for tomorrow.’