A Million Tears (The Tears Series)

by Paul Henke

  Bill cleaned the slate with a rag and began writing. Although he told it cryptically the story was as follows:

  I was down in El Paso on the Mexican border just over four years ago. On the other side of the border is the town of Ciudad Juarez. I visited there with my parents, brother and sister. Mexico must be the most unhappy land in the world. They have a Dictator named Porfirio Diaz who has made his people virtual slaves. Well, there’s a lot of unrest caused by the peons and some of the middle classes. A man named Francisco Madero is leading them but if you ask me I’d say he’s no better than Diaz. He just wants power and money.

  There is a lot of shooting all the time and people are always being killed for one reason and another. The peons shoot them while the Government hangs them. And when I say that I mean they hang whole villages if one man has been found to be on Madero’s side.

  ‘Women and children as well?’ Sion asked in horror.

  Yes, wrote Bill. They are always robbing banks to pay for their revolution. My family and I were in a bank in Juarez when it was robbed. Some army men appeared and started shooting at the robbers. All my family were mistakenly gunned down by both sides as were most of the other customers. I was shot through the neck.

  Bill took off his scarf to show Sion the puckered red and white scars either side of his throat.

  By a miracle I lived. Even the doctor thought I should have died. For a long time afterwards I wished I had. All my family were gone and I had nobody to turn to. Although I’m not religious, a priest helped me a lot and while I was getting better he taught me quite a lot and taught me how to speak with my hands.

  ‘How do you mean, speak with your hands?’

  Bill put the chalk down and moved his fingers and hands quickly, then wrote – That means you’re a good bloke. Another person who can’t speak or is deaf could possibly understand me, though the hand language isn’t that well known. We copied the idea from the Red Indians I think, though I’m not too sure about that. It meant, after a while, I could talk to Father Mendez. He was a great man. It was he who persuaded me to try for college and to use the money I inherited from my father to get an education. Just before I left he was hanged by the Government troops in Juarez and that was when I came here. I was in Columbus for about three months waiting to learn whether or not they would accept me as a pupil. I’m cynical perhaps but I think my money finally persuaded them. I’ve been told, though, if I’m too much of a nuisance I’ll have to leave.

  It had taken nearly an hour for Bill to write the full story and by that time Sion realised his sore throat and the minor incident was nothing by comparison to what had happened to Bill. And he had been thinking of running home to Mam. He felt disgusted with himself and suitably humbled.

  He noticed the time and exclaimed: ‘I’m going over to meet Colin Callaghan for a beer. Why don’t you come too? I’m sure he won’t mind.’

  Bill nodded, then wrote – Will there be many there, do you think?

  ‘I shouldn’t think so. Come on, if he objects I’ll leave too. Heck it’s not every day a guy owes his life to someone.’

  They found Seymour block without difficulty and a few minutes later Sion knocked on the door behind which they could hear loud voices and laughter. It was opened by a stranger who scowled at the intrusion.

  ‘Eh, my name is Sion Griffiths and Colin asked me over.’

  ‘Hey, Colin,’ the man called over his shoulder, keeping his foot to the door, ‘a chap named Griffiths is here. Says you said to come over.’

  Sion heard a mumble in the background and the foot was removed. Bill followed Sion into the room. There were about a dozen students lolling about the room, glasses of beer in their hands, all staring at the two newcomers in a most disconcerting way.

  ‘Eh, Colin,’ said Sion, ‘I brought Whalley. I reckoned after he saved my life like that he deserved a drink. But if you want, we’ll go,’ Sion cleared his throat nervously.

  ‘Naw, it’s all right. Hey, fellows, this is the man I was telling you about. His first introduction to this, our college, was sure a unique one.’ They laughed and somebody thrust a glass of beer into Sion’s hand. Names were exchanged but Sion did not catch any of them. Sion realised one or two were looking strangely at Bill.

  ‘This is Bill Whalley. He can’t talk due to an accident a few years back.’

  ‘A real strong, silent type,’ one of the men said.

  ‘That’s not a nice thing to say,’ Sion flared up. ‘You ought to apologise to Bill or . . .’

  ‘Hey, take it easy,’ Colin Callaghan intervened. ‘Nobody meant anything by it. Bill here is going to have to learn to take a lot more cracks than that and if you leap to his defence everytime, well you’re going to be doing a lot of fighting – an awful lot in fact, and all for nothing. Know why?’

  Sion shook his head.

  ‘Cause nobody’ll mean anything by it, that’s why. They’ll only be joking. It’s the only way to treat something like that. You ask Bill here. Right Bill?’

  Bill nodded and squeezed Sion’s shoulder.

  ‘See what I mean?’ Callaghan waved them to sit on the floor. ‘I was telling you fellows what happened this afternoon. Anyway, the maniac was taken away still screaming and hollering something terrible. Isn’t that right?’ Callaghan turned to Sion and Bill and they nodded. ‘And to top it all off, guys, don’t you see the family resemblance between Sion and David Griffiths? They’re brothers.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be,’ said one of the men on the floor. ‘I’ve been sitting here wondering who he reminded me of. Now you’ve said it, it’s obvious.’ He turned to Sion. ‘Do you play football as well?’

  ‘Eh, no. That is, I haven’t really learned how to play. Dave told me about it but back where I come from there isn’t much of that in school. But I guess I can always learn.’

  ‘Sure, you can always learn,’ said one of the men sitting by the desk. ‘You’ve got the build for a fastish runner. I guess we can try you out sometime. What do you say, John?’

  ‘Sure, why not,’ said John Greenboro, a big man with brown hair, broad shoulders and a broad grin.

  ‘John’s captain of the team,’ said Callaghan. ‘How’s them beers coming along, boys? Ready for another one yet?’

  Sion and Bill shook their heads.

  ‘Don’t forget what I told you, young Griffiths. No letting on you’ve been over here, okay? If you’re caught and they prove you’ve been drinking, then tell them you brought it with you. If you keep quiet then there’s no reason why you don’t come back again.’

  Sion nodded, pleased at the honour.

  ‘I invited you to meet these guys because I figured you might prove to be as good a footballer as Dave. And the sooner we try you and find out, the better. If you do all right it’ll mean plenty of trips away and cutting lectures to practise,’ said Callaghan.

  Sion nodded doubtfully. He was not that interested in sport and he did not like the idea of cutting lectures. He was not about to tell the occupants of the room however, that he thought it senseless for grown men to go chasing an odd shaped lump of leather around a bit of grass.

  It was getting late when Bill and Sion left to return to their own rooms. Sion had learned that his brother had been a very good player during his time at the university and was surprised David had said so little about it. Or maybe he had and Sion had not appreciated the significance of being on the varsity team.

  They had also learned that Bill’s room mate was not due to arrive until the next day so Sion moved his stuff in with Bill.

  33

  Although he tried hard, Sion never did make it as a footballer. Somehow he could not co-ordinate properly and would drop easy catches or slice his kicks. After a month of trying he finally decided to give up. ‘That’s my last game Bill. I’m not playing any more.’ He looked around to make sure nobody was within hearing distance and mouthed the heresy. ‘I used to think it all pointless, well I no longer think so.’ He smiled at his friend’s puzzled look. �
��Nope, now I know it is,’ and Sion burst out laughing. Bill’s shoulders heaved though he made no sound.

  On the whole Sion and Bill attended the same classes although Bill was working towards becoming a doctor whilst Sion still didn’t know what he wanted to do. So far there had been no social scene apart from the occasional beer drinking party but that evening Bill and Sion decided to go into the town. According to Callaghan and the other third year students there was very little to see or do.

  Not only had Bill and Sion become good friends now but Sion was also trying to learn Bill’s sign language so that communication would be quicker. When they walked through the main gate they were warned by the gate-keeper to be back before ten o’clock because the gates were locked promptly.

  They followed the road into town, about half a mile away. Along the main street were a number of general stores, numerous book shops catering for the university, and a hotchpot of shops. There were a number of bars and hotels. They quickly learned the bars were out of bounds to university students, although they were allowed to eat in the hotels.

  Not being hungry and with little else to do they were ready to return to the university when Sion suggested they went up one of the side streets, where they came across a restaurant. They wandered into the dim but pleasant atmosphere to find a small bar and a dozen tables scattered around the room. In a corner three men were eating, the rest of the place was empty.

  ‘This looks interesting,’ said Sion and Bill nodded in agreement. ‘Shall we get something to eat here?’ Sniffing the air he said, ‘Whatever’s cooking back there smells good.’ From behind a beaded curtain a young girl came out, picked up a menu from the bar and walked across the room.

  Sion handed the menu back to the girl with an order for two plates of sauerkraut and sausage. ‘And can we have two beers, please?’

  She frowned but said nothing and went back into the kitchen. A few moments later a big bellied man came from the kitchen to their table. ‘Can’t serve you. You must leave please.’ He crossed his arms and looked sternly at them.

  ‘But why?’ Sion protested. ‘We haven’t done anything wrong. Why can’t you serve us?’

  ‘You’re from the university. I can tell. You’re new boys. You’re not allowed to eat here.’

  ‘Look, we won’t have the beer, how’s that? Surely we can have something to eat?’

  ‘No. It was decided that it’s not good for young gentlemen,’ he spat on the floor, ‘to eat in a Polack’s place and to eat Polack’s food. So you’ve got to go. Or else I’m in trouble.’

  ‘Wait a moment. Surely it’s us that’ll be in trouble? We’re the ones breaking the rules, not you.’

  ‘If you don’t go the law will come and close us down. They say that this place is a bad influence on young Americans.’ He grimaced as though he had a bad taste in his mouth.

  ‘That’s no problem then,’ said Sion with a smile. I’m not American. I’m Welsh. So you can serve me, can’t you?’

  ‘No, I cannot. Now please go before I throw you out.’

  Sion shrugged helplessly at Bill, who signalled that they should leave.

  Sion looked up at the man and said, ‘Before we go will you tell us what it’s all about? Why are you em, a bad influence on us?’

  ‘Because we are Polacks, as you people call us. They say we are trouble makers. Now go before I get mad.’ He scowled even more and the boys got to their feet. As they did so, one of the customers said something in Polish and the barman shrugged and spoke to them again.

  ‘Sit down a minute. You’re going to have a beer before you go. My name is Joseph and I’m going to tell you something. We’re from Poland. We came over here to escape from the persecution that exists in our motherland; we came to the country of the so called free. Most of the immigrants ended up in the mining area of Pittsburgh. Do you know where I mean?’

  Both boys nodded.

  ‘There I started a school and we got on fine for a couple of years. I made about what the men in the mines were making, charging them for English lessons. We found that if the miners – and I mean only the new immigrant miners like we Poles – did not give a backhander to the manager of the mine they would have no job.’

  ‘That’s terrible. What happened? Did you do anything about it?’ asked Sion.

  ‘We tried to complain but it didn’t get us anywhere. In fact it made matters worse. So some of us left Pittsburgh and we came here.’

  ‘My Dad told me a lot about what it was like when he was a miner.’ Sion went on to tell them about the disaster with the slag heap and Sian’s death and in particular the hatred felt by the miners for the bosses and owners. ‘I get really angry when I think about the injustice of it all. I wish I could do something about it. I guess that’s why Dad is so interested in politics. He figures it’s the only way to get things done. One day he might even run for Congress. But that still doesn’t explain why we can’t come in here.’

  ‘It’s simple. Because we’re Polish. Because there are rumours around the town about what happened in Pittsburgh. Because we are called anarchists and anti-American. So there’s a ban on all students visiting the place.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ Sion said, aghast.

  ‘Its maybe unfair but it’s true. Bigotry rules, even here. So, now please, you must go.’

  They stood, said goodnight and left. They returned to the university feeling despondent.

  ‘How about us going across to Colin’s and seeing if he’s got a spare beer?’ They swerved towards Seymore block. ‘You know I’d like to do something for the Poles. Show them that we support them.’

  Bill squeezed Sion’s shoulder in agreement.

  They sat in Colin’s room sipping beer and telling him what had happened.

  ‘I knew about it,’ said Colin, ‘but didn’t know all the details. You guys want to remember something, it’s big business that runs this country and not justice and fair play like it says in the books.’

  Sion frowned for a moment and then said: ‘Why not fight power with power? Listen. How many guys would like to use that place? It’s cheap and has a pleasant atmosphere. Right?’ Colin and Bill nodded. ‘Okay. Say we got enough of the men interested and we all just went. Told the Dean that we don’t agree with the ban and that he had no right to stop us going. What would happen then? After all, if he took any action against any of us and we all stuck together what could he do? Send us all down?’

  ‘How about shutting the place down?’ suggested Colin, Bill nodding in agreement.

  ‘Same thing. We stick together and threaten to leave en masse if he does that. I reckon we could get away with it, you know. If there’s any problems we use our influence, perhaps get our fathers to help, threaten to leave, anything like that,’ Sion finished lamely.

  Colin and Bill continued with their head shaking and Colin explained, ‘I agree with the sentiment Sion but I don’t think there’s much we can do about it.’

  On that note the two left for their own room. Sion lay awake well into the night and from time to time a boiling rage flared up in him at the injustice of it all.

  He did not bring up the subject again and so it came as a surprise when Colin said to him and Bill, ‘By the way, I talked things over with some of the others and forcing the Dean into something he doesn’t like rather appeals to them.’

  They looked at him puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’ asked Sion, while Bill’s fingers and hands flashed the same question at Sion.

  ‘About the restaurant. They reckon it might not be a bad gag to . . .’

  ‘It’s not a gag, Colin,’ interrupted Sion. ‘If they only think of it as a gag then I don’t want them to do anything.’

  ‘Gag was maybe the wrong word. The others feel badly about it too. Especially Jonas McCarthy and do you know why?’

  Sion shrugged and then read Bill’s signals.

  ‘Because according to Bill, Jonas’ father owns some of the mines around Pittsburgh.’

  ‘Could y
ou read all that from Bill’s fingers?’

  ‘Not really. He said father had mines and I guessed the rest.’

  ‘You know that when his grandfather died he was left twenty five percent of the shares in his father’s companies and at the ripe old age of twenty one he’ll be on the board? So he’ll have a lot of influence. If he learns enough about what happened in Pittsburgh he may be able to help the miners there in the future. So this is not just about a small restaurant owner in a small town.’

  They talked football for a while. Although Sion was no longer playing he and Bill now helped to manage the team

  – arranging games and transport whenever necessary.

  It was the last Friday of November when twenty or more students left the university and made their way into town. The restaurant was empty when they went in and grabbed tables close together. A few seconds later, hearing the noise of scraping chairs the girl came from the kitchen and called her father.

  ‘What’s wrong n . . .’ he stopped in astonishment, took a pace forward and then halted when Colin and another half dozen came in.

  Sion suddenly took heart. ‘Beers all round please, Joseph.’

  Joseph hesitated and then shrugged his shoulders. When one of them asked for a menu the others quickly followed. Joseph was unsure whether to laugh or be worried. He chose the former.

  The conversation was brittle, the laughter forced and the attempts at joking a strain to begin with. But the more beer they drank the more relaxed they became.

  Joseph said to Sion, ‘I suppose this was your idea, eh?’

  Sion shrugged and looked embarrassed. Joseph also shrugged, smiled and went to serve at another table. When he returned he said to Sion and Bill, ‘You know that this will not last. That they will give in?’ Joseph waved his hand indicating the others in the restaurant.

  ‘They won’t,’ said Sion. ‘We’ve got the football team here and they’re pretty tough guys. They’ll stick it out.’