My Sweet Orange Tree

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My Sweet Orange Tree Page 9

by José Mauro de Vasconcelos

* * *

  Glória was fretting as she got me dressed, helping me to put on my shoes.

  ‘Are you OK to go?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You’re not going to do something silly on the highway, are you?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Was it true what you said?’

  ‘No. It’s just that I was really sad ’cause I thought no one loved me.’

  She ran her hands over my fine blond hair and sent me off.

  I thought it would only be hard until I got to the highway and that once I took off my shoes, the pain would ease up. But when my bare foot touched the ground it was too much and I had to go slowly, leaning against the wall of the factory. At that rate I’d never get there.

  Then the thing happened. The horn honked three times. Damn! It wasn’t enough that I was dying of pain and here he was to bully me.

  The car pulled up alongside me. He stuck his body out and called, ‘Hey squirt, you hurt your foot?’

  I felt like saying that it was none of his business. But because he hadn’t called me toerag, I didn’t reply and kept walking.

  He started the car again, passed me and pulled over onto the pavement, blocking me. He opened the door and got out, his large body towering over mine.

  ‘Is it hurting a lot, squirt?

  It wasn’t possible that a person who had beaten me was now speaking in such a gentle, almost friendly, voice. He came even closer and, unexpectedly, knelt down and looked me in the eye. His smile was so soft it seemed to radiate affection.

  ‘It looks like you’ve really hurt yourself. What happened?’

  I sniffed a little before replying.

  ‘Piece of glass.’

  ‘Is it deep?’

  I showed him with my fingers.

  ‘Oh! That’s serious. Why didn’t you stay home? You’re on your way to school, aren’t you?’

  ‘My parents don’t know I hurt myself. If they find out they’ll beat me to teach me not to get hurt.’

  ‘Come with me, I’ll take you.’

  ‘No, thank you, sir.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Everyone at school knows what happened that time.’

  ‘But you can’t walk like that.’

  It was true. I hung my head, feeling that my pride was about to take a tumble.

  He lifted my head up by the chin.

  ‘Let’s forget a few things. Ever been in a car?’

  ‘No, sir, never.’

  ‘Then I’m going to give you a lift.’

  ‘I can’t. We’re enemies.’

  ‘I don’t care. If you’re ashamed, I’ll drop you off before we get to the school. OK?’

  I was so moved I didn’t even reply. I just nodded. He picked me up, opened the door and sat me carefully in the passenger seat. He walked around the car and got in. Before starting the engine, he smiled at me again.

  ‘That’s better, see.’

  The lovely feeling of the car cruising along, with the occasional jiggle, made me close my eyes and begin to dream. It was smoother and nicer than Fred Thompson’s horse, Silver King. But it wasn’t for long because when I opened my eyes we were almost at the school. I could already see the crowd of schoolchildren swarming through the front gate. Terrified, I slid off the seat and hid. I said angrily, ‘You promised to stop before we got to the school.’

  ‘I changed my mind. That foot of yours can’t be left like that. You could get tetanus.’

  I couldn’t even ask what that beautiful, tricky word was. I also knew it was pointless saying I didn’t want to go. The car turned onto Rua das Casinhas and I returned to the seat.

  ‘You strike me as a brave little man. Let’s go see if it’s true.’

  He pulled up in front of the pharmacy and carried me inside in his arms. When Dr Adaucto Luz came to help us, I was terrified. He was doctor to the factory staff and knew Father well. And my fear grew bigger when he me looked at me and asked straight off the bat, ‘You’re Paulo Vasconcelos’s son, aren’t you? Has he found a position yet?’

  I had to answer, although I was ashamed that the Portuguese now knew that Father was unemployed.

  ‘He’s waiting. He’s been promised a lot of things …’

  ‘Well, let’s get down to business.’

  He peeled back the cloth stuck to the cut and let out an ‘uh-oh’ that frightened me. My lips began to quiver. But the Portuguese came to my rescue.

  They sat me on a table covered with white sheets. A bunch of tools appeared. And I shook. The only reason I didn’t shake more was because the Portuguese leaned my back against his chest and held me by the shoulders, firmly but gently.

  ‘It won’t hurt much. When it’s over, I’ll take you for a soda and sweets. If you don’t cry, I’ll buy you some sweets that come with trading cards.’

  I mustered up all the courage I could. The tears streamed down my face and I let them do everything. They gave me stitches and even an anti-tetanus injection. I struggled against the desire to throw up. The Portuguese held me tight as if he wanted to take on a little of my pain. He mopped my sweaty hair and face with his handkerchief. It felt like it was never going to end. But it did eventually.

  When he took me to the car, he was satisfied. He had done everything he’d promised. Except that now I didn’t want anything. It was as if my soul had been torn out through my feet.

  ‘You can’t go to school now, squirt.’

  We were in the car and I was sitting very close to him, leaning against his arm, almost getting in the way of his driving.

  ‘I’ll take you somewhere near your house. You make something up. You can say you got hurt at playtime and that the teacher sent you to the pharmacy.’

  I looked at him with appreciation.

  ‘You’re a brave little man, squirt.’

  I smiled through the pain, but inside that pain I had just discovered something important. The Portuguese was now the person I liked most in the world.

  Chapter Three

  CONVERSATIONS, HERE AND THERE

  ‘Hey, Pinkie, I already know practically everything. Everything. He lives on Rua Barão de Capanema. Right at the end. He parks his car next to his house. He has two cages, one with a canary in it and another with a blue bird in it. I went there really early with my shoeshine box, acting all casual. I wanted to go so badly, Pinkie, that the box didn’t even feel heavy this time. I had a good look at the house and thought it was too big for a person to live in alone. He was down the side, at the washtub. Shaving.

  ‘I clapped my hands.

  ‘“Want your shoes shined, sir?”

  ‘He came out to the front with his face covered in soap, one bit already shaved. He smiled and said, “Oh, it’s you! Come in, squirt.”

  ‘I followed him.

  ‘“Just wait, I’ll be done in a minute.”

  ‘And he scraped his face with the razor: kechah, kechah, kechah. When I’m all grown up, I thought, I want stubble that sounds like that when I shave: kechah, kechah, kechah …

  ‘I sat on my box and waited. He looked at me in the mirror.

  ‘“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

  ‘“Today’s a public holiday, sir. That’s why I’m out shining shoes, to make a few tostões.”

  ‘“I see.”

  ‘And he went back to shaving. Then he leaned over the washtub, splashed water on his face and dried it with a towel. His face looked flushed and shiny. He laughed again.

  ‘“Want to have breakfast with me?”

  ‘I said I didn’t, even though I did.

  ‘“Come on in.”

  ‘You should have seen how clean and neat it was. He had a red chequered tablecloth and even proper coffee cups. Not tin cups like the ones at home. He said an old black woman came every day to tidy up when he went to work.

  ‘“If you like, dunk your bread in the coffee like this. But don’t slurp when you take a sip. It’s bad manners.”’

  I looked at Pinkie, but he was as q
uiet as a ragdoll.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Nothing. I’m listening.’

  ‘Look, Pinkie, I don’t like arguments, but if you’re upset you’d best say so now.’

  ‘It’s just that all you do now is play Portuguese and I can’t join in.’

  I thought about it. Of course. It hadn’t even occurred to me that he couldn’t join in.

  ‘In a couple of days we’re going to meet Buck Jones. I sent him a message through Chief Sitting Bull. Buck Jones is far away, hunting in the savannah … Pinkie, is it savannah or savannah? I’m not sure. Next time I go to Gran’s, I’ll ask Uncle Edmundo.’

  Silence again.

  ‘Now where were we?’

  ‘Dunking coffee in bread.’

  I laughed.

  ‘You don’t dunk coffee in bread, silly.’

  ‘Anyway, me and the Portuguese were both quiet and he just looked at me, studying me.

  ‘“So you managed to find out where I live.”

  ‘I felt uncomfortable and decided to come clean.

  ‘“Promise not to get mad if I tell you something, sir?”

  ‘“Of course. There should be no secrets among friends.”

  ‘“I haven’t shined any shoes today.”

  ‘“I suspected that was the case.”

  ‘“But I really wanted to … Over this side no one needs their shoes dusted off. It’s only people who live near the highway.”

  ‘“But you could have come without lugging all that weight around, no?”

  ‘“If I didn’t lug all this weight around, I wouldn’t have been allowed out. I can’t wander off very far. Every now and then I have to show my face at home, you see? To go further away, I have to pretend I’m working.”

  ‘He laughed at my logic.

  ‘“If I’m working, they know I’m not getting up to mischief. It’s better this way, because I don’t get beaten as much.”

  ‘“I don’t believe you’re as naughty as you say you are.”

  ‘Then I went really serious.

  ‘“I’m worthless, really bad. That’s why it’s the devil that’s born in my heart on Christmas Day, not Baby Jesus, and I never get a single present. I’m a pest, sir. A nuisance. A dog. A lowlife. One of my sisters said that a wretch like me shouldn’t have been born.”

  ‘He scratched his head in surprise.

  ‘“Just this week I’ve had several beatings. Some of them hurt a lot. I also get beaten for things I didn’t do. I get blamed for everything. Everyone hits me.”

  ‘“But what do you do that’s so bad?”

  ‘“It really must be the devil’s work. I get this itch to do something, and then I do it. This week I set fire to Eugênia’s fence. I called Dona Cordélia a hippo and she got really mad. I kicked a ball of rags and the stupid thing went through Dona Narcisa’s window and broke her big mirror. I broke three street lights with my slingshot. I hit Seu Abel’s son with a stone.”

  ‘“Enough, enough.”

  ‘He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his smile.

  ‘“But there’s more. I pulled up all the seedlings that Dona Tentena had just planted. I made Dona Rosena’s cat swallow a marble.”

  ‘“Oh! That’s no good. I don’t like to see animals mistreated.”

  ‘“It wasn’t a big one. It was really tiny. They gave the critter a laxative and it came out. Instead of giving me back my marble, they gave me a right thrashing. Or worse, one time I was asleep and Father took his sandal and whacked me. I didn’t even know why he was hitting me.”

  ‘“And why was it?”

  ‘“A whole bunch of us had gone to the cinema. We’d gone on a Monday ’cause it’s cheaper. And when we were there I needed to go, you know? So I stood in the corner by the wall and went. And it went trickling down. It’s silly to leave and miss part of the film. But you know what boys are like, sir. If one does something then everyone else wants to do it, too. So they all took turns in the corner and the trickle turned into a river. They ended up finding out and you know what they said: it was Seu Paulo’s boy. So they banned me from the Cinema Bangu for a year, until I learned how to behave. That night the owner told Father and he wasn’t impressed, believe me.”’

  Pinkie was still pouting.

  ‘Look, Pinkie, you don’t need to be like this. He’s my best friend. But you’re the absolute king of the trees, just like Luís is the absolute king of my brothers. Our hearts need to be big enough for everything we love, you know.’

  Silence.

  ‘Know what, Pinkie? I’m going to play marbles. You’re very grumpy lately.’

  * * *

  In the beginning it was only a secret because I was afraid to be seen in the car of the man who had walloped me. Afterwards I kept it up because it was nice to have a secret. And the Portuguese went along with it. We had made a pact that no one would ever find out about our friendship. Firstly, because he didn’t want to give lifts to all the kids. When we saw people we knew, or even Totoca, I would slide down in the seat. Secondly, because we didn’t want anyone interrupting us, as we had lots to talk about.

  ‘Have you ever seen my mother, sir? She’s an Apinajé Indian. Her parents were real Indians. We’re all half Indians.’

  ‘So how did you turn out so fair? With this almost white-blond hair, to boot?’

  ‘It’s the Portuguese side of the family. Mother looks like an Indian. She’s really dark with straight hair. Only Glória and I came out fair. Mother works on the looms at the English Mill to help pay the bills. The other day she went to load a box of spools and suddenly she felt this sharp pain. She had to go to the doctor. He gave her a girdle to wear ’cause of a hernia in her back. Mother’s quite nice to me. When she smacks me, she gets a switch of arrowleaf from the backyard and only hits me on the legs. She’s always so tired when she gets home at night that she doesn’t even feel like talking.’

  The car cruised and I chattered.

  ‘My oldest sister’s really something. She’s such a flirt. When Mother used to ask her to look after us and take us for a walk, she’d tell her not to go up to the top of the street because she knew she had a boyfriend waiting at the corner. So she’d head down to the bottom of the street and there’d be another boyfriend waiting there. You couldn’t leave any pencils around, ’cause she was always writing letters to her boyfriends …’

  ‘Here we are.’

  We were near the market and he was pulling over at the place we’d agreed on.

  ‘See you tomorrow, squirt.’

  He knew I’d find a way to get him to stop off with me for a soda and a few trading cards. I’d already figured out the times when he didn’t have much to do.

  It had been going on for more than a month. Much more. But I never knew an adult could look as sad as he did when I told him the stories about Christmas. His eyes filled with tears and he stroked my head, promising that I would never go without a Christmas present again.

  The days passed slowly and, above all, happily. People were beginning to notice my transformation, even at home. I wasn’t getting up to as much mischief and was always off in my own little world in the backyard. It’s true that sometimes the devil got the better of me. But I didn’t swear as much as I used to and I left the neighbours in peace.

  Whenever he could, the Portuguese would invent an outing, and it was on one of these outings that he pulled the car over and smiled at me.

  ‘Do you like riding in “our” car?’

  ‘Is it mine too?’

  ‘Everything that’s mine is yours. Like two really good friends.’

  I was ecstatic. If only I could tell everyone that I was half owner of the most beautiful car in the world.

  ‘So, does this mean that now we’re completely friends?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then can I ask you something?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘You don’t want to grow up quickly so you can kill me any more, do you?’

  ‘No. I�
��d never do that.’

  ‘But you said it, didn’t you?’

  ‘I said it when I was angry. I’m never going to kill anyone because when they kill chickens at home, I can’t even watch. Then I discovered that you’re not what they say you are. You’re not a cannibal or anything.’

  He almost jumped.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Cannibal.’

  ‘And do you know what that is?’

  ‘Yes, I do, sir. Uncle Edmundo taught me. He’s a wise man. There’s a man in the city who invited him to make a dictionary. The only thing he’s never been able to explain to me is what a carborundum is.’

  ‘You’re changing the subject. I want you to explain to me what a cannibal is, exactly.’

  ‘Cannibals were Indians who ate human flesh. In the Brazilian history book there’s a picture of one skinning some Portuguese because he’s going to eat them. They also ate warriors from enemy tribes. They’re different from African cannibals, who like to eat missionaries with beards.’

  He gave a sort of belly laugh that I’d never heard from a Brazilian.

  ‘You’re priceless, squirt. You make my jaw drop sometimes.’

  Then he gave me a serious look.

  ‘Tell me, squirt, how old are you?’

  ‘My pretend age or my real one?’

  ‘Real, of course. I don’t want a friend who lies.’

  ‘It’s like this: I’m really five. But I pretend I’m six, otherwise they won’t let me go to school.’

  ‘And why did they put you in school so early?’

  ‘Ha! Everyone wanted me out of their hair for a few hours. Do you know what carborundum is?’

  ‘Where’d you get that from?’

  I put my hand in my pocket and felt around among the pebbles, slingshot, trading cards, spinning-top string and marbles.

  ‘It’s this.’

  I held up a medallion with the head of an Indian on it. A North American Indian, with feathers in his hair. The word was written on the back.

  He turned the medallion over in his hand.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know either. Where did you find this?’

 

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