I wanted to leave, to return to the comfort of the boarding house’s routine, but my father wouldn’t let me go. He didn’t want to be alone with her, was afraid of how it might seem. So I stayed, but it was a long while before Missy returned.
Lorna slept for much of that time; the baby slept too, bound in cloth against its mother’s chest. Intermittently she woke to its cries and lifted its head to her breast to try and feed it. From watching her mother raise four more after her without the privacy of walls and doors, Lorna, at fourteen, seemed already to know what to do. In contrast, I saw on my father’s face a look of utter helplessness.
My father and I took it in turns to watch over them through the open door, averting our eyes when the baby fed. He didn’t want Lorna there, I was sure of it. He wanted no complications in his life, but I also knew that he wouldn’t ask her to leave.
When Missy returned, she brought with her not just Lottie and Lando but also Jonah. The House children were left to play in the yard, listening out for when their mother might call them up.
The sun was low now behind the apartment blocks and the sky overhead was streaked like the throat of an orchid. Lottie sat on the bed, stroking the baby’s foot as Lorna repeated her story. Lorna told my father’s part entirely now for he stayed silent. When she had finished, Lottie let go of her granddaughter’s foot and, growing agitated, turned to my father and said, ‘They came. The Police. They took our House apart, found the number trays. They’d heard rumours, they said.’ And she mimicked their speech as she repeated it, ‘“Rumours of an unlicensed gambling operation.” That’s what they called it. They talked to me slowly, as if I was an idiot. They said that not paying a license “deprived the correct authorities of money”. Deprived the correct authorities of money!’ She turned to Lorna. ‘They almost arrested your father, handcuffed him, gave him a few blows to his legs and head and back to show what they were capable of, what they might have to do if we didn’t cooperate. You think they teach them at police school how to speak like that?’ she said bitterly. ‘Like TV cops.’ Lottie had parted with three days worth of takings. ‘“A reasonable fine,” the officer said.’ She pulled a face. ‘They took the big tin. Sure, they didn’t find the small one. That was buried in the rice sack and they didn’t waste time going through that. Still, it didn’t have all that much in it.’ It was over in minutes, their money gone, the gaming tables broken and Lando covered in cuts and bruises, the blood around his mouth already drying. ‘A few minutes is all it took.’ Lottie jabbed a finger at her daughter. ‘And you disappeared without a word for two days.’
But Lorna was drunk now with the sight and smell of her baby. When she spoke her voice was soft, placatory. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want her to be born on the street.’
‘Street was good enough for me,’ said Lottie.
‘You knew but you didn’t say anything,’ said Lando to my father. ‘Were you planning to tell us some time?’
‘I asked him not to,’ said Lorna. ‘It’s not his fault.’
‘Is it your baby?’ said Lando suddenly to my father, his voice rising.
My father stepped forward, his fists clenched. ‘You think that I—’
‘It’s all right, Dante,’ Jonah broke in, and to Lando: ‘He’s all right.’
‘Why can’t you just ask me if it’s his baby?’ said Lorna sullenly. ‘Anyway, it’s not.’
‘We can’t stay in Esperanza now,’ said Lottie. ‘You’ll have to pack up today. Where’s your dress? Whose dress is that?’
‘It was Carmela’s,’ my father said quietly.
‘Jesus,’ said Lando.
‘Mine got covered in blood,’ said Lorna. ‘He’s never touched me.’
‘My father’s a good man,’ I said loudly. I’d said nothing till now and the sound of my voice breaking into the room surprised even me. Lottie and Lando’s eyes flickered in my direction but my father didn’t even turn to look at me. ‘He’s a good man,’ I said again more quietly.
‘I want to stay,’ Lorna said stubbornly. She looked at my father but his face gave nothing away. It was his apartment but I could see he didn’t believe it was his decision to make.
‘I don’t know,’ said Lottie.
‘Will it be safe?’ asked Lando, but he said it to Jonah and I was angry with him at that. I stepped forward, but now my father stirred and put his hand on my arm.
‘She’ll be safe,’ said Jonah. ‘Dante’s all right.’
Missy, who up till now hadn’t offered an opinion, said gruffly, ‘You could look for years and still not find a better man than Dante Santos.’ After that little else was said on the matter. Lottie called the children up to see their sister and her new baby and then they left the apartment to make up their bedding for the night in the safety of the yard, in readiness to leave early the following morning. They weren’t going far. ‘Maybe only the next town, to repair the House and do some quiet business before we come back, to check,’ Lottie said, glancing at my father.
The sun had long set when I reached the boarding house. Aunt Mary came downstairs on hearing the door. She was still in her day clothes, though ordinarily she’d have bathed and changed for bed by now. She looked tired and she was frowning as she met my eye. I wondered if she’d waited up for me. I wished I’d been able to go to her rather than have her come to me, if only to demonstrate that I hadn’t forgotten my obligations to her. I started to apologise but she shook her head. ‘Missy Bukaykay sent Fidel with a message,’ she said. ‘Have you eaten anything since morning?’
I hadn’t expected the question. ‘No, ma’am,’ I said slowly, struggling to remember. She sent me straight to the kitchen where America, in her nightclothes, had already started warming food for me. And it was now, at Aunt Mary’s generosity, at the sight of the food America laid out wordlessly on the table, that I finally yielded. I cried as I ate, and America, wise enough to know when to ask and when not, left me to do so in peace.
Portraits
News of the birth spread quickly through Esperanza and most mornings my father opened his door to find dry food, an old dress, a vest for the baby with a note from one neighbour or another. Johnny Five Course, whom I’d never thought of as a sentimental man, brought dinner for my father and Lorna every night for two weeks. Jonah brought a rattle for the child and a bottle of rum for my father, which he helped make a start on one night after work.
Missy visited most days to check on the baby and brought guava or castor-bean leaves from Uncle Bee to make decoctions for Lorna to wash her wound with or poultices for her breast to encourage her milk. She berated Lorna each time for not resting, for Lorna — afraid perhaps that her luck might end and though she was tired and sore — kept the apartment cleaner than it had been in a long time.
At the boarding house, Aunt Mary and America unpacked the boxes they’d stored away when the boys were small and found blankets and sheets and a small crib that Aunt Mary and I took to my father in a taxi. We reassembled it in his apartment, pushing the dining table up against the wall to make room. My father was now sleeping in the kitchen while Lorna and her baby, whom she was yet to name, had the main room to themselves.