Dub took his supper at the boarding house that evening, the first time in a long while that he’d done so, and ordinarily Aunt Mary would have been delighted by his presence at the table. Her manner was certainly light, almost cheerful, through the meal, but there was a tautness to her voice and she watched me more closely than usual. America had said something to her, I thought. As I served him, Dub looked up at me and smiled. I looked away, glancing automatically at his mother. Had she been looking our way just then, she might have read something in my eyes that disquieted her, might have seen the shade of complicity between her houseboy and her son. Afraid of what I would give away, I retreated to the kitchen as soon as I could.
Usually the first to leave, Dub lingered at the dining table as I cleared the dishes. When I started back with the last of them, he excused himself to his mother and, smiling at her as he slid his chair neatly back under the table, followed me to the kitchen. He didn’t look at America but said to me, ‘Can you bring me up some coffee?’ He slipped away again quickly. He was usually happy to fetch his own coffee and America glared at me as I prepared it, but she didn’t pass any remark.
When I reached his room, Dub was waiting by the door. He closed it behind me. He ignored the coffee in my hand and said, ‘Did you get them?’ I looked down at the cup for a minute, puzzled. ‘The herbs, Joseph.’ I held out my free hand, palm up, spread the fingers. He stared at it for several seconds, as if on closer inspection, it might not have proved to be empty. He pushed both hands through his hair and turned away. ‘She hasn’t told him yet.’
‘They won’t give them to me.’
‘Can you take them?’ he said quietly. I pictured the rutted turquoise of the Bukaykay stoop, the smooth brown of Suelita’s thigh. The cup grew suddenly hot in my hand. I looked for somewhere to put it down. I remembered my father’s face in the chapel, his hand on the wooden pew, candle grease on his fingers but not on mine. I looked away. Dub threw himself onto the bed. ‘She’ll have to tell him soon,’ he said softly. ‘You have to think of something. I don’t know who else to ask. Can I trust you?’ He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked at me for a long moment. The closed door seemed to hulk behind me and I felt myself rounding my shoulders against it. I nodded. He lay back again, staring up at the ceiling.
‘Where do you want me to put your coffee?’ I said.
He waved a hand without looking at me. ‘I don’t feel like it now,’ he said dolefully. I walked out, closing the door behind me. I paused on the landing and looked at the cup in my hand. It didn’t feel like the same coffee I’d carried in and I held it at arm’s length as I moved down the stairs. America looked at it sourly as I came through the door. I emptied the cup into the sink.
‘He doesn’t want it?’ America said. I stared at her aghast for a moment. She waited for me to say something and when I didn’t she said, caustically, ‘You think I want to ask you your important business? You’re such a big man.’ I imagined pulling a face at her. Maybe she guessed because she added, furiously, ‘You think I even care?’ I’d long since learned when it was best to keep quiet, and soon enough America subsided, though she watched me for a while as I busied myself at the sink.
Dub didn’t come down for another coffee or for any other drink that evening, staying in his room all night and leaving for the garage before I could see him the next morning.
A Lighted Window
From Earl’s forecourt, I watched the light from BabyLu’s apartment shift over the dusky terrain of her balcony as someone moved about inside. The balcony doors were open to the evening and the light washed out, gilding the leaves of her potted palms, the fronds of her bougainvillea. I couldn’t hear any music coming from inside, though it would have been hard to tell; Prosperidad was busy. I looked up and down the street. There was no sign of Eddie’s car. Still, I stayed where I was in the shadows around the forecourt, rehearsing what I might say. I imagined myself, just for a moment, as a character in one of Aunt Mary’s books: an elderly man, staring up at a lighted window from a Parisian square, the edges around him softened by the evening, waiting to see the beloved face that he hadn’t set eyes on in decades. The thought made me feel a little ridiculous and I laughed at myself softly, becoming conscious as I did so of the attention of people coming home from work or bringing in their washing from the nearest balconies of Prosperidad; I’d been standing there with no discernible purpose for a while. And so, though I scarcely felt ready, I crossed the road and climbed the stairs to her apartment and, on reaching it, still hesitated at the door. But she must have been waiting after seeing me loitering below for, the very moment I knocked, the door flew open. She looked at me, her eyes grave. It occurred to me that I should have thought to bring one of her books; it would have been a better reason for being there.
I sat down at the dining table. I hadn’t been in her apartment since I’d eaten there with Dub. She’d been animated that evening, a light in her eyes that wasn’t in them now. I thought about the baby she was carrying, how in other circumstances, the knowledge of it might have made her eyes even brighter.
‘How have you been, Joseph?’ she said, and I felt abashed. I should have asked her first.
‘Ok,’ I said. ‘He told me.’
‘No foreplay then?’ she said tersely. I flushed deeply. Looking remorseful, she said, more kindly, ‘You want a drink?’
‘Sure,’ I said but she stayed in her seat.
‘Did he tell you the first thing he said was shit?’ She exaggerated the word, pulling her mouth into an ugly shape as she said it. I opened my mouth and closed it again. I felt ashamed for Dub. ‘Not quite how I pictured it,’ she laughed, her voice throaty, rich. She’d been crying.
‘What do you want?’ I said.
She leaned towards me, her eyes moist, beseeching. ‘You know he never asked me that?’ I wasn’t sure which he she meant, or perhaps I just didn’t want to think it might be Dub. Maybe she realised that because she said, ‘I haven’t told Eddie yet, but I’m going to. Tonight.’