Half the Day Is Night

by Maureen F. Mchugh

  She thought. “He could say he was looking for a job.”

  “No,” David said. “It is crazy.”

  “Then you think of something,” she said. She would trust him, everything she had done so far had been wrong, except for getting away from her grandfather’s. So if David could think of something else, that would be fine. David’s instincts were better than hers.

  They found a place to stay. It had brilliant pink doors and smelled strongly of cumin in the halls. She wondered why so many cheap hotels were owned by Indians? Not that it mattered.

  Another cheap hotel. Another vid.

  David found a soccer game on the vid and sat on the end of the bed, tense. “I wonder if they are taking care of Meph,” he said.

  It took her a moment. “A lot of people liked him out at the farm,” she said. “Santos would take care of him.” Which made her think of Luz—Luz thought Mayla was hardworking. Luz probably thought she was a quitter. Stupid to care what somebody thought when you were trying to save your own life.

  “I can’t think of any way to contact Saad,” he said. “Except Tim.”

  * * *

  The first thing she noticed about Tim as he came off the sub was that he was so white. And so clean. Even though she had showered and bought a new pair of tights and a new diver’s tunic (not a real one, just the kind everybody wore on the street) she was amazed at how scrubbed Tim looked.

  He looked pleased with himself, too. Elaborately casual, as if he was on holiday. Big blond anglo, he stood out. An advertisement of presence.

  That was why David didn’t want him around.

  “Hi Dave. Hi Mayla,” Tim said. “Are you losing weight?”

  The diver’s tunic was big but she didn’t think she was losing weight. She needed a haircut.

  It was conspicuous walking with him. She must have looked like that all the time, no wonder David hadn’t been thrilled to see her at the fish farm. Were the Uncles watching? If so, Tim would certainly attract their attention, he had everybody else’s.

  “So what happened?” Tim said.

  “The people who were getting us documentation were connected with La Mano de Diós,” David said. “Things went wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” Tim asked.

  “Things went wrong,” David said. “We had to think of another way. So Mayla thought maybe Saad Shamsi would know a way to get false papers.”

  “Shamsi?” Tim said. “Why would Shamsi know?”

  “Because his business, the one that needed the loan, was a slave bracelet business,” Mayla said.

  “No,” Tim said. “Well, fuck.”

  David was right, Tim was enjoying this. He didn’t understand.

  “His partner is a psychotic,” Mayla said. “An Argentine. The last time we went to turn him down for a loan he pulled a gun on us.”

  Tim shook his head. “Then why are you going back to Shamsi now?”

  David shrugged. “Do you know someone who can make us false papers?”

  Tim thought a minute. No, he didn’t. Wouldn’t even know where to start. “I knew someone when I was in Indonesia,” he said, “but I don’t think his documents were very good. But then, you didn’t need very good documents in Indonesia.”

  Tim had to be worldly-wise, had to not be surprised by anything. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him he didn’t understand, that she had seen a man shot in the head and that Marine Security would turn them over to the blue and whites in the blink of an eye and that they may never get out of here. But he wouldn’t understand.

  “We can’t call Saad, Marine Security must monitor everything,” she said. “But you can go in and tell him that you’re looking for a job since Mayla disappeared and ask him if you can take him to lunch. We can meet you at lunch.”

  “Okay,” Tim said.

  “Remember that his office may be monitored, too.”

  “I’m not stupid,” he said.

  She looked at David, expecting him to roll his eyes, but he didn’t seem to find Tim nearly so exasperating. Or maybe he just hid it well.

  They caught the chute to Central, and she felt compelled to sit next to Tim. She didn’t want him to get miffed and do something stupid. Be nice to him, she thought. This is your life you are worrying about.

  “Been a rough ride, eh?” he said.

  She nodded. She hadn’t known how to talk to Tim before, she knew less now. “How’s my grandfather?” she asked.

  “He was doing okay when I left.”

  “Did you tell him you were going to see me?” she asked.

  “No,” Tim said.

  “Good,” she said. Her disappointment was irrational, she’d have been furious if he had. “I’ll get back in touch with him as soon as I can.”

  “I just told Jude I was taking some time,” he said. “I didn’t say where, although I think he had an idea.”

  “He knew where you were going?” she said, her chest tightening. Not that Jude would tell anyone, but the more people that knew.…

  “Nah, I just think he suspects I’ve been in touch with you.”

  That would be like Tim to hint around. Not exactly hint but to let you know he had a secret. But she couldn’t get angry, not now. There was nothing to do about it now, Tim was all they had.

  The chute slowed and they were in the corridors of Central.

  They found a luncheon place. “He probably won’t be able to come for lunch today,” Mayla said, “so just come back here and find us. But make it clear to him that you really need to have lunch with him.”

  Watching him walk she could only notice the jaunty way he moved, his sweater, his goddamn boots, for Chrissakes. Everything about him foreign, noticeable, wrong. Everything screaming to the Uncles to follow him back here.

  “It’s a mistake, isn’t it?” she asked David.

  “It is all a mistake,” he said. “But, it’s all we have.” And they went inside to have coffee and wait.

  * * *

  Mayla didn’t expect Tim to bring back Saad. And Saad clearly did not expect to find her sitting there with David. She looked up in time to see him come in the door, and then he checked, startled.

  Tim was behind him, visibly pleased with himself.

  “You didn’t make the connection?” she asked.

  “No, I really didn’t,” he said. “When Tim told me you had disappeared, I thought you had really disappeared.” He looked quite corporate in maroon and white.

  “Marincite Corp. colors,” she said.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “They denied my permit to travel to the U.S. and,” she hesitated, because it sounded so thin, “there were other signs that I ought to disappear, so I did.”

  “What do you want?”

  “We need travel documents,” she said, “David and I, to get us out of Caribe.” He would sympathize, he’d gotten involved with Moustache so he could someday get to the U.S. “We can pay, it’s a pretty good wad of cash towards the capital you need for a residence permit in the U.S.”

  “Documents? You mean that will get you through the port?” He shook his head. “I don’t do documents,” he said. “I do jewelry, remember? And you didn’t want to do business with me.”

  A boy stopped at their table, “Do you need more time or are you ready to order?”

  It gave her time to think, while they all ordered enchiladas.

  There was nothing to say but the truth. “I was too afraid,” she said. “I was afraid of your partner. I’m still afraid of your partner.”

  There was nothing else to say and she didn’t think it would be enough.

  Saad didn’t answer her. The burn of slow anger, she was certain.

  Then he said, “I was sorry to hear how Polly set you up.”

  She felt the color rise in her face. “I should have seen it coming.”

  “Polly does that to people,” Saad said. “I don’t know a thing about documents, but I’ll snoop around. Ask some questions.”

  She cou
ldn’t believe it.

  “Hey,” he said, “I can’t guarantee anything, I don’t even know where to start. But you’re going to have to tell me how much you’ve got so I can shop, you know?”

  “I’ve got 7,000cr, about, and I might be able to get more,” she said.

  “7,000cr, for documents for all three of you?”

  “No, no,” Tim said, “I don’t need documents, I can leave anytime I want.”

  She wasn’t sure but she didn’t correct him.

  Saad shook his head. “You’ll need more.”

  “Can you get it if it’s in the U.S.?”

  “Sure,” he said, “if you give me an account number.”

  She was thinking, thinking. “I think I can, my grandfather has accounts in the U.S. But I’ll have to get in touch with Jude.”

  “No,” David said, “you cannot.”

  “I know,” she said. “But Tim is going to go back there eventually, isn’t he? He can talk to Jude for me.”

  Tim was nodding. “I can go back tonight,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “I can write a note,” she said.

  “Nothing written down!” David said.

  “Quiet,” Saad said, but he nodded, “Nothing in writing.”

  “Okay,” Tim said, “okay, I can remember. I know what you need anyway, you need money from your grandfather.”

  “No,” Mayla said, “I need access to his North American accounts. Jude will understand. Grandfather put money in the North American accounts after the second liberation.”

  “Okay,” Tim said, “access to the North American accounts.”

  “And I’ll need an account number,” she said. “You’ll have to write that down.”

  David was shaking his head. “Nothing written down.”

  “Look,” Mayla said, “if they pick up Tim that means they know something anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “No,” David said, “they may pick him up just because he used to work for you and he is going back and forth from Marincite. He must just remember the account numbers.”

  “Can you get 75,000cr?” Saad said.

  “75,000?” Mayla said. “I don’t know.”

  “It’ll cost you 50,000 for my services.”

  “Fuck,” Tim said.

  Everybody glared across the table.

  “I’m risking everything,” Saad said, still keeping his voice quiet. “50,000 would allow me to collect enough capital to go to the U.S. If I’m going to screw around this way, I ought to at least have a chance to get out, too.”

  “I’m not paying you 50,000cr without knowing if the documents work,” Mayla said.

  “Half,” Saad said, “and half in the U.S. And if I don’t get my half remember I can implicate your family.”

  “The blue and whites aren’t going to do anything to my grandfather,” Mayla said.

  “Maybe not,” Saad said. “Think of it as insurance.”

  “Bullshit,” Tim said. “Think of it as blackmail.”

  “Look,” Saad said, “I don’t like this, I don’t like this country, I don’t like working with Galvez and I don’t trust Polly Navarro any more than you do. Less, because I’ve seen what he can do. And he knows too much. I want out.”

  “Okay,” Mayla said, “ask Jude for 50,000cr. Tell him I’ll pay it back.”

  If he could get it from her grandfather. If any of this worked. But she was full of excitement, full of possibility. Saad would try, she trusted him. It was stupid, after the way she had been taken by Polly Navarro, but she could understand Saad’s motives. She could feel his wanting. She had had this feeling before, dealmaking. This was a sweet deal. This was good to go.

  Lunch came and she was hungry. She wanted to smile at everyone. It was going to be okay.

  * * *

  The feeling of rightness didn’t last. There was nothing to do after Saad went back to work and Tim left to catch the sub back to Julia but go back to the room and think of things that could go wrong.

  “I can’t stay in here,” she told David.

  “It is crazy,” he said, “we should not leave. We should stay out of sight.”

  “I know,” she said. “I just can’t. I know I should, but can’t we go do something? See a show?”

  “We could find a Reality Parlor,” he said.

  A Reality Parlor? She hadn’t done that since she was in middle school.

  He mistook her surprise for hesitation. “We should not go anywhere,” he said. “This is not a game, we should be smart.”

  “I know, I know, I just can’t sit here. I just can’t.”

  “Okay,” he said. “We will go look for a show.”

  “A Reality Parlor would be okay,” she said.

  He stood up and stretched and she thought of the endless evening and night ahead of them and sighed. Whatever they did she would not be able to concentrate and the show would make no sense or she would be awful at the game and she would wish she was back here, because the truth was she didn’t want to be with herself.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “You’re right, we should stay here.”

  “I don’t think I can sit here either,” he said.

  “Yeah?” she said. “Except will it be any better to be out and doing something?”

  He shrugged. “Probably not.”

  She laughed. “We’re like an old married couple, you know? I think I know you better than any man I ever had a relationship with.”

  He grinned and nodded. “Foxhole buddies.”

  “Is that it?” she asked.

  “After this is all over,” he said, “we will find out that we are really strangers. That we only know each other in moments like this, that we do not know each other’s everyday lives.”

  Glossing over the fact that when this was all over, everything may be much worse instead of better. “Like sex,” she said. “Intimate but not.”

  He sat down next to her on the bed and the mattress inclined her towards him. She could feel the heat of him next to her. It was what she had said. She had brought up sex. After days of living in the same room with him, sleeping in her clothes and he sleeping in his, keeping chaste in separate beds. He had been so distant and polite.

  And it wasn’t what she wanted. But she didn’t not want it either. And she did really feel closer to him than she had to any other man in her life. So he leaned forward and she closed her eyes and kissed him back, a kiss with lips closed. He was hungry but careful, respecting her need to accustom herself. They kissed for a few minutes and then he drew back.

  “Do you want to go do something?” he said.

  Would this moment disappear then, as if it had never been? Or would it hang between them awaiting consummation?

  She shuddered, and he pulled farther away, mistaking it for a denial of him.

  She didn’t know what to say, only that men always said women talked too much, so she turned her face towards him wordlessly and after a moment, he leaned back towards her and she closed her eyes.

  After a little while he put his arms around her. He was small, narrow around the chest, but all hard bone and muscle. It wasn’t helping, she was still self-conscious, aware of the time. But it would have to work at some point, wouldn’t it? It would have to overwhelm everything, at least for a bit.

  He unzipped her tunic. “Is it too cold in here?” he said.

  “Let’s get under the blanket,” she said.

  He stood up and she did to, thinking she was supposed to get undressed now, but not exactly sure, and watching to see if he did. He unzipped his tunic and pulled it over his head without fuss, but he sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her to take off his tights.

  She undressed as quickly as she could, checking only to make sure he had taken off his underwear, and then got into bed, too. She didn’t feel sexy, she felt trepidation.

  He waited, looking at her. He had interesting eyes, she had never gotten to stare at someone with oriental eyes except her grandfather, an
d David’s eyes were not like her grandfather’s. They tilted or appeared to tilt and her grandfather’s didn’t. And her grandfather had creases in his eyelids, but David’s were smooth, like curtains.

  She stroked his eyebrows and he smiled. “That’s nice,” he said.

  “I’m a little nervous,” she said.

  “Me, too,” he said.

  He kissed her again, and traced a circle around her nipple, which felt playful and almost ticklish. She touched his and he flinched and smiled again.

  “Touchy,” she said.

  He took his time with her, he was considerate, and it helped. And briefly, she did forget about everything. So it was worth it.

  * * *

  Waiting for Tim to get off a sub she wondered if he would be able to see any difference in her. She didn’t really think so, she didn’t feel that much different, just tired because she had had trouble sleeping with David. She couldn’t go to sleep and worried about keeping him awake tossing and turning, and then she had kept waking up, it seemed as if every time she needed to turn over she woke up.

  Tim was not on the eleven o’clock.

  “What do you think,” she asked David.

  “Maybe he missed it?” David said.

  Or maybe he was detained. Maybe he was detained last night when he got off. Ironic that she might have been in bed with David while Tim was being interrogated.

  “If he’s not on the twelve-fifteen then we need to get word to Saad,” she said.

  David didn’t say anything, so she didn’t know if he agreed or not.

  She looked for the Uncles. As if she would know a plainclothes officer if her life depended on it.

  So she looked for anyone who looked as if they didn’t belong, or anyone who looked as if they were watching her and David.

  “Sit still,” David said under his breath.

  “What?”

  “Sit still,” he said.

  What, she looked guilty? Well, she probably did, she felt guilty.

  She wanted Tim to get off the sub. She pictured him getting off the sub, wearing his bright blue sweater, blond and shining, screaming anglo. She pictured it. Pictured it with everything she had, as if she could construct him with force of will, with the strength of her wanting.