We’re outside again and he’s walking and half-stumbling to the car and dragging me behind him.
We’re nearly there, Boy.
‘Hey, wait up!’
Oh, no.
He won’t like this.
Shoes. Shoes. Shoes. I have to keep looking at my shoes.
‘Get in the back, JC.’
His voice sounds calm, but I can hear the wobble on the end, and he’s slamming the door behind me and locking it almost before I’ve climbed in.
I can’t hear what they’re saying through the window, but the lady looks sad.
He must have told her what we did.
And now she hates me.
I hate me too.
We’re coming back, Boy.
I don’t feel good.
He’s sweating, and crunching the gears and driving even worse than on the way here.
I hope we don’t bump or scrape or crash the car. That would make him even more angry.
I just want to be back safely. I miss you.
It’s sad that dogs can’t go to church.
If I were with you I’d stroke your ears. Your ears are so soft.
Hey, Boy, I just had a thought. Is Melanie back there waiting for us?
Are you sitting in the kitchen with her, wagging and wagging as she tosses you treats from your tin?
Is she smiling at you and calling you her darlin’, darlin’ Boy?
Is she, Boy? Is she there?
I’m certain she must be. I think he took me out so that it will be a bigger surprise when I find out that she’s home.
I want it so badly.
I’m going to hold my breath as we drive along.
If I can last on one breath all the way
then
she’ll
be
there
just
waiting
with
you
at
home.
No!
No, no, no!
He slammed the brakes on at a crossing, and I gasped and sucked in a lungful of air.
She’s not there, is she?
I ruined it.
It’s my fault.
I hate myself.
We’re parked right in front of the house. He’s turned off the engine and he’s panting, like he’s been running.
The house looks the same from here. It feels like I haven’t been inside for so long.
I can hear you barking, but I’m going to keep on talking to you in my head until I’m in the run, so be quiet and listen.
Now he’s undoing the latch on the gate but –
‘Hey there!’
It’s one of the neighbours. A Bleeding Heart.
His face has gone from blank to angry and back again, but he’s forcing himself to smile, wearing it like a suit that doesn’t fit.
The man is coming closer.
Go away, man. He won’t like it.
‘Beautiful day, isn’t it?’
Go away.
‘Sure is. Say –’
Stop, man. Just stop talking to him.
‘I’m sorry, can we catch up later?’
‘Well, I’ve called by a few times now and –’
He’s barely hiding his anger.
‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m sort of in a hurry. We’ll talk soon,’ he says as he’s unlocking the front door. Not the gate. He’s not taking me through the yard.
I can feel the neighbour staring at our backs.
Boy, I’m inside now! I’m standing on piles of letters that cover the word
WLCOEME
The envelopes are white or brown, but two are blue. My favourite colour.
‘Come through this way.’ He’s talking as if I’m arriving for the first time.
But when I came a few months ago Melanie was with us, her arm linked through mine, beaming and monitoring my face, willing me to like it here.
The house has changed, Boy.
It’s dark inside. The curtains are closed.
It doesn’t smell good. You smell as sweet as a honeysuckle compared with the staleness and rot and chemical fog that’s filling my lungs.
I’m breathing shallowly. I don’t want the new smells to change my memories of the house. I want it to always smell of cooking and laundry and Melanie.
He’s coming toward me and I’m shrinking back out of his way because I don’t know what he’s going to do.
But, no, it’s OK, Boy. He was bolting the front door behind me.
He’s gone now so I think it’s safe to step forward a few paces. Through the open living room door I can see encrusted plates and mugs, even saucepans, all piled on the floor.
He didn’t let us take food in there before. Remember? We had to sit at the table and watch our manners.
When will he let me out to the air and to you?
He’s unlocking the dining room doors.
I’m coming out.
Stay calm.
I see you, Boy. You’re pressed flat against the fencing of the run, your fur poking through the metal in fluffy squares. You’re not barking anymore. Are you all right?
I want to run straight out to you.
But I also want to turn and run past him back to the front door.
Because those letters, Boy. The blue ones. I’m sure they were addressed to me.
But I can’t. Or don’t. I’m not sure which, and I’m stepping out into the long grass heading for you. It’s up to my knees, and, look, he’s stumbled because he can’t see where the ground is uneven.
I’m here, Boy. You can see me, so stop barking. He doesn’t like it. Please let him undo the padlock.
I think he’s going to let you out!
Is he?
Is he?
No. He’s pushing me inside.
Who cares? I’m smiling, and you’re happy like a puppy.
I’m glad to be away from him, from his sticky sour smell, from those bloodshot eyes that never meet mine.
From the fear that I feel, but don’t know who it belongs to.
Did you miss me?
I suppose a headbutt means yes.
And a lick definitely does. Thank you!
I pulled you back into here fast because I didn’t want him to see us so happy. If he understood that we’re happy, maybe he would split us up.
I couldn’t bear to lose you.
I’m tired. It’s been a big day.
I think you’d like it at church, Boy.
You’d like the singing.
Do dogs have a god of their own? Or is it the same as ours?
I imagine that your god would be a wolf. A huge, kind wolf that would never put anyone in a doghouse.
I’m going to teach you to pray.
I’ll kneel down here, and you can sit next to me.
Perfect.
So, what you do is you say thank you to God for everything, then, when you’ve flattered him a little, you tell him something you want.
Look into my eyes and tell me what it is that you really want.
You weren’t supposed to lick me!
You mean, you want me?
You already have me. Something else?
No need to look dumb. If you can’t think of anything just say that.
Hey, why are you going outside? We’re supposed to be praying!
Why are you sitting looking up at the house like that?
Stop it, Boy. He’s not God, you can’t pray to him!
He’s not God, I said!
Boy, come back in here!
He’s not God!
NOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGODNOTGOD
HE’S NOT GOD!
I’m not crying. I’m praying.
I’m telling God that I’ll be good now.
That I’m sorry.
And I’m asking him to bring Melanie back
and promising I’ll never be bad again.
I’ve told him that you won’t either.
Never again.
I’m sorry I was angry yesterday, Boy.
I was tired.
It’s exhausting going out.
I’m glad I’m here with you.
Just us two.
What else do we need?
I wonder when she’s coming back?
I’m so thirsty.
I hope he fills the water bowl tomorrow.
He hasn’t been out here for two days. Not since church. He hasn’t gone out in the car either.
He must be even sicker.
I’m going outside, Boy. I want to see the moon.
To check it’s still there.
You want to come too?
Lie down here, next to me.
No, you have to roll onto your back or you can’t see the sky.
Aren’t the stars beautiful?
Melanie told me that some of them aren’t really there anymore.
They’re dead stars still shining.
How strange, to be dead and far away but still giving us light?
Melanie is like a star if you think about it.
I hope she isn’t dead.
The moon is just a fingernail now. So that means it’s been a month since she left.
It feels like longer.
Boy, you haven’t moved much since yesterday.
Let me feel your spine.
The bumps are sharp now, like scales on a dragon’s back. I hadn’t noticed how much thinner you were. I suppose your fur hides it.
I am thinner too.
Can you see? My chest is like a ploughed field. My hips are like a sharp girdle, keeping what’s left of me in.
We need some food, Boy. You can’t be healthy with no food.
It’s wrong to wish someone dead. The bad thought could just turn round and attack you like a boomerang.
But if he were dead. If it were just me and you and Melanie. Can you imagine that? Just us three living in the house together?
Or would she send me back to my country?
No, I don’t think she would.
I’m sure she wouldn’t.
She wouldn’t.
No.
Sometimes I wonder if my first family think about me the way we think about Melanie?
Do they sometimes say my name? Properly, not like they do here?
Melanie can pronounce it, but he says that calling me JC makes me sound American.
J is also the first letter of their son’s name.
Do you think they called him J instead of Jake?
What? What is it?
I heard it then. He’s coming, isn’t he?
He’s carrying food!
Wait! Come back!
Dumb dog.
It’s a few grey potatoes and some corn all dried up like yellow pebbles. You don’t even like vegetables.
But they say in my country
In times of famine, sweet potatoes have no skin.
Don’t eat it all without me. Please!
And water!
At least leave me some water.
I’m here, Boy, is there any left?
It’s gritty from the dirt. He could have used a bowl, not just flung it in. We’re not chickens.
Get out of the way. Sit over there. You’ve had enough, greedy dog.
I’m going to wash the rest of it. You can just wait.
I know you’re hoping I’m washing this for you, but I’m not. I’m hungry, Boy. I’m really, really hungry.
I’m important too.
You can have those last few, then come inside while I eat my share.
I had a big appetite when I first came here.
Melanie would say, ‘You have a lot of missed meals to make up for. Poor thing.’ And then she would add more food to my plate.
He didn’t like that. ‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ he said the first few times. ‘The boy’s not used to eating so much. You don’t want to overload his digestive system.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Melanie laughed. ‘He’s not a dog. He won’t eat ’til he’s sick.’ I think she was referring to you there, Boy.
Then she would pile more food onto my plate, and he would watch me eat, looking insulted at every mouthful I took, which made it hard to swallow the food down.
‘Come on, just that last little bit,’ she would say, and I would look from her eyes big with pleading, to his full of anger.
Then he would lean over me, ready to take my plate away and scrape the food into the garbage before I could change my mind.
Why don’t you curl up like me? It makes the pouch of your stomach smaller, so it doesn’t feel so empty.
It wasn’t always like that with him. He was nice once.
I think he might be nice again.
Soon.
Have I told you about when I met him?
It was a few months after Melanie left.
I had begun to wonder if she would ever come back. Mamie and Pepe were thinking the same. I know because one day Mamie asked me if I would like a job. She said that she knew a family who would take me in if I agreed to work hard. I said no, that Melanie would be back soon. She sighed, ‘You’re right. We need to be patient.’
Soon after that, while I was in the kitchen helping to peel yams, I heard Melanie’s voice.
I turned and there she stood in the doorway, with Mr Bodin from the agency. Remember him, Boy? He was the man who arranged all the adoptions at the orphanage.
Melanie was smiling with her whole body.
I ran over and stood in front of them shaking. It had been months, and I’d never lost hope, but I was unprepared for her to come like this, in the middle of an ordinary day.
Melanie grabbed me and held me tight for the longest time, and my arms just hung by my sides because I was too shocked to move them. Then she let me go and I wished that she hadn’t.
‘What do you think?’ she was saying to the man next to her.
The first thing I noticed was his height, Boy. He was taller than me, much taller, and strong, like a dad should be. His black hair was cut close to his scalp and his golden brown skin glowed.
Even I could see that together they were a beautiful couple.
He didn’t look like he thought the same of me. He stood stiffly and tilted his head back slightly as he checked me all over, as if I were a horse he was going to buy.
But I didn’t mind because while he did that Melanie was looking straight into my eyes like she could see the me inside.
‘Oh…’ She put her arm around my shoulders. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she said.
I was still shocked and could barely remember my English words, so I just stared at her.
Then she turned to him and said, ‘Let me introduce our son.’
He nodded, and said, ‘It’s good to meet you,’ but he was looking over my shoulder toward a group of younger boys.
Then he looked back at me and sighed. ‘Well, Mel, it’s your decision. I’m just paying for it.’
‘We’re so happy to see you again,’ Melanie said, although it was the first time he had seen me, and he didn’t look very happy. ‘We’re going to spend a whole week together.’
She linked arms with me and him, making us into a chain. ‘Now you two can get to know each other better. Does that sound good?’
It did, Boy.
It did sound good.
And it felt good too.
It felt even better as we set off in a smart taxi with all the children waving goodbye.
I was like a movie star.
He was sitting next to the driver, and Melanie was in the back with me, holding both of my hands, joining us like an electric circuit that I could feel pulsing between us.
She talked all the way to the hotel, breaking our connection only to point at sights out of the window, then rejoining us again.
I didn’t want to look at anything apart from her, but I tried to seem interested.
‘That’s where I stayed the
first time I came,’ she said, showing me a tall grey building that looked closed. ‘Remember? The place where I found you. But we’re going to stay somewhere much nicer; the Plaza. It’s one of the few hotels that survived the earthquake. Have you heard of the Plaza?’
I shook my head.
He turned round from the front seat, ‘It’s a very expensive hotel,’ he said. ‘For a very expensive child.’
Melanie smiled, then added, ‘And worth every cent.’
‘How much did I cost?’ I asked, wondering how much a boy that no one wanted could be.
Melanie laughed. ‘It’s not like that, JC. People don’t buy children. But there are…expenses to be paid.’
‘You cost a fortune. Makes me think I’m in the wrong game,’ he said, still facing forward, as if he were commenting on something in the road.
‘Honey,’ Melanie said, a warning in the tone of her voice. ‘Let’s forget about money for today.’
She squeezed my hand. ‘The happiest –’
He whipped his head round, and she moved back in her seat, away from him.
‘One of the happiest days of my life.’
The hotel was a shining white building, like a huge front tooth.
A man in a black uniform with silver buttons took their luggage from the taxi, but I held onto the plastic bag containing the clothes they had bought for me.
Melanie laughed. ‘It’s OK, they’ll just take it to our rooms while we eat. Are you starving? I am.’
I wanted to say no, that I have food every day, but I decided not to, in case it made her change her mind.
‘Come on, let’s get lunch,’ she said.
As we went into the dining area I couldn’t believe how different the people looked from those in the street. Men in smart black pants and gleaming white shirts, women in tight dresses with spiked heels.
He stopped walking, and put a hand on my shoulder.
‘I’m not angry because I can see that this is all new to you.’ His hand felt too heavy. ‘But you must not stare. It’s rude, and standing there with your mouth open makes you look like a moron.’
A waiter walked over, smiling. He showed us to a table and handed out menus. They were written in English, the words and letters running into each other so fast that I couldn’t catch them.
‘Should we get you one in your own language?’ Melanie asked me.
‘English is his own language now,’ he replied for me. ‘He may as well start as he means to go on.’
Goodnight, Boy Page 9
