Goodnight, Boy

by Nikki Sheehan

  He was nodding, but Melanie must have heard too. ‘Thank you for your help, Mr Bodin’ she said. ‘And now let’s take JC back with us to America where he belongs.’

  After all those hours, days, weeks and months of waiting, Boy, my life changed so fast.

  I was told to go and pack my belongings, but I only had the suit I was standing in, my shell and my napkin. Even my toothbrush was shared with four other boys. And anyone could see that the bag of new clothes they had brought for me to change into would be too small.

  He took out a baseball cap and tried to push it down onto my head, but it had been so long since my hair was cut that the cap hovered a few inches above my scalp.

  He groaned. ‘What are we going to do? He can’t go anywhere looking like this.’ He was rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hands as if to wipe away the image of me. ‘They’ll never let him through immigration control. We may as well wear badges saying People Smugglers.’ He shook his head. ‘Even if he had something decent to wear no one’s going to believe that he’s thirteen. I’m really sorry, Mel, but I think we should abandon the plan.’

  Mamie moved towards me, and stood by my side.

  Meanwhile, Melanie was holding my hand like she was never going to let go. ‘We’ll dress him in one of your T-shirts and a pair of shorts.’

  He looked down at my bare feet. ‘He doesn’t even have shoes!’

  ‘He can squeeze into some of yours for the journey,’ she said. ‘And with that baseball cap on he’ll be fine.’ She rubbed his arm. ‘You worry too much, honey. You’ll provoke your ulcer at this rate.’

  He made a strange sound, as if he had sand in his mouth, as he struggled to speak.

  He stopped, stared from Melanie to me and then to Mamie, and then back to me again.

  Then he took a deep breath and began to shout.

  ‘Are you looking at the same boy I’m looking at, Mel? Are you? Are you? Because I’m starting to think I’m the only person round here who hasn’t gone crazy. I don’t know what your plans are, but I don’t want to end up dying in prison in this Godforsaken country for the sake of some kid I’ve only met once before.’

  ‘Please stop, honey,’ Melanie let go of my hand and started massaging his shoulders.

  ‘No, I won’t stop! I’m serious. Nothing is right about this. Even the baseball cap looks ridiculous on his head. He looks ridiculous, this whole thing is ridiculous, you’re being ridiculous! It’s not going to work and I won’t be dragged into it.’

  ‘Then you will leave my house this moment.’ It was Mamie who had finally spoken, quietly, slowly, but firmly.

  He stared at her, like no one had called him out for a very long time and he didn’t know what to do.

  ‘Fine,’ he said in the end. ‘I will.’ But as he walked out he tried to slam the door, and it sprung open again.

  ‘DOES NOTHING WORK IN THIS GODFORSAKEN PLACE?’ he roared, then he slammed it three times

  BAM!

  BAM!

  BAM!

  until it finally stayed closed.

  Pepe broke the silence that followed. ‘One moment,’ he said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Mamie put her arms around my waist.

  ‘It will be fine, just let him calm down,’ she was saying, but I could tell that she was shocked, and I had a bad feeling.

  The door opened again and I held my breath, but it wasn’t him, it was Pepe with a pair of scissors and a comb.

  ‘I was trained as a barber,’ he said. ‘Sit down, I can make the hat fit.’

  He came back smelling of alcohol a few hours later.

  Melanie acted as if nothing had happened, just gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, ‘There you are, I was worried about you, honey.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘the taxi’s waiting and we’d better hurry if we want to make that flight.’

  It was as if she didn’t remember what had just happened.

  And maybe the alcohol had made him forget too because instead of becoming angry again he sighed and looked me over.

  I’d had a shower and was wearing a T-shirt with NYC on the front and orange and blue shorts, a pair of his flip flops that almost fitted, and the cap.

  He nodded. Then he sighed again, picked up his suitcase and carried it to the taxi.

  As Melanie and I said goodbye to Mamie and Pepe he fell into the front seat next to the driver.

  Then Melanie turned to Mr Bodin and handed him a fat envelope. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve done what I can with the airport workers this end,’ he said. ‘God willing, you will not have problems entering America. But I wish you good luck.’

  She smiled. ‘I appreciate it. But when you’re doing the right thing you don’t need luck. Come on, JC.’ Melanie held the door open. I climbed into the back and she followed me.

  As the cab pulled away I waved to Mamie and Pepe. They were crying.

  ‘Have you told him, Mel?’ he asked.

  He had turned around in his seat and I could see now how drunk he was. His eyes were bloodshot and he was sweating.

  ‘I was just about to, honey,’ she said.

  He jerked his head around further so that he could make eye contact with me. ‘Here’s the surprise, JC. For today your name is not…’ He made an attempt to pronounce my name. ‘Today you’re Jake Peasman. You’re thirteen years old and, unlikely though it sounds, you’re our natural-born all-American son. We’ve been on a once-in-a-lifetime family holiday to this hellhole, and now we’re on our way back.’

  I didn’t understand. Why was he saying that I was another person?

  ‘If anyone speaks to you DO NOT answer back. Understand? No. Speaking. One word outta your mouth and the game could be over for all of us. Got it?’

  Melanie squeezed my hand. ‘I’ve been trying all this time to bring you home legally, JC, but it hasn’t worked out. So we’re going to have to tell a few white lies to do it. You’ll have to pretend to be someone else. Just for today. That’s why you mustn’t speak. They’ll know from your accent that you’re not American. They won’t let you leave with us and we will all be in big trouble.’

  She looked at me solemnly. ‘Do you understand?’

  I nodded, although I didn’t really.

  He leaned over the seat and handed me a small dark blue book with a golden eagle crest on the front.

  The word above it said

  PSSPORAT

  and below it said

  Untide Setasts of Amireca

  I looked inside. Most of the pages were blank, a few had faded inky stamps, but the second page was different - there was a lot of writing and numbers, a name, and I realised that it was the same one that he had said, Jake Peasman, and a photograph of a boy.

  A boy who looked like a younger me. The eyes, the nose, the cheekbones. He could have been me a few years before.

  ‘That’s you now, JC,’ he said. ‘You’re…you’re Jake.’ His voice was strange as he said it, like the words had been hard to pronounce.

  Then his face changed, and he pointed his finger at me.

  ‘If you mess this up and I rot to death in a foreign jail,’ he jabbed the air with his finger, ‘I. Will. Haunt. You.’

  The police in my country aren’t friendly, Boy. I’ve heard that they shoot people and then they dump the body. No one complains, because if you do, you disappear as well.

  I don’t know if he realised how much danger we were in, but even without his warning I was so frightened that nothing would have made me talk.

  Nothing at all.

  But he didn’t know that, so we left the taxi and, as we entered the airport, he handed me some bubble gum.

  ‘Chew this, then blow bubbles. It will keep your mouth busy.’

  I’d never had bubble gum before, and I didn’t like the look of it, too pink, too much like plastic. But it tasted good, and Melanie showed me how to work it until it was soft, then push my tongue through.

  ‘Now blow,’ she sai
d.

  I did as she said but the gum flew out of my mouth and onto the airport floor. A guard looked over and frowned.

  Melanie rushed to pick it up, smiling at him. The guard smiled back, and I released the breath I had been holding.

  ‘For God’s sake, JC,’ he said.

  ‘I’m Jake,’ I replied.

  He frowned, then almost smiled. ‘Don’t get smart, kid.’ He handed me another piece of bubblegum. ‘This time don’t spit it at anyone.’

  It was just a small moment but I felt like everything was going to be all right.

  We made it out of my country with no problems, even avoiding the queues, thanks to the bribes that had been paid to the airport staff.

  As we took our seats on the plane, I realised that finally I was one of the children who flew over the heads of everyone in my country like an eagle.

  It was a wonderful moment, and it was easy to ignore him arguing with the air hostess as he tried to order drinks before the plane took off.

  ‘Seatbelt on,’ said Melanie. ‘Excited, JC?’

  I nodded, smiling.

  She smiled back, and it was hard to believe that we were doing something dangerous.

  We were happy.

  Have you ever had an experience so good that you’re sure it can’t be true? That it must be a dream?

  That was how I felt. It was even hard not to smile as I watched movies and pretended to be asleep when the air hostess came near.

  He drank until he was told they weren’t allowed to serve him anymore, and Melanie read her book, and every now and then she looked at me and smiled and my heart beat faster.

  Then, at passport control coming into America, a child in front of us in the queue was sick, and we were rushed through quickly.

  Seven hours after leaving Mamie and Pepe’s home, I stepped out into America. The land of the free.

  Boy, wake up.

  You’ve missed it all.

  There were voices coming from the yard that backs onto here. A man and a woman were complaining about the water because it’s leaking into their backyard and it has made a lake at the bottom.

  I think they’re the Bleeding Hearts he told me about.

  They must have gone to see him because about twenty minutes later, he came out of the house really slowly, limping even more, and he turned the hose off.

  It’s hot today and the ground is drinking the water up so fast that I can almost see it draining like a sink with the plug pulled out. We should be able to come down off here soon.

  Let’s just sleep until we can.

  Ow!

  What happened?

  Oh, I fell off the shelf into the mud.

  Boy? Are you all right up there?

  I didn’t hurt myself. Not really.

  I’m coming back up now.

  You slept right through it.

  Are you ever going to wake up?

  I was dreaming that I was inside the house.

  It was my first night, and I could hear them murmuring downstairs. I was so happy. I know that because the strangled feeling in my stomach had gone. I smiled in the dark.

  Then I needed to pee so I crept out of my room. I didn’t head for the bathroom at the end of the corridor because I knew that there was one closer by. I opened the door to the right, and I walked in without turning on the light.

  But it wasn’t the bathroom, it was Jake’s room.

  I knew that I was in danger, that I had to leave fast.

  I turned to go but the room was dark and I couldn’t find the door.

  I was groping for it with my hands, but then I realised that I was standing on it, and there was brick dust in my mouth so there must have been an earthquake. But how could I not have felt it happen?

  I heard him making that sound in the dark; the one he makes when he’s so angry that he has no words.

  Then he roared, ‘You’re not my son!’ and I felt pain as he punched me in the face.

  Then I woke up.

  I can taste metal. Blood. I think I fell face-first. My nose feels strange, sort of numb. I’m just going to wash it in a puddle.

  You stay there. Don’t try and come down.

  Boy! Boy! Wake up, I found something!

  I was just scooping up some water and I spotted it in the puddle. I felt around but there was nothing there because what I was seeing was a reflection. So I looked up, and there it was, caught in the fencing.

  It’s the red balloon!

  Yes, I know it’s burst so it can’t fly anymore, and the note has gone. But I’m going to use it for something.

  Are you too tired to look at it now?

  I’ll just rest up here with you a while.

  Come on, Boy, open your eyes. It’s been ages since you moved.

  Don’t play dead. I know you’re alive because I can see your chest rise and fall as you breathe.

  I think you must be dehydrated, which is crazy when we’re hiding up here from a flood.

  I’ll bring you some water.

  Look, Boy, I’ve filled up the balloon. When I move my finger there’ll be a little spurt out of one side.

  Here, let’s just open your mouth.

  Ready?

  There. Try to swallow.

  Please.

  No?

  OK, I can stroke your throat like Melanie did to help you swallow the tablet that kills the worms inside you.

  Good, Boy! You’re drinking it!

  I’m going to bring you some more. Wait here.

  Ready?

  All right, your mouth is full. Swallow, then I’ll let you sleep. I promise.

  No, don’t cough! Swallow.

  Good.

  I lied. Just one more. I mean it this time.

  Good, Boy, you licked your lips!

  This is going to make you well again.

  I’ve been thinking about how different everything was when I first arrived.

  You won’t remember this because you weren’t here.

  Where were you? Grandma’s? I never asked.

  It’s only been a few months but already it’s hard to remember just how strange it all was for me then.

  We become used to things so easily.

  ‘Here we are, JC,’ Melanie said as the taxi pulled up outside. ‘Welcome home!’

  I gazed through the window, unsure of what I would see. I’d had so little experience of family homes that I’d wondered if their house, my new house, would be like the hotel, all white marble and echoing spaces.

  In the end it was a variation on all the other houses that I had seen on the journey back from the airport. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t impressed. It seemed huge for just one family, almost the size of apartment blocks in my city. It was made of small red-coloured bricks – not grey cinder blocks, whitewashed and then left to grey again with dust – and it was broad with its longest side showing its size to the road.

  I knew from the line of the sloping roof and the lush green plants, dotted with colours and shapes like stars, that this was a place of rain.

  I could also tell that it was a safe place; there were no bars at the windows, no metal shutters, no dog on a chain outside. Instead, through the glass, I could see the outline of curtains drawn wide to let the daylight in.

  Most of all I noticed that there was no rubble anywhere. The roads and sidewalks were smooth and clean. I was used to fractured tarmac, with holes big enough that you could lie curled up inside and let a car drive over you for a dare, and dust that danced in the sunshine.

  It looked like nothing bad could ever happen here.

  He wasn’t as happy as me.

  He had slept in the taxi and he was angry when Melanie woke him. He said he had a headache, then he began complaining about food poisoning, although he hadn’t eaten on the plane.

  ‘Come on, grouchy,’ Melanie said to him. ‘Let us in already!’

  So he took out his keys and unlocked the front door, then punched some numbers into a pad on the wall and stepped inside.

/>   I was still feeling that it must be a mistake. I hadn’t been to a house like that since I was small, and then I had been left shivering and covered in vomit in an outbuilding.

  But this time it would be different. I knew that Melanie wouldn’t mind if I were sick. He was feeling ill, and she was talking to him like he was a baby, even though he had a hangover.

  ‘This is your new home!’ she said. ‘Come on in, JC!’

  I paused as long as I could to really feel the moment. Then I stepped through the doorway onto wooden floors that shone like someone had just polished them, and I looked around.

  I could see into the rooms that came off the hall. They looked so luxurious, Boy. The lights were reflected in tiny glass shapes that dangled from the fittings, the pale carpet in the living room was so clean that I was sure no one had ever stepped on it, and the huge red velvet sofas were dotted with plumped-up cushions in the exact same colour.

  The kitchen looked clean and expensive, with marble flooring and silver surfaces running down the room.

  But it was different from the hotel because it belonged to them.

  There were photographs of people I didn’t know on the walls; them, old people, friends, a child, more children. There was even a photograph of me with Mamie and Pepe.

  And lined up on shelves and in glass cabinets were objects that Melanie had brought back from around the world; spoons carved from horn, wooden figures, a vase made from tobacco leaves, a brightly painted mask, a scroll with strange writing on, a voodoo doll.

  ‘They’re interesting,’ I said.

  ‘She’s quite the collector,’ he replied, smiling.

  Melanie sighed, and I wondered why.

  ‘Take your case upstairs, JC,’ he said. ‘Your room is at the end of the corridor. You can unpack and have a wash and a rest before dinner.’

  Melanie put her arm around me. ‘He has almost nothing to unpack, honey. Let’s show him around and order a pizza, he must be starving.’