Sirens, p.18
Sirens, page 18
pursuit of the legendary White Stag led to the end of the war with the
Magyars. Daina's father looked up from the pages of the book, said to
her, ', darling, if the bad times come, within you lives the White Stag,
proud and mythical and unconquerable.' But years later, during that last
summer with him, when she had asked him if he had really meant what he
had said, he merely laughed and ran his long fifigers through her golden
hair. Now it was too late and she was obliged to make of it what she
might. She went to the library, pored over books on the history of
Hungary, Austria and, finally, Russia, but in none did she find any
reference to the White Stag. At last, she became reconciled to the fact
that the creature had been another of her father's conceits. When, as a
child, she had asked him to tell her stories, they invariably came from
his mind not out of a book. So, too, she came to think, the White Stag.
There was a period in her life when she dreamt often of that mythical
creature moving across an unfamiliar countryside to the melody of
Ravel's sad '', each note falling like a flower's petal, and she would
awake with her eyes full of tears.
Monika understood none of this and once when Daina 160 ted to explain
it, her face drained of colour and she hit across the mouth. ''s baby
talk 1' she cried. ' mystery and legend. It would dominate you as it did
your . Well, I won't have it, do you hear? He's gone now.
forget all about this white horse -' stag is a male deer, Mother. Not a
ow you listen to me,' Monika said, grabbing her arm ''ll do as I tell
you and learn to like it.' s did she drive Daina far away, to a land at
the edge of world, where twilight reigned and the lawless stalked its as
surely as if they were nightmares given life. traffic on the Pacific
Coast Highway was bad but it was compared to what was waiting for her on
Ocean e. She was obliged to wind up all the windows and put the air - a
last resort as far as she was concerned. But this e of the day it was
either that or risk asphyxiation. This no place for an asthmatic. Fuming
and stalled in the lineup, she stabbed on the cassette set to playing
what was already in there. She came in the middle of '', a track from
the last Heartbeats m. There was Chris' voice as hot and demanding as it
had r been and of course her thoughts swung to - bits of pink and pools
of red so dark they looked black in the dim mutilation beyond
comprehension. Her finger reached to end the music but she held it there
in midair not an inch the controls and thought, No, no, no. If I turn it
off now, never be able to hear their music again without images of ggie,
tom like a discarded doll, and I can't live with that. P course in those
days drugs had come her way - they were much more prevalent than any
adult would believe. Apart from a bit of grass, she had stayed away from
it all, ing seen what it had done to a classmate who had professed
addiction. He had been found early one morning, bluenned beneath the
plastic bag that covered his head, surnded by the stench of glue, in the
centre of the deserted estra of the Fillmore East, as cold and lifeless
as a slab 161 of refrigerated meat. For three days, the pushers at
school were driven out but she knew that anger was misplaced. It was a
hot and dusty trail to the Marina and after a while, Daina felt as if
all flesh had been flayed from her. Despite or even because of the air
conditioner she began to feel as if a shower was far more important than
a drink. The music banged against her skull, insistent and ragged, and
she stared out before her, the lowering sunlight bronzing the tops and
hoods of all the Mercs, Mazdas, Porsches, Audis, Trans Ams and Datsun
zs, and she felt a part of this long gleaming, articulated serpentine
monstrosity: all metal and glass and nothing else. Baba lived on
Forty-first and Tenth Avenue; a fifth-floor railroad flat in a
rat-infested tenement the ground floor of which was given over to a
Puerto Rican bodega, where the roaches were so numerous and familiar
they almost seemed like the true tenants. ' use'ta fight ',' Baba told
her seriously. ' they'n'meve got a kinda understandin': I don't bother
them an' they doan bother me.' But that is not where he took her, at
least not at first. They took the subway, emerging iip the stairs in
Harlem, walking up Lenox past 138th and the Zanzi Bar, dark and buzzing,
squatting on the northeast comer of what could just as easily have been
the nether bank of the river Lethe. At least she came to think of that
stark, rollicking place as a landmark to the barrier between, well, here
and there, their feet taking them across an entire continent so that
they passed into another, nether world where all faces were brown and
she felt as conspicuous as a snowflake on an obsidian beach. Yellow eyes
went as wide as saucers when she walked there because this was not her
turf, was not even, strictly speaking, America, land of the free, home
of the brave, but some bottled-up ghetto filled with the shiftless and
the sly - pink Caddys parked next to old men rubbing gnarled grey hands
across a trashcan fire. But not a word was spoken and all was crystal
silence. Because of Baba. Still she was uncomfortable for she saw in
the;r eyes things 162 would haunt her for years. These people did not
need their mouths - they screamed their hatred of her with eyes. Her
skin crawled and her stomach knotted and, for moment, she was sorry for
what she had asked for. She an alien on a distant planet, a place where
she might ceivably be tolerated while in the company of this dark .
mountain but where she could never belong. Then glanced once into Baba's
face, saw the unconcern, and her ch settled down. he had read many times
about London after the Blitz but never been able to fully visualize the
enormous devastation. ' now. Walking through Harlem she thought she
knew. f-demolished buildings loomed on all sides, shattered work and
scattered rubble, bent wire and wood-frame s needlessly guarding black
holes in the ground, the ed stubbic of a once-rotten tooth. Dogs roamed
in packs, huge and thick-furred with long les, like wolves, and bright
yellow eyes that iridesced in slither of the mobile headlights of the
passing traffic. They ed hungrily, nervously circling the cinder fires
staining ge cans black. She saw a cockroach as long as her finger ding
in the gutter before a dog pounced on it. Drums ded from far away in the
direction of the upper edge of t-black Central Park. Flames lit the
street where the lights head buzzed and fizzled. She thought of Dante
and ered a little against Baba's side, as big and comforting as a 1. e
took her to a restaurant sandwiche4 between a six-floor ement that
looked as if it might burst into flames at any ment and an old-fashioned
grocery with a faded sign pro- by Coca-Cola. In long languorous strides
a young le danced in the cool light thrown on the pavement the open
door. A portable radio set on the lid of an inium garbage can spewed
James Brown's ''s a Man's rid'. ' stopped as he was about to take her
in. Across the enue, the fat old woman - as dark as tar - left the
recesses her moj o store to smile and have a look. Daina was fascinated
the ghostdance. The couple seemed on that magic, flickering 163 night
not to be made of flesh and sinew and bone but of starlight and the
wind, It was as if they had always been there on this street, part of
the world, surely closer to the essence of life than any of Daina's days
in Kingsbridge in pursuit of everything that now seemed false and
meaningless. And she realized dimly that it was because there was no
civilization here, at least not as she had been taught it. She found
herself thinking that in this filth and poverty and ignorance was an
essential purity that everything known to her would obscure and
therefore destroy. It was perhaps idealistic and not a little soppy -
which was why she would never tell anyone - but still she knew that at
that moment she was right; that she had indeed been witness to some
extraordinary act so that she felt transported back through time to the
instant when civilization had been bom. And she was at once exalted and
sad for she understood that they possessed some basic quality that she
did not and would never, perhaps, acquire and she resigned herself to
the role of spectator at an arcane rite. ' right,' she said softly when
it was over and Baba took her inside. The restaurant was low-ceilinged,
the wall and floor all of old Italian tile, in some places wom and
shabby, even chipped, but, for the most part, lustrous still. There was
no telling whether the proprietors had allowed the decor to stand for
aesthetic or financial considerations. They were shown to a comer table
by a thin waiter with skin so light he might have been dusted with
flour. Baba grinned at her and said: ' yo done it, mama. Yo gone eat
some real nigga food.' He took the menu from her hands. ' let me do the
orderin'.' He told the waiter what he wanted and when the first course
came - flash-fried chitlins made so crispy they were a racket to eat -
he said, ' whut about yo' boyfriew back home in the Bronx?' The way he
said it made it sound like the other side of the universe instead of
just north of crosstown. ' you I didn't have anyone! ' girl like yo?' He
shook his head, crunched into the chitlin before him. ', hell, yo got
yo' fam'ly, mama.' ' dad's dead.' She looked down at the red-and-white-
164 tablecloth. ' as for my mama, she doesn't really what.2 now. Ain't
no way for yo to talk, mama.' y not? You talk that way.' ' an outlaw,
mama. On the edge o' town. Doan you go anything like that up from me. I
gotta talk this way I cn be unnerstood.' He winked at her. ', I'se a
Doan know any utha way to talk. Now yo sumthin' else mama. Yo had
schoolin'. Brought up proper. Yo got on usin' all them fucks'n'shits.'
think they're just words like any other words. You've of Lenny Bruce -w'
4U'bm.' Baba shook his woolly head. ', yo got a lot to Don't make no
difference what you or I think, doan yo that? All that matter's what
them out there' - he tossed head - '. An' they doan like none o' that
shit, tan'.
Dig: they likes things calm'n'easy. Nice, uned feathers.' He pointed
with a greasy forefinger. ' yo' food, mama. Smack yo' lips. Enjoy 'em.
like yo was a , yo'll make me happy! They ate in silence for a while.
The place was narrow and ded. There was an almost communal atmosphere
with great deal of high-spirited talk and casual banter between es. It
was something she had never seen in any place town. They were near the
back where a double plate-glass window ked out across a weed-choked back
lot filled with piles of ck rubble. Blobs of lemon light from isecond-
and thirdrey windows haloed shabby brick walls seemingly far away in
reality just a block distant. In the night the gaps ted by the collapsed
buildings caused the illusion. Baba turned his head as the front door
opened to admit a n with a long shining face as black as midnight. He
made s slow circuitous way towards them through the restaurant. e wore a
fawn-coloured suit with lapels so wide they touched shoulders, a dark
brown shirt open at the neck to expose or seven rows of thin-link gold
chains. He had a long oden kitchen match stuck in one comer of his mouth
and hen he came closer Daina could see that he was continually 165
sucking his teeth with great energy. She also saw the rictus at the
side of his mouth, where he left the match, a slight tum-up of his lips
that never varied despite his expression.
"What say, m'man?' he said in a voice like a semi chewing up a gravel
drive. He stuck out a pink palm and Baba slapped it. chey.2 The man eyed
Daina. ' got here, nigga?' He hooked a chair leg with the tip of one
Thom Mcan ankle boot, pulled the chair out and sat down. ' t'me yo got
yo, black self one fine slice o' prime meat there.' ', yo got sumthin
important t'tell me? If not, yo"all c'n blow.' Smiler gave him a
gold-toothed grin. ' bro, yo gettin' a might touchy, seems t'this
nigga.' ' got shakin, man?' He had stopped eating. Now he wiped his
fingertips very carefully as he watched the other man. ' it out as I
says.' Smiler chewed reflectively on his match, the red and white tip
bobbing. ', nigga, yo forget white meat's meant ebe shared - ' slab boss
as thisn?' His hand heavy with callus came down over Daina's. She tried
to pull it away but his thick fingers imprisoned her. ' do none o'that,
Smiler.' Smiler grinned. ' not?' Baba reached out with deceptive speed
for such a large man and, without looking down, grabbed Smiler's
forefinger from where it lay gripping the back of Daina's hand. In a
blur he had snapped it up and back until there came a loud crack as the
joint gave under the enormous pressure. Smiler yelped, tried to jump up,
but caught in Baba's grip he could only squirm like a fish. Tears stood
out at the comers of his eyes and his face contorted. The pain could not
erase his awful half smile.
His chest heaved and a trickle of sweat inched down his left temple,
forced to detour by a throbbing vem. Still maintaining his grip, Baba
leaned across the table and in a low voice said, ' tol' yo, t'get on
with it, man, but yo' too much a bad-ass nigga t'pay me any mind.' 166 ,
bro . - .' Smiler's eyes rolled, the sweat was really now, staining the
collar of his shirt. ly way I sees t'get through t'you is do sumpin yo
c'n tan', dig? ' gritted his teeth. ', bro. Hey, hey, calm down Yo
hurtin' this nigga -01 don't give no fuck ' yo' pain, nigga, that clear?
Yo nuthin upstairs, yo gots tpay the price.' He put his face to Smiler's
shining one, his elbow on the cloth of the loth, increasing the
pressure. Smiler gasped so hard the dropped out of his mouth. bro, yo
killin' me, I ain't lyin'.' Tologize ethe lady, man.' "'Uh ... uh -2
Baba leaned in, gritting his teeth, and all colour seemed to e from the
other's face. ' - sorry.. ', maam. This here's a lady, mothafucka.
Sumthin yo, dn't be able t'rec'nize.' Smiler looked desperately at
Daina. ', ma'am.' And eyes closed with an almost infinite weariness. ','
Daina whispered. ' it now.' lie took his hand away from the other's and
relief flooded *ter's face. He swept his injured hand off the table@
held protectively within the other palm.
Jus' like crackin' a chicken wing fores yo take a bite, ch, Rer?' Baba
chuckled. '. What's up?' Smiler looked at him out of reddened eyes.
He rocked a ttle bit in the throbbing aftermath of the pain. ' comin' at
three Am. Same place.' ' check it out?' ' th' other end, yas. Fine
shit.' Baba nodded. '' a cool two G's fo' yo'all, nigga.
Buy self some fancy threads with dat kinda bread.' He laughed. p yo' ol'
lady in smiles, dat's fo' damn sho.' But Smiler wasn't laughing. He
gripped his ruined finger ith a peculiar kind of rigidity, seemingly
terrified of moving i . He stared at it, his lips moving, but no sound
came out. The sweat was drying up on his face. 167 'Doc fix yo up no
time a'tall, yo see.' Baba returned to his food. '' nex' time yo'll know
betta, right,'nigga?' Smiler looked at him. '.' He stood up, did not
even glance in Daina's direction. It was as if he saw Baba all alone at
the table. '' time I knows betta.' He pushed past the chair, threaded
his way out of the restaurant. When he got outside Daina thought she saw
him cross the street. ' didn't have to hurt him like that, did you?' she
said, Baba put down his fried chitlins, said, ' I tol' yo, mama, yo gots
a lot t'learn ' these folk. On'y thing niggas like Smiler knows is pain.
Sad fact, fol sho, but it's true enough. They don't -hear so good
sometimes so yo gots tget their attention. It ain't easy.' ' means you
had to break his finger?" "Uhm.' Baba sat back, wiped his thick lips. '
me tell yo a story, mama, illustrate m'point, Years ago ol' Smiler
use'ta be a free-lancer.
The Lord on'y knows how he made his bread ' he ain't got enough goin'
upstairs tmake a bird fly but he managed somehow. Until the day he come
up agamst a big shot outa Philly - a PR tboot. Now this guy, he's a
nasty sumbitch but he ain't stupid an' he sees how he can, yknow, fit
ol' Smiler inta his business plans. ' ' he makes Smiler an offer. Nice
one, couldn't complain, ' like I says, yo' pilot light's a bit dim.
