Arcadio (8 page)

One time in a town we followed a woman and watched her all day where she went, twas a dark flashing woman that could be Chupa, all day we watched and followed her, oh she went here and she went there and we followed her and finally when she was on a phone aphoning we stood close to her but what she was aphoning was
la policía
upon us and when they come and tried to apprehend us, all we told them was that we thought this woman was our mother and that we had long lost her and not to please apprehend us and those
policía
said you two sons of a lost mother that you are hunting are not going to be taken in and apprehended into a jail but are going to be given an outstanding award of twenty-two dollars and fifty
centavos
because this woman is Lou Jones a crooked woman that we have long hunted for in three counties of this state, thank you very much. What is a crooked woman, Tomasso asked me and I said I don know we have no such espression. And we rejoiced me and Tomasso and you may ask
Oyente
what we done with the twenty-two dollars and fifty cents reward, give a tithe of it like the White Bible told me to, give two dollars of it to a mission of the town for the pore, then bought two warm blankets in a J. C. Penney's with some more of the twenty-two fifty and then bought us a whole bunch of
tamales
and ate some and kept some for the days ahead. But the woman, you wan hear, was not Chupa.

Since his singing was so beautiful he sung in railroad stations or we would stand on corners in some cities or by fountains in the nighttime and sing our songs; and sometimes in a park, alone, singing and playing at twilight to the air and to ourselves; twas so peaceful, twas so beautiful; and I taught Tomasso many songs, some of them very beautiful that I had heard the Mescans sing, in my boyhood, one called
“Lágrimas,”
tears.
Lágrimas de dolor, lágrimas dolorosas, negro es el color de nuestras tristezas
, and some gay ones that the women sung in the
China Boy, I don't care, I don't care;
and some songs from the Show that the Dwarft Eddy sung, were little soft songs, not like the tough Dwarft that he was to us, songs about that the old gray goose is dead and of the wind of the western sea—
blow, blow, come and go, wind of the western sea
—nothing you would expect from a pessimistic Dwarft; but no songs from Old Shanks he never sung a fucking word, please excuse the language but I still get mad when his old name is mentioned, even if it's me amentioning it; and many songs from Tomasso's days of the Deliverance Choir, such as “Lullaby of Jesus, Baby,” “Sweeten the Bitter Waters,” and oh the sad one

What is a crystal strand, I says to Tomasso. I do not know, says Tomasso. It's what we sung. And of course my special number as a solo was “The Waltz of the Spotted Dog,” my old Show tune and the only one I knew, goes like this:

don you like it. But oh when Tomasso sung it with some words that he made up, my heart cried for the sweetness of his song not to mention my eyes that would drop salted tears into my rusty frenchharp as I played for him—cain't remember the words you'd have to ask him but you cain't he's gone. Tomasso's song! Asinging! People loved his singing and they give us money for it, his voice was sweet to hear, wish you could've heard it wish that I could hear it now, asinging here, wish could sing it for you but I cain't. We was cold and we was hungry. But the child sung. Poor and ascared sometimes and hungry and without a home, but the child sung. How can I explain to you why the child sings? I says. How can I myself understand why a child such as this would sing? Without a home and hungry and huntin for his mother? What is singing, anyway, what is a song? You wan hear. I loved so much my half blood brother Tomasso and I was happy with him. What if this wasn't the real Tomasso you would say to me and I would answer that since I had never known him anyway and did not know what to espect, this one, Tomasso or not, would do. Tomasso or not. You wan hear. Probably just as good as Tomasso if not better because how did I know what Tomasso's faults would have been if this was not the real Tomasso you wan hear. I might have hated him. And this way I could find many Tomassos of my
own
, many brothers. And anyway
La Biblia Blanca
says that we are all brothers. You wan hear? And there would be many a man wandering hunting for a brother. So Tomasso and I was happy. And would be so happy the day we would come across our mother Chupa. And whether Chupa would be happy would be another story (which may never be told, I do not know). What a day twould be, you wan hear,
compadre
. And so until then there was Tomasso singing, out of nothing, but singing his song out of the life,
la vida
, joyfully singing at my side, out of the hungriness,
el hambre
, why was he so glad? out of no home, out of no mother nor father, singing joyful at the side of an old half brother; Tomasso sang. If I could sing his song for you! If I could put back breath in his dead song! But it is gone now, singing only in my memory. And you will never hear it, you wan hear.

And you wan hear,
compadre
, that that day that we would find our mother Chupa never come oh tis sorrowful to tell. Oh is it all sorrow that I have to sing? All losing and ahunting? No because you will remember that you've heard the joy part of my song, remember? How much joy part would there be in yours,
Señor, Señorita
, if you was to sing your song to me? You wan hear. Yet for a little while we went asinging on and huntin. But we kept our eye out for posses just like I had during the days of my own excape, as I have told you about. If somebody had tried to capture my brother I would have killed them. And sometimes we was sure that certain people was trying to capture Tomasso. When they would ask what school you go to,
niño
little boy, then we would go away before they could espect an answer. Then we would hide in cotton gins if twas wintertime and if we was down in the cotton country. And once in a cotton town Tomasso cried out Hondo! and run away into a crowd and I could not find Tomasso and was scared that he had run away to Hondo that had finally made the hole big enough and had excaped; but in a little while Tomasso come on back to me sad and said it twas not Hondo. Then I was ascared for some days because I knew that Tomasso was alooking for his Hondo and hopin that he would excape and come and find him with the curl of hair. But then the scared-ness passed away and back come our sweet days, seem like now that they did not ever happen just perfect days of sweetness maybe was a dream I do not know sometimes now as I sing my song of days of yore.

BUT
ONE
DAY
THERE
was Hondo standing on a corner in a town of a green bayou. I heard a cry Hondo! and twas Tomasso running to a big gray man. Tomasso! the man called back. I dug the hole finally big enough! Hondo Hondo! cried Tomasso. Where is the curl of Sweet Janine's hair? asked Hondo. And when Tomasso pulled out the Bull Durham sack and pulled out the curl of little hair, the gray man seized up Tomasso and whirled him in the air, twas a joyful reunion. I was ahunting you, said Hondo, at the same time as I am going on my way to find Sweet Janine's sister Ethelreda Johansson, they are Swedish people. Bohunks? I asked. No, said Hondo, the Missoura jailer Sam Policheck is a Bohunk. I told him said Tomasso. Hondo, this is Arcadio my half blood brother. I am Hondo Holloway, Hondo Holloway says and shook my hand and I fell down alittle from his crushing squeeze and said my God what strength. I am on my way to make amends to Sweet Janine's big sister, said Hondo to me. Because you did not know your own strength I says to Hondo Holloway. I told him, says Tomasso. Tis a terrible thing when somebody does not know their own strength, I says. Then Tomasso asked Hondo where was Old John. Sick in the Missoura jail he may now be dead, Hondo told Tomasso. Very tired from helping dig the hole for you and for me. Tomasso cried. Do not cry, said Hondo, God will bless Old John for helping you and me to excape, do not fear, said soft kind Hondo Holloway.

I guess I never met a sweeter man than Hondo. It was one of the presents that Tomasso give to me. Got his name from the
arroyo
he said was borned near Arroyo Hondo in New Mexico, grew up with the Mescans of Nuevo Méjico but was of
gringo
parents name of Holloway. Hondo had a sweet face of hair, face covered with a soft gray beard and two gray eyes asparkling out, Hondo was a gray soft furry man. And of a deep low voice that you would not think would ever raise up against anybody yet he killed Sweet Janine with's love. Because he did not know his own strength. Hondo said he was hunting for Sweet Janine's sister Ethelreda Johansson so that he could present to her the curl of little hair and beg her to forgive him for the accidental death of Sweet Janine, accidental even though he was thrown into the Missoura jail to stay for his lifetime for murder of Sweet Janine—the word that Hondo told me that they used:
homicidio
. Hondo took out an almost rubbed-out picture of two women, one a beautiful girl of streaming hair and the other a great big woman with a big head and arms, and
grande
. The big
grande
woman will not forgive you Hondo, I said. It's just not in her I told him you can see in the picture that it's just not in her. Well I have to try, said Hondo. I spent some time digging with Old John—my strength was weak—a hole big enough to excape out of the Missoura jail so that I could ask the forgiveness of Sweet Janine's sister, and Old John give his life, looks like it's going to be, for it. I cannot rest until I do, I will not have no peace, no inner peace until I come before Janine Johansson's sister Ethelreda. Which is a hard name for a Mescan to say, Ethelreda, you wan hear.

Why don't we all go together since we are all ahunting for people, I says, Tomasso and me for our
madre
Chupa and me for my father Hombre and sometimes for the Show, you for your dead sweetheart's sister. But are we all going in the same direction? asked Hondo. I have been traveling northwest. In what part of the country did you murder Sweet Janine, I asked. Please do not use that word Hondo begged me, but I do not remember since I was blacked-out in my wild strength of loving Sweet Janine and I run out of whatever state it was in such blindness after I saw what I had done. But, said Hondo, I have long had a hunch through many many dreams of Sweet Janine that her sister could be found in the Northwest somewhere. How did the posse catch you I asked Hondo, for you were at large as I was and had a posse—ridiculous as it was, composed of Shanks and a mean little Dwarft—I had a posse huntin for me, too; how did they get you? That is another story Hondo said. I had such visions in my dreams or even suddenly when I was awake of Sweet Janine. She was in a field of bluebonnets all in a white dress ablowing. But you should be going toward the Southwest, said I to Hondo Holloway, for there is where the bluebonnets bloom. In Texas, my home. But I have dreamt of Sweet Janine's sister Ethelreda standing in the Northwest. What did you see about the Northwest in your dream, I asked. Maybe I can help you I have been in almost every town since I have been at large. I don want talk about it right now, says Hondo and when he patted me on the back I went over to one side from the blow even though he was apatting me, because he did not know his own strength. Maybe you should see a Medium,
Una Médium
, I suggested to Hondo, a Medium could show you about the
visiones
that you had of Sweet Janine and could help you get a message. Twas
Una Médium
in the Show that people paid a dollar to, to get a message from
los muertos
the dead ones. Was she a gypsy, said Hondo. I don know, said: she was under twenty-seven veils and her name was Orisana. At's a gypsy, says Hondo, sounds like to me. Well under the twenty-seven veils, I don know, I says. But I do know that one night man from a town come after her with a shotgun because said got a message from his first wife when Orisana promised message from his second. Shanks had to put Orisana behind locked doors where she cried out how could I help it it's not my problem that he kept marrying women named Louise, wrong one answered, how the fuck could I help it if everybody's named Louise? Where is Orisana, Hondo asked me. Know where can I find this Medium? I would pay her anything. I have saved up quite a bundle from the little Savings and Loan. What is a bundle? I asked. Well quite a whole lot, Hondo said. From the little Savings and Loan Bank in some town, I can't remember. Maybe it was in Janine's town, I says, where you accidentally murdered her. Please not to use that word, asked Hondo. You took some money from the little bank, you robbed the little Savings and Loan? I asked Hondo. Something similar to that, answered Hondo. But that is a sin and you will have to return the money, I told Hondo. I will never be able to do that, said Hondo, because I buried most of it in the ground under the Missoura jail, in a baitbox. You was always adiggin in the Missoura jail I says to Hondo. But now you'll have to leave the buried money to God. God and
Jesucristo
'll have to dig for it. And Old John, added Hondo, who is a very rich man. And locked up in a jail, and dying, I says, and cain't dig anymore. Is that rich? I says. But if you would like, I would go as a servant of God and
Jesucristo
to the Missoura jail and by night help you dig up the Savings and Loan so that you could return it to where you sinfully took it if you could remember the town. Then you would be forgiven and freed from the Missoura jail, confessing to the jailer Policheck. No, Hondo told me, that would do no good, although I appreciate the offer, because I was not in jail for the Savings and Loan but because of the accidental death of Sweet Janine. Oh my God I am all mixed up, I says. I am not able to figure out about the Savings and Loan. Was it before the death of Sweet Janine or after? How could it be after since I was grabbed at once by the police and thrown into jail, says Hondo. Where was all the Savings and Loan, I asked when the police grabbed you. Hidden all over me, explained Hondo. It was Old John that had the baitbox to put it in. Where was Old John, I asked. Already in the jail. I'm all mixed up, I says, Hondo. So am I, says Hondo. Anyways, he says, I brought quite a bit of the Savings and Loan through the hole of excape. So where is the Medium that can get a message from Sweet Janine? I will pay her anything. Escuse my asking, Hondo, I says, but where is the Savings and Loan? Hidden, says Hondo. Hidden safely against my groins. Not safely, I says. That is the first place
La Médium
goes. What for? asked Hondo. To help you to get the message I says. So where is she? asked Hondo again. Orisana? I says.
La Médium?
I don know, I says, where to find the Show. If you would help me hunt for the Show then we could find Orisana—
quizás
perhaps she may still be with the Show I don know. Some days I think I will come back to it but then I do not even know where is the old Show. You need a Medium too, said Tomasso. To get a message where the Show is. But the Medium and the Show are in the same place—if they are anywhere in this world any longer, I said. And we don even know where that is says Hondo, listen we are huntin for too much I'm all mixed up. I thought we were looking for my mother, said pore little Tomasso. Well I will help you hunt for the Show, Arcadio, says Hondo, and that of course includes the Medium, but only if the Show is in the same direction as Ethelreda Johannson, which is northwest. O.K. I says, who knows but what the Show is not in that direction. And the Medium, added Tomasso. And since we don know which direction to go anyway, because we don know where anybody is that we are ahuntin…let's go northwest, says Hondo.