Pao (2 page)

Next thing you know I become a odd-job man, fixing up the cupboard door, sawing and hammering even though I don’t know a damn thing ’bout what I am doing. I swear every time I fix something and leave they must have to call a carpenter to come sort it out.

Then one day me and Judge Finley sitting alone in the shop and him say to me, ‘What you doing with Gloria Campbell?’

And I say, ‘Nothing.’

‘Well you better make up your mind to do something or stop going over there. You got things to do and I’m damn sure she got plenty to keep herself busy as well.’

So I say to him, ‘What yu think of Gloria?’

‘What you asking me this for?’

‘I just asking yu, that’s all.’

‘Well now you asking me to give an opinion about a woman I hardly know, a woman I seen maybe five or six times when I happen to take a envelope from her. She beautiful, I give you that. And she got style. She carry herself well. And I think she have some brains as well running all them girls and turning a profit. Well, I reckon a man wouldn’t mind to be seen out with a woman looking that good on his arm. But he wouldn’t marry her.’

‘Who is talking ’bout marrying?’

‘Well maybe it time you thinking ’bout it at least.’

‘So what you know ’bout it? You not even married yourself.’

‘Oh yes, I get married last year.’

‘You get married and you don’t tell nobody ’bout it?’

‘Her people from St Thomas, we go over there and we do it.’

‘And you don’t invite nobody to come join in the celebration?’

‘Marriage is not for celebrating. It is something you do to give your children a name.’

After that I stop going to see Gloria, but it don’t stop me from thinking ’bout her. I am thinking about her so much it like I am in a daze. I drive the wrong way from Half Way Tree to Red Hills and have to turn ’round. I count out the pai-ke-p’iao money two, three times but I can’t make it add up. I have to keep asking Hampton and Finley what they say to me because I can’t remember.

Then one evening me and Zhang sitting at the table in Matthews Lane. Ma at temple and Hampton out on the prowl. Zhang ask me, ‘You sick?’

And I tell him no.

‘So it must be a woman.’

What Zhang know about women I don’t know. He and my father was just boys when they busy fighting for Dr Sun Yat-sen and the Republic and when that was done he leave China and come to Jamaica and live like a hermit, until my father get killed and Zhang save up the passage and send for us. And in all that time I don’t think he even talked to a woman.

‘How you feel?’ he ask me.

‘I feel like I am under water and everything is just out of reach. Everything is muffled. I can’t quite hear. And I can’t touch or feel anything, my arms just waving about in the air. Except when I am with her and then it is like my feet are on the ground. Everything is sharp and focused and when I put my hand on the table like this, I can feel the wood under my fingers. And it feel like it matters. That it matters that I am sitting there with her. That it mean something. I feel happy just to watch her pour the tea and stir in the milk.’

‘This is the whore in East Kingston?’

That word hit me so hard because it don’t seem to describe anything about Gloria. It don’t seem to be associated with her in any way. But I know what Zhang mean and I say, ‘Yes.’

And he just get up from the table and walk away up the yard.

The next Friday night when I go to make the weekly pick-up everything seem different. I don’t know what. The music is playing, the liquor is flowing, the women is busy. The place look exactly the same. So I decide that it must be me that is different. Maybe it because I decide to harden my heart against her.

So now it seem like this is the place that is under water. Like I am inside some invisible bubble and I am just looking out. And when I reach out to take the envelope from her I not even sure that my hand is going make it outside of the bubble to pull in the money. But somehow I manage to do it, and she just stand there and look at me like she know something is different as well. But she don’t say nothing ’bout it.

After that I can’t stand to go over there so Hampton is doing the weekly pick-up on his own. And then one Friday morning I bump into her, just like that, standing up in King Street after I finish drop off some cigarettes.

It seem rude not to even say hello so we standing up there passing the time of day when she say to me, ‘You keep thinking all the time about what I am. But maybe you should concentrate on who I am, the sort of person I am, and maybe that way you might get to know how you feel. I see the way you look at me. And how you stand far from me in case you might touch me by accident. And how when you have to come close to me you hold your breath like you think something bad about to happen. Well maybe you just need to let yourself breathe.’

I don’t say nothing to her. I just stand there feeling like it is me and her now trapped inside this bubble and the whole of King Street is going past us ’bout its business like it can’t even see we there.

Then she say, ‘Next Monday and Tuesday the rest of the girls are taking themselves up to the north coast to Ocho Rios. They reckon we not so busy then and they can spare the time to have a break. But I am not going with them. I am just going to close up the house so I can get some time to myself. So Monday night I will be there in the house on my own. And what I am saying to you is you can come over for the night if you want to.’

All of this time she is talking to the side of my head because I can’t bring myself to look at her. I am staring out into the street watching the cars fight with the buggies and pushcarts for road space while I feel her eyes burning a hole into my temple.

‘You don’t seem to think that maybe I have some feelings as well.’ And then she stop.

And then she start again, ‘But I have to tell you that this is a one-time offer. If you decide not to come then it will be strictly business between you and me from that point on because we can’t carry on like this.’ And she step out into the noise of horns and cross the street and walk away into the crowd.

I don’t go do the pick-up that Friday night but all weekend I think about what Gloria say to me. And what Hampton say about whores. And what Judge Finley say about marriage. And how Zhang just get up and walk away. And I know they is all right. No matter how you feel, you can’t marry a woman like that. So I think on it, and I think on it. And when Monday night come, I take a shower and go to her house in East Kingston.

Next morning when I set foot inside the gate at Matthews Lane I see Ma up the top of the yard feeding the ducks, and Zhang sitting at the table finishing his tea. So I walk past him and I head to my room. But just as I put my foot on the step with my back to him, and him sitting at the table with his back to me, he say, ‘Your mother start to fret last night when you don’t come home, but I told her it was alright because I knew where you were.’

And I say, ‘Thank you,’ and step into my room.

2

Moral Influence

But Zhang don’t like it. First of all he just ignore it like maybe I going get over it, sorta grow outta Gloria. Then when this no happen he start make comments ’bout what sorta thing a honourable woman do, what kinda life she have, and how she act and suchlike; and how a dishonourable woman will bring a man down. According to Zhang a shameful and disloyal woman is the one single source of a man’s ruination. Then after that no work him start talk ’bout how I need to meet a nice Chinese girl and now every day he is mentioning to me the name of every man in Chinatown who has a daughter. He can’t see that I am not interested, that the time is going by and my life is full. Because apart from seeing Gloria three times a week, I am busy driving US navy surplus all over Kingston and double counting eggs because I discover that the Chinaman on the chicken farm in Red Hills can’t be trusted. Plus Gloria introduce me to two of her friends so now I have three houses to look after. The last thing I need to be thinking about is getting a wife.

But Zhang don’t care. He is on and on at me morning, noon and night and he is beginning to vex me now. So I agree to go up the Chinese Athletic Club and see what going on. I reckon that will shut him up. When I get there I find a bunch of kids playing ping-pong and drinking lemonade.

Then them tell me they organising a garden party. Zhang, and now Ma, very excited. It seem like this is the best thing to happen since Mao Zedong win the war and they set up the People’s Republic of China. Zhang and Ma fuss me so much that Sunday morning I barely make it outta the house on time, with Zhang looking at me all expectant like, and Ma waving me goodbye, and Hampton stand up in the yard with his hands on his hips laughing like him witnessing a clown show.

She was there though, with her dark wavy hair pin in a neat bun at the back of her head, and hips, and lips, and hands that she wave about all the time she talking, and throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes tight shut when she laugh. I ask somebody who she is.

‘That is Fay Wong.’

‘You mean Henry Wong daughter?’

‘That’s the one.’

So then I know there is no point me even going up to her because most likely she wouldn’t even talk to me. Henry Wong is one of the richest Chinese men in Jamaica. He own supermarkets, wholesalers and wine merchants all over Kingston, Ocho Rios and Montego Bay, and he have a big house uptown busting with servants. And I think well if Zhang reckon Gloria not good enough for me what is he going make of Fay Wong? So right from that moment I had her in my sights.

When I go back to Matthews Lane Judge Finley tell me that Henry Wong is a regular player at the mah-jongg tables in Barry Street. So the next time Henry Wong come down to Chinatown I get a professional to lift his wallet, and that give me a chance to go uptown to return it.

The Wongs’ house on Lady Musgrave Road got a semi-circular driveway, and between the two entrances a grass tennis court with a big red hibiscus hedge. The house sit on top of a flight of concrete steps with a wide tiled veranda, and a low white-concrete balustrade. And all over it there is wicker armchairs and little tables. The flower bed under the veranda crammed with all sorta colours and shapes, pinks and purples and reds, and to the side there is a twelve-foot-tall angel’s trumpet, which I know, come evening, is going to put out a real strong, sweet, heavy scent.

When I get on this veranda I see they got a swimming pool ’round the side with some nice little almond trees for shade. Then I see a black woman filling up one of them big wicker armchair. So I introduce myself and she say she is Cicely Wong, who I know is Henry Wong’s wife.

I tell her what my business is and I reach out with Henry Wong’s wallet in my hand but she don’t take it from me. Instead she call out, ‘Ethyl,’ and this girl come running outta the house like Miss Cicely just call out ‘Fire’, and it turn out that she is the one that is going to take the wallet from me, and then pass it directly to Miss Cicely.

Then Miss Cicely ask me if I want to join her for afternoon tea. Well, this I know about, so I say, ‘Thank you.’ And she tell me to sit down. She move her embroidery so that I can sit on the chair right next to her.

But no sooner than I sit down she stand up and sorta march over to the edge of the veranda and start shouting, ‘Edmond, gather up those mangoes from under the tree, I don’t want them turning to pulp on the grass there around the swing. You need to sweep up all that rubbish from ’round the back as well, all sort of rotten fruit and things ’round there. And when you done that cut back that poinsettia, can’t you see it getting too big for that corner.’ And she come back and sit down again. Edmond standing up under the tree look like him tired. But I don’t know if it from overwork or from Miss Cicely yelling at him.

Before Ethyl finish pour the tea Miss Cicely is on her feet again. ‘Lord, Edmond, what is it you think we paying you for? Every other garden down the road look better than this one. The garden next door look like it belong to a palace and their gardener is only part-time and a old man at that, not a young sap like you. Make me wonder if I should ask him to come over here and see what he can do to help us out. I keep praying to the good Lord to see if he can send you some inspiration, but He don’t seem to be paying me no mind. When the ecumenical women’s group come here next week I want the place looking spick and span and beautiful, you understand me? I don’t want it looking like this while you leaning up under a tree shading yourself and acting like you sweating from exhaustion.’

Miss Cicely take a liking to me though, and after that day a week didn’t go by without her inviting me for afternoon tea. So week after week I was sitting there drinking tea while I watch her instruct the butler, and arrange the menu with the housekeeper, and check the grocery bill, and dish out household chores to the maids; all of the time Ethyl keeping us cool with ice-cold lemonade, and at four pm precisely, Earl Grey tea with tin salmon and cucumber sandwiches, and a slice of Victoria sponge cake. Well this bit I never did with Gloria, so I wait and watch and make sure that I do everything just exactly the same way Miss Cicely do it, and that seem to work out fine.

I find out a lot about Miss Cicely. First of all that she like chocolates and grapenut ice cream, so I always make sure to bring plenty of that. Also, she like Chinese men.

‘A Chinese man,’ she say to me, ‘is hardworking and diligent. He is prudent and steadfast in his resolve to make a better future for himself and his family. A Chinese man hunts out prosperity. Not like the Africans. The Africans are irresponsible and unreliable; indolent and slipshod. They squander every penny. That is why I married a Chinese man. And why my daughters will also marry Chinese men.’