Sandra Newman - The Country of Ice Cream Star

Now I say, “Crow must be sergeant. He the oldest male.”

“Sergeant never need to be a male. Sure Jennifer been last.”

“But this be common for a leader. Children tell me even you is male.”

“Can prove you this.” He smile again. “Wait only for permissions.”

I shrug. “Ain’t your problems, sure. Is only scary to myself. Crow want me for his sex. Fear it be violence, once my Driver gone.”

“Damn he do,” say El Mayor. He rummage up himself to sit.

“Damn is truth,” I say more fortey. “Crow a mally wasp, ain’t fear to hurt.”

“He try this with you? Seriose?”

“Nay, with myself. Got fear of Driver. But this be the secret truth of him and Mari’s Ghost. Been force. And sure his pants be hungry for myself.”

Now El Mayor go balk. He look at me with weaken faith. Yo, I remind unhappy, El Mayor know Mari’s Ghost. No male forcing Mari’s Ghost. Her only word be yes.

Then a grin start on El Mayor’s mouth. He shake his head and laugh.

Here my show of anger weaken. Cannot help, I start to smile. El Mayor leap on me, shouting, “Lying fox! I teach your mouth to lie!” Downstairs he tickle at my ribs. Upstairs he try to kiss my mouth. I kick him every which way. At last I bite my teeth into his chin, and he give room. Flop back to the sofa, gasping breath.

“Bad I took that bait!” he say. “Goddamn. The roo been truth?”

“Foo, it all been truthful mostly. Got an aim, but… nay, the part with Mari’s Ghost ain’t true.”

“Crow bother you for sex?”

“Nay, but—”

“Honest as a Sengle! You an honor to your people.”

“Shee. You be a pinching pain to all my Sengle people, Girl Egg.”

“Sure, they rid my painful self. So what you want? Can guess you foxing me for something.”

I sit up, arrange my face into some dignity. “How I said, I take the gun.”

“For your defense from Crow.” El Mayor laugh.

“Shoo, need bullets with-without no Crow.”

“This be some bullets of mine, I foresee.”

“Parabellum nines. I like to pay, but it be hungry seasons. Winter coming soon.”

“Ice Cream, you be a Lowell in your crafty head. Be a loss to joy that you ain’t trade to us.”

“Foo, say yes. Need no suspenses.”

“Yes and yes. Sure I give you any foolish riches, every child know this.”

My heart clear in relief. I put my hand upon his ankle, for it be closest to. “Be gratty well.”

A moment, we only grinning to each other, happy from our jokes. Then he look to my touching hand. Can see he think to reach for me. But I say, sudden out of nothing, “Keepers said the roo be thirty.”

A moment, El Mayor still yearn his eyes. Then he flinch sharp. “Thirty? Thirty years?”

“What he telling Keepers, ya. She talk to him all morning. Was rooish that they spoken, so she ain’t learn much. But this been certain.”

“Keepers?” El Mayor’s face ease. “Been tales from only Keepers?”

“Foo, I know when Keepers lie.”

“So you believing this?”

“Ain’t know. But roos be other people. Can be sleepers, any strangeness.”

Now El Mayor sit back in puzzle. “So if they sleepers, sleepers ain’t get posies?”

“How they ain’t?” I scoff my breath. “They getting WAKS. I thought your Lowells say that WAKS and posies been the same?”

“No person knowing certain.” El Mayor pooch lips in thought. “But white people dying quick from WAKS, ain’t living extra years. It been our children mostly live. Had some resistance to this pox.”

“Then roos must have some cure. They white themself. Should all be dead.”

El Mayor nod like this be usual notions. “Or they from a place that ain’t infect. Can be this.”

“Nay, thought it been the world entire.”

“What we think. Ain’t seen the world ourself.”

“But every evidence say, it been the world.” My voice come thin. “Most likely be, roos got a cure. Ain’t see?”

“But why they kept this to themself? Roos coming here before.”

“Goddamn, they got no reason they will help! Yo think! You only contradicting!”

El Mayor look surprise to me. Ponder on my face a moment, then his eyes change sorry. “Ice. Keepers be eight.”

“So she eight,” I say in weaker voice. “And so?”

“Ain’t get excitements, from some eightish tales. You think. She learn his rooish speech in hours?”

“Was only numbers. Can learn numbers. And if it being right?”

El Mayor look down, discomfort. “Ice… you thinking of your Driver?”

I startle queery. “How you meaning?”

“I know he got his posies.”

“Nay, how? Who saying this?”

“Ain’t no one saying. Driver come to me for papa tea, to ease his hurt. Sure, he ain’t want everyone to know.” Then El Mayor’s face painful, like his memory see someone suffer hard.

I watch his sadden face, and cannot get a breath inside. “Ain’t posies certain. Nay.”

El Mayor look startling to me. “You ain’t known? Damn, Ice, I speak this to you first?”

“Nay, ain’t certain. Cannot be.” When the tears come up, they rush like breath. My head be stars and hurt.

Then come a blind and sobben time. El Mayor come clutch me to him, and I weep against his shoulder. Try thinking of my pride, but misery wash my mind in circles. Can only think of Driver. How he keep this silent, and the months he going to sicken. How he going painful, going to die, and every grief be rain.

POSIES TAKE EACH PERSON in their sort. Popsicle cough his spirit out. Jay-dee’s belly swell and hurt until she claw it to the blood. Mailman strangle in his throat. He strangle once, then find his breath. Strangle again, and beg for help. Then he cannot bear to wait, he shoot himself in desperate fear. Jennifer been sergeant last. She scream but she forgotten words. Ain’t recognize our faces. Scream a week, then she ain’t speak no more. She stare and dribble her mouth.

And all their face and skin eat up by red and blackish posies. Posies scabbing and they open into sores and horrors. Posies grown inside and outside, blackish death put roots into your body and its flowers bloom.

My death must come before his death. I start a murder war, and all my Sengles die in blood. I blind my eyes and never see the posies come. I shoot my heart.

El Mayor be muttering, “Damn, I hate to see you cry, goddamn.” His voice come through my panic, and the sobbing soften in my chest. I open eyes, and there be his cat Radio, perch on sofa’s back. Be a whitely kitty with one crinkle ear. Sniff at me, curiose. I laugh a teary laugh, and El Mayor touch to my cheek. He say, “You going to kill me, you keep crying.”

We sat up on the sofa now, press close. All the room seem big and light. The bricky wall look warm; the yellow painten wall look clean and kind. Yo, Radio hop over to the windowsill. There she arch and say her yorry miaow. Behind her in the window go the river through the tumbledown bridge. River slip around the beams, the metal splay and twisten. I watch the blackish-bluish-brownish water till my spirit settle. Radio sit in my view and lick her rosy pawpad.

Cat’s name be Radio because this be El Mayor’s present work. He get a dozen radio machines, and swear to make one talk. Before this, been a cat name Gypsum, and a cat that change its name from Plumbing Joint to Insulator. So El Mayor intend to puzzle back the world of sleepers, cat by cat. And all the Lowells copy after him, got cats name Coffee Plant and Airplane, things these children sworn they will create.

It come to me that cats ain’t live no twenty years. Be luck that Keepers ain’t remember cats, will be one gloating little. I think now to tell El Mayor about the roo his wrinkle brow. But he lean to me then and kiss my lips.