Esi Edugyan - Half-Blood Blues

‘When my bed get empty, make me feel awful mean and blue,’ she wailed. ‘When my bed get empty, make me feel awful mean and blue. My springs are gettin rusty, sleepin single like I do.’

Paul smiled over at me.

Holy sweet hell. Her voice thrummed like a muscle. It was low and rich, with the quiver of something mustering its strength. ‘When you get good lovin, never go and spread the news. Yes, he’ll double-cross you, and leave you with them empty bed blues.’

She swung the thick, strong rope of her voice round the words, coming down hard on them, cinching them together. Then she flung the notes bold up in the air, high and horn-like. But her voice was at its core a sailor’s voice, rough and mannish. Her low notes bitter croaks, filled with muddy regret.

Hearing them like that, Delilah and the kid, I got filled with this weird energy, this strange aimless feeling. It wasn’t the czech. I mean, it wasn’t only the czech. I felt puckered, dry in the throat, the juices sucked out of me. Then the kid lowered his horn, smiled at her shyly. And she stood there, looking at him, filled with a exquisite radiance. I thought, Ain’t no way I able to give her that. No way.

Then I felt someone’s eyes on me, and turned. Chip stood across the dance floor, staring me down hard. He give me a dark look, shook his head.

The damn ceiling was spinning. Paul’s hand was at my shoulder.

‘Man, you’re really loaded.’ He grinned.

‘Like a rifle,’ I mumbled.

The next evening we was still drunk.

Now Delilah, she a right bone-grinder. For real . Ain’t none of us prepared for her odd flattery, her strings of teasing insults, or for the careless, distracted way she offer up her opinions. Not to mention the mysterious ending to her conversations, her sometimes just standing up mid-sentence and walking away. It intrigued a jack. Never mind what Chip protested, all his talk of her being a chunk of lead, boring as black pepper — I seen it in all their faces, the way they turned at a opening door, hoping it might be her.

So when Chip come up onstage, staggering just a little, and start fussing with his drumkit, I known he was watching Delilah with at least half a eye.

‘You don’t sing half as bad as I figured,’ Chip smiled. ‘Yesterday night.’

‘Why, Charlie, you’ll make me blush.’

‘Charlie a name for horses ,’ Chip grunted. Then he belched, smiled proudly.

Ernst come onstage carrying his licorice stick. ‘Chip, you’re a real gentleman. A real class act.’ He was in his shirtsleeves, his tie in a loose knot. ‘Anyone heard anything from Fritz? Anything?’

The kid shrugged.

Delilah was leaning against the exposed brick, thumbing the top button of her dress, a faint smile on her lips. Hell. I known nothing sexy was meant by it, she wasn’t doing it to be seductive. I ain’t got no excuse. But when she turned suddenly, seen me standing there at the edge of the dance floor, I dropped my eyes and my face gone hot.

‘Hiya, Sid,’ she said.

‘Delilah,’ I said, trying to sound sober. Studying the tips of my two-tones, like there was a spot on them needed shining.

She laughed, lowering her hand.

I seen something dark and muscled move out from the wings, cross under the kit where Chip was leaning, slip fast behind the piano, and move toward Delilah. Holy hell, that one damn big rat. I waved an arm, called out sharply to warn her. ‘ Delilah! ’

Everyone froze, staring at me like I was off my nut.

That dark furred thing wound itself through Delilah’s shins, and she crouched down, her dress all rising up her thighs. Still looking at me, she lift it into her arms. It started mewling in a high, spiteful tone. Hell. It was a cat .

‘Somebody been drinkin somethin ,’ said Chip in a stage whisper.

Paul tipped his thumb over his open mouth, like he pouring out a bottle.

‘Hide all you aftershave,’ said Chip.

My whole damn body flushed.

It was a shaggy, wild-eyed, crazy-looking cat. A majestic ruff of black and white fur crowned its shoulders. Delilah lift that rank thing into the air, stare into its eyes. ‘Hiya Lilah,’ she murmured. ‘How are you? How are you?’ She give a soft, choppy laugh.

‘It a cat,’ I said, astonished.

‘Well, she swears it is,’ Paul smiled. ‘I’m not convinced.’ He tripped over a cord, started laughing.

I shook my head. ‘Holy hell. Where that nasty thing come from?’

‘Paris,’ said Chip. ‘Though she claim she from Montreal originally.’

‘Be nice,’ Ernst said in English.

Delilah looked up at that. ‘You boys better not be making fun of her.’ Her smile was fierce. ‘She’s a warrior cat. Aren’t you, sweetie?’

‘Dame Delilah the Second?’ Chip laughed. ‘She only eats things smaller than her. Hiero better watch out.’

‘Dame Delilah?’ I said. ‘It from the wall?’

The cat squealed and writhed out from Delilah’s grip, landed softly. Everyone laughed. My face flushed harder, and I thought, hell, ain’t no one else look surprised by this. Like they all already known it.

That cat scampered over to Chip, jumped up on his lap. He stood with a clatter, dumping it onto the floorboards.

‘It likes you, Charlie,’ Delilah laughed.

‘ Chip , sister. Hell.’

But the cat was purring and weaving its way through the drumkit, rubbing up against old Chip’s ankles. ‘Come and get this filthy thing away from me,’ Chip barked. ‘It got to be diseased .’

‘If it’s attracted to you ,’ said Delilah.

Ernst laughed.

But Chip, he just give me a sour look. His eyes roved slowly over to one corner, and then he shook his head.

The kid. Hiero stood at the edge of the wings, a damn radiance in his face.

So he done it. He give her the cat. Hell. I ain’t able to figure it, what it was between those two. He so young.

I felt uneasy, weakly determined. Ain’t no way a jack compete with that. No way. But he got to try , at least. I thought of Paul’s advice.

Delilah sat on the edge of the stage, folding one long leg over the other, keying open a tin of sardines. Now where the hell that tin come from? Dame Delilah the Second drop down off Chip’s kit, come running over.

‘Sid?’ Ernst called down. ‘You joining us?’

I just give him a weak smile. I walked in a weaving path, holding onto the stage with one hand, trying to hide my drunkenness. I wet my lips. I ain’t figured out what to say yet.

Delilah glanced at me as I come up. ‘Sid?’ She sounded alarmed. ‘You feeling alright?’

Her bare feet was dangling loose in front of me. I glanced up. Sound of my name on her lips brought a lazy smile out of me. ‘I feelin good,’ I said, thinking my voice rang a bit shallow. I cleared my throat, deepened it a register. ‘I feelin good.’ There, that was better. Then, remembering what all I meant to say, I tried to make my face solemn. ‘But I worry bout you.’

She give a vague smile, glanced nervously round. ‘Me? Why?’

‘You must be cold.’ My words sat like a wad of wet rags in my mouth.

She frowned. ‘It’s summer , Sid. I’m okay.’

In the dim pit of my hooch-soaked brain, I tried to puzzle out what she meant. No, I known what she meant, but I couldn’t think of no clearer way to start. I mean, to make it acceptable to a dame’s ears, in high-hat language, not in that gutter-talk we all rattle off in our sleep.

‘Ain’t you a little frigid?’ I tried.

Sensing even as I said it that it ain’t quite right.

I heard a sharp laugh from the stage. Shaking, Chip leaned over to the others and uttered something. Muffled laughter rang out, everyone staring my way. Even Hiero laughed his high, hiccuping laugh. I felt a twinge of panic through my daze. My brain just wasn’t on the trolley, brother.