Esi Edugyan - Half-Blood Blues

I glanced desperately at Delilah. Her face had gone savagely red.

Feeling my moment slipping away, I blurted, ‘I want you to have my coat, Delilah.’ I made to take it off, to give it to the girl. But the czech, hell. My rubber arms got all tangled in the sleeves, and I stood there swaying with one shoulder forced awkwardly back, making short, violent jerking movements to free myself, like I the biggest damn ass ever to grace the green earth.

I started to laugh. It was a weird, panicked laugh, and even as I was laughing I was thinking to myself, Sid, what you doin, fool? Stop it. Stop it.

‘Sid?’ Delilah said, puzzled. ‘Sid, are you okay?’

Chip almost fell off his damn stool, cackling that hard. The kid was holding his sides, gasping and gasping. I just ain’t able to extricate myself. Then I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, turning me: Delilah, hauling my old arm back into my sleeve.

‘I just tryin a give you somethin,’ I said thickly.

‘You sure is, buck,’ Chip called out.

Oh, girl. She was practically green -faced, she so embarrassed. ‘I appreciate your concern, Sid,’ she said with real dignity. ‘I’m not cold. But thank you.’

And gathering up her own coat and her calfskin gloves and her tin of fish and her foul flea-ridden cat, she nodded to the gents, giving Ernst a longer, more polite nod, and left the stage.

I stood there, feeling a vague shame drift through me. And by vague I mean like a wall of water smashing into a village, obliterating everything. I got this weak sense of nothing, filled with numbness, like everything round me was taking place underwater.

Hell, those jacks was laughing and laughing like to wet themselves. Even Ernst had a smile on his face, shaking his head like he ain’t believed what he just seen.

‘Aw, Sid,’ Chip gasped. ‘Holy hell, Sid, you priceless.’

‘Alright, ease up now,’ said Ernst. But his eyes was still damp with tears of laughter. ‘Where’s Fritz? Anyone heard from him?’

‘Do we still got to play if Delilah ain’t here?’ said Chip.

I start to leave the dance floor but my old legs just wasn’t working. I thrown myself down at one of the tables in front of the footlights.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Ernst. ‘How much have you gents had to drink?’

Paul looked suddenly serious. ‘Not very much,’ he articulated carefully.

Then Chip’s foot banged the bass drum. He give a start, looking down at it like it done it of its own volition. Then he looked at Paul and snorted.

And then they was both laughing their old heads off again.

I felt sick with embarrassment. All I heard banging bout in my old skull was Hiero’s damn hiccuping laugh. The bastard.

They was playing a sloppy set, Paul missing his cues with a big grin at each nod from Ernst. Chip, drunk though he was, sounded tight as ever, brushing them old skins with real ease. I sat a long time at that table, feeling sick. Then I got to my feet, stumbled backstage.

She was just leaving the green room as I come down the steps, through the sound doors. Seeing it was me, her smile weaken a little. But she ain’t slapped my face or scowl or nothing, which I took for a good sign.

‘Listen, you got to excuse me on account of earlier,’ I said, clutching my hat hard before me in both hands. My arms was trembling a little and I tried to hide it by moving them. ‘I wasn’t in my right mind. I ain’t meant what I said. If—’

‘If he really thought you were frigid, he wouldn’t still be trying to get under your dress,’ said Paul, strolling out of nowhere. He tipped his hat at us and kept going.

Oh, the silence. A jack could grind his teeth on it. I stood there swallowing hard, not knowing where to look. Only thinking, Don’t you damn well meet her eye. I lowered my gaze, but realizing my eyes was level with her breasts, I flinched and glanced up again.

She look damn uncomfortable. She was smiling so hard I thought maybe her face going to break.

I cleared my throat. ‘I got to ask Ernst bout somethin. I just remembered it.’

‘Okay,’ she said, nodding quickly. ‘Yes. Okay then.’

She sort of spun round awkwardly on her heels, started walking purposefully off in the opposite direction. Ain’t nothing down that way but the prop closet.

Sick ain’t even the right word. Mortified, ashamed, embarrassed — hell, I was so far deep into it I ain’t even known what I was feeling. And being trapped in that damn club. Jesus.

The next night, I drifted into the green room looking round for something, anything, to rid me of my restlessness. Chip was sitting in there, brooding on the wall like he waiting for a painting to appear. Dame Delilah the Second was curled in his lap, purring away.

He give it a disgusted look. ‘This damn mangy rotten godawful ugly thing,’ he scowled. He still sounded drunk.

I sat beside him.

‘Her bank still closed?’ he said. ‘What you thinkin, courtin a dame when you three sheets to the wind. You ain’t never go in drunk, brother. You crazy.’ He shook his head. ‘Fool fool fool. Tellin a dame you aim to sin with that she frigid.’

I sort of lifted my shoulders, dropped them with a sigh. He was right. I got to get a hold of myself. Get smarter bout how I gone after her.

He give a sharp laugh. ‘A cat ain’t somethin you can one up. It ain’t.’ He lift up the Dame from his lap, its claws digging in hard to his suit. He grimaced and set it back. I could smell the czech on him still, coming off his breath in waves. ‘But it alright. Now you exactly where you want to be. Now you get to be apologetic , brother. Dames love that.’

I scowled. ‘Hell, Chip. I want you advice, I ask for it.’

‘I serious, brother. Go on up there right now, tell her how damn sorry you is. It goin work. You see.’

I studied his face in the ugly yellow lights from the costume trace. The light was pooling weirdly along his oyster lips, making him look like he leering at me.

‘What. She here?’

‘Where you been, buck? She been upstairs the last hour.’ He chuckled. ‘Up in Ernst’s office. And she alone , brother.’

‘Where the kid?’

Chip shrugged.

Hell. Hell and hell again. I got up, casual like, turning my old hat in my fingers, then sort of sauntered out into the corridor like I just thinking of something else. But what I was thinking was: Enough. Clear the damn air, let her see what you thinkin. Then leave it be.

Ernst had dragged a chair up onstage, was sitting alone cleaning his licorice stick softly. He ain’t even look up as I gone past, the instrument gilt as a blade. The club was dark, but there was lights on in Ernst’s office. I shuffled through the tables, up the narrow stairs. The door stood open, but I stopped in the shadows anyhow before tapping on the doorframe.

She stood in her blue silk dress, holding the gold scarf on her head with both hands, the fabric slipping like silty water down one ear. Her taut armpits was peppered with hairs black as scabs. ‘Sidney,’ she said, turning to me. ‘What a surprise.’

‘I come to apologize.’ I ain’t looked at her face. I feared her irritation. But the silence, it was brutal. I lift up my eyes. She was staring hard at me, waiting.

‘I ain’t got nothin to give you,’ I said.

She stood there, blank-faced for a minute. ‘Is this a joke?’

‘No.’

‘Because I’ve had just about enough of those from you.’

I cleared my throat uneasily.

‘What do you want, Sid?’ Something in that sounded thin, vulnerable.

I went to take her hand but she bowed forward quick, tying that sloppy gold fabric back into place. She let her hands hang loose at her thighs. I ain’t so foolish as to try it again.