Esi Edugyan - Half-Blood Blues

‘Louis,’ I repeated, swallowing hard.

‘Aw, I just foolin with you.’ He laugh from deep in his chest. ‘You look like you cat just got run down by the milk truck.’

I just smiled and smiled, like I too damn simple to speak.

Delilah was putting her hand on Chip’s shoulder real gentle, like to start next with him, when he thrust hisself forward, his hat angled like a sail on his head, and sat hisself down on a chair at Armstrong’s bedside.

He said, ‘We heard you been feelin bad, Louis, real bad.’

Armstrong looked at Delilah. ‘Oh, nothing a few matzos ain’t like to fix.’

‘We glad to hear it, glad to hear it.’

‘You must be the other rhythm boy.’

Chip sort of cleared his throat at that. He set his hat back on his crown, put out his massive hand for Armstrong to shake. Then just as quick he pulled it back. ‘You ain’t contagious, are you?’

Armstrong laughed. ‘Ask Delilah. She been sayin I sick ever since I known her.’

Chip seemed to think about this a minute. Then he put out his hand again. ‘Well, I reckon that’s alright. Charles C. Jones, Louis. You just call me Chip.’

‘Chip?’

‘Yes sir. Ever you lookin for percussionists, ever you want to class up you rhythm section, you know we you men. Me and Sid.’

I stared at Chip in horror. What was the damn fool doing, talking like this to Louis goddamn Armstrong ? That cat got his pick of geniuses and here Chip was offering him our talents like we doing him a favour? I felt sick.

‘Alright, Chip,’ Delilah said quickly. ‘You’re going to tire the old man out.’

Armstrong started laughing, all gravelly, like he clearing his damn throat. ‘Old is right, girl. Old as the moon.’

‘Louis?’ said Delilah, catching his eye. ‘Isn’t there something you want to ask?’

Armstrong cleared his throat. ‘What the C stand for, Jones?’

Chip, who been getting up from his chair, froze. ‘The C?’

‘Sure. In you name. What it stand for?’

Man oh man, I ain’t seen this coming. I smiled at Hiero. ‘He askin what the C stand for.’

The kid got this crooked smile on his face.

‘Aw, Louis,’ Chip was saying. ‘It don’t really matter, do it?’

But I was watching the kid. His face, it was all twisted up, like he was holding his damn body too tight, like he got to go to the damn toilet.

‘Kid?’ I whispered. ‘You alright?’

I figure he ain’t took a breath in a long minute.

‘Kid?’

And then, hell . He give out the weirdest damn laugh I ever heard.

I started to laugh.

Delilah looked over with a smile. ‘Hiero? You alright?’

‘Hell, buck,’ said Chip. ‘Come on, get youself under control.’

Kid put a hand over his mouth, hiccuped again.

Armstrong narrowed his eyes, smiling. ‘You sure he alright?’

‘Aw, he be fine,’ I said. ‘It happens.’

But the kid was mortified. He turned to face the door, clutching the handle, his shoulders shrugging every few seconds.

‘Now Chip,’ Armstrong said in his low scratch, ‘you still ain’t answered my question.’ He looked around, making like he stymied. He pulled his cream bedspread higher up his chest.

Delilah smiled, faint-like. ‘Charlie — Chip — is very discreet about his middle name.’

There was a weak, muffled hiccup from the corner.

‘How long you been swinging with these cats they don’t know you name?’ said Armstrong. ‘Give you head a shake. Out with it now, come on.’

You might’ve heard ice cracking in Alaska, it got so quiet then. Chip look off at the window, like he trying to find some way out of this. Like maybe it wasn’t such a long drop down. I seen him glance at Armstrong, glance away, his fingers fidgeting with his cufflinks. Then his face fell, and he just sort of deflated. He lean in and mutter something real soft only Armstrong could hear.

‘Say what?’ said Armstrong.

‘You got to speak up, Chip,’ said Delilah.

Chip give Delilah a sour look. ‘Chippewah,’ he said, louder. ‘It Chippewah.’

‘ Chippewah! ’ Delilah cried.

Old Hiero, he damn near fell out the door, yanking so hard on the knob it swung open. Embarrassed, he banged it shut, the whole wall shuddering. He give me a look of astonished pleasure. Hell, if that name ain’t killed off his hiccups.

I shook my head. All these years he been a Chippewah?

‘Well, Charles Chippewah Jones,’ said Armstrong. ‘My condolences.’

That got Lilah laughing harder.

But Armstrong was already looking at the kid, a different light in his eyes. ‘I known you the minute you walked in here,’ he said. ‘You is Falk.’

The kid stopped smiling, glancing at me, his eyes flaring wide.

Delilah said, ‘He doesn’t speak English, Lou. But he speaks your language. I can tell you the rumours weren’t wrong, he’s the real thing. One of the greatest players I’ve ever heard in my life.’

Oh, girl. And I was almost yours again. Suddenly I was struggling to keep that smile on my face.

‘Lookin forward to hearin you swing, Pops,’ said Armstrong, grinning.

Hiero ain’t understood. He let go of the knob, give a shy little nod.

‘ Sid ,’ said Delilah. ‘Tell him.’

‘Louis wants to hear you play,’ I said numbly.

The kid nodded, give a little grave bow to Armstrong. Thing was, it ain’t seemed ridiculous at all. It seemed, I don’t know, dignified.

Armstrong laughed. ‘You and me, sure, we got some talkin to do. We surely do.’ He look over at Delilah. ‘Say it again?’

‘Hieronymus. We practised this.’

Armstrong chuckled, shook his head. ‘Again?’

‘ Hieronymus , Lou. What, you losing your ear now too?’

‘Hurronnious,’ he said. ‘Herro… hell, that’s Little Maestro. That pup over there be Little Maestro. Ain’t heard him play yet, but I’ll take the world’s word for it till I do.’

‘You’ll take my word for it,’ said Delilah. ‘You need more than that?’

‘No, ma’am.’ Armstrong smiled. ‘Now, when we goin to swing?’

Chip give a happy shrug. ‘Anytime, Louis.’

‘Hiero needs a trumpet, Lou,’ said Delilah. ‘He lost his in all the fun getting out of Berlin.’

Old Armstrong, he just shrugged. ‘Aw, ain’t goin be no problem. I got a old one the boy welcome to. If he want it.’

No damn way . I stared at Hiero.

‘Well, tell him,’ said Delilah impatiently.

‘She say you can use Armstrong’s horn till she get you a new one,’ I muttered.

Hiero sort of ducked his head, smiled.

Delilah caught my eye like she just done me some favour. Hell. I was smiling so hard I like to split my damn face, trying to ease that burning in my gut. Little Maestro? Armstrong’s horn ? Sure the kid could play a sharp set, but on Armstrong’s level? I smiled and I smiled, smiled, smiled. If all this damn jawing meant anything, it was that the kid still got borders to cross to get to where Louis was standing when he cut ‘West End Blues’.

Oh but Delilah, sweet Delilah. Sweet like lemon in a wound.

The dead don’t just stumble back into a life, like the grief ain’t been real. I could feel that old sickness in me I thought been carved out. I thought: Sid, you just let it be. It ain’t goin happen with her again. Not like it was .

Afterwards, we was standing out on the grey cobblestones in front of Armstrong’s pension. I looked down at the narrow streets of Montmartre, hardly believing we was here in the flesh. Chip clapped me on the shoulder, give me a gentle shake.

‘You awake in there, buck?’ He slip a address into my hand. ‘That be her flat. You goin over there to help move our stuff up.’