Esi Edugyan - The Second Life of Samuel Tyne

A peddler began to plague the shop. At first Samuel politely resisted, but his loneliness began to soften him, and with pity he permitted the man to at least finish his sales pitch. He was a coal-coloured old gaffer in a pristine suit. Samuel took an immense interest in that suit. Unlike his own enormous suits, the peddler’s looked like a leftover from adolescence. His cuffs and hems shrunk back to reveal slender wrists and ankles. His ginger Panama hat, like an afterthought on his large head, made his body seem even larger.

Gravely, the peddler placed three englassed candles of different heights and colours on the counter.

“Light of God,” he said. “Multilingual.” He pointed to the labels, on which the Lord’s Prayer was printed in three different languages.

Samuel marvelled at the man’s accent, which was so filled with contradictions it was impossible to say from which country it originated. “Mule-tie-lin-gle,” he’d said. Seeing that Samuel didn’t resist him, he groped through his carton and placed three stuffed doves—“For the chil’ren”—and piles of watches and faux antique clocks—“What is a man without time?”—on the counter. As he continued, Samuel was haunted by a feeling he knew this man, though logically he was certain he’d never seen him before. He scrutinized the moist eyes, the hemp-like beard, the skin dark as a starless night. With the peddler’s each movement, a tobacco smell emanated from his clothes. Though the peddler averted his eyes, Samuel still somehow felt that the man was staring at him. And in this searching silence, as they assessed one another, each waiting for the other to speak, a feeling of fellowship rose between them. Samuel purchased two candles and a dove, and on the logic of that successful sale, the man came again.

Only some tragic past could produce such a man, Samuel decided. The peddler had the air of a learned man fallen on hard luck, and no one had more sympathy for that predicament than Samuel. On the next visit, he bought three new candles and a cheap watch to take apart and fix at will. Though it embarrassed him to think of giving this junk to his family, he felt he had to support the peddler in some way. He began to count on the visits to break the monotony of his day, and he thought the man, too, came to depend on his acquaintance. Not that they said much beyond trite sales pitches, a word or two about the weather. But they shared a common downfall: they were educated men cut astray by a world of circumstance, who were trying to find their footing. Or so Samuel liked to think of it. Every day after the stranger left, he spoke in confirmation to himself: “Yes, we are two doves in the same cage;” “You can lead us to the river, but you cannot make us drink;” and often, “The world sees us as problems, and all we want are the world’s problems solved.” In fact, Samuel, uneasy in a hermitry that wasn’t self-imposed, had begun to talk to himself in lofty proverbs.

Cleaning the shop every afternoon, he tucked his newly purchased junk in a box under the counter, saying to himself all the while, “Baby steps, baby steps. It is with the aid of the tree that the tree-climber makes contact with the sky. Rome was not built in a day. It takes time for business to grow, to enhance itself. Samuel, do not despair. Success is inevitable. Slowness means that the base of the business has a chance to grow solid. It is hard to fell a tree that is leaning against a rock. One cannot fell a tree with one’s hands tied behind one’s back. And even if I am not an immediate success, what is wrong? One must struggle to enjoy his rewards. If man were to achieve everything at once, he would lose his mind.”

With these sayings he was able for a time to believe that early defeat was the very best thing. For how indeed could a man feel any pride in an achievement merely handed to him? It was an initiation, a test of his staying power. He even began to take pride in his minor failures. It wasn’t until he checked his accounts at the end of the two-week period and discovered his earnings well into the negatives that he got angry, throwing that anger at the likeliest source of his ruin — the mongrel peddler.

“A man can only take so much upon himself before his back collapses in foolishness,” said Samuel to himself. “Does he think I am made of money, that he can keep coming in here and robbing a poor man blind? One hand washes the other, it is said. You scratch my back and I will scratch yours. And what has he done for me, eh? Has he brought me radios to fix? Record players? Has he even brought me his toaster? Sth . A time waster. Nothing but a big man after a poor man’s bread.” And it was as though this unkind reasoning was the eulogy of their friendship, for the peddler didn’t return to the shop the next day.

“Good riddance,” said Samuel. “Go and find some other millionaire to harass.”

But when a second and then a third day passed in the peddler’s absence, Samuel began to get antsy. He fell into such low spirits that he forgot his usual hasty speech to potential customers, and actually found himself with four contracts by the end of the week. And that is how, inadvertently, a peddler spurred Samuel’s business. The peddler never returned, so it took some time for Samuel to connect his new success with that wayward man the colour and scent of fresh ash. By the time Samuel thought to thank him, the peddler’s existence seemed almost mythical. Samuel felt embarrassed to have directed his anger at this angel of goodwill, and mentally humiliated himself on that account all the time. As for his business, it carried on, and he quietly fixed things, continuing to mutter to himself. “It is an ass who bites the hand that feeds him. Noble men are fewer than jewels in this world.”

“And it is an ass who keeps his business open during lunchtime, and talks to himself like a loon on day-leave from Ponoka,” said Ray, laughing as he closed the door behind him. “I leave you alone for a week and you go batty on me. What gives, Samuel? Look so shitty I wouldn’t know you from Adam.”

Samuel laughed. “You old ass,” he said, testing it out. Ray’s smile permitted him to go on. “You fool. I grew this old and run-down waiting for you to visit.”

“Well, salvation’s come,” laughed Ray. “Would’ve gotten here sooner, but I had a cold. You should have seen Eudora running her legs off, fetching me things. It’s enough to make a man want a cold for as long as he can stand it, heh. So how’s business?”

“If you break something, and do it quickly, I’ll let you be my first customer. But, shhh, it’s not legal yet.”

“What, no licence?”

“Just the seal of incorporation. I get the licence next week.”

Ray scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll see what can’t be done to speed it up a little.”

“I’d appreciate it.”

“You should,” said Ray with a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. Squinting his glasses into place, he began to assess the walls. “As a space, it’s a beaut. You guys got all the luck.” His eyes listed just above Samuel’s shoulder, as though he was talking to a slightly taller man.

“Well, brother,” announced Ray, “you’ve more than impressed me. I’ve just been sitting on my ass all day, reading paper after paper.”

“What is happening in the world? I’ve been in here.”

Ray lit a cigarette, exhaling with a distracted look. “Not much. Actually, lots. Let’s see. The newest local thing is the library strike in Calgary. Down at the new university, if you can believe it. They want longer library hours. Now give me something of value, give me a fight for land or, hell, for something substantial. But library hours …” Ray chuckled. “And, who’s it, the IAA just got the vote for stat Indians.” He drew on his cigarette, and it was difficult to interpret what he thought of the matter. “Oh, here’s something for you—‘affirmative action’ just got instituted in the States, don’t know the particulars, but it’s supposed to help you guys. Can’t say it’ll do you any good up here, though. But now, what else, I feel like there’s a story I wanted to tell — oh, yes.” Ray nearly collapsed in laughter, so that Samuel cringed when he accidentally dropped his cigarette on the carpet.