Esi Edugyan - The Second Life of Samuel Tyne

Chloe coughed in the Iron Lung, and Yvette looked warily at the wall separating the rooms. Ama said, “They’re beautiful.”

Mrs. Tyne walked up and ruffled Ama’s hair. “Gorgeous, aren’t they? But you’ve got some just like them.”

Ama nodded, enjoying Mrs. Tyne’s attention. The older woman exuded that motherly smell of laundry and clean skin.

Even in striking reproductions, Chloe could never have embodied the grace these clothes gave to her sister. Like love, they called all Yvette’s beauty to the surface. Mrs. Tyne even forgot herself for a moment and exclaimed, “You’re as beautiful as Ama now!” She’d used a good deal of what remained of her savings to buy them. Ama and Mrs. Tyne oohed and ahed so much that Yvette begged her mother to let her show them off outside.

“You want to go for a walk now?” Mrs. Tyne admonished, but anyone could see she was pleased to have finally done right in her daughter’s eyes. “Okay, but just for a few minutes. I’ll go get Chloe.”

“No,” said Yvette in a voice that darkened a little. “Just us three.”

Mrs. Tyne shrugged. “All right.” Gathering the dresses off the floor, she noticed the bra. “How about this?” she asked her daughter, almost shyly.

Yvette’s face became cold. “I don’t see what you’re referring to.”

“This. The bra.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t see anything. Let’s just go.”

Exasperated, but still in high spirits, Mrs. Tyne ushered them downstairs and into the streets. Despite dusk’s descent, the pavement was still warm. Not a trace of that burning plastic smell remained in the air. They walked up and down MacDonald Street, almost vacant at this hour, returning home in a joking mood.

They entered the girls’ bedroom to find the dresses cut to shreds on the floor.

Mrs. Tyne looked as though she would cry. Ama wasn’t entirely surprised. Either truly upset, or because she could get away with it, Yvette screamed at the top of her lungs.

Mr. Tyne appeared in the doorway, breathless. He had obviously been napping, for the skin around his eyes swelled, and he looked bewildered. The buttons of his vest were wrongly fastened, as though he’d stopped to do it up. This detail surprised Ama.

Samuel looked once at the clothes on the floor, once at their faces, and shaking his head, he proclaimed: “Young Tragedy and Comedy are at it again.” He left, thinking only, Maud’s been hiding money on me .

Mrs. Tyne stormed out of the room. In the silence they could hear her confronting Chloe. Dragging her by the arm, she pushed her into the centre of the girls’ room and forced her to look at her scraps, as though disciplining a dog.

“Do you know how much this cost?” she said. Her anguish had no effect on Chloe, who stared indifferently at the pile. Mrs. Tyne grabbed Yvette’s arm and drew the two together. “You two have to learn to get along.” And nonsensically pushing both into bed, she turned out the light and shut the door with a slam.

No one spoke. The tension made Ama’s skin itch. Nervous, she opened the door and went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Sitting on the cracked toilet seat, she stared at the red bath-mat. The Tyne house seemed crazy, full of conflict and hatred and things she couldn’t understand. She checked her thoughts, feeling she was being judgmental. Certainly things here were odd, but wouldn’t others make the same judgements about her own house? She washed her face and returned to the room.

It was moist and hot, and she could hear the twins breathing in the darkness. Slipping into her cot, she prayed they wouldn’t attack her, or each other, or do any of the other drastic things she believed them capable of. Clenching her teeth, she fell asleep only to wake four hours later with a feeling of dread in her chest. The room was close and musky, but she felt no presence in the room.

“Yvette?” Ama turned on her bedside light.

On the floor lay the dress Yvette had worn on their walk. It had been severed, its pieces entangled with the white bra, which had also been destroyed. The twins’ beds were empty.

Aster’s town hall sat on its outskirts like a kind of afterthought. Built with its back to the town, it loomed huge and vacant, surrounded by spruce and birch. Certain buildings have something human about them; attempts to revive the hall had only made it look older. The paint flaked away. The wood creaked. Woodlice devoured the foundations. Anthills rose like piles of sawdust around it. To the right of the doors sat two adjacent baseball diamonds, where the old legendary team used to play. The fields were derelict now, the grass a blond colour, the fences sagging and rusted. Only a nearby grove of sweet-smelling cedars gave the area any beauty.

Under the building’s eaves, a painted board proclaimed: ASTER CULTURAL CENTRE. A Canadian flag gleamed underneath it, impervious to the rain and wind that had so aged the hall. Ray Frank parked abruptly behind a second red truck, fingering a cigarette in his chest pocket.

“It’ll be a big one tonight,” he said.

“You bet,” said Eudora.

Maud sat between them. For the duration of the drive, Eudora had felt it necessary to lean across Maud’s lap whenever she had anything to say to Ray. Not only that, but with Eudora being so obese, the cab was only large enough for three, so that Maud constantly turned in her seat to make sure the children, tossed around in the pick-up’s open back, weren’t falling out.

When Ray helped the girls down, Maud checked them for scratches.

“Oh, Maud, you’re too much of a worrywart,” said Eudora. “Kids are the most durable thing in the world.”

Maud wished Samuel had come. He’d made excuses about being behind on his commissions, but Maud knew he just didn’t care about anything beyond himself. To be fair, Samuel actually was behind on his business. But what he didn’t tell Maud, what he didn’t wish to, was that meeting the mayor had left him with a bad taste in his mouth. He’d taken the car and gone to his shop.

Inside, the hall was bright and almost modern, and someone had strung streamers across the stage, as though for a festive occasion. A long white table of sweet drinks and finger foods flanked the left side, while at the right a row of elderly women tended coffee and baked goods. Underneath the wonderful smells ran that scent of mothballs that haunted each building in Aster. An antique piano sat in shadow by the farthest entrance door. Maud was surprised at the sheer multitude of people.

Rows of bright-orange chairs had been set up, and the seats nearest the stage were taken. The Franks and the Tynes negotiated the crowd, Ray nodding at every few people, or Eudora stopping to say an enthusiastic hello. There were so many people that it was difficult to hear anything distinct. Maud kept looking behind her to make sure the children followed; only when they’d found seats did she feel at ease. Crowds had always been a challenge for her, especially the mix of crowds and children. Tying her sweater around her waist, she sat down.

“What are you doing?” said Eudora, smiling. “It’s mingling time, time to meet everyone, gossip a little.” Her cheeks were red from the heat in the room. “How long have you lived in this town, and you don’t know anyone?”

Ordering the girls to stay put, Maud followed Eudora, who whisked her into a group of three old women whose beige sweaters and faded features made them difficult to tell apart.

“Oh, hello.” Nervous, Maud shook their hands. When she gave her name, none of them understood.

“Nah, Joanie, it’s Maud,” said Eudora, her smile revealing her jutting tooth. “Maud Tyne,” she enunciated.