Louis Maistros - The Sound of Building Coffins

“Who you been talking to?” The anger in his own voice was mounting. This was a type of jealousy, Typhus decided-what else could it be? Malaria had been a spinster so long that she now wished to throw some rain on his own little bit of joy. “What are you doing, Malaria? Why you gotta ruin this for me?”

“Typhus, I seen the picture.”

“Why are you doing this? I don’t care if you seen the picture. Don’t matter, you can keep it. I got the real thing.”

“ Stop saying that! ” she screamed.

“Don’t you ruin this for me, Malaria. I swear to God I’ll never forgive you if you ruin this for me.”

“Typhus, please,” Malaria was fighting back tears now. “Listen to me. Listen to me.” She waited for their eyes to meet before continuing: “Typhus, I know the lady in that picture. I recognized her. I know who she is.”

Typhus, incredulous: “Lily? You know Lily?”

“ Lily ?” Malaria’s eyes widened. “That ain’t no Lily, Typhus. No, no, no. Oh dear God in heaven, no… ” Malaria crumpled into sobs. “Dear God, Typhus. Someone been playing a trick on you. Someone done played a trick on you. My poor, poor little Typhus.” She stroked his temple soothingly, but he recoiled at the word little .

“I ain’t no little boy. I’m a man.” His teeth clenched, his lower lip jutting firmly.

“You are a man,” she said.

“And you ain’t my mother. You’re my sister.”

“I ain’t. And I am.”

Typhus regained a degree of composure. “What are you talking about, big sis? Listen, whatever it is, it don’t matter. I ain’t never been happier. I met the real Lily and she loves me back. It’s okay. I swear it’s okay.”

“Her name ain’t Lily, Typhus. It’s Gloria. And you ain’t met her cause she dead. Been dead twenty-five years.”

Typhus smiled uneasily. “Now, you just confused is all. One thing I know is she ain’t dead. I-” he almost said saw her , but corrected himself before the words came out, “was with her last night. I…I…I-”

“Her name ain’t Lily, Typhus,” Malaria repeated, “it’s Gloria .” She opened her fist and let the torn pieces of Typhus’ photograph flutter to the ground.

Things began to fall together in Typhus’ mind, and he understood what Malaria was trying to tell him, what she couldn’t say flat out. His face went slack as he studied the wetness of his sister’s cheeks and the pieces of Lily on the ground at his feet. Malaria put her hands on Typhus’ shoulders as if fearful he may fall.

“Typhus, the lady in that picture,” she leaned down to whisper in his ear, “she’s your mother. My mother. Our mother.”

“Typhus, my brother, I do love you so.”

“This ain’t right.” Typhus spoke as he collected up pieces of Lily from the ground, dropping them back into the coffee bag one by one. “And what ain’t right gotta be made right.”

“Typhus…” Malaria’s tone was guarded. She was well aware that anything she might say could make things worse as easily as better. “Typhus, who did this to you? Was it that man?”

“What man?” Not in the mood for vague questions.

“Was it Doctor Jack who fooled you? Gave you that picture and…the rest?”

With the last piece of Lily in the bag, Typhus got to his feet. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Malaria. But I can tell you that Lily is alive and well. If it’s Mama-then Mama alive and well. Somebody alive and well. I was with her last night, Malaria. Whoever that a picture of, I was with her simple and true.”

“It’s a trick, Typhus. Might be someone looked like her. Even if she was alive, she’d be old now. Wouldn’t look nothing like that picture.”

“I didn’t see her. I was with her.” Typhus’ eyes cast away from his sister, towards rising fog.

“What do you mean you didn’t see her? What are you talking about?”

“It was her. That’s all I know.”

“The lady in that picture is Mama , Typhus. Don’t you understand?”

“What if it is? If it is, then Mama ain’t dead-that’s all I’m sayin’.” Typhus was coming to terms with the possibility that the woman he’d been with only hours ago might have been his own mother. That, in a way, would at least explain her unwillingness to let him see her.

“Now you’re just talking crazy, Typhus.”

“How about you? Did you see her?”

“What do you mean? Of course I seen her. She was my mama too, and didn’t die till I was seven years old. I remember her like it was yesterday. I remember her sitting right here on this bench. I remember her face all the time-I see it in dreams and even when I’m awake. She stays with me every day, Typhus-”

“No, I mean did you see her dead? Do you know for a fact she died ?”

Malaria hadn’t considered this point. Truth was, Mother had died during childbirth, died bringing Typhus into the world. During the birth, Father had arranged for a friend from church to watch Malaria and her siblings. Doctor Jack had performed the delivery himself and pronounced Mother dead shortly after. The funeral had been closed casket because Father wanted his children’s final memory of their mother to be of a living and vibrant woman, not an empty shell in a wooden box. Or so he had told them.

“No,” she responded. “I ain’t seen her dead.”

“Well, how about that?” said Typhus. “You ain’t seen her and I ain’t seen her, but we both know what we know even though what we know ain’t the same thing.”

“Typhus-”

“Well, I’m about to find out which is right.” Typhus turned his back and began walking briskly in the direction of the district. “I already know which is right,” he added as he walked, “this is for your benefit, Malaria, not mine.”

The fog had lifted completely now. It was looking to be a clear and brilliant day.

“Typhus-”

“What?”

“Be careful.”

Doctor Jack was already brewing the morning’s second pot of coffee. While the kettle struggled to boil, he sat down with the morning’s Bee and glanced out the window. Jack smiled suspiciously at the beautiful, sunny morning-suspicious because in New Orleans beautiful mornings never guaranteed beautiful days. When the door eventually creaked open, Jack looked up from his half-read newspaper .

“Typhus-everything okay?” Jack noted immediately that Typhus no longer exhibited the symptoms of a man in love.

Typhus walked past him and emptied the contents of his burlap coffee bag on the examination table without a word. Jack’s heartbeat quickened as Typhus began the process of piecing together the puzzle of Lily. After a moment Jack stood, unsure of what to say.

“Oh my. What happened to your little girlfriend, Typhus?” Typhus ignored the question, calmly continuing Lily’s reassembly. Jack’s tone became stern: “I trusted you with that photograph, boy. What do you have to say for yourself? You were sworn to protect her. You made a promise, and a promise is a serious thing.”

A small fist slammed to the table causing the reassembled pieces to jumble away from each other. “Promise?” Typhus’ eyes widened. “ Promise ? I made a promise? What about you? Or maybe it’s all right to tell lies as long as you don’t attach no promise. That how it works, Doctor Jack?”

“I won’t have it,” said Jack, trying not to sound shaken. “I won’t have this talk.”

“Yes, you will. You will have this talk.”

“Well, son, if you were to put a brake on this nonsense maybe I could get to the bottom of whatever it is that’s got yer goat.”