Niyati Keni - Esperanza Street

‘Who said that?’

‘Mr Casama. That man who was here the other day.’

‘You spoke to Mr Casama?’

‘Yes, I just said so. He came by to apologise for his wife misleading you — he was back in Esperanza earlier than she thought, but just too busy to get home. Or something like that. I didn’t care about that. I asked him about Dominic.’

‘ What? What exactly did you say?’

‘I asked him outright if he had anything to do with it. You know, he was appalled. Said he knew nothing about it. He seemed genuinely concerned.’ Aunt Mary stared at her mother. ‘He said there are some big players behind the redevelopment,’ Lola Lovely continued. ‘A lot of money at stake. Not all as honourable as himself.’ Aunt Mary smiled frostily and, seeing it, Lola Lovely snapped, ‘What were you thinking? Having your hair cut like that in front of everyone so soon after Dominic? And such a ridiculous little protest. The whole street must be laughing about it.’ Aunt Mary was silent but I knew that kind of silence. She might be seething but she didn’t want an argument and Lola Lovely’s voice was changing, becoming shrill. Neither woman seemed aware of my presence. I thought about moving away, giving them some privacy, but I’d already been there too long. I started polishing again, slowly.

‘I may be your offspring but I’m almost fifty. You can’t—’

‘ Offspring! ’ Lola Lovely mimicked her daughter’s tone unsuccessfully. ‘You think you’re so clever. Why do you care about some salon anyway, or this Jennie? Dominic is your son!’ Lola Lovely shook her rosary at her daughter. ‘I should take them away with me. Back to Manila. Both of them. They are my flesh and blood too, even Benny. Yes, even him!’ Aunt Mary cast a furious eye over the piles of music around her feet as her mother continued, breathlessly, ‘You think I don’t know that I’m not as good a person as you? You think I never wish I could go back and change it? I did the best I could at the time and I got it wrong. There! I said it. Are you happy?’ Aunt Mary sighed heavily; her mother’s concessions were not always a good omen.

‘What happened to Dominic wasn’t about—’

‘The rules have changed, hija . These people! They’re not gentlemen. They don’t respect the old ways, the old blood.’

‘It was only a haircut.’ Aunt Mary’s tone seemed suddenly wheedling, conciliatory.

‘No one else in this street has a right to come before your own boys. Least of all this Jennie person,’ Lola Lovely said icily.

‘I have always put them first!’

‘Dominic can come to Manila with me. It’s about time he stopped this pop-star business. He must go to college. You have to tell him so.’

‘I will not order him about. He has the right to run his own life.’

‘So that’s what this is about!’ Lola Lovely said. ‘Is this why you won’t play the piano? Because your horrible mother locked you in the sala and forced you to practise?’ Aunt Mary pushed the pile of music from her lap onto the floor and stood up to leave, but Lola Lovely was between her and the door. For a moment, the two women faced each other without speaking and then Lola Lovely said, tiredly, ‘Why do you insist on rotting here anyway? You could put on a little make-up at least.’ Aunt Mary pushed past her mother and marched out of the sala. Lola Lovely dropped into a chair. I draped my rag over the banister and slipped into the sala to pick up the papers. As I worked, I heard Lola Lovely leave, her footsteps heading for the kitchen, and shortly afterwards the sound of the door opening into the courtyard. I left the music on top of the piano in no particular order and went back to polishing the staircase. On reaching the landing, I glanced through the open door of the nearest guest room and saw Aunt Mary standing over a suitcase, packing her mother’s things.

The following morning, in the shade of the flame tree that leaned over the front yard, beside an idling taxi, Lola Lovely hugged first the boys, then America. She patted me on the shoulder and winked at me. Finally, she turned to her daughter. Aunt Mary, stiff in her mother’s arms, allowed herself to be embraced. Lola Lovely held her like this for a long time.

The Reverend Julio Orenia, World Famous Psychic Surgeon, was to appear in the auditorium of a girls’ school on the other side of Salinas. A fortnight before the show, at her mother’s insistence, Aunt Mary had procured tickets through a Lopez family connection. But now Lola Lovely’s early departure had left an empty seat. America watched me mischievously as she told me I was going. Only the day before she’d listened, bristling, as I denounced psychic healing as unscientific. I turned away to hide my excitement.

The school was an easy walk from the Bougainvillea but Dub insisted on taking his motorbike. Benny clamoured to ride with him but Aunt Mary wouldn’t hear of it, declaring instead that I was to go with Dub while Benny went with the others in a taxi. Being around Dub was the last thing I wanted at that moment and I opened my mouth to protest, closing it again almost immediately on glancing at Aunt Mary; she was rarely to be persuaded out of something once she’d made up her mind, and certainly not by me. Her voice was terse as she dispatched me to fetch a cab.

The afternoon sun picked out the planes and edges of Esperanza as I rode back with the cab. The world felt solid, defined. I rolled down the window to disperse the stale air inside the car. A fine breeze blew in from the direction of the jetty, bringing the smell of the sea with it as it stirred the leaves of Aunt Mary’s cheesewood hedge. I’d have enjoyed the walk.

Dub smiled sheepishly at me as he handed me a helmet. I felt Benny’s eyes on me and, turning, I held his gaze for an instant longer than I might have before. Since the news about his real mother, the household had carried on around him as if nothing had changed, Aunt Mary and America fussing over him and berating him in equal measure as they always did. For my part, I couldn’t help but look at him differently now, though I was careful not to betray it. Of course he was the same Benny as ever, but he was half the same substance as I, even if, like his brother, the rest of him was descended from what my own mother had always referred to as good stock .

The schoolyard was heaving and it was as much as we could do to stay together as we pushed our way inside. We were early, but most of the seats were already filled and there would be many people standing for the evening. People in wheelchairs lined the walls, crowds streaming slowly past them.

Aunt Mary walked straight to the front of the auditorium and along the first row, counting off with little nods of her head the number of seats for our group. Across the hard wooden back of each seat a strip of paper asserted in capitals: RESERVED. I removed mine, studied it for a moment. Next to me, Benny leaned back in his chair, crumpling his paper strip in his fist after barely a glance. He made to drop it on the floor, hesitated as he looked at mine still in my hand. He watched as I folded it carefully into my pocket. His eyes met mine and he flushed lightly. He pushed the ball of paper into his pocket and settled back into his seat.

Beside me, Dub scanned the crowd with a studied casualness. I looked around too, as much to avoid catching his eye or having to make conversation as out of curiosity, but I saw no familiar faces in the packed hall; people had come from far afield to see the reverend’s show.

The reverend walked onto the stage late but no one protested, for he was, immediately, a charismatic performer. He was smaller and much younger than I’d imagined and he had about him the impatient demeanour of the city dweller. He wore a suit, the jacket unbuttoned so that when he raised his arms, dark rings of sweat could be seen on his shirt under the lights. ‘Welcome,’ he said, ‘in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. You know,’ he continued, his voice like a game-show host, ‘it’s through the Holy Spirit that my healing occurs.’ Although the flyer had described it as a prayer meeting, his show was flamboyant. He rushed about the stage, his voice booming into a microphone. People continued to arrive after he’d started, sliding in carefully at the back, but he waved them forward without pausing in his speech, as if calling friends to join a picnic.