What We All Long For by Dionne Brand (phonics story books txt) 📕

here to change to go to Richmond Hill. Home for dinner.”

“Oh, come on. Come in for a minute.” She pulled Tuyen into the room. Tuyen reached to hug Jamal.

“Okay, but just for a minute. Jamal, how are you? How’re you doing?”

“You know, no problem, no problem. Just getting my head together.”

“Great, great.” Tuyen had no idea what to say that hadn’t been said. No one could be expected to be optimistic about Jamal, except Carla, of course. And right now she had her own trouble to deal with, so the words on her lips sounded distant and insincere.

“Tuyen, here, have a beer with us.”

“No, I really do have to go, love. You know. Hey, whose car is that blocking the door?”

“Oh, it’s Derek’s. He lent it to me to go find a job. You know, new life and all that shit, right?” Jamal said the last sentence slowly and with sarcasm.

“Great, so you all are fine now?”

“Well, fine as it gets, I guess.” There was something odd going on, but Tuyen didn’t have the time. Carla’s eyes were glassy, as if she wanted to wring some genuine happiness out of the occasion.

“Hey, your brother still got that sweet Beamer X5?”

“I guess. Is that what it is? I don’t know cars.”

“Cars! That’s not a car, Tuyen, that’s like phat, man, that’s the bomb.” His eyes were animated, and his fingers snapped on the end of his arms.

Tuyen caught a glimpse of the brand on his chest. “Why’d you do that?” she asked, pointing.

“Ah, that’s nothing,” he said, his hand coming to pull his shirt tight. Then, “So, like, what’d he pay for that?”

“No idea. Jeez, I gotta go, I gotta go. Glad you’re all right, Jamal.” Tuyen got up.

“Don’t go yet.” Carla sounded pleading, following Tuyen to the door.

“No, really, I got to.” She felt Carla grasp her hand, interlacing her fingers with an intimacy that at any other time she would have loved. “Check you later.” Even now she wanted to hold her and kiss her.

Tuyen hurried over to her place, dropped her bag, and sat on the floor, holding her temples. She closed her eyes and exhaled a gush of a breath. She was trying to sort herself out. She had to be calm, she told herself. That way she could observe the way things were going. She felt dazed too. What would all of it mean for her? She saw it only as binding her closer. Not that she hated her family. She just didn’t want to be in their everyday life. But now she had been drawn back into it. Look, she told herself, on the other hand it could be good. No skeletons, no ghost. The universe restored. She knew that Tuan and Cam would’ve given up anything they had for this moment. Though deep in her heart she blamed them for not doing just that, and for surviving and dragging her into their survival. But now it was going to be fine. She could unblame them. Binh had redeemed them.

She breathed deeply, got up, and walked to her window, which faced the alley. An iguana was climbing through the opposite window, a parrot soared to the chimney, a peacock leapt off a tree near the garbage cans. The Audi was gone, and Carla was getting on her bike near the Amazon, her face an electric radiance. Tuyen smiled. Everything would be fine. She remembered Varo’s Exploration of the Sources of the Orinoco. She had her art, she had her life. Whatever. Anyways.

TWENTY-FOUR

THE RIDE TO RICHMOND HILL was suddenly too short. Tuyen sat in the back seat of the Beamer. They seemed to be moving so quickly. When they were on the highway, she said, “How are we going to do this, Binh?” She spoke to him, but the back of Quy’s head concentrated her.

“Well, how do you want to do it?” He tried to keep his exasperation out of his voice, but she could hear it.

“I think that we should go in first. Tell them. You know …”

“Okay, fine.”

“So it’s not a shock … totally … or …”

“Fine,” he said again.

He was humouring her, she felt it. He’d made the big catch, and she could play with the small details if she wanted. Silence fell again. She could hear Quy’s breathing. Why couldn’t she ask, So what was your life like? So where were you? So anything?

“This is the highway,” Binh said, as if he was a tour guide and as if Quy had never seen a highway before. Quiet again.

“I mean, I think that’s best,” Tuyen started up.

“I said okay!” he warned.

“Okay.” Her body was tense and prickly. The man looked straight ahead. Maybe he was tense too, she thought. What would she say to Bo and Ma? Binh was in control, but his control always felt chaotic to her. She would have to make up for him, to anchor them for disappointment. This man was disappointing, she knew.

There was a sunny haze on the buildings seen from the highway. The traffic felt slippery. As if they were gliding unencumbered through a slick, silvery air.

When the Beamer pulled into Ridgeway Heights Crescent, Tuyen noticed irritatingly the incongruity of its name. There was no ridge, there was no hill; these had existed only in the imagination of the developer. Yes, they had driven the scythed asphalt of the street, but that was all that was true about the words on the street sign.

She had not spoken to Quy the whole way. Repentant now, or perhaps only to keep down her rising anxiety, she heard her voice bellow in his ear, “Won’t be long now. That’s where we’re going.” She pointed over his shoulder to the rounding white porch of her parents’ house. “Stop, stop here, Binh.” Her voice was so high pitched that Binh stepped heavily on the brake.

“What is your problem?” he asked, putting the Beamer in park.

“I—we should park here. Don’t go into the garage yet.”

“Stop telling me what to do.” They were five hundred metres from the