What We All Long For by Dionne Brand (most important books to read txt) 📗

to suppress a surge of anger. It wouldn’t do to begin this way. Her father was vain; she had resolved to appeal to his vanity first. Anger was a last resort, and it would probably be useless anyway. And she wanted him to do more than simply bail Jamal out. She wanted him to be present. Take over the responsibility for Jamal. She didn’t know how she was going to put it. Derek would surely say he had been a father to Jamal; he would say he had rescued the boy enough. Enough for him meant only what didn’t put him out, she knew.

Carla waited in the living room. Nadine had let her in and gone upstairs to get Derek. He came into the room, an expectant look on his face. Nadine hovered behind him, then decided to go to the kitchen.

“I’ll get you both some lunch. Then we’ll have a nice visit.” She trailed off to the kitchen.

Derek walked over to Carla and hugged her. As usual, she was sticklike in his arms.

“How you doing, eh, how you doing?” He had clearly decided to meet her with bravado. “You don’t call me, you don’t come around. Don’t you wonder what’s become of your father?” He let her go, sensing her reserve. “Well, sit down, sit down, and tell me what you’re doing.”

Which world exactly was he living in? she wondered. She sat quickly in the single chair in case he wanted to steer her to the couch with him. The living room had been done up in a springy pattern. There was an odd gayness to it. Derek dropped into the couch, reaching in his pocket for cigarettes. Nadine returned with a tray, a beer for Derek and a glass of juice for Carla. Carla watched as she served Derek. She was happy that Carla had come, she chatted in a manic tone.

“Oh, Carla, it’s so good to see you. We don’t see any of you children any more. Your big brother is still in Montreal. Doesn’t look as if he’s coming back to Toronto. He’s got a great job there.”

Carla bristled at the “big brother” reference. She hardly knew Anton. He had left home when Carla and Jamal arrived. There’d been a row with his father and he’d taken off. He was nineteen at the time. She only remembered scornfulness from him on his rare visits. And rudeness to Nadine about how she could stand taking care of that white bitch’s children. Nadine would say something about innocence and tell him to keep his voice down.

Nadine gave her the glass of orange juice, her hand trembling. “Carla, darling, it’s so good to see you. Anyway, let me stop, stop fussing. I’ll get us something to eat. You used to like my chicken. I have some ready to go.”

“No, Nadine, don’t bother.”

“Bother! No bother. No bother at all. I don’t get to do this often.”

She faded into the hallway. Carla took a sip of her drink. It was tepid.

“So tell me how things are with you,” Derek said, dragging on his cigarette. “I know that boy Jamal is in jail again. Nadine said she went to see him.”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about.”

“Carla, I’ve done my best for that boy. I have sacrificed—I can’t have him jeopardizing my home.”

The glass flew out of Carla’s hand uncontrollably, it hit the wall on the left side of her father’s head. He was stunned, dropping his lit cigarette to the couch and ducking.

“You’ve done your best!” She was enraged; she felt as if she had completely lost control of her body. Or rather, she thought later, gained control of her body. “Sacrificed! Sacrificed what? You vain, awful, disgusting man! You sacrificed my mother!” Carla was screaming, words tumbling out of her mouth. The same words she had told herself to hold back on. Nadine flew into the room.

“Now, Carla, Carla, Derek, Derek, what’s the matter in here?”

Carla was standing at her end of the room, ready, it seemed, to advance on Derek. Derek crouched, momentarily touching his face and searching for the lit cigarette in the folds of the couch. A piece of the glass had made a small cut on his cheek, another piece had landed in his collar. He gingerly removed it, at the same time trying to get to his feet. Nadine stood between them.

“You never did nothing for Jamal. You just thought that he—me and him—messed up your fucking life. What did you do, huh? What? You’re such a fucking asshole. Let me get out of here.”

She had to get past Nadine and Derek to leave the room; they both stood transfixed. “Move!” she screamed. She saw in her father a mix of terror and aggression. He couldn’t decide which one to act on, and she realized that she’d always found him weak at the core, there was always a cowardice there, a shrinking, under expensive shoes, expensive cars, his face shaved so precisely around his moustache and his smell of rich colognes. Today she’d noticed a small protruding gut and an old conceit that in his younger face must have seemed like daring but now was a calcified lechery. “Move!” she screamed again.

“Please, Carla, wait a minute.” Nadine reached out to her pleadingly. “Just a minute, we’re a family. We can’t be like that.”

This had always been Nadine’s foolish, thankless, and unrewarding project. She alone had had the right to say no, and yet she had taken it on. Carla felt a small pity for her. What torture it must have been to spend all those years raising another woman’s children and understanding her husband’s deep betrayal.

“Look, Nadine, it’s not you, okay? I just can’t breathe the same fucking air as Derek.” Derek—she called him by his first name as if he were a sibling.

“So why’d you come here, then?” Derek found his voice.

“Because I was hoping I was wrong about you. I was hoping that you were human, you fucking jerk.”

“Don’t talk to