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

the pictures, but she couldn’t. Jackie would have put it in perspective. Carla was too brooding. Jackie had the ability to cut things off, to truly live her life despite everything, and to dismiss what she couldn’t control. But it was still too intimate. She couldn’t get the words out of her mouth.

Tuyen burst into the store as Binh was bringing a box from the back to the front. All her remonstrations to herself walking up Bathurst Street, to be calm, observe his moves, don’t jump to conclusions, left her. “What’re you up to, Binh?” She heard her voice sounding threatening and childish, something of their old rivalry cutting through.

“Well, hello, and what’s up your ass?” He put the box down and started opening it.

He looked contented, she thought. She didn’t want to say, I saw you, you’re scheming about something. Everything that came to her head sounded petulant. His look of contentment made her even more suspicious.

“No, what’re you up to? What’s happening? Bo said the other day that you were doing something?”

“What are you doing here, anyway? You never come to see me. I asked you to take care of the store and you fucked off on me. How come you’re here now? What? Need money?” As if she would ever come to him for money. As if. He reached into his pocket in exaggerated magnanimity.

“I don’t want money from you. I want to know what’s going on.” Tuyen threw the pictures on the counter.

“What are these? What the fuck?” He caught sight of himself in the photographs. “What the fuck you doing? Why you spying on me? What the fuck!”

“Who is that?” Tuyen asked.

“Who’s that? What the fuck you doing spying on me? When did you take these?” He saw the World Cup crowd in the background. He knew when she had taken them, and he used the word “spying” twice.

“So, there’s something to spy on?”

“Look, you come here, show me pictures of myself that I don’t know you’ve taken, and then accuse me of something? I don’t know what—”

“Okay, I’m leaving, but don’t think—”

“Wait, are you nuts or something? What are you taking pictures of me for? And I don’t even know? Are you crazy?”

She saw her opening. “Well, who’s the guy?” Tuyen danced with him the way she used to as a child, neither of them considering what the other said. And so she stepped aside the accusation that she had done anything wrong.

“Well, if you honoured your family and if you listened to me, you would know that I’ve been helping Mom and Dad. I always take care of them, you know. You never do. You’re off living your artist life. Don’t think I don’t know about it. I have my eyes open, you know. But I haven’t said nothing to them about you.”

“My life is none of your business.”

“You think you’re so different with your shitty paintings and crazy nonsense.”

“Yeah, and what’re you doing? Saving the whales? Making money, right? And Bo has to always bail you out of some stupid idea.”

“Stupid idea? I’m not the one running home broke all the time!”

They came to a small impasse. Each forgetting the new start they had been on the border of only a month ago. Instead, each contemplating the devious machinations of their childhood, the strokes and plays they had performed to hoodwink, outwit, and misrepresent their parents until, bored and frustrated with translation, they had set off to live another life outside the knowledge or apprehension of Tuan and Cam.

“Well, I did a good thing. I finally found him like I told you I would!” Binh exulted, stabbing at the photograph.

“Who is he?” Tuyen’s voice was small. She hadn’t wanted confirmation of her guesses, but she wanted Binh to say the word all the same. The word hanging over them all, the word like a jewel of air that would break open their existences to the dreadful. The word that had caused their parents such pain and that had to be said sacredly or not at all.

“Quy.”

“How do you know it’s him? How did you find him? Mom’s been looking for years and never found him. How could you have done it? You don’t know that for sure.” Jealousy, resentment, suspicion erupted in Tuyen.

“It is him, and I found him.”

“You don’t know that for sure. Tell me, tell me how you know it’s him. It could be anybody. You never saw him. You never knew him.”

“So what? Of course it’s him. What do you think I would do? Mum’s not good with English, you know that. That’s why the whole thing was fucked up and she got taken so many times. There are records, like I told you. People don’t just disappear. Hello, it’s 2002. If you had any love for them, you would’ve tried to find him too.”

“Oh, please! He was a boy, for Christ’s sake—a baby almost.”

“See—you don’t have faith.”

“Well, how come …?” How come what? Tuyen couldn’t finish the question. Her suspicions of Binh were stronger—he never explained anything, and here he was trying so hard to do that.

“I asked you, didn’t I? You fucked off. You think I wouldn’t find out? Anyway, I haven’t told Ma and Bo yet, not really. I hinted to Bo months ago, I said I was looking. I didn’t want to get their hopes up and then it wasn’t him. I wanted to make sure. Listen, I did my homework, okay? I checked him out good first.”

“I don’t believe you.” She was petulant.

“Believe what you like. Anyway, why were you sneaking around taking pictures and now coming to bully me, huh? You must have seen it too. The resemblance. You did, didn’t you? So what’s the problem? It’s gonna make them happy.”

“But how?”

“Look, I tracked him down. I checked all the possible places he could’ve gone. He was old enough to remember his name. A common name, all right, but I tracked him down. It’s taken me a year. You probably figured I