Unhooking the Moon (11 page)

The man's tone became harsh. ‘So you're bringing bags into the US but you don't know what's in them?'

My heart beat a sickening beat.

‘That's my bag, officer. You can look in it if you want.'

Oh my God! I opened my eyes to see the Rat leaning out the back window.

‘I don't mind if I do,' said the man.

‘Where are we, Uncle Joey? I'm tired.'

‘You can sleep soon, sweetheart.'

‘Where are you going?' asked a woman's voice.

‘We're going to New York City to see our grandma. And Uncle Joey's taking us. Aren't you, Uncle Joey? We're going to see the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty and everything. And our granny's taking us on a ferry ride around Manhattan! And she's going to bake us her very own apple pie so we don't get hungry.'

She sounded so convincing! Some days I wondered who the Rat really was!

‘What's your granny's name?' asked the woman.

That's it! The Rat's Little Red Riding Hood performance had ruined us!

‘Grandma, of course.'

I was relieved when I heard laughter.

‘Would you like to see our birth certificates?' asked the Rat.

She always had to overdo it! She wouldn't be satisfied until we were all locked up!

A man came close to the car. ‘Marie Claire … What's that? Wazhashnoons?'

‘It's my Native name.'

‘Marie Claire Wazhashnoons DeBillier and Robert DeBillier born in Winnipeg …'

A flashlight shone in my face.

‘That's my bother Bob. He's asleep.'

‘How do you like living in Winnipeg?'

‘It's nice, but I'd sooner live in New York. It's more sophisticated and I want to be an actress.'

I heard a bit of chuckling. I didn't know if they were border control or customs but there were quite a few of them around the car.

‘OK, you can go,' said the serious voice from the back of the car.

The trunk slammed shut and Joey jumped in the driver's seat.

‘Bye. Bye everyone,' said the Rat waving out the window.

We were quiet as we drove away and then the car slowed again.

‘Drive on,' said another voice.

Joey looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘Kids. Breakfast is on me!' And for the first time that night he sounded happy. But he was nowhere near as happy as us. Smiling, I sank back and closed my eyes.

‘Yo Bobby! Bobby De Niro! Wake up – it's breakfast time!' said Joey.

I opened my eyes. It was still dark. The Rat was in the front seat next to Joey and they were both looking at me.

‘Come on, kid. Let's go!' said the Rat. She tried to imitate Joey's New York accent but ended up talking like a bad version of Bugs Bunny.

Dazed, I got out the car and followed them towards a brightly lit diner that hurt my eyes.

Joey held the door open. ‘Come on, Bob. They do a great breakfast here.'

There weren't many people inside, just a few couples and some guys drinking coffee at the counter. The Rat grabbed a menu and ran through a maze of red booths.

‘Yo, Joey! You wanna sit here?' shouted the Rat across the restaurant.

‘I don't know, MC!' shouted Joey. ‘What you think?'

‘Sure!' shouted the Rat, sliding into the booth.

‘It's not
sure
,' said Joey sitting opposite her. ‘It's
shewer
!'

‘Why
shewer
?' asked the Rat.

‘Because that's the way an Italian ghetto bitch talks. It's not exactly proper American. And you gotta be loud!' said Joey raising his voice. ‘Italians are loud people and proud of it. We like to be noticed. Watch,' he said seeing a waitress. ‘Hey! How about some service over here!' When the waitress looked over, she didn't seem impressed. ‘And when you don't understand something, or even if you do and you don't like it, you say Huuuua!'

‘Hu!' said the Rat.

‘No, it's more like a grunt. Huuuua!'

‘Huuua!'

‘That's it! What you think, Bobby? All your sister needs is big hair and gum to crack and she's all set.'

‘Sure,' I said.

‘It's
shewer
!' said the Rat.

I hadn't had much sleep and she was really starting to irritate! Then the waitress came to the table. She was young and pretty but she didn't look happy. She took a pad and pen from her pocket and stood there.

‘OK, kids, what do you say to three big American
breakfasts?' asked Joey looking at the menu.

‘Shewer!' said the Rat. ‘And can I have a mocha?'

‘Huuuua?'

‘Uncle Joey, can I have a mocha?' asked the Rat in this loud irritating New York accent!

‘Shewer, sweetheart!' said Joey, and they both laughed.

But there wasn't anything to laugh at.

‘Three big guys, regular coffee for me and Bob, and a mocha for my niece,' said Joey.

The waitress scribbled it down. ‘Anything else?'

Joey smiled. ‘Depends on what you're offering, sweetheart.'

‘Give me a break,' said the waitress and, taking the menu, she walked away.

‘What you think, MC? You think she's got the hots?'

‘Shewer!'

They started laughing again. They just wouldn't stop. I was glad when breakfast came. At least they were quiet for a time.

We ate eggs, bacon, and hash browns drowned in ketchup with toast and lots of orange jelly. I must have been hungrier than I thought because I ate every bit. Joey paid the bill and told the waitress to keep the change. It must have been a big tip because it put
a smile on her face and she never stopped refilling his coffee cup. Maybe she did have the hots.

Joey and the Rat were getting along like a couple of gophers. Maybe that's because Joey was a bit of a kid himself. They were praising each other on their performance at the border. Then the Rat started talking in one of her accents and Joey started talking in one of his. They were like soul mates, they really were. I was starting to feel left out. ‘What was in those packages?' I asked.

I swear it was like someone had ripped the needle off the record. But the question was out there now. And I couldn't take it back. Joey put his cup down. Even the Rat seemed to freeze. He looked one way and then the other. And then he indicated for us to huddle up.

‘Cigars,' he said.

‘Cigars. That's it?'

‘Not just any old cigars. Monte Cristo Cuban cigars. Thirty boxes. I get them from my Canadian contact for $400 a box. I sell them to my Coney Island contact for $700 a box. He sells them to his guy on Wall Street for I don't know how much, but I make … I make … '

‘You make nine thousand dollars,' said the Rat.

Joey looked impressed. ‘Can I adopt you?'

‘I'll think about it.'

‘Anyway, I'm putting the price up after this shipment because I'm the one who's putting up the dough and taking the risk. Then I'm off to Atlantic City. It's not to gamble, it's to see family. Well, they're sort of family. You see this guy and his wife took me in after my mom died. They're retired now and so I like to go up there every now and again and give them something. You know, to show my appreciation.'

‘Our parents died too,' I said.

‘Yeah, when?'

‘Mom a long time ago, Dad died the other day.'

Joey slumped back. ‘Oh kids, I'm sorry! I didn't know! So that's why you're looking for your uncle?'

‘We don't want to go in a home,' said the Rat.

‘Of course not! Your uncle will have to take you in! Where does he live?'

‘We don't know,' I told him.

‘You don't know. But you must have an address or a street.'

‘Nothing.'

‘A borough? The Bronx? Brooklyn? Manhattan?'

‘New York City is all we know.'

Joey looked amazed. ‘Do you know how big New York is? Kids, you'll never find him.'

‘We will,' said the Rat. ‘I know we will.'

‘Yeah, but you don't wanna go wandering around New York City by yourselves. There are a lot of strange people there.'

‘Paedophiles, right? Goddamn paedophiles are all over the place!'

Joey froze. He went to say something but he burst out laughing. ‘You kill me, kid. You really do … OK, look. As soon as I get back from Atlantic City I'm gonna help you find your uncle. I don't care how long it takes. I got help when my mom died and I'm gonna help you. No one's gonna put you in a home. You have my word on that.'

The Rat smiled. ‘We're glad we met you, Joey. Aren't we, Bob?'

‘Sure we are.'

He looked kind of bashful, but I was glad we'd met him. He might have been a big kid, but he was a nice big kid. And when he said he'd help us I knew he meant it. We'd made our first New York friend and we'd only just arrived. Things couldn't have gone any better.

I dreamt strange dreams all night.

They began with Mary White Cloud rocking in her rocking chair whispering the name of Jerome DeBillier. Then the Old Man made an appearance and, strange as it seemed, I was lying in his grave looking up at him. ‘You're not going to sing, are you, Dad?' I asked. ‘I'm afraid I am, son,' he replied. But when he sang it was silent. And then the chief came alongside him and they sang silently together. Next, Miss Gabriela Felipe Mendez was calling to me, ‘I'll be your mother if you want me to be.' When she spoke I could feel her breath against my cheek. She opened her arms wide and I went to hug her. Suddenly she was way in the distance. I paddled towards her as fast as I could. Why I was paddling, I don't know. She was standing in the middle of a prairie and I was on dry land. I got out the boat and ran towards her. ‘I'm coming!'
I shouted. But I bumped into Father Henri and fell to the ground. He raised his Bible and looked down at me. Then he started screaming and shouting and when he did, fire and brimstone fell from the sky. I ran through the prairie as fast as I could while dodging the missiles that erupted around me. Suddenly I was standing at the crossroads in clear skies. A man was walking towards me. His eyes were as black as his hair and a long black coat flowed around him. ‘Are you the Devil?' I asked. ‘No,' he replied, ‘but I used to have a demon inside me.' I was terrified. I tried to run but I ran in slow motion. Then once again I fell.

‘Get up, Bob. We're here!'

I saw Joey and the Rat. They were upside-down. But that wasn't a dream. They stood with the back door open looking down at me. I don't know what was more frightening: the nightmare or the reality. I climbed out the car and stood up in a garbage-filled street lined with rundown buildings. Surely this can't be it, I thought.

‘Welcome to New York, Bobby boy!'

The midmorning breeze blew yesterday's newspapers around my feet and I shivered with fear and fatigue. Joey lifted the bikes and rucksacks out of
the trunk, and then he looked at me and laughed. ‘Disappointed, hey. Take a right at them lights and go over the Brooklyn Bridge. See how disappointed you are then.' He looked at his watch. ‘I have to meet my Coney Island contact and get to Atlantic City. Look, why don't you kids come with me? These people are really nice and we'll only be gone a few days.'

‘We'll stay,' said the Rat.

‘We want to start looking for him right away,' I said.

‘I have a trailer by the river, but you couldn't stay there by yourselves. I know. This is what you do. You go to the Central Park Youth Hostel. It's on 103rd Street between Central Park West and Manhattan Avenue. Can you remember that?'

‘Sure.'

‘There's a girl who works there called Sexy Sandra. She's an old girlfriend of mine. You tell her Joey sent you. Tell her I'll come by in a few days to pick you up. She'll take care of you.' He cringed. ‘But for now, kids, I have to go.' He took a wad of cash from his pocket and, peeling some off, he gave it to the Rat.

‘You don't have to, Joey. You're our friend.'

‘That's why I'm doing it, Marie Claire. Besides, Sexy Sandra's not stupid. She'll want to be paid up
front.' He gave the Rat and me a hug and got in his car. ‘You kids have my cell – call me if you need me.'

As soon as the car drove away, I wished we had gone with him. It would only have been for a few days, like he said, and now we were in New York by ourselves.

‘Joey's our friend,' said the Rat. ‘We have to look after him.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘Nothing.'

But nothing always meant something with the Rat.

‘Come on, Bob. Let's go find New York!'

And so that's what we did. We took a right at the lights, like Joey said, and rode down toward the Brooklyn Bridge. There was traffic roaring over the bridge and there was a boardwalk running through its centre. There were people walking and cycling on the boardwalk and there were people coming up through a gap at its beginning.

‘There must be a staircase under the bridge,' I said. ‘Follow me.'

We made our way around the side of the bridge, with the angry drivers blaring their horns at us, and headed into the gloom of the underpass. In the centre we found a set of stone steps and clambered upwards
with our bikes. Once on the boardwalk we rode up towards the bridge's brown church-like arches. There were hundreds of steel cables flowing from the arches and there was traffic flowing underneath. You could see it through the gaps in the boardwalk. And below the bridge was a green river, twice as wide as our Red River, where ferries and barges plodded back and forth.

The further up the bridge we went, the more we saw of New York's famous skyline. I'd seen it on television a thousand times, but it's much more impressive in real life. There were so many skyscrapers you couldn't count them. There were hundreds by the bridge and looking further up Manhattan, there were hundreds more. It was an island of skyscrapers.