The Sound of Building Coffins

“This ain’t right.” Typhus spoke as he collected up pieces of Lily from the ground, dropping them back into the coffee bag one by one. “And what ain’t right gotta be made right.”

“Typhus…” Malaria’s tone was guarded. She was well aware that anything she might say could make things worse as easily as better. “Typhus, who did this to you? Was it that man?”

“What man?” Not in the mood for vague questions.

“Was it Doctor Jack who fooled you? Gave you that picture and…the rest?”

With the last piece of Lily in the bag, Typhus got to his feet. “I don’t know if what you’re saying is true, Malaria. But I can tell you that Lily is alive and well. If it’s Mama-then Mama alive and well. Somebody alive and well. I was with her last night, Malaria. Whoever that a picture of, I was with her simple and true.”

“It’s a trick, Typhus. Might be someone looked like her. Even if she was alive, she’d be old now. Wouldn’t look nothing like that picture.”

“I didn’t see her. I was with her.” Typhus’ eyes cast away from his sister, towards rising fog.

“What do you mean you didn’t see her? What are you talking about?”

“It was her. That’s all I know.”

“The lady in that picture is Mama, Typhus. Don’t you understand?”

“What if it is? If it is, then Mama ain’t dead-that’s all I’m sayin’.” Typhus was coming to terms with the possibility that the woman he’d been with only hours ago might have been his own mother. That, in a way, would at least explain her unwillingness to let him see her.

“Now you’re just talking crazy, Typhus.”

“How about you? Did you see her?”

“What do you mean? Of course I seen her. She was my mama too, and didn’t die till I was seven years old. I remember her like it was yesterday. I remember her sitting right here on this bench. I remember her face all the time-I see it in dreams and even when I’m awake. She stays with me every day, Typhus-”

“No, I mean did you see her dead? Do you know for a fact she died?”

Malaria hadn’t considered this point. Truth was, Mother had died during childbirth, died bringing Typhus into the world. During the birth, Father had arranged for a friend from church to watch Malaria and her siblings. Doctor Jack had performed the delivery himself and pronounced Mother dead shortly after. The funeral had been closed casket because Father wanted his children’s final memory of their mother to be of a living and vibrant woman, not an empty shell in a wooden box. Or so he had told them.

“No,” she responded. “I ain’t seen her dead.”

“Well, how about that?” said Typhus. “You ain’t seen her and I ain’t seen her, but we both know what we know even though what we know ain’t the same thing.”

“Typhus-”

“Well, I’m about to find out which is right.” Typhus turned his back and began walking briskly in the direction of the district. “I already know which is right,” he added as he walked, “this is for your benefit, Malaria, not mine.”

The fog had lifted completely now. It was looking to be a clear and brilliant day.

“Typhus-”

“What?”

“Be careful.”

Chapter forty-two. Together All Three

Doctor Jack was already brewing the morning’s second pot of coffee. While the kettle struggled to boil, he sat down with the morning’s Bee and glanced out the window. Jack smiled suspiciously at the beautiful, sunny morning-suspicious because in New Orleans beautiful mornings never guaranteed beautiful days. When the door eventually creaked open, Jack looked up from his half-read newspaper.

“Typhus-everything okay?” Jack noted immediately that Typhus no longer exhibited the symptoms of a man in love.

Typhus walked past him and emptied the contents of his burlap coffee bag on the examination table without a word. Jack’s heartbeat quickened as Typhus began the process of piecing together the puzzle of Lily. After a moment Jack stood, unsure of what to say.

“Oh my. What happened to your little girlfriend, Typhus?” Typhus ignored the question, calmly continuing Lily’s reassembly. Jack’s tone became stern: “I trusted you with that photograph, boy. What do you have to say for yourself? You were sworn to protect her. You made a promise, and a promise is a serious thing.”

A small fist slammed to the table causing the reassembled pieces to jumble away from each other. “Promise?” Typhus’ eyes widened. “Promise? I made a promise? What about you? Or maybe it’s all right to tell lies as long as you don’t attach no promise. That how it works, Doctor Jack?”

“I won’t have it,” said Jack, trying not to sound shaken. “I won’t have this talk.”

“Yes, you will. You will have this talk.”

“Well, son, if you were to put a brake on this nonsense maybe I could get to the bottom of whatever it is that’s got yer goat.”

“Ain’t my problem. Not no more. It’s yours.”

“All right, son-”

“And stop calling me ‘son.’ I ain’t yer son.”

“Typhus-tell me. Tell me about my problem. Get it out already.”

Another small fist met the table, sending pieces of Lily fluttering to the ground. “Who is this?” he said through clamped teeth. “Who is this?” pointing to the remaining pieces of Lily. “Who is this? Who is this? Who is this? Lakjufa doir estay? ”

Then Doctor Jack knew. He knew that Typhus knew-and that there could be no more lies. As Typhus’ anger melted to grief, Doctor Jack placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen, son-”

Typhus jerked back and away: “I am not yer goddamn son!”

Doctor Jack flinched-but still, his eyes stayed soft. He deserved Typhus’ anger, maybe even his hatred-and he knew it. This was to be his lot. Jack allowed himself some small comfort in knowing that years of deceit would soon dissolve into truth-for better or worse.

“Don’t call me that,” warned Typhus. “Not now, not ever.”

“All right, Typhus,” said Jack, then, after a moment’s pause: “But what if I was to tell you that’s just what you are?”

Typhus stared, jaw trembling.

“Would that make a difference?” Jack whispered this last.

“What-?” Typhus steadied himself against the heavy table with both hands. “What are you talking about?”

“Maybe you should sit.” Jack pulled out a chair for Typhus, the same chair Typhus had occupied during his encounter with Lily. Filled with fresh rage at the sight of it, Typhus kicked it away-and spun around to yank open the drawer containing Jack’s surgical tools. The bulk of the implements spilled to the ground, and Typhus examined the gleaming pile of scattered silver briefly before bending down to scoop up the longest