“What’s he waiting for?” asked Pie. “Why doesn’t he come inside?”
“I expect he doesn’t dare till Rose says it’s okay. You know, she sort of fired him.”
“And when he finds out she’s not here?”
“He’ll find out soon enough.”
The neighbors knew Tan. He had worked in the house for many years. All the grand houses and apartments of Pacific Heights employed at least one Chinese servant, who had to make do living in what they called the Chinaman’s room in the basement. A few of the neighbors spoke to Tan; he bowed in response.
“We have to let him in,” Pie insisted.
“Hush, Pie. Hush, while I think.”
“While you’re thinking, should I tell him to come in?”
“You want him bossing you around? You want him calling you gurrl?”
Pie shrugged. He didn’t call her gurrl.
“He stays out till I say so—”
In the street, Tan raised himself proudly as another acquaintance, this time a lady, passed by.
“V?”
“Pie, stop pestering me—”
“Do you hear that knocking? Is it the horse?”
I bowed my head and listened. We were several floors up, and with all the commotion in the street, the sound was muted. But it was distinct; General was pounding his hooves against the sides of his stall.
“Shouldn’t we get Tan? V, we ought to tell him.”
Remembering how Tan had whipped poor General, I didn’t want him anywhere near me or the horse. “I’ll do it. I’ll tend to the horse.”
“Are you sure? Do you know how?”
“How hard can it be?” I said. “You walk him, give him some feed. He’s just a big dog.”
Pie looked skeptical. We had always been too kept to keep a horse. Too kept to buy our own food or dresses. Rose and Morie had trained us to wait for life to come to our door. And it did come.
General was trembling, poor thing, his flanks slick with sweat. His stall smelled sick-sweet, the stink of fear mixed with manure and grain. His water bucket had flipped over, drenching his hay, and he’d pulped that business with his hooves, turning the hay to a mash that clung like lumpy porridge on his legs and in the web of his long, coarse tail. He looked at me sideways, with one beastly, fearful eye.
“Here, boy,” I said, “let’s get you outside.”
He dipped his head to show he was agreeable. I took that as a good sign. I covered him with a blanket, fixed the leather lead to his halter. When I opened the door, he proved himself a gentleman, letting me go first.
But once outside, the confusion of smoke and noise assaulted his already fragile nerves. He pulled up, and I thought, what will I do if he rears?
Fifteen horse strides to the street, fifteen back. I was careful not to lead him into the road, where any able nag was being put into service clearing, hauling. Flakes of ash from the growing fires danced before our eyes.
I knew we were being observed by Rose’s neighbors. I nodded at them; they nodded at me. And we went on in the strangeness.
I dared to pat General’s mane. This way, I let him know that we were on this shaky planet together, and that the world still had its sun and sweet grass and, look here, Rose’s flowers.
When General stumbled on a stray brick, I cried out, “Careful!” my voice croaky and hollow, my hand with the leather shaking, and all that fear, my fear, rippled along his flank.
If I was suffering Morie’s death, I didn’t know it, even as I kept blinking to banish the ash, banish the thought of her under all that brick. The silence when someone is no longer walking this world—I have known it since, but that was the first time. I did not question whether I loved Morie; she took up too large a room in my heart and mind. If I loved Rose more than I feared her, I didn’t know that either. All I knew was the packed dirt of Rose’s driveway and that I felt a powerful kinship with this nervous horse.
I told him he was a fine horse. And that for every lash Tan had banged into his worn hide, Tan would get worse. I told him the world was not itself and wouldn’t be for a long time. Somehow, we’d figure a way. I talked to let him know I was in charge, for if you can convince a beast, you’re halfway to convincing yourself. I told him that though he and I were odd, maybe even ugly, all you had to do was look around: the world was in worse shape than the pair of us. I was young; he was strong. I had brains and bones as yet unbusted; I had a booming, wanting heart. He had the goods to take us to find Rose and James.
I told him all of this without uttering a word.
On our final lap, as we approached the road, I caught sight of Tan. He was shaking his finger at me. I could just hear him growling, Gurrl. He pointed to General and at the stable and, oh, I got the picture: he was ordering me to return the horse to his stall.
I was in no mood to be bossed by Tan, who, after all, hadn’t heard General’s cries, his banging hooves calling for help. Nor had he seen the fallen bricks on the stable roof. If it collapsed, we’d be without a horse.
I decided to tie General to the hitch post outside the kitchen door. I offered him a bucket with a few inches of water—water being more precious in the coming days than diamonds and pearls. He took a drink with his vulgar, delicate horse lips, then moved two steps sideways to commence mowing Rose’s petunias. I left him to it.
I was pausing in Rose’s garden when
