Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

that the cyanide was intended for … for what he used it for?”
    “I knew,” DeDe replied grimly. “If you were there, you knew. Captain Duke was even more certain than I was. He also knew about Dad’s fixation with the twins, and he knew that …”
    “Your father was …?”
    “My father?”
    “You said Dad.”
    DeDe grimaced. “I meant him. Jones. We called him Dad, some of us.” She shuddered, sitting there in the sunshine, then smiled wanly at Mary Ann. “If that doesn’t give you the creeps, nothing will.”
    The flesh on Mary Ann’s arm had already pebbled. She held it up so DeDe could see.
    DeDe continued: “The point is … Jones was obsessed with my children. He called them his little third world wonders. He saw them as the hope of the future, the living embodiment of the revolution. Sometimes he would single them out at the day-care center and sing little songs to them. I knew he wouldn’t leave without taking them.” She looked directly into Mary Ann’s eyes. “I knew he wouldn’t kill himself without killing them.”
    Mary Ann nodded, mesmerized.
    “So I discussed it with D’orothea and we planned the escape … with Captain Duke’s help. We left on a regular morning run to Kumaka. Sometimes D’orothea would go along with me, so nobody was particularly suspicious. The twins, of course, had to be sneaked on board when nobody was looking. When we got to Kumaka we took on supplies, then we just kept on going down the river to a village called Morawhanna, where Captain Duke bribed the captain of the Pomeroon, a freighter that made regular trips between Morawhanna and Georgetown … usually with fish on board.”
    “Uh … dead fish, you mean?”
    DeDe shook her head. “Tropical fish. It’s a big export item in Guyana. They had these big tin drums on board for the fish, and some of them were empty, so we hid out in two of them until we reached Georgetown. Twenty-four hours later.”
    “Jesus,” said Mary Ann.
    “I fed a sedative to the children. That helped some. But most of the trip was at sea. Ghastly. The worst experience of my life. It was a little easier when we reached Georgetown. Captain Duke arranged for us to be met by another PPP official …”
    “You mentioned that before. What’s PPP?”
    “People’s Progressive Party. Jungle Communists. They had us on a flight to Havana within twenty-four hours. D’orothea and I were already working in a cannery when the news of the slaughter broke.”
    “How long did you live in Havana, then?”
    “Two-and-a-half years. Up until last month.”
    “They wouldn’t let you come home?”
    “If you mean, here, I didn’t want to go home. D’orothea and I were happy. The children were happy. There were principles involved, things that mattered to us.” DeDe smiled forlornly. “Mattered. Past tense. One of our beloved comrades found out.”
    “Found out?”
    “That D’orothea and I were lovers.”
    Mary Ann flushed, in spite of herself. “So they … uh … deported you?”
    DeDe nodded. “They gave us a choice, sort of. D’orothea decided to stay. She felt that being a socialist was more important than being a lesbian.” She smiled almost demurely. “I didn’t agree with that, so I ended up at Fort Chaffee, Arkansas, where I did what I always do when the shit gets this deep.”
    “What?”
    “I called Mother,” grinned DeDe.
Later, they tiptoed into an upstairs bedroom where DeDe’s four-year-olds lay sleeping. Seeing them there, sprawled blissfully against the bedclothes, Mary Ann was reminded of the little silk dolls sold on the street in Chinatown.
    “Beautiful,” she whispered.
    DeDe beamed. “Edgar and Anna.”
    “Named for your father and … who?”
    “I don’t know,” said DeDe. “Daddy just liked the name. He asked me to name her that on the night he died.”
    “What they’ve seen,” said Mary Ann, looking down at the children. “They don’t remember anything, do they?”
    “Not from Guyana, if that’s what you mean.”
    “Thank God.”
    After a moment of silence, Mary Ann said: “I can’t help telling you … this is just the most … amazing story, DeDe. I’m so flattered you chose me for this.”
    DeDe smiled. “I hope it’ll do you some good.”
    “There’s one thing I don’t understand, though.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Why do you want to wait before releasing the story? It ought to be told now, it seems to me. You’ll only have to hide out, and sooner or later someone will