The Clearing by Dan Newman Read Free Book Online Page A

designed to minimise the preceding comments, but Ma Joop was having none of it. She chattered back at him sharply, and the inflection at the end of her Creole torrent told Nate it was a question – one delivered in the form of a demand.
    Smiley’s posture changed instantly. He became apologetic, clearly trying to downplay the importance of what had just happened, and while the string of words was lost on Nate, the man’s tone and actions said volumes. Smiley’s smile was gone, and he was now a picture of contrition, repentant and at the edge of pleading. His apparent apology seemed to go on much longer than Nate expected, and it finally occurred to Nate that Smiley was not putting it on: he was in full and sincere retreat.
    The word popped through again, the one that seemed to have changed the entire conversation for Ma Joop, and this time Nate was convinced he had heard it clearly: Bolom . It was Ma Joop who said it this time, and as she did she cut a single and searing glance at Nate. It was venomous, and her eyes burned with an anger that Nate was not prepared for – especially given the suddenness of the conversation’s eruption. Nevertheless, somehow Nate understood that the venom was aimed entirely at Smiley, and that the acid scorching he had just endured was merely an accidental splash in his direction.
    She bellowed again at Smiley, and it was suddenly clear that some threshold had been reached and breached; Ma Joop had become truly angry. She wasn’t merely upset or out of sorts, she had become spittle-ejecting angry, vein-in-the-forehead angry. And with every syllable she howled, she reached a new and more frightening volume.
    Without warning, she waded into Smiley’s personal space, and he reacted quickly by rising – until he was shoved roughly back into his seat by Ma Joop’s outstretched hand. He landed back in the chair heavily, and the large woman came to a silent standstill above him, her right hand balled up into a fist with a single digit pointing sternly at him, only inches from his nose. For Smiley, it might as well have been a pistol; he froze as if his life depended on his very next decision.
    Ma Joop stood for a moment, nothing moving but the heaving of her great chest. The silence seemed even to be respected, at least momentarily, by the island night chorus of crickets and beetles. When at last she spoke, it was in an eerily calm and quiet tone, and in English, perhaps for Nate’s benefit. “Don’t fuck around with dis,” was all she said.
    She then turned, smiled briefly at Nate, and moved off in that deliberate and unhurried way that was all her own.
    When she had disappeared inside, Nate let out an almost inaudible whistle. “Whoa. What was all that about?”
    Smiley was in shock, too, and his efforts at shrugging it off and playing it cool were transparent at best. Instead of explaining, he said simply, “You must be tired. I think it time I took you back.” It was a definitive moment; the evening was over.
    An hour later, Nate lay on the bed in his room at the Breadfruit Tree Inn, watching as the ceiling fan turned in lazy, ineffectual arcs. It was out of balance and the whole hub moved as the blades turned. There was no off switch to the thing, and no speed control that he could see; it was perpetually in motion, a repetitive, looping circle with no chance of stability.
    He lay with his arms raised and his fingers laced behind his head, and beside him sat the envelope from Smiley. Nate had yet to go through the rest of the contents, but questions around the obituary hovered. He thought about the exchange in Gros Islet, about the sudden and violent change in Ma Joop’s demeanor, and about the silence of the ride back to the hotel. Smiley didn’t want to talk – that much had been clear – and so Nate just sat and watched the island flick by in the darkness, marveling at Ma Joop’s complete and utter