Madagascar by Stephen Holgate

Author:Stephen Holgate [Holgate, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blank Slate Press
Published: 2018-06-15T04:00:00+00:00

14

I lean against the wall of the little cell and look at Walt Sackett, see the dullness in his eyes and the waxy gleam of his skin. Kneeling by the American’s cot, Gloria hands him a bottle of pills from Dr. André and tells him how often to take them.

Speedy sits cross-legged on his bed, looking at Walt with concern—and at Gloria with something else entirely.

“Mademoiselle Gloria?” he asks.

“Yes, Dokoby?” Over the last couple of visits, she has softened toward the young Malagasy. She insists on using his given name as a last line of resistance, but I can see that, despite herself, she's giving in to his unceasing charm. Girls are suspicious of charm. But Speedy sees something in her that I don't—that nobody does—and she knows it.

“Monsieur Walt is going to get well?”

Walt’s French isn’t very good, but I'm sure he understands the question. Gloria’s answer seems directed at the aging cowboy. “The medicines will make him better, and I’ve brought some beef broth to make him feel stronger.”

“Miss Nirina brings him food every day.”

“Ah, yes, Miss Nirina. I must meet her someday.”

“She’s Monsieur Walt’s girlfriend.” Speedy chews this over and decides it needs something more. “Everyone needs someone, Miss Gloria.”

“All right, Dokoby, that’s enough,” she says gently. Is that a blush I see on her cheeks?

“Hey, I’m still here.” Walt tries to make it a joke, but we all hear the tone in his voice and no one laughs. He looks away and says quietly, “I think I’m going to need to get out of here pretty soon if I’m going to get out at all.”

“We’re doing everything we can,” Gloria says, though she has to understand how feeble that sounds. “The Ambassador will write to the Foreign Minister. The Ministry has said her letter will receive every consideration.”

“Well, I guess that ought to do it.”

Walt’s gentle sarcasm knocks the props out from under Gloria and she slumps against his bed. Walt reaches over and touches her hair.

I've seen how much these visits take out of her. She needs increasingly more time to recover from each one, as if she takes home some measure of Walt Sackett’s illness. She's one of those people who has known nothing but success, if only in a Rotary Club award kind of way, and her inability to get Walt out of prison is killing her.

Walt looks across the cell at me. “You’re standing a long way off, Robert. Why don’t you come over here and join the fun?”

I shuffle over to Speedy’s cot and sit down.

“You act like you’re at my funeral, Robert. Kinda tough on a fella’s morale.” Walt makes a try at his old laugh.

Speedy reaches under his bed and retrieves a fading chrysanthemum, a hint of the night’s freshness still on it. “Miss Gloria, you didn’t tell me what kind of flower you like, so I picked this one for you.” He holds it out to her.

Like an overloaded circuit, Gloria’s face goes blank.

“Be nice,” I tell her in English, “Take the flower.

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