Tall Story - Candy Gourlay [3]
‘It must be his diet,’ declared Auntie as she scurried around to embrace her sister. ‘You know I’ve been giving him a glass of evaporated milk every morning since he was a baby!’
But later that evening after we’d opened all the presents and they thought I’d gone to bed, I heard them arguing.
‘I think he should see a doctor, Sofia.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with him, Mary Ann. He’s a happy, normal boy.’
‘His father was barely five foot eight! How can he have grown to six?’
‘His friends have grown taller too. You should see them.’
‘But there’s something wrong. He should see an endocrinologist!’
‘Endo-what? Sister, you’re full of medical mumbo jumbo.’
‘Mumbo jumbo? I’m a nurse!’
Later that week, Ma took me to see a doctor in the city. He set about measuring me, from the circumference of my head to the size of my feet.
When he’d finished, he sat down and folded his hands over his stomach. ‘There is nothing wrong with this boy,’ he said, his nose twisted as if she had made a bad smell. ‘The youth of today are bound to exceed their parents in height.’
‘But he’s only fourteen.’ Suddenly Ma sounded uncertain. ‘I’m a nurse, sir. I just think it’s highly unusual—’
‘A nurse? What sort of nurse?’
‘I work in an emergency room.’
‘Well, I can tell you there’s no emergency here.’ The doctor waved dismissively. ‘You are too anxious. Relax.’
Ma pressed her lips together. Guilt prickled the back of my neck as she paid a hundred and fifty pesos to the secretary outside the doctor’s office. She didn’t say another word during the two-hour bus ride back to San Andres.
Before she got on the plane to London, Ma turned to Auntie. ‘Sofia, if Nardo grows any taller, I want you to let me know.’
‘He’ll be fine, Mary Ann,’ Auntie said. ‘Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’ll look after Bernardo. We always do. Now shoo! You’ll be late for your flight.’
‘Promise me!’
Auntie promised.
And I’m sure she really intended to keep that promise.
But then people began to make the connection between me and Bernardo Carpio.
‘The spirit of Bernardo Carpio has returned in you, Nardo,’ Old Tibo, the barber, told me. ‘San Andres has always prayed for Bernardo Carpio to return, and now he has.’
And it was Tibo who pointed out the absence of earthquakes. ‘Since the boy began to grow, the earthquakes have stopped. This boy has saved the barrio.’
And the people came.
And they brought gifts.
And they made me their hero.
And Auntie put off taking me to the doctor and I didn’t tell Mum what was going on, and Auntie and Uncle didn’t say anything either and we made sure we never sent photographs that made my height too obvious because what would Ma say if she knew that I was now eight foot?
2
Andi
Height isn’t everything, Dad says. And don’t I know it!
‘I’m taking a risk, Andi,’ Coach said. ‘Seeing as you’re the shortest and the youngest on the team.’
True. I was the shortest and the youngest.
But he still picked me.
I was point guard!
Point guard. Point guard. POINT GUARD!
Dream come true, hallelujah!
I was so excited I ran all the way home from the school courts, ignoring the usual London drizzle-that-wasn’t. I ran up all the six flights of stairs to our flat. And I did a pirouette right there, on the landing outside our door. Had any of the neighbours peeked down the stairwell, they would have seen me, one toe of my Air Jordans pointing up and my basketball shorts swirling around my knees.
Point guard!
And me only in Year Eight!
HISTORIC!
The door opened. Mum was home from the night shift. I threw myself into her arms.
‘You won’t believe what just happened.’
Jinx! We said exactly the same thing at the same time! We both laughed so hard someone in the flat next door thumped on the wall to shut us up.
‘What happened, Mum?’ I said at last.
‘You first,’ she said.
‘No, you first!’
There was a sharp whistling noise. The kettle was boiling in the kitchen.
‘Wait … let me get that.’ Mum hurried into the kitchen, which was also the hallway