The Train to Lo Wu - Jess Row [44]
I remember what it was like, Ford says. Eighty, ninety hours a week. It’s a heavy price you pay. I don’t think Sheryl ever forgave me for it. All those years when she would keep the dinner for me in the oven and then I would come home and fall asleep before I could eat it.
That isn’t the right metaphor, Marcel thinks. A price is fixed; you know what to aim for, you know when you’re finished. This kind of work is just the opposite. The question is, will you give this much, and then more, more than you ever knew you had?
I don’t regret it, though, Ford says. And you won’t, either.
Marcel pours himself a cup of tea, drinks it in one gulp, and gets up from the table without a word. His briefcase lies on a chair at the far end of the room; he takes the folder out and carries it back to the table in two long strides. In his hands it feels like a single sheet of onionskin, as if it might slip out of his grasp and drift away.
I’m supposed to say something before I give you this, he says. Ford stares at him impassively, his hands resting on the tabletop. I’m supposed to apologize. Blood is moving up his neck, seeping into his ears; he feels a rim of sweat on his upper lip. But I don’t think there’s anything I can say to dignify it, he says. So take it. Here.
Sit down, Ford says. He takes a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket and lets the folder fall open in his palm. His eyes dart across the page; he licks a finger and turns to the next, scans it, and turns again. Marcel’s feet feel as if they are clamped to the floor. Ford snaps the folder shut and drops it on the table, nearly upsetting a bowl of peanut sauce. Sit down, he says again. Please. Drink some more tea. You don’t look so good. Remember to breathe, now.
You knew, Marcel says. He grasps the armrests of his chair and eases himself down slowly, willing his muscles not to shake. You knew the whole time.
Ford shrugs again. I had a feeling, he says. When I saw you I knew for sure.
And you’re not going to sue?
Ford gives a single sharp laugh. Would you? he says. If they were offering that kind of money?
Marcel’s eyes are watering. I talked to Wanda Silver, he says. Before I left.
Wanda Silver is a great lady, Ford says. But she’s a sentimentalist. She remembers when I used to come into work with an Afro. Don’t you trust her, Marcel. She’s stuck in a different era.
Is it true? About how you made partner?
That’s ancient history. Ford twists his lips and rubs the edge of his mouth with his fingers. I was in the right place at the right time. There was a lawsuit. The government was getting involved, and they had to hire somebody. And I told them exactly what they wanted to hear. My business is to win cases, I said. Not to cause trouble.
You could clean up, Marcel says, in a dry, strangling voice. Punitive damages. It would be a huge case—it could set precedent all over the country.
Careful, Ford says, shaking his head slowly. You be careful, Marcel. They knew what I would do. This is about you. They want to test you. Make sure you’re a team player.
To test me? Marcel says. What did they expect me to do? Throw the papers in the Bay and call the NAACP?
He gets up from the table and walks across the room, breathing hard, still tasting the sting of the curry on his lips. Overhead, the sky has gone black; he can see a dim streetlight on the road leading to the town, and a few wavering lights along the waterfront. Somewhere a radio is playing, a tune he recognizes, but with strange words; Chinese words, he realizes after a moment. He crosses his arms over his chest, and the nausea passes.
That’s the South China Sea you’re looking at, Ford says behind him. Vietnam is that way. China is up to your right. Canton. The Pearl River.
Marcel closes his eyes and nods.
As I understand it, Ford says, when the British came here, Hong Kong was the back of the back of beyond. No one here but a few fishermen. The emperor up in Peking didn’t know this place existed. At first all they needed was a place to get fresh water for their ships and give their sailors a rest. So