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recently, Child of Shadows. He lives in New York.
Afterwards Pete wished they had never said anything to him, but of
course it was too late. They had been pitching pennies at the base of
the water tower when he came up, and Joe, the bigger of the two, looked
around and said,
"Hi, Chinaman! Why aren't you smiling?"
Pete, the other kid, who was skinnier than theand smaller, laughed. It
was a big joke among the kids.
"Why do you always call me a Chinaman?" the man asked ." I am a
Filipino. Before the war my family were important people."
As he spoke, his small body trembled. He was a man in his late
twenties, but the exact year was hard to determine for his face was
boyish, soft looking, and the color of copper.
The two boys stared at him and then the older one said, laughing,
"Well, if you're such a big shot in the Philippines why don't you go
home, 'cause you ain't nobody here."
The caddy was right. The Filipino wasn't anyone. He worked at the Club
too, during the summer months when he was out of college .
He worked in the kitchen at night, cleaning the dishes and stoves.
The boys had seen him many times as they did today, walking alone in the
late afternoon. He was always dressed in white, always walking slowly
with his hands stuck in his back pockets, his face passive, his eyes
down.
As the caddies kept pitching, the Filipino came over and stood for a
moment watching. Then he said to Joe,
"What have I done to hurt you?"
The boy kept pitching and answered without looking at the man,
"You ain't done nothing. What are you asking a screwy question like
that for?"
" Because you more than any caddy want to hurt me."
"You're crazy," Joe said. He had lost four successive times while
lagging, and turning to the Filipino added, "Come on, Chinaman, leave me
alone. You're bringing me bad luck."
"I am not Chinese. I am a Filipino. Now you tell me why you dislike
me."
"Okay, Chinaman, I'll tell you. My old man was getting your job see,
but the manager said, no we got to save it for our little Filipino .
Now he ain't got no fuckin'job 'count of you."
The Filipino was silent for a moment. He stood still, his body leaning
forward, staring at the ground, his hands stuck in his back pockets.
Then he said,
"That is the reason?"
" Why don't you stay in your own fuckin' country?"
The Filipino did not reply, but he kept looking at the young boy .
His face stayed passive. His eyes, which were small and dark, blurred
briefly with tears. Then he said to the caddy, almost apologetically,
"You tell your father he can take my job. I am finished with it."
He turned away from the caddies and walked toward the main country club
road.
The caddies did not say anything until he was out of hearing.
"Hey, Joe," the smaller boy asked, "what's the matter with him?"
"How in the fuck should I know? That Chinaman is crazy anyway .
Come on, pitch!"
The Filipino walked all the way down to the main road, then turned and
came back, and began to climb the water tower. It was only then that
the two caddies again paid attention to him.
"Hey, Chinaman, whatcha doing?" Joe asked. He had stopped lagging to
watch the Filipino. The man did not answer, but kept climbing, one rung
at a time.
Down below, the smaller caddy asked,
"What's he gonna do, Joe?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Then to the Filipino he shouted, "Hey,
Chinaman, you're going to kill yourseIL"
"I betcha he's gonna jump, Joe. I betcha!"
"Shut the shit up, will ya? He ain't gonna jump. Come on, pitch."
"No, I wanta see." The boy moved back from the base of the tower for a
better view.
The Filipino had reached the top leg and pulled himself through the
small hole in the platform that surrounded the white water tank .
He stood up on the platform and looked over the rail of the
hundredfoot-high tower.
The caddies noticed the sharp contrast his dark face and hands made
against his white clothes and the white tank. It was when he began to
walk slowly around the tank, looking out into the distance, that Joe
said,
"I told you he was just lookin' around. Come on, let's go home."
"I ain't going' anywhere, Joe, until I see if he's gonna jump.
"What difference is it of yours if s He ain't your friend."
"He'll kill himself"
"What the tick do you care?"
The Filipino had come around to their side of the tower and was standing
directly above them.
"Hey, Chinaman!" Joe yelled to him ." What are you gonna dojump?"
The Filipino did not answer. He was leaning against the railing, his
face turned upward. Everything was white, the clouds, the tank, his
clothes. His tanned face and hands were the only dark splotches in the
picture. Slowly he swung his left leg over the rail, and then, sitting
on the rail, pulled his other leg over so that both caddies could see
his legs dangling over the side.
"I told you, Joe; I told you he'd jump!" Pete was yelling, not looking
away from the figure perched on the high rail ." It's your damn fault,
Joe; it's your goddam fault."
"It ain't my fuckin' fault!"
"You called him a Chinaman."
"So did you, so did everyone. Don't go blaming me, man."
" Yeah, but you started it. Come on, we got to get somebody."
"Hold it; we ain't gettin' no help," Joe answered ." That's what the
fuckin' Chinaman wants. As soon as we leave he'll come down. We'll get
fired if we bring everyone running down here and the Chinaman is alive.
That tucker!"
"You think so, Joe?"
inaman jumps?
Joe did not answer, but called out to the Filipino,
"All right, Chinaman, jump. I'll catch you. Come on. What's the
matter, Chinaman, you scared?" He held out his arms.
It was then, while Joe was holding out his arms, that the figure pushed
itself off, and the black and part of the white ripped from the picture,
fell gracefully, slowly, arms and legs outstretched.
For a moment both caddies were stunned, then Pete jumped away and ran.
It was Joe who couldn't move. His hands outstretched, he kept waiting
for the falling white figure. Then at the last moment, he turned away,
frightened to look, and the body hit the ground, bounced up again higher
than him, and hit a second time, jerking once, and lay still.
Pete was screaming: "I told you he'd jump! I told you!"
Joe stared at the body, at the way the blood pumped from the Filipino's
gaping mouth, then he ran to the man, yelling at him,
"Why did you jump? Why did you jump, you crazy Chinaman?"
The Filipino did not answer. He only rolled to his feet and climbed the
tower again.
Pete screamed.
Joe stayed where he was, arms helplessly outstretched.
The Filipino jumped, and Joe missed again. And a third time, a fourth,
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