“Oh hell!” I shouted at the ringing instrument.
“Hello Doctor Brown’s residence,” I answered coolly.
“Oh, hi Pris its you…”
“Hi Mom, I am helping Aunt B with some things.”
“Is she there?”
“No she had an emergency at the hospital, somebody’s baby is coming early.”
“Okay then, I will call back. Is she through packing?”
“No, not even half.”
My mother sounded sad so I hurriedly hung up the phone; I did not feel like another crying bout at the moment. When Uncle Charles was leaving for Jamaica, my mother was depressed for weeks and now her favorite sister was leaving.
I opened the box, I was so happy that my mother did not volunteer to come over and help, otherwise I would have been distracted.
In the box were piles and piles of envelopes. All shapes and sizes, some of them brown at the corners from age. It did not take long for me to realize that they were ordered according to their dates.
Wow, my aunt was very careful with her correspondence.
The first one was dated October 1970. The writing across the envelopes said -Beryl Phillips; it was bold and distinct.
I opened the mail reverently and made myself comfortable.
October 25
Dear Beryl,
I saw you entering the churchyard. Your pink dress was swaying in the wind and your ponytail was glistening in the sun. I did not love you then. I loved you when I heard you sing in the choir, it was as if we were alone and the joy you were feeling was just for the two of us. Will you do me the honour of saying hello the next time I sneak into church to hear you sing?
Yours truly,
Courtney
October 30
Dear Beryl,
I was sitting in the market, when I saw you pass by with your sister. Would it be too bad if you called to me? I know that I am dirty and I don’t look like much, but I did write you one letter before. I supposed that we were friends after the letter, but I guess not.
Why did you buy Mr. Frank’s yam and not mine? I farmed my yams by the sweat of my brow and when you become my wife, we will be farming together. Next time please try to support me; our future income depends on regular customers.
Your future husband
Courtney
November 3
Dear Beryl,
I have a severe problem, every time you pass by my house; I am gripped with sudden trembling. My knees knock together and I am covered in sweat. Last Wednesday I was unable to go to the yam fields because I saw you early in the morning, I was paralysed for most of the day. They took me to the doctor and I told him I only had the symptoms when I see you. He told my father I had love problems.
I am hiding behind the house now to write you because my father decided to beat the problem out of me. I will suffer because of you Beryl. There is no mountain I will not climb, no coconut tree that I will not scale, for you.
I know that you have heard of the church concert. Can I please take you? I know that you may think that the red shirt and the blue shorts are my only piece of clothes, but I do have a khaki suit, I could wear that. Please say yes Beryl.
Yours truly,
Courtney
November 17
Dear Beryl,
I know that Kurt Blake has more cows and goats than I do and that he goes to school everyday, but you could have just said you would not come to the dance with me. Instead you showed up with him. Are you afraid of the powerful feelings that you have for me? Is that why you refuse to talk to me?
That’s okay, I understand. I was fearful at one time about my feelings for you too, but I decided to face my fears. Can we meet at the back of your classroom at lunchtime? I made something just for you.
Yours truly,
Courtney
December 12
Dear Beryl,
Why did you tell your mother on me? I was so embarrassed when she gave me a lecture on class and good breeding. I am a poor boy its true, I live in a shack and I farm for a living, but that should not bother you in the face of our love. I can read and write and we will always have food on the table. Please tell her its okay.
I wrote a song for you, its called ‘Angel’. That’s what I wanted to sing for you but another time. Its thirteen days till Christmas and my father is killing a goat, would you like some mannish water when you are passing?
Courtney
December 18
Dear Beryl,
I was so overjoyed to get your first letter. What is an impervious imbecile? It sounds romantic. I will treasure those words forever. I know I sell in the market, but what is an uncouth market boy? I love you too Beryl, I never knew that you returned my feelings until now.
Your impervious, uncouth imbecile
Courtney
I was laughing quietly as I read Aunt Beryl’s letters and I realized that this Courtney fellow was persistent.
I could just imagine Aunt Beryl telling him off but he was so glad for any correspondence from her an insult would have no effect.
Much of the years, ‘70 and ‘71, went on the same, with Courtney pleading for attention. Then I realized that the year 1972 was different, the tones of the letters changed…
January 24
Dear Beryl,
Thank you for the birthday gift, it was lovely. When you said you were an artist I did not know that you were a professional, I will treasure it forever. I got the scholarship for Mico Teachers College in Kingston. Can you believe it?
I will become a teacher or probably a principal like your father and then I can date you without hiding. Paul will help Papa on the farm, so I will worry much, because he does not know the difference between the back or front of a cow….
Can we go to the river and talk this Valentines Day instead of me sitting stiffly on the veranda under your fathers watchful, disapproving eyes?
Love,
Courtney
February 15
Dear Beryl,
I can’t believe you really said it! You love me? Did you have too much of the fermented June plum wine?
Call me a coward but I would prefer to ask you this in writing. Would you do me the favour of becoming my wife? Don’t answer me yet.
Don’t answer, I am afraid of the answer, just know that I want to ask…
February 19
Beryl,
Did you say yes when you passed yesterday? I heard a dull roar in my ears when I saw your nod and then you said yes, was that to another question, or was that to THE QUESTION?
Please reply Beryl; I am shaking with uncertainty…
I paused before I opened the other letter; my Aunt had a love in her past. How sweet. I felt as if I should not be reading anymore of her intensely personal mails but I was curious, so I opened another. It was little more than a note.
February 20
Thank God! I will ask your father tonight for your hand.
Everyone in my house is happy because I am so happy. My mother said you are a good catch.
I love you like a thousand yam hills… I love you more than a moo on a cow… a bleat from a sheep…an awning on a market stall…I will cherish you like the first crop on the sorrel field…I love you.
April 20
I was not going to write, I was so sad when your father said I was not good enough. He said we are too young. He said I should look after my goats and leave you in peace. I probably should not have told him that I would make you as happy as my cow Sheba on a fertile field. What was I supposed to do? I was nervous. Can we meet by the river tonight, please?
April 21
Last night was the best night of my life, the first kiss. I know that I could wax poetic about the moonlight in your hair, the pleasure of your touch but I know that it is risky to write anything much….
Courtney
May 26
Yes I am going to school in August. When I get back we will marry, despite the odds. I will come back for your eighteenth birthday; it will
be okay you’ll see…
I realized I was learning more about my Aunt from the letters than I ever did before. I read the letters until I came to the year 1975, the year we all left Jamaica.
Dear Beryl,
Please don’t go. You don’t have to, I finish school next month, we can marry and stay out here. I will take care of you; I will get a job and everything. You know I can’t come now, I have Papa to take care of, his health is failing and Paul is more neglectful than ever. Last week he was caught trying to brush the cow’s teeth with his toothbrush. My family needs me now more than ever. Don’t Go…
Tears came to my eyes at the earnest nature of the letter. I put away the letters I had already read and went to get some water. The decision to come to America must have been really hard on Beryl.
I was about to get back to reading, when Aunt Beryl walked through the door.
“It was no emergency…” she started talking, and then she saw my face.
“What were you doing? Crying?”
I nodded and went and hugged her up.
“Which year are you at?” She asked me curiously.
“Seventy-five,” I murmured in her hair.
She started laughing, “do you realise that there are twenty-odd years of letters after that?”
“I know, but it was so sad… his pain, you could touch it.”
“Well that’s true, we were young and so in-love.” She sat in the chair and plucked out an envelope on the top pile.
“May 20, 2002,” she started reading aloud…
Dear Beryl,
As usual, with everything important, I have to write a handwritten letter. The email is not the same as seeing your scrawl across a sheet of paper. Don’t be outraged; please respond in kind, I love your scrawl. I am happy you are moving back to Jamaica, we can finally do the things we should have done twenty years ago. I am arranging a homecoming, you will never forget. I love you.
Courtney
“Ohhhh…” I whispered, “I had no idea.”
“I see him three times a year,” Aunt Beryl said “and we talk on the phone often. He is my all time love. I am going back to Jamaica to marry him and give him some babies.”
“What does he do now?” I asked curiously.
“Wouldn’t you know it, he’s a writer. He writes poetry, songs, screenplays, letters,” she pointed to the letters on the couch that I had already read and laughed.
“I get my letters from yard, every month, for the past twenty years.”
“Did he every marry?”
“Never, the man waited twenty-odd years for me to say yes again,” she had a pleased far-away look in her eyes. “He pursued me single-mindedly and gave me some farm-lyrics, until I had to take notice. Do you know what he finally said to gain my attention back in ’71?”
I sat up, interested to hear more.
“He came to church and waited for me at the front, with an earnest look in his eyes he said, ‘ehem…’
‘Miss Beryl…’ he looked around furtively as if he was going to tell me the biggest secret, then he whispered, ‘my cow Sheba has a delicate moo that I have not heard on any other creature. I wanted to tell you, that you have topped that moo today with your song.’
“I laughed until I was dizzy, its not everyday a girl’s voice gets compared to a cow’s moo. I actually liked the bugger after that; he was growing on me after a year of consistent letters.
“I want to go back home,” I whined. “I want to meet my Uncle to be.”
“Christmas,” Aunt Beryl whispered.
I STOOD ON THE LUSH green lawns of my Aunt’s house in Trelawny on Christmas day. I could see the sea in the distance like a blue jewel; there was not a cloud in the sky, the breeze was indeed running through my fingers.
I stared at my Aunt, resplendent in her ivory dress, as she took her vows before her family and friends to wed Courtney Black.
He was a handsome man and was obviously very smitten with Beryl; time had not dimmed his love. I realized that I had not seen Beryl happier; she was finally marrying her ‘farm boy’.
Courtney pulled a fragile piece of paper from his pockets. “I have something to say,” he grinned at Beryl and she grinned back. The pastor gave his assent.
Courtney read out loud, “I love you more than a thousand yam hills… I love you more than a moo on a cow… a bleat from a sheep…an awning on a market stall…like the roar of the river, my heart beats in tumultuous rhythm… my pulse quickens at the inhalation of your breath…I will trust you with my heart, like a newborn pup trusts its mother…I will cherish you, like the first crop on the sorrel field…and like a thousand yam vines striving to reach toward the heavens, I hope our marriage will be so intertwined, as together we grasp all the beauty and the blessings of God… I love you.”
The Date
Lorenzo looked at his watch and sighed. Once again he was left stranded at a restaurant waiting for a girl.
Last week it was Fiona, the week before it was a foiled date with Susan and this week it was a no-show from Latoya, another stand up. He was hopeless.
His best friend Richard told him that he had his sights set on the wrong kind of women. He said he needed to focus on other girls like Vivien, who was the Purchasing Manager in his company, who was extremely attracted to him.
Everyone knew it, but he did not want a Vivien, he wanted a Fiona, with her cultured accent and big bank balance. She drove her own car and her idea of relaxation was taking a cruise or a weekend trip to Miami.
Vivien was essentially the type of girl that he grew up with, and since he escaped the inner city he wanted his new uptown lifestyle to reflect the change.
He owned a computer business and was doing well. The time had come for him to have an uptown girl dangling on his arms, sort of like a trophy. That would be his sign that he had moved away from Tivoli and ghetto living. Not even his three-bedroom New Kingston townhouse could accomplish this feat. He needed real confirmation.
He left the Flaming Wok, one of the most expensive restaurants in Kingston, with a new resolve. He was going to get an uptown girl. After all, how hard could it be?
He had what it takes. He just had to remove the gold teeth; many persons had mistaken him for a drug dealer because of the gold teeth. Probably the problem with him was his image; he still looked like a ghetto man. He just had to change that.
A few days later, Lorenzo visited his friend Richard at his Hope Road apartment.
“What’s wrong with me?” Lorenzo asked, as he flopped down on Richard’s overstuffed chair.
“I took out the gold teeth; I am even talking proper, yet the girls avoid me like the plague.”
Richard started laughing, “It’s not your physical appearance that’s the problem, it’s your approach. I have seen you around girls; you look hungry, almost desperate. Back in the ghetto you were not like that, man. Your problem is that you turn off women with your eagerness.”
“So what do I do? Should I act like I don’t like them?”
“No man, you have to be natural. The number one dating rule, give them a chance to breathe, to express themselves. Ladies don’t like to constantly hear about you, they like to talk about themselves.”
Lorenzo nodded, his face pensive.
“Okay, here is what I am going to do for you. Do you remember my ex-girlfriend Dahlia?”
“Wasn’t she a go-go or something?”
“Yes, but she prefers that you say exotic dancing. She has a friend named Pauline, that she claims has a positive influence on her. I am going to arrange for you to go out with her so you can try out your charms then.”
“No, no what do you take me for? I will not have you arranging dates for me, with women of questionable character,” Lorenzo said, turning on the television.
“She is not of questionable character. I said her friend was an exotic dancer, not her and besides, she is one of those Beverly Hills types that you hunger for.”
Lorenzo turned on the television, switched
to cricket, and bent closer to watch.
“I am not listening,” he turned up the volume higher and tuned out Richard.
“She is very good-looking, in a girl next door kind of way.” Richard shouted, above the noise. “Why don’t you turn off the television, West Indies is losing anyway.”
Lorenzo turned down the television his face screwed up in consternation.
“What does she do?”
“She is unemployed,” Richard mumbled.
“What!” Lorenzo jumped from the settee. “She does not even have a job.”
“Give the girl a chance,” Richard said frustrated, “she might even surprise you.”
“Okay, okay, but this is only as practice for the real thing.”
Richard nodded grinning; “I’ll just tell Pauline that you are asking her for a date on Saturday night. Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah sure, it’s not as if I have anything else to do.”
During the week, Lorenzo tried many times to terminate the date, but Saturday night came all too soon.
He made arrangements to meet Pauline at the Flaming Wok in New Kingston. He was supposed to identify her by what she wore; she said that she would wear a blue top and a black bottom.
He had gone all out and got a new suit, a hair cut and a shave. He wanted to make a good impression, even though he did not think that it was worth it.
At 7:30, he saw a beautiful girl poised at the lobby, in a navy blue blouse and black pants. He started to laugh inwardly; Richard played him for a fool once more, Pauline looked like his ideal woman, business-like, mature and cultured. WOW!
He was just about to step up to her and introduce himself, when she waved to someone in the restaurant and headed off in another direction.
Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories Page 7