“Who knew,” she said. “He’s off the phone sooner than I thought.”
Lewis welcomed me into his office, then told “Lynette” to hold all calls that didn’t warrant his immediate attention.
“Sit down,” he said as he closed the door. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”
I shook my head, sat down, then handed him the letter I had found in room. He asked what it was before opening it up, but I didn’t answer. I just watched him as his eyes scanned the paper. I could tell that he wasn’t really reading it word for word, only glancing it over. He refolded it and walked over to a window before turning slowly around and looking at me.
“Where did you get this from?” he asked.
“Where did I get it from? What does that matter? Where did you get it from?”
He didn’t say anything. He just nodded his head a few times. “Well, there you have it.”
“That’s all you’re going to say, Lewis? You’re not going to give me any reason for this? You’re not going to say sorry?”
“I would be lying if I said that because I’m not sorry.”
“How can you say that? Lewis, these letters were private. They were my business. I wrote them to my friend in Stepney, not to you. I put all my feelings down. Said things about what I was thinking, how I was feeling … about you. And you read it. You read them. You lied to me, and you don’t even feel sorry for it?”
“How did I lie, Souci? You asked me no question for me to lie about. If anyone lied here, it was you. I asked you, implored you to keep the terms of this agreement quiet, but you didn’t. I asked if you had told anyone about what was going on. I specifically asked you about Michele, and you looked me right in the eye and you said no. Think about that.”
“But who is Michele? She’s a girl who doesn’t know anybody. She’s my best friend. She knows all my secrets. Never once has she let one out. I don’t know, or I didn’t know the type of people you did … rich, important people. Whatever I could have said to Michele, what could they have done with it in Stepney? I mean, there are only maybe a hundred people there. Not even. And nobody has telephones. The best type of transportation we could round up, if you don’t include Dr. Bennedict’s car, and he lives in Brown’s Town anyway, is Jimmy Mason’s scooter.”
“It’s not personal, I assure you. I don’t know Michele. I can only take your word for her … now. But, I just couldn’t take any chances. I had to make sure you weren’t saying things that could have been harmful to my campaign in any way. It was all in the interest of security.”
“Did you read all of them?”
He turned back toward the window, but did not answer.
“I said all these things about you … about how I felt about you.”
“What’s done is done. What has been said has been said. I don’t dwell on those things. I have long put them out of my mind.” He walked back over to the sitting area and sat on the arm of a chair.
“The truth is, Souci, I don’t know whether you feel worse that I read your letters, or that I didn’t come to you and tell you I feel the same way about you as you do, at least from the letters, about me. I don’t know if you feel worse because you think I’ve broken some kind of trust, or because you’re embarrassed about the things you said in those letters. I said before that I wasn’t sorry I read your letters, and I’m not. But I am sorry I hurt you. Now, I’m eternally grateful for what you’ve helped me to accomplish. I care for your well-being. I respect your feelings, but that’s all. Nothing less, nothing more.”
The buzz that came from the intercom on Lewis’ desk startled me. At that moment, it seemed louder than the roll of thunder during a country rainstorm. Lewis didn’t respond to it, but he looked at his watch, stood, and walked over to the door.
“I’m sorry. I have a meeting in here now. It’s just a very busy day for me.”
He opened the door and stood there waiting for me to leave. I was ready to tell Lewis Montrose how angry I was. I was ready to tell him that my letters were no less important than his security policies. I was ready to tell him how he seemed to be doing everything to make the fairy tale I thought I had stumbled upon, a complete nightmare. But as I walked toward the open door, I heard voices coming from the hall. I heard the ringing of his secretary’s telephone. I heard someone mention a BBC interview, and I felt so small. I walked out of that office without saying a word, and with each step, I felt my heart swell with regret.
Lewis closed the door behind me the moment I had crossed its threshold and stepped out into the hall. I felt so overwhelmed. Whatever stupid schoolgirl notions I had of being Lewis Montrose’s true love, his equal, were now squashed. The world in which I lived was his world. He allowed me to be a part of it, but I didn’t really fit in. It was this realization that led me on my first nighttime escape from Reach.
- 26 -
It had been easier than I had thought, making it as far as I had. Rex, who was stationed on the ground floor, was a large man, and he couldn’t resist Mrs. Moore’s bread pudding. Like clockwork, each night around ten, he would enjoy a slice along with a steaming hot cup of mint tea, then his head would nod back and forth as he sat at his little desk near the stairwell. I had made it from my room without him as much as stirring.
On the nights when Lewis was away from home, the Moore’s were usually in their apartment by ten, although it was still up in the air as to whether or not they ever actually slept, since they always appeared immediately when summonsed and were always completely put together.
And so I waited, crouched in a corner of the verandah, without moving, without making a sound. I could see the dewdrops on the petals of the hibiscus. The stars looked so close to the Earth, I thought that if I reached up, I would have been able to pluck one out of the sky. The night was quiet and calm, and I could hear my own breathing. I had tucked all my hair under a sports cap and tied a dark sweater around my waist. I kept my eyes fixed on the backyard, waiting for the security guard’s next round.
When I heard him whistling his usual melody, I knew it was almost time. He always whistled the same tune, which sounded like one long, drawn out song of mourning. The notes blended together as if he could spare only one breath for the entire song. Sometimes as I lay awake in bed at night, I would hear his song, and it would make me so very sad. It always reminded me of my aunt’s last day, of those last moments as she lay in bed staring off into the mountainside.
Toward the end of her sickness, Aunt Mattie didn’t resemble the woman I had known all my life. It was the same voice and the same eyes, but it was if another person had taken over her body. But on that last day, as all the villagers made their way up the hill, along our slippery stone pathway and into the house to pay their last respects, Aunt Mattie just kept looking out into those hills all peaceful and happy like. Then she slipped off into a calm sleep with a smile on her face. It was as if she had made peace with what had been, what was and what would come to be, and she was ready to fly away home.
The guard passed by, his hands tucked away in the side pockets of his uniform, whistling his sad little tune. When he rounded the corner of the house, I counted to five, then jumped up and ran across the grass. I made it to the orange grove, but about halfway down the path, I stopped. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and my heart wouldn’t stop banging against my rib cage. I leaned against the trunk of a tree in order to catch my breath. I whispered to myself and to the trees, “What am I doing out here?” and I gave serious thought to turning back. But I knew I had to get away from Reach. The car was out of the question since I had never learned to drive. Lewis saw no need for me to, since I had a driver at my disposal. Never mind the fact that Mr. Jones refused to drive me anywhere unless he got approval from Lewis. But even if I was able to drive, the hum of the engine would definitely have given me away.
I started along the path again, groping my way through the darkness. Twice my feet almost came up from underneath me, but I was able to grab hold of a low-lying branch o
r twig and steady myself. There were no streetlights on the mountain roads, so I wasn’t aware of reaching the end of the path until I felt all this empty space around me. I had reached the small lane behind Reach, so I turned left and groped along. My heart beat wildly, and I could feel the little beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Two bright lights suddenly came on in the distance, but my heart didn’t stop racing until I was seated in the passenger seat of a dilapidated silver Ford. At first, I didn’t even notice the spring poking at my left thigh.
“I thought maybe you change you mind,” Henry said.
“No. Just had to be careful.” I said. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Henry smiled, gunned the engine and backed up off the narrow lane. We made our way out of the mountains, down past Papine and into Kingston proper. His tiny transistor radio sat where the car radio should have been. It was tuned to Radio Jamaica Radio, a station that was sometimes picked up and at other times drowned out with static, depending on what part of the city we happened to be passing through. It was nice when the music sifted through and the Ethiopians harmonized on “Sweet Majesty.” It took my mind off my nerves. I rolled the passenger side window all the way down and sucked in some of the warm night.
As we made it into the lower environs, I turned to look out the back window. The Blue Mountains formed a darkened silhouette in the northern night skies. The uptown roads had been calm and quiet. I expected the downtown roads to be just the opposite—full of life, throbbing with a pulse. I expected to hear reggae beating from every doorway. But it wasn’t so. Downtown Kingston was also strangely quiet. The low throttle of the car engine, the sound of far off voices and the strong night wind were the only sounds. Yet I still I felt a sense of freedom. This was Kingston, the big bad city; a place where running into someone from Lewis’ circle was nearly impossible—or so I hoped.
Henry pulled into a tiny car strewn lot. He scooted out of the car and offered his arm to me. The lot led into a narrow, shady looking alleyway, which ended at a small house painted red, green and gold. A picture of the Jamaican flag was painted on one side of the front door and a picture of Haile Selassie on the other. I felt the bass even before I heard it. It was so strong, the walls of the house seemed to shake to the beat. There were a few people milling around outside, mostly older boys—nineteen, maybe twenty years old. The only girl was part of a couple that stood off toward a corner, holding each other like boyfriend and girlfriend. He took a hit from a fat, white spliff and blew the smoke into her mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she giggled with delight. His hands moved on down her back before settling on her plump, round behind.
The other guys were all just standing around, leaning against the front walls of the building. They looked like they were mostly just trying to get some air. Their shirts were soaked and sweat ran down their foreheads, along their necks and down their chests. They balanced lit Craven A’s or Marlboro’s in one hand and held onto bottles of one sort or another in the other. Most were drinking Red Stripe or Guinness. Their eyelids were relaxed from ganja, but not so relaxed that they didn’t notice us walking up. I tugged at the brim of my cap nervously and pulled it almost completely over my eyes. I wondered if someone would recognize me—though most of the boys were so mellowed out from the ganja, they probably wouldn’t have noticed Jesus rising up before them. Henry stopped and shook hands with one of them, a tall fellow with a round, smiling face.
“Wh’appen King ’Enry … how t’ings goin’?”
“Is all right. How t’ings in dere?”
“Hot. Lots a people mon.” He smiled wickedly as he looked me over. As his eyes settled on my breasts, he ran his tongue across his lips. “Is who dat, ’Enry?”
“Is a frien’.” Henry tugged at my hand and continued moving.
My heart thumped so loudly, I thought it might drown out the music. I grasped Henry’s hand tightly, hoping he would hurry into the darkened club where we could become shadows along a wall. There had been extra security at Reach over the past few weeks. A part of me almost expected someone to rush into the club, hustle me into a state car and drag me back to Reach. And to top it off, my conscience suddenly decided to pay me a visit. I was going to be thirty my next birthday. I was the wife of the prime minister of Jamaica, and here I was out on the town with a boy closer to twenty. What if someone figured out who I was? The great scandal flashed through my mind: Lewis losing the next election, Paulette and Marilyn holding an impromptu garden party just to discuss the events. I suddenly felt this great rush of adrenaline, then I just froze. My fingers and toes began to tingle.
“What’s wrong?” Henry asked.
“What if somebody recognize me?”
“Look at you wit’ you sport cap. Don’t even look like de wife of a prime ministah. Look like a young girl about de town. Nobody will evah know is you. Nobody. Even if dem could see you whole face undah dat hat, nobody would believe it was really de prime ministah wife. But is up to you. If you want fe go back, we will. But you is de one tell me you need fe live a likkle … okay.”
“Okay,” I said. I took a few deep breaths and followed him into the club.
There were entirely too many bodies in so small a space, and the heat was almost stifling. But the music soon took hold of my soul and the drumbeats shook my pulse. Henry made his way through the crowd, pulling me alongside. I squinted as I tried to absorb the small slice of light that crept in with each opening and closing of the front door. The bass traveled up through my feet, along my thighs and the entire length of body. The smell of warm beer, sweat and ganja mixed together to form a raw and seductive odor. I squinted in the direction of the nearest wall, which was lined with gyrating bodies.
I was surprised by my own laughter. It came out like an echo and frightened me at first. I guess I had forgotten how it sounded. I peeped out at the couple next to me. They rocked back and forth so slowly, it appeared as if they weren’t moving at all.
I took a few sips from a bottle of Red Stripe as the music drove the beer deeper into my body. I felt myself floating and my mind spinning. Henry finished off his own beer, then stepped up, put his arms around my waist and held on tightly. I could feel my body tense up, but he coaxed me into movement. He moved his hips slowly, gently. It felt good having a man’s body so close.
* * *
Henry’s car warming up was like a cannon being sounded in Kingston Harbor. I was afraid the thing would wake the entire city. Eventually, he hit the accelerator, and we drove quietly through the sleeping streets. I could smell the salty sea air, and I felt a sudden rush. I felt like a young schoolgirl again, if only for a moment. The car began its climb up into the mountains, and the lights of Kingston disappeared behind us. But even heading back toward Reach could not kill my excitement.
Henry switched off his headlights once he turned onto the small lane behind the property. The car came to a stop, and I leaned my head against the headrest. I kept my eyes closed for a few moments longer. When I opened them, I noticed Henry looking at me. A large grin spread across his face. I smiled at him, and he leaned in toward me. He rested his lips against my cheek for just a second.
“You ain’t too happy wit’ married life,” he whispered.
“What?”
“Just de way you dance wit’ me. De look ’pon you face right now.”
“What you know ’bout people and their married lives?”
“Not much, but ’Enry’s good at listening, so if you evah need anyt’ing at all, any time at all, ’Enry’s around.” He eased back over to his side of the car. “Now, Mrs. PM, you’ve been to a dance.”
I eased myself out of the car and waved as Henry backed down the lane.
Suddenly, I felt so lonely. I had never before noticed so many nighttime sounds, not even when I lived in Stepney. I could hear the throaty call of the bullfrog and the cry of the croaker lizard. And the crickets and cicadas that had started the evening off at a medium pitch now seemed to be trying to outdo e
ach other in volume.
There was something about the palm trees. I couldn’t really see them in the darkness, but I could hear the thrashing sounds their fronds made in the breeze. I tried to adjust my eyes as best I could. There was a crescent moon out, so there was just enough light for me to sense all the shadows moving about. And though I didn’t believe in duppies, as I walked through that orange grove where I could hardly see a foot in front of me, I couldn’t help thinking about all those stories I had heard in Stepney. I started thinking about all the people I had ever known who had died. I liked most of them just fine while they were alive, but had no desire to run into them now that they had crossed over to the other side. I just tried to keep my mind on the excitement of the dance—the music, the bodies, the heat and the energy.
I was thankful as I neared the edge of the yard, but I knew my adventure was far from over. I would have to wait for the guard to do his round, then I would have to make it across the yard and onto the verandah. Once there, I had to hope that no one had woken up and locked the back door—although I had also unlocked the window in Lewis’ study. When I got into the house, I still had to contend with Rex. Worse yet, I couldn’t be sure whether Lewis might have been wandering around in the dark. All of this, I was prepared for. What happened instead, I was not. What I encountered that night of my first outing from Reach almost prevented me from ever sneaking away again.
I was crouched at the edge of the orange grove waiting for the next security check when instead, I noticed Lewis walking from the verandah, and he was not alone. Mind you, it was nearly three o’clock in the morning, an unusual hour for a visitor. Lewis was walking very slowly alongside a man. I couldn’t make out who it was in the darkness. But they kept moving toward the back of the yard, so I eased a little further back into the cover of trees. I was now crouched so low, my face was almost in the dirt. They finally stopped walking and Lewis turned toward his guest so that his back was to me. They were so close, I could see the man’s eyes clearly. They were so close, I was almost afraid to even breathe, lest they heard me. Thank God for the crickets. Lewis’ guest wasn’t a very large man. Probably wasn’t much taller than me. Still, there was something so intense about him, and his eyes were almost hypnotic.
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