On Time (Persaud Girl)

by Teisha Mott

  Marlene sat looking at her, not buying for a second that she didn’t care about getting married. Anybody who knew Klao Melissa Persaud knew that she wanted nothing more than to get married. She wanted it just as badly as dry peas wanted fire.

  “Besides,” Klao continued, “I’m only 26. I have a long time left before I get to my ‘best before’ date. My mother did not get married until she was 27.” She did not tell Marlene that her mother only waited that long because she wanted to graduate from medical school before getting married, and that her parents had been dating for years before that.

  “Whatever, Klao!” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Anyways, I have this friend about your age working at the Bank of Jamaica. If you get desperate enough I can set you up…”

  “Physician, heal thyself!” Klao told her firmly, quoting Luke 4:23. “Find yourself a man before you start worrying about me. And I will never be desperate enough to ask you to set me up.”

  “So you say now!” Marlene said wisely. She stood to leave Klao’s office. “But I don’t want you to grow up and be me. I have six brothers and sisters, and I’m the only one who hasn’t given my parents any grandchildren. Gym later?”

  “Maybe,” Klao told her. “Mrs Reyes said I looked like I was putting on weight.”

  “Tell me definitively nearer to five,” Marlene instructed. “I want to go, but I don’t want to go alone, and it is pointless to make the firm pay for our membership if we only go every now and again. And who knows – maybe one of those hot consultants from PwC will look at us one of these days… And if you’re coming, remember to call your neighbour and ask her to let out your dog. Later!”

  Klao turned back to her file, but she could not concentrate. She kept thinking about what Marlene had said - about her being the only Persaud left on the shelf. That thought sucked. She also did not want to be the only one who did not give her parents grandchildren. Dylan and Amanda had been married for three years, and nothing yet. But Dylan worked so hard on his surgical residency that Klao was sure he would not find the time to knock up his wife. And who knew what Darrin and Synclaire were up to? She also thought about going to the gym. Maybe if she took better care of herself someone might find her attractive. Maybe if she lost a few pounds and got a haircut she could get the attention of that PwC guy who worked out at Gymkhana, where both PwC and Reyes, Green and Associates held membership. This guy worked out almost every evening and he was as buff as Tevin and Jeremy. He looked just like the guy in her fantasies, and there was something about the way he lifted those weights that compelled Klao to stop and look at him. She wondered if he could bench-press her, too.

  Klao thought about her gym bag in the back of her CRV. She had packed it last Thursday, although she had not gone to the gym, and it still held her sexiest Izzy workout outfit: the tight crossover yoga top that gave her a dangerous looking cleavage, and the sleek black tech-finish cardio pants that made her butt look like J-Lo’s. Perhaps she should go to the gym. Maybe as she lifted weights, the cutie pie from PwC would notice her. How could he not, when she was looking so hot? He would offer to help spot her, and afterwards, they would have a drink together in the juice bar. They would exchange numbers, go on a date, and in no time she would be announcing her engagement to -- . She frowned, realising she did not know his name. Oh well! She would just have to learn it tonight.

  She picked up her phone and dialled Marlene’s extension.

  “What time you want to leave for the gym?” She asked the second Marlene picked up.

  “How’s six-thirty?” Marlene asked. “That way we don’t have to sit in traffic to get uptown.”

  “Cool!” Klao agreed. “Six thirty then!”

  She hung up and refocused on her divorce petition. Tonight was the night, she thought. Tonight would be the beginning of her ‘happily ever-after’. Tonight she would meet the man of her dreams, and he would love her so much that he would not be able to sleep, and he would always be there -- watching over her. She smiled to herself a contented smile, imagining her future with ‘sexy PwC boy’, with her favourite song, ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ playing softly in the background.

  ***

  Klao limped to her CRV in the Hilton Hotel’s Parking lot, and willed herself not to groan. Every muscle, every joint, every sinew of her body hurt. After an hour spinning and lifting weights, she and Marlene decided to join the late one-hour aerobics class. There was a new instructor, and rumour had it that she was excellent. Big, big mistake. Klao had done dancing lessons until she was a teenager. She had, at her parents’ insistence, done ballet, jazz and tap. They had even made her do a summer of ballet school in New York. She hated dancing, and especially ballet school. Her teacher, Miss Smith, had acted as though she was training the class to join the Ballet Russe. But Miss Smith was a pussy cat compared to the sadistic bitch that Gymkhana had hired to torture Klao, Marlene and the other thirteen students in the class that evening. Klao felt like a roller had been driven over her. And to top it off, the damn boy from PwC had not even come to the gym that evening. As Klao pulled her abused body into the driver’s seat of her car, she thought that if the agony of the evening’s workout did not kill her, her utter disappointment could do the job splendidly.

  As soon as she turned the engine, thinking about a nice, warm soak in her bathtub, she heard the familiar ringing of her BlackBerry. She had left it under the cigarette holder in the car while she went to the gym. She picked it up, and her heart sank when she saw the flashing number that lit up the screen.

  “Crap!” She breathed. She had totally forgotten that she had told Bianca she would be coming over. “Crap! Crap! Crap!”

  Klao considered allowing it to go to voicemail. But she knew her cousin well. Bianca had probably called her once every five minutes since 6:45. Her best bet was to answer and be as penitent as possible, and pray that Bianca would forgive her.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She began, the second she pressed the answer button. “I totally spazzed out and forgot that I was supposed to come over…”

  “I thought you may have been crushed under a bus somewhere,” Bianca responded coldly. “Glad to see that I was wrong.”

  “C’mon Bee, don’t be like that!” Klao pleaded. “I told you I’m sorry. I can come now…” She suddenly realised she was speaking to herself. Bianca had already hung up.

  Klao was not in the mood to fight with Bianca. She had not blown her off. She had simply and honestly forgotten. What did Bianca think? That Klao had no life except the one that revolved around Princess Bianca Persaud? She calmly redialed her cousin’s number. It rang until it went to voice mail. Klao struppsed her teeth and flung the BlackBerry back under the cigarette holder. If Bianca wanted to fruff, then she could go right ahead. That was one thing that Klao did not like about her. As an only child, Bianca had often expected everyone to be at her beck and call. She was selfish like that. Klao knew the best thing to do was to let her fruff until she got over it. It was a simple misunderstanding. She couldn’t be upset for long. So why, Klao asked herself, as she drove out of the parking lot and turned on to Knutsford Boulevard, did she feel like she had betrayed her best friend?

  There was a steady stream of traffic on the road as she turned on to Trafalgar Road, and Klao could not help but wonder where so many people were going on a Monday night. She turned up the radio to take her attention off the traffic. ‘Focus on the Family’ was on TBC radio, the religious station that she kept her radio on. The Persauds were not a particularly religious family, but Klao liked gospel music. When she listened to some songs, she felt something stir inside her – something that transcended her desire to get married. Her favourite song was one called ‘Four Days Late’. She liked it because it reminded her that God had a way of sorting things out in His own time, and the best thing to do is wait, because even when it seems like He’s not going to show up, He pops in right on time and saves the day. The first time she heard it, she had been so touched that she had called the station and asked
them who the singer was, and immediately bought it from i-Tunes. She also liked listening to ‘Focus on the Family’. James Dobson always meted out excellent family advice that she stored in the recesses of her brain, knowing that one day she would be able to draw from it. Tonight, Dr Dobson was talking about breaking promises and its negative impact on family life. Klao felt as though he was talking to her. She had broken her promise to Bianca, and was now paying dearly for it. First, her body hurt; second, the boy she had gone to the gym to see had not turned up; third, Bianca was not talking to her…

  She was at the end of Trafalgar Road when she realised she was in the wrong lane. She had been so taken up by James Dobson and his advice, and her thoughts of Bianca that she did not realise that she was not in the filter lane to turn towards Liguanea. The traffic light was green, and Klao knew there was no hope of anyone allowing her to change lanes, and she was too tired and pained to try. She decided to go straight across Waterloo Road, go on to Shortwood Road, and through Barbican. She was certainly taking the scenic route to Millsborough that night, but who cared? She wasn’t going home to anyone except Minx, and Stacy would have let him out, so he would not pee or poop in her bed or any of her shoes. Thinking of Minx made her remember that the doggy biscuits that he loved so much were almost finished. It was a good thing she missed her turn, she realised. At least now she could stop at Megamart and pick up some for him.

  Five minutes later, Klao swung into Megamart’s parking lot and pulled up next to a white Nissan Tiida. The driver clearly did not get the concept of parking within the designated spot, as the tires were over into her section of the white lines. People who parked like that annoyed Klao. Why did the people who painted the parking spaces have to go through the trouble of painting the lines if people were not going to park within them? She wondered in disgust as she slammed her car door. It wasn’t like the space was not wide enough. It was a stinking Tiida, for crying out loud – not a Mack Truck!

  As usual, the checkout lines in Megamart were crowded, including the so-called express line. Klao moved determinedly towards the pet food section, deciding to pick up one bag of doggy treats and join the express line, and woe be unto anyone in front of her who had more than eight items! The idiot who had parked over the lines had pissed her off, even more than Bianca hanging up the phone on her and refusing to answer when she tried to call back. She could not be mad at Bianca, because Bianca had every right to be cross. She could be mad at the driver of the white Tiida, but short of keying the car, there was nothing she could do about it. Well, she could be mad at the person with the full cart of groceries who joined the express line, and that she could do something about – just watch and see.

  She picked up the treats that Minx liked best, but instead of going directly to the checkout line as was her original plan, she decided to wander around the supermarket to see if there was anything she was forgetting to pick up. The woman who came in weekly to clean her apartment usually made her a list, but she was not always reliable. Nope, she did not need any laundry soap or dishwashing liquid. She had enough chamomile, sugar and milo… Her mother had bought a case of Silk and had sent her three, which were still untouched. Unlike Samantha, Klao could not wrap her mind around the concept of Soy Milk. She refused to purchase another loaf of bread, since the last three loaves she had bought had turned green… So she only needed the dog biscuits, she decided…

  Then suddenly, Klao was in front of the ice-cream freezer. She peered through the foggy glass, trying not to think about her hips and the effect a new tub of Häagen-Dazs chocolate chip cookie dough was going to have on them. She needed a treat, she told herself. She had just suffered through an awful aerobics workout at the gym, and the boy she had gone there to see had not turned up, and her favourite cousin was pissed at her. Why should Minx be the only one to get something special this evening? She pulled the freezer door open and a blast of cold air hit her. She stood there for a few moments contemplating whether she should get ice-cream or a much healthier sorbet. She did not love sorbet as much as she loved ice cream – Shakira was right: hips don’t lie – and Megamart only had sorbet in Mango. She did not like mango. She much preferred Raspberry…

  “I know it’s hot outside, but there must be a healthier way to cool down!”

  The voice was deep, rich and smooth and brought back to Klao’s memory the chocolate fountain that was at Andie’s wedding; a baritone that certainly rivalled that of James Earle Jones, and it caused shivers to run down her spine. Klao snapped to attention and turned to see who had spoken to her. She was sorely disappointed. The body did not match the voice. It was some tall, gangly guy who was obviously looking for attention. And he wasn’t even cute. In fact, he was downright scruffy! Klao gave him her best look of utter disdain, and turned back to the ice-cream freezer, deciding once and for all that she would take the mocha almond fudge – the big tub. After all, that night could not possibly get any worse.

  “I usually take a while to decide what flavour I want, too!” The guy continued, and Klao realised her night could get worse. This dufus could continue talking to her. “I stand here forever, picking, choosing and refusing, until I am almost frozen before finally deciding on grapenut. I guess I’m predictable that way.”

  “And why the hell do you think I care?” Klao wanted to ask him. However, she held her tongue, gave him a not-so-polite smile, and took her choice from the freezer. True to form, the guy took a small tub of Crazy Jim ice-cream in grapenut from the freezer and firmly closed the door.

  “I’m not a fan of Häagen-Dazs,” he said, noting Klao’s choice. “I think it is too sweet and way overpriced.”

  “To each his own, I suppose,” Klao said, deciding that this prick was not going to shut up until he had heard the sound of her voice, and God knows she wanted him to shut up.

  “True, true!” He smiled.

  Klao decided it was definitely time to check out.

  “You have a puppy?”

  What? He was still there?

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re buying puppy treats...”

  “No, these are for me,” Klao replied meanly. “I like to break them up into my too sweet, overpriced Häagen-Dazs ice cream!”

  The fellow looked a bit shocked by her biting comment. Klao thought he looked a bit hurt as well, but at least he got the hint.

  “Have a good evening, Miss,” he said, and turned towards the snack aisle.

  She felt a bad as she stood at the back of the express line, ice cream in one hand and doggy treats in another. She was rude to a perfect stranger for no viable, justifiable reason. He was only being polite; trying to make small talk and she had hopped on to her high horse and spoken down to him. No wonder people thought the Persauds were snobs. She wondered whether the guy recognised her as a Persaud. She was not as easily recognised as Andie and Samantha. She looked like a run-of-the mill Jamindian girl, and unlike Samantha and Andie, she and her brothers had been kept as far away from the spotlight as was humanly possible. She thought that Michael and Kimberly Persaud’s children were the least affected Persaud children.

  Whether she was recognised as a Persaud or not was not what mattered to Klao. She preferred to be recognised as a decent human being, and she had not been one to the poor guy at the ice cream freezer. If he had been the guy from PwC, she would have flipped her hair and flirted with him. This average Joe Bloke, save for the Barry White baritone, may not have been worth her flirting time, but he did deserve some courtesy. She decided then and there to make a concerted effort to be genuinely polite to anyone, anywhere, and anytime.

  “So we meet again!”

  Klao’s resolve to emulate Miss Manners instantly evaporated. She turned and faced the guy. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I was just being polite,” he said, and Klao wondered if he could read minds.

  “And here you are assuming I want you to be polite to me!” Klao shot. “Can’t a girl come into Megamart and buy her ice cream and g
et out without being harassed?”

  “When did politely making conversation in the checkout line become harassment?” The guy asked.

  “When the person you are making the conversation with neither solicited nor appreciates said conversation!” Klao retorted. “Now if you please…”

  “Things come to pass, not to stay!”

  Klao looked at him. “Excuse me?”

  “Things come to pass, not to stay,” he repeated. “Whatever it was that happened to you at work or at the gym,” he motioned to her ‘sexy workout outfit’, “will not last forever, so you don’t have to be a grouch.”

  Klao could not even think of anything really hurtful to say to him. She just huffed and slapped her ice cream and doggy biscuits on to the check-out counter.

  “Using a membership card, ma’am?” The cashier asked.

  “No,” Klao responded, fighting the urge to be rude to the cashier and proving right the creature behind her in the line– that she was a grouch.

  She watched the cashier swipe her two items. They came up to $1,436.56.

  “Crap!” Klao thought as she reached into her handbag for her Hermes calfskin wallet that had cost her a hefty $2,125 US. Jamaica was certainly expensive! Almost $1,500 for some ice cream and crappy dog biscuits? It was a good thing that she was a Persaud, and had a trust fund that guaranteed she would always be able to afford things.

  She opened her wallet and her heart skipped a beat. Her PE charge card was not there. Bianca had it!

  “Oh Jesus, please…” She pleaded mentally as she opened the bill section of the two-fold piece of crap she wished she could sell right away, to be able to afford comfort food for herself and her dog. She found 300 Jamaican dollars, two 1 euro coins, and a handful of quarters. That was all the money she had in her wallet.