by Nia Arthurs
“Kind of like building a relationship,” I pointed out, “And we’re still pushing through. I doubt that I’ll change my mind. But I will think about it.”
He shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets, “That’s all I’m asking.”
After Archie took me home, I got ready for bed. As I stared into the darkness, I addressed the King.
“Hey Dude. I know you spoke to me this afternoon. If Persia and Joshua are supposed to get a new house in a good spot then you do you’re thing and I’ll do mine. Thanks again for the new passport. Amen.”
The whole prayer thing was new to me, but I figured that I’d covered the basics. Plus, if the King was as good as everyone said that He was, then He’d understand.
As I expected, I fell asleep with Persia and Joshua’s plight heavy on my mind and it was the first thing I thought about when I woke up the next morning. Feeling kind of smug, I went about my morning rituals. I showered, put on a light blouse and jean shorts along with my Vans tennis shoes and made my way to the bus stop. I spotted Ashanti in our usual place and gave her a hug.
“What’s up?” I enthused, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”
“You always come to the bus stop late,” She scolded, “So we cannot talk.”
“I’m early today,” I pointed out, “How’s everything? Are you and Harold still going out?”
A few weeks back, Harold took Ashanti to the Madison Hotel and Restaurant. Apparently, it’s this really glamorous Belizean place and she was impressed since she knew that Harold had made a sacrifice in order to spend that kind of money on her. At first, I was wary of his big spending ways. Normally, people who had a small salary but spent money as though it were going out of style were usually engaged in illegal but lucrative practices. Ashanti insisted that the extra cash probably came from the barbeque stand that Harold’s family worked on Saturdays and that her gentleman had too much integrity to be involved in anything criminal. I took her word for it and rejoiced in the natural progression of their young relationship.
“Yes, we are good. He is taking me to meet his family soon. I am nervous.”
“Don’t be,” I encouraged her. “They’ll love you. You’re pretty and kind and great.”
She ducked her head and changed the subject, “How was San Pedro?”
“It was awesome,” I described to her all that had happened, and then hesitated before confessing the new development between me and Archie, “Um, you remember the guy I’ve been telling you about? Archie?”
“Archie… he is the one that you liked and then pretended to date and then kissed and then pretended to be friends with?”
“We weren’t pretending to be friends.” I admonished, “And we’re dating now. Like really dating.”
She grinned, “I am not surprised. You were really dating from the period of friendship.”
I grunted at her assessment and sighed with relief when Juney’s bus rolled down the curve as it ended the awkward discussion.
“Oh look, the bus is here.”
She laughed at my expression and stood to push her way forward in the gathering mass of bus boarders. I followed at her heels.
I was sort of enjoying these morning gladiator-like experiences with the bus system. I’d even earned the respect of a few morning commuters who would give up their seats to me if the mood struck them. I felt like a native Belizean sometimes, especially on board the bus. It was not a bad feeling.
Even Peters seemed to have bought better fitting underwear and laid off sucking on limes for breakfast. Her disposition, as the end of semester exam slowly approached, ran along the lines of tolerable. Last week, she had barely acknowledged Persia when my friend calmly entered the classroom and slipped the essay on her desk on Wednesday. A few days later, however, the proud mama boasted that she’d gotten a B+.
She was not the only one proud of herself. A few days after my epiphany about Persia and Joshua, Archie and I agreed to keep our eyes and ears open for a lot in a good neighborhood to become available. Archie had taken great pains to inform me of the near impossibility of any such lot existing in the city and especially in any area that I’d consider safe enough for my little Joshua. But I held firm.
“Babe,” he said, one night a few weeks later as we poured over real estate options, “how about this one. It’s right up our price range and with what’s left we can hire workers to build a nice wooden house.”
“I don’t want a wooden house, Archie,” I insisted, “It has to be a cement one.”
Archie groaned, “Why are you being so stubborn, woman? They live in a board house now, don’t they?”
“Exactly. I need cement.”
He laughed, “Is this how it’s going to be when we look for our own house?”
I shrugged, flipping through the magazines, “It’s probably going to be worse.”
I tried to remain calm as Archie moved on to another magazine, but my hands were shaking as my thoughts remained fixed on that statement. I’d been so caught up in our romance; I’d forgotten that we had some serious practical issues such as where we would live if we ever got married and whether or not I’d be pursuing my Masters degree in the States. I knew it was too early to bring up these issues, especially when we were focusing on Persia and Joshua, but it was another log to add to my Stress bonfire.
At summer’s fast approach, I decided to let Archie run point on the Persia Project and buckled down with my new friend to study for exams. If Persia could get at least a B+ on the test, she would pass the course with a C and maintain her scholarship. We studied hard in the library every Tuesday and Thursday and even squeezed in a few weekend sessions at the park where Joshua could play and we could read unhindered. Though I had several other classes to study for, I knew that Peters exam would be the most challenging. She prided herself on asking analytical questions instead of memory questions. Though I did not have as much on the line, I wanted to prove to Peters and to myself that I was more than capable of conquering the class that many others claimed to be a ‘semester of suffering’.
On exam day, Archie drove me to school in between his court sessions. Before I climbed out of the car, he grabbed my hands and prayed wisdom and peace over me. I was grateful for the gesture and kissed him on the cheek before climbing out and mounting the steps of the Roskowski hall. I saw Persia and Monica milling among the students and stepped up to greet them.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
Persia blew out a breath, her bangles dancing on her arms as she moved a lock of raven black hair behind her ears.
“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I squeezed her hand and then we separated to our individual desks.
When Peters’ handed out the exams, I knew for a fact that she hated each and every one of us. Her tolerable behavior over the last few weeks had simply been a ploy to lure us into a false sense of complacency. The questions and scenarios she chose were difficult and had several dimensions. Visions of shoving the exam paper into her mouth danced in my head, but I quickly turned from my violent thoughts and focused my energy on answering her insane questions. I hoped that Persia was doing the same. Every single student remained in that classroom for the entire three hour limit. Not one person got up before the time. Peters alerted us that we had only one more minute to hand up our paper. I glanced at my answer sheet and kissed it reverently then, with wooden legs, I dropped my exam paper before Peters’ desk, refraining the childish urge to stick my tongue out at her. I exited the class and walked into the sunlight.
“I need a drink.” Persia said, coming up behind me.
“Girl, if I could stand the taste of liquor, I’d join you.” I agreed. “Do you think you passed?”
She shrugged, “I felt more equipped than usual but I guess it’s up to Peters’ if she accepts my explanations.”
I shivered, “On the bright side, we got through her class.”
Persia nodded, shading her eyes from the sun to look at me.
“He
y,” I had an idea, “You want to know what I do when I’ve had a bad day?”
“Jump on a trampoline, sing Christmas carols, feed the cows in the meadows.”
I arched an eyebrow, “Who do you think I am? Mother Teresa? No, I shop.”
She ducked her head and checked her watch, “Oh, I have a thing.” She said, trying to get away.
“Don’t be a spoil sport. Come on, let’s get a new outfit. It’s on me. I know a place where I can get an outrageous employee discount.”
I dragged Persia to Mia’s Boutique where in between helping customers, I encouraged her to loosen up and try some of Mia’s wares. Mia got into the mood too and we all ended up having a lot of fun. I knew that Persia would soon be integrated into The Kingdom crew. It wouldn’t be long before she started going to the Gym and getting loving lectures from Mr. Reyes too.
Hey, that gave me an idea.
I excused myself from the shopping spree and pulled out my cell to call Archie. My smart phone lit up with an incoming call from him at that moment. I pressed ANSWER.
“Hey,” I said happily, “I was just about to call you.”
“Oh, about what?”
“You first.” I encouraged him.
“Okay, I found a piece of land!”
I gasped. That was great news! “Where.”
“It’s not anywhere near the sea, but it’s a quiet neighborhood on the North side with enough space for a small house and tons of backyard. And it’s in walking distance of a park.”
This was getting better and better.
“Plus, it’s only fifteen thousand.”
I started jumping up and down, “I am going to kiss you so hard for this.”
He chuckled, “I’ll hold you to that. What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I had an idea for the labor costs… what if… we build the house ourselves?”
Silence met my exuberance. “Archie, are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m just trying to process what you just said to me.”
“Listen, it’s summer. All the missionary groups and stuff will be here. Kids will be out of school. We can make it a Holy Ghost Gym project.”
“Susan…” I could hear the warning in his tone.
I rolled my eyes, “It’s perfect. I know. Hey, I’m busy right now. I’ll see you tonight. Bye, love you.”
I hung up before Archie could burst my bubble with his doses of ‘practicality’ and ‘reality’. If everyone had their feet rooted in reality then would we have airplanes, sky scrapers, or Lord of the Rings books? Absolutely not. Reality could wait. I had a dream and I did not need reality to make it happen.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
After Persia left to pick up Joshua from the day care, I pulled Mia aside and informed her of my Persia project. She brightened.
“I did something like that a few years ago.” She explained, “It was a clothing drive, not nearly so huge in comparison to this though. How can I help?”
I explained my idea of getting the church and missionary groups involved for free labor and Mia went ballistic.
“If we can get the ball rolling, Mia’s Designs will feed them. And clothe them if we have to.”
“Really?”
Mia nodded and her eyes began to water a little, “You’re so inspirational.”
I shook my head, “I’m not the inspirational one. Persia is. I’m just the woman that saw it first”
Mia hooked her arm around mine. My friend knew all the organizations that normally visited Belize to do missionary work during the summer. She offered to speak to Pastor Stanley on my behalf. I accepted each and every contribution of help. Mia and I were alike when it came to our visions. We dreamt big. Before I knew it, the idea ballooned into more than just a Holy Ghost Gym and its invited missionaries’ project. Sandra and Mom helped me to wire the money to Belize and Sandra even added five thousand U.S. dollars to the cause. Archie helped me to verify the land papers and change it to Persia and Joshua’s names. By the end of June a herd of us not only from the Gym, but other organizations such as Habitat Missions and a horde of missionaries from Jamaica descended on the plot that we’d purchased hacking at wood and wheeling sand and stacking cement. With Pastor Stanley and his construction company owning brother at the helm, things were coming together with enthusiasm and cheer. Even the entire Reyes family, including Melody and Spencer stopped by the site a few days a week to help out. While Spencer did manual labor, Melody helped Mia to prepare and hand out the food.
Sometime in July, Sandra and Mom surprised me by flying down to Belize to visit since I’d decided to stay in the country during the summer. When I saw someone looking remarkably like my sister walking through the foundation of Persia and Joshua’s house, I stepped closer. I started to cry when I recognized my mom and sister. They enveloped me in a hug and then all three of us bawled even harder. I led my birth family away from the noise and dust of the construction site and then urged my Belizean family closer to us. I introduced everyone and could not help the smile that climbed my face when I introduced Archie as my boyfriend. Neither Mom nor Sandra was surprised as I’d kept them up-to-date in the change of my relationship status. I could tell that my mother approved despite the fact that Archie wore a tank top with most of his tats on proud display and had a scruffy beard on his face. My family stayed for two weeks, but sadly had to return to the States. I missed them when they left, but was inestimably grateful that they’d made the trip.
In late, August, just before our second semester at the university, the Banner house was ready. It had been the hardest thing to keep it from Persia and Joshua as Archie and I continued to babysit Joshua when Persia needed a hand. Pastor Stanley had also been unable to speak freely from the pulpit about whom the house was for and why efforts were being put on Persia’s behalf because the single mom had been personally invited to the Gym by Melody. Our row on the right was now complete.
Finally, we made preparations to reveal the house to the deserving woman. It was a hot, humid day. Archie and I volunteered to watch Joshua that Saturday so that Persia could have a break. When she arrived to pick him up later in the afternoon, we asked if we could show her something.
“Sure,” She stated and then climbed into Archie’s vehicle. We chatted during the ten minute drive and Persia genuinely had no idea what we were about to present to her.
“Oh,” I turned around and smiled at the young mother as she held Joshua in her arms, “We’re going to a house warming party. I forgot to mention it.”
She frowned and looked down at her plain T-shirt and knee length shorts, “I’m not sure I’m dressed for a party.”
“Trust me,” I grinned, “no one there will care what you’re wearing.”
Archie winked at me and held my hand on the stick shift as he pulled up to the adorable two-bedroom bungalow that we’d built with cement. We’d decided to paint the outside a balmy blue and trimmed the small verandah with white paint. Persia shuffled nervously inside and we led her through a tour of the house. The floors were all tiled and the first bedroom was larger than the second and had a walk-in closet and bathroom. That part was all Pastor Stanley and his brother’s doing. There was another bathroom, along with a living room, a kitchen with new appliances donated by the local hardware store, and Archie’s favorite part: the backyard with a colorful playground. Most of the teams that built the house had already returned to their homes, so when it was time for the grand reveal, Archie whipped out his cell phone to record it.
“Did you like the house, Persia?” Mia hung a hand over the young lady’s shoulders and asked.
“It’s gorgeous. Is it yours?” Persia set Joshua down and the boy made a beeline for the swings.
“Nope,” Melody stepped forward, her tummy so wide it was a miracle that Spencer let her out of the house for this shindig. “It’s not Mia’s.”
Before Persia could ask, Melody shook her head, “It’s not mine either.”
“Who’s is it then?” she cran
ed her neck through the small group of Gym folks that had stopped by with presents for the occasion.
Archie zoomed the camera onto Persia’s face when I stepped up and said, “It’s yours.”
She looked at me as though she’d heard me wrong. “What?”
I held her hand and grinned, “Persia, the house and the land is yours, all of it.”
Persia searched our earnest faces and started to weep as realization dawned, “Thank you, thank you!” She said over and over. Tears fell down my face and I even saw Archie swiping at his eyes once or twice. When Persia had gotten a proper grip on her emotions, Mia, Melody and I surrounded her in a group hug. When we separated, Mia went to turn up the music and we all celebrated this homecoming with her. She had a $5000 budget for new furniture and house toiletries such as towels, rugs, and curtains on top of the various household devices that we’d bought for the housewarming. When we left that night, I realized that it wasn’t only the house that had been warmed. Everyone that gave to this child and this mother felt the heat of satisfaction too.
Deciding that the night was too young to go home, I ended up on the front porch of Archie’s house after the party. A few weeks ago, he’d built an old-fashioned two seat suspended porch swing specifically for me. If anyone wanted to know the definition of ‘courting’, then this was it. He pushed the swing softly with his foot as I curled up into his side with my legs on the bench. I traced the tattoos on his wrist with a finger and asked,
“Do you regret them?”
He looked down at me, his features outlined by the moonlight and the street lamps.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “but not because of the choice that I made. I regret the preconceived judgments people make about who I am because of them.”
I nodded and ran my hand down the length of his arm until our fingers linked. He nudged my head with his chin.
“I also regret the judgments people will make about you because you’re with me.”