The Best American Magazine Writing 2020

by Sid Holt

  He was fired as commander of the Fitzgerald, a punishment he did not contest. He was the captain. The ship nearly sank. Seven sailors died. “It was my responsibility,” he said.

  But after the navy charged him with negligent homicide and other crimes, Benson fought back hard. He may have had problems as a captain. But he was not a criminal.

  All but two charges against Benson have been dismissed. He faces one count of dereliction of duty and a second for mishandling the ship. Both are felony equivalents. A recent legal ruling has put the case in limbo and no trial date is set.

  “A terrible thing happened. That’s something I will live with the rest of my life, and dedicate my life to, honoring the men that I lost,” he said. “But I don’t see where I broke any laws.”

  The Fitzgerald was carried by an ocean-going transport vessel from Japan to a shipyard in Pascagoula, Mississippi. The estimated repair bill is $330 million.

  A small crew remains with the ship. Every day, they pass by the crest of the Fitzgerald, a shield with four shamrocks above a blue cross.

  It bears the ship’s motto: “Protect Your People.”

  Jonathan Escoffery

  Under the Ackee Tree

  Paris Reiew

  WINNER—ASME AWARD FOR FICTION

  Jonathan Escoffery’s “Under the Ackee Tree” was one of three short stories—the others were “Howl Palace,” by Leigh Newman, and “Foxes,” by Kimberly King Parsons—that won the Paris Review the 2020 ASME Award for Fiction. “These remarkable stories,” said the Ellie judges, “highlight The Paris Review’s mission of discovering and celebrating the best contemporary writers.” Written in Jamaican patois, “Under the Ackee Tree” was described by the judges as “the poignant and haunting story of a family separated from their homeland and in danger of losing their culture.” Born in Jamaica and raised in Miami, Escoffery received his undergraduate degree from Florida International University in 2010. He is the winner of the Paris Review’s Plimpton Prize for Fiction and a National Endowment for the Arts Literature (Prose) Fellowship. Founded in 1953, the Paris Review won National Magazine Awards for Jonas Bendiksen’s photo-essay “Kibera,” in 2007; John Jeremiah Sullivan’s “Mr. Lytle: An Essay,” in 2011; and General Excellence in 2013.

  If you’re the only son of uptown Kingston parents, then you will have options. You can take Daddy’s Datsun or Mummy’s new ’68 VW and fly past street urchins who sell bag juice and ackee at red lights down Hope Road to pick up Reyha or Sanya or Cherie.

  If a Reyha you pick, you will carry she to the drive-in where you can stroke she hair while unoo watch Bond ’pon big screen. Reyha’s family own the bread shop on Barbican Road where she work most afternoons, and you like sniff she hair since it always smell of coco bread or spice bun.

  Is Cherie you like slow whine plenty nights down a New Kingston, whether Epiphany or Dizzy. She tease you, you see? Push up hard ’pon you in corners and grind she pelvis into yours before she laugh and push away.

  A Sanya you like chat bad word with, so she you take a Hellshire to sit seaside and nyam escovitch snapper and chat bare fuckery till them tell unoo, You no see the sun gone and is time fi move you batty?

  If you no careful, life go so carefree, till you daddy say, Time to get serious, boy, and stop all the play-play. Time to get job. Time to be a man.

  If him say so, tell him say you wan’ go a foreign fi art school and learn fashion design, and don’ him see how your sketchbook full up with concepts and him can’ see you stylee?

  But if you say that, him will answer, Fashion? A my son a si’ down an’ sew panty an’ frock? Wha’ kind of little-gal fantasy that?

  But, Daddy, man in Europe study fashion from time, you will tell him.

  Me know, him will say. Batty man.

  You’ll ask him, How you can be so small mind? You’ll puff up your chest and pace the veranda and wan’ fling him furniture, because him can’ beat you like him did beat you when you were a pickney.

  Even he know him can’ discipline you like before, so him say it calm: No bother with no foo-foo art school. If you can’ be serious, you go work for me. And if you can’ do that, you can leff me house.

  And it don’ feel then like you have too many options at all.

  So you start oversee him construction jobs, though is little you know ’bout how man build house. Mostly, is make sure man show up on time and don’ leave early. Mostly, is hunt worker down at bar after them disappear for lunch. When you run them down, the worker man malice you and call you rich man’ boy, though your daddy’ business not so big that him wealthy.

  You don’ like the job, but your father say, Since when man supposed to like job?

  But him pay you and let you use him work vehicle and soon after you can afford apartment in Mandeville, and after that you feel large.

  If you carry on like before with Reyha and Sanya and Cherie, is Sanya who will come beat down your door and cuss you while Cherie sneak out back. You’ll make promise and beg you a beg for she hand in marriage one time. Is Sanya you love, like you love bread pudding and stew, which is more than you have loved before. You love that when she walk with she brass hand in yours, you can’ tell where yours ends and hers begins. You love that where you see practical solution to the world’ problem, Sanya sees only the way things should be; where you see a beggar boy in Coronation Market, Sanya sees infinite potential.

  Most of all, is she smile you fall for. Sanya’ teeth and dimples flawless and you hope she’ll pass this to your pickney, and that them will inherit your light eyes, which your father passed down to you.

  Sanya’ tall. You tall to rass.

  She quick-tongued, and you passed seven A levels. So your children will be bright.

  You only hope them get she teeth.

  If you marry she, you will have garden wedding, and you will design your suit and pay tailor to stitch it. You will send out invitation, and it will seem like the whole of Kingston will come celebrate unoo and see how you and Sanya styling. Later, in Mandeville, if you breed she, you’ll make a boy, and it seem your every want must come to pass. You will thank Sanya for the boy, though you know it man give Y chromosome—you no ignorant gully boy. But you thank her still. And though it too early to know whether baby will have she teeth, him have your eyes, so blue them nearly violet, so you quietly grateful she no interfere with that. You will make the boy’ middle name Christopher, after you, even when most people know you as Topper. You will make him first name Delano.

  You’ll drive Delano up and down mountainside when him bawl and can’ sleep. And you don’t speed like you did speed when it only your life JA’ potholes threaten so, you drive the car slow-slow. Sanya will sing Delano Irish hymns she grandmother sang she when she was a pickney. And when neither she nor you can hold open your eyes, you will ask Jodie, your helper, to push him stroller ’round the block until him drop asleep.

  If the night sounds shift from croaking lizard to machine gun ra-ta-ta-ta, you’ll ask Jodie not to walk with Delano at night.

  Your father will blame independence for the way things go, but you’ll say, No, man, is the prime minister and all him socialist fuckery that cause the trouble.

  Don’ you voted Manley into office? him will ask you, like is you alone had the one vote.

  Fool me once, you’ll admit to him. But me never vote for him in ’76.

  Is rumor say that Manley buddy up with Castro, and what him thought, the Yankee them was going let a next island in them backyard turn communist? Rumor say it CIA flood the garrisons with cocaine and make JLP rudeboy war PNP badman with automatic rifle, when just yesterday them could’ve murder each other only with stone and rust blade.

  If it just themselves the idiot boys slaughter, won’t nobody care ’bout them buttoo war. Soon shots grow close, though, and is uptown woman them kill in crossfire and police say them can’ chase the boy back in them slums because ghetto youth now outgun policeman. Then the military must get involved.

  You da
ddy call, and you know from how him voice shake the war come show up at him doorstep. Gunman lick down them door and tie up you mummy and daddy, and thief off them money and jewelry and everything. Daddy them pistol-whip and you mummy … God knows how them feel her up so, even when she old to rass. But him tell you say it could have gone worse.

  How it can go worse? you ask him. But not a month pass before them rape your neighbor and kill her husband in front of she.

  The fucker them is all one man in your eyes. No, two man: Seaga’ man and Manley’ man. Though Uncle Sam’ man also tryin’ swing JA’ elections.

  From then you send off for U.S. visa and ask your daddy’ brother fi sponsor unoo, since him been in the States for time. Things move fast: your visa come through and you ask your mummy and daddy whether them think you should really go, and them say, Boy, wha’ wrong wi’ you? You can’ see the whole of we island turn into war zone? And, This what we gained independence for? Them say, Better g’wan save yourselves.

  Jodie ask can you bring she to the States, but you can’t afford to keep helper now. You tell she you mummy and daddy will take her, since them helper old and soon need help.

  You think ’bout a New York, but is Miami you settle, because you visit your uncle Michael in Brooklyn one November, and if the fall can lick off your batty with cold tongue so, you no wan’ know what winter go do.

  Is Miami you have your second son. At hospital, when them hand you the boy’ birth record to sign, under him birth year, 1980, in a section marked Race of Father them type Negroid. You tell the nurse, Me learn ’bout Negro, but what is oid? But she don’ bother with you.

  You name your second son Trelawny to remind yourself of home. It long enough after you reach that you miss JA bad-bad. You miss walk down a road and pick Julie mango off street side. When you try pick Miami street-side mango, lady come out she house with rifle and shoot your belly and backside with BB. In the back of your Cutler Ridge town house, you start try grow mango tree and ackee tree with any seeds you come by, but no amount of water or fertilizer will get them to sprout.

  In spite of him name, Trelawny grow up strange. Foreign. You blame the nursery school teachers where you and Sanya leave him when you go work each morning, where you bring him from him turn six months old. You blame yourself since you can’ afford to let Sanya stay home like when Delano did born. Still, when the boy start talk, you can’ believe it: is a Yankee voice come out. You read and talk to him as much as you can, but the boy no wan’ pick up nothing you say, not like him brother.

  Him no say mummy for him first words, him say mom. Him have Sanya’ dark eyes and none of she teeth or dimple. Him grow and soon it pain your ears to hear the boy say water, which him pronounce “wah-der.”

  You can’ spend all day talking to the boy. You work twelve-hour shifts on used-car lot, sometimes selling car, most times selling nothing, until the day you take a man out for test drive and him stick him pistol in your gut and drive out all a Everglades and tell you say, Get out and walk, and if you turn around you’re dead.

  You walk and walk and wait to die, and when you hear him pull off, you walk some more. You no bother go back a work. Work fi wha’? So them can shot you? If you wanted bullet in your back you could’ve stayed a Kingston.

  It four weeks before you admit to Sanya what happened and that you leave the job. In that time, when the house empty, you start sketch landscape from home off memory. You sketch Dunn’s River Falls and Cockpit Country and Fern Gully, and it shaky at first, but then your steady hand return to you. You take a dozen sketches to the weekend flea market down the road and stand up all morning, but don’ nobody wan’ buy no colorless landscape. Them want garish flamingo watercolors like the lady at the next table selling. But you can’t afford paint or canvas, or the time it take to put the two together. And when Sanya start ask where you find time to draw, and how it is your car sales drop from little to zero, you have to tell she the truth.

  Sanya look at you cross and say, You think me wouldn’t rather stay home and doodle?

  You know she right, but she didn’t have to put it so.

  You call your daddy and say you wan’ expand him business into the States. But him say, The business barely holding on since Manley piss off the IMF and make price of everything skyrocket. You say, But, Daddy, don’t Seaga is prime minister now? But all him can say is, Chuh. Still him send you small loan through money wire.

  You start basic. You go round and gather up man all a flee JA crime wave and see what all them can do. Is roof you can repair? Unoo know plumbing system? You can fix AC? You use you father’ loan to put out advertisement and soon you start broker deals, send man out on job and collect small fee off it. It don’ pick up straight away, and Sanya make more from she secretary job than you. She bright, so soon she them make office manager, even when no man wan’ woman manage them. Still, your combined income less than what you alone made in Jamaica and it seem you never can catch up back. But if you scrimp and scrounge and keep in luck’ favor, you family can just keep afloat.

  * * *

  If years slip by, Delano will grow athletic and is he the neighborhood boys will wan’ quarterback when them play American football in the street, and him afi quarterback for both teams, or else the boys cry, It no fair. Him start smile with him mummy’ mouth, and you can see how the young girls already crush after him. It seem him can do most anything. Him ask for guitar and lesson, and him pick it up fast-fast. The boy sing out in him bedroom “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” and “Purple Rain,” and play along as he sing. Then him play “Pass the Dutchie” and you know him never learn that from him teacher.

  Trelawny no wan’ bother with sports or music. Him take book and you find him hiding in closet with flashlight. When you ask him a question, him twist up him mouth and stare on you blank with him big black eyes. If you say, Answer me nuh, boy, him look ’pon him brother, and if Delano repeat your question, Trelawny finally answer, like him need him brother to translate.

  Every day is a next thing. Him start draw on him bedroom walls, and no matter how you threaten him with belt, him can’ stop. Him get As in class but can’ figure out how to tie him shoe, so him sneakers must have Velcro. You tell Sanya, Something wrong with the boy, but she tell you, Be patient. At him school open house, Trelawny’ teacher say she wan’ put him in t’ing called Gifted. You say, Wha’ that, special ed? She say is for advanced children so him don’t get bored, but you tell her, Teach him to tie him shoe, then we can talk.

  Then him start shit him pants, even when he long past potty training.

  If you take him for doctor visit, the pediatrician will come out the examination and say Trelawny have anxiety. What him have to be anxious about? Him no pay bills. Doctor say, Just give him time.

  Then Hurricane Gilbert come mash up Jamaica, and you can think ’bout nothing but how the people back home devastated. You can’ get through to your parents, and the news say hundreds dead across the Caribbean. You call everyone you can think of in Jamaica to see whether them can check on your mummy and daddy, but don’ nobody phone work. The feeling you get is that everybody’ dead. And you never should have left them behind.

  You sit Delano and Trelawny down for breakfast the next morning and try teach them them culture to make sure it survive. The tropical market on Colonial start carry canned ackee and green banana and salt cod, so you cook the boys ackee and saltfish and try explain why it Jamaica’ national dish. You see this here, you say. The ackee grow in a pod and it must open on it own or else the ackee poison you. You point to the picture on the can, so them can see how it grow, and it remind you that you never eat ackee out of no can before. You tell them, Enslaved Jamaicans used it to kill off slave driver and free themselves to the mountains. But you don’t know if them legends true.

  Delano say, I remember Jodie used to cook it for us.

  Trelawny say, It looks like scrambled eggs.

  You think me would stand up a two hour and cook the thing if it only taste like
scrambled eggs?

  It better than eggs, Delano say, but when Trelawny taste it, him spit it out and say, Eew. How him can say eew?

  Then your father call and say everything okay. Mostly it man who live in zinc house and homeless who live in the gullies that dead. Man and them children. Him say it just as well, since the people in the garrisons so ignorant, them don’ bother get prenatal care, then wonder why them baby come out malnourished or deformed. You say, Daddy, when you ever set foot in a tenement yard to know poor people business? And him suck him teeth like him done with you.

  Him say, Send what you can, so you go buy canned food and baby formula and get the boys to help gather up them old clothes to send. You can’ help hoping it only bad-mind people the storm kill off—the ones who wrecked the island with them violence—so JA can return to how it was in your youth. But you know it never go so. It always innocent randomness choose to kill.

  Work pick up, because now it seem you know everybody that gone and flee Jamaica. If not gunman, is Gilbert send them here. South Dade start fill up with Yardies, and if you hang out where them hang out, you get job, since them no wan’ bother with the Spanish man who them can’ understand or the white man who can’ understand them, even when all three speak a English.

  But Sanya no wan’ see you hang out. She wan’ see you home.

  She start malice you and say, If a work you go work, is how you smell like overproof? Is how you come home two in the morning? She don’ understand it through socialize you get job. It seem like one long fight you’re locked in.

  Then Jodie call one day and you say, Jodie, if you go call long distance me know someone de go dead.

  But you never guess she would’ve say is both. You know is gunman finally kill off you mummy and daddy, and you never should have left them there, but Jodie say it car accident kill them.