Coffee, Cream and Curry

by Judy Powell

  “Him say you must come now, Miss.”

  Leonie rolled her eyes without letting the little boy see and turned towards the staff room. If this was another assignment at this time of the day she would have to put her foot down and just let Mr. Robertson know that she had a family. This was not the first time he had done this. She knew it would not be the last but she would certainly let her displeasure be known. As she entered the staff room there was a slight frown on her face.

  “Yes, Mr. Robertson? You caught me just heading out the door.”

  “Mrs. Ramjeet, I’m glad I caught you.” As he spoke he rose from behind the desk and came towards her. She took a step back in surprise as he caught her hand. “You must go to the hospital right now.”

  “Wh…why?”

  “There has been an accident. Your husband and son have been rushed to the Saint Ann’s Bay Hospital. You must go to them right now.”

  “Oh, my God,” she gasped. “Oh, my God!”

  “Calm down, Mrs. Ramjeet. Just stay calm. I’ve already called a taxi for you. I don’t think you should be driving in this state. It will be here in another minute so just hold on.” As Leonie staggered against him Mr. Robertson pulled her gently over to a chair and set her down. No sounds came. There were no tears. She just stared, not seeing, her heart pounding and her thoughts racing wildly. Lionel! What if anything happened to Lionel? And Raphael? She prayed desperately that they were alright.

  By the time the taxi dropped her off at the emergency ward she was a mess of nerves. She could hardly control her trembling as she spoke to the nurse at the registration desk, praying silently that she would not have to face even worse news.

  The situation was grave. Lionel had been brought to the emergency room unconscious, and still was. They had already done X-rays and found that he had three broken ribs and some internal bleeding. He had also sustained head injuries. In the accident he had been thrown through the windshield. He was lucky to be alive, but there was still a possibility that he might not survive. The doctors promised to do their best but at this point, they said, it was in the hands of God.

  Raphael, on the other hand, had escaped with just a bump on the forehead. He would not have to spend even one night in the hospital. As she sat by her son’s bedside staring at the still, almost lifeless figure, she raised tear-filled eyes to her husband who stood by her side.

  “What happened?” Her eyes pleaded for understanding.

  “I…I don’t even know for sure.” Raphael looked away from her and rubbed his chin. “The dog came out of nowhere. I…I just swerved to avoid him and the next thing I knew, I was running off the road.”

  Leonie’s eyes spit fire as she glared at him. “You almost killed my son for the sake of a dog?”

  “It was an accident!” Raphael raked his fingers through his hair and turned to look out the window. With his back still turned to her he said softly, “And he’s my son, too.”

  As she listened to his whining voice she suddenly felt a strong dislike for the subdued man who stood in front of her.

  But it was not until the police came later that day that she knew she hated him. There had been no dog. Raphael had been speeding. And at three o’clock in the afternoon, even while knowing that it was his turn to drive their son home from school, he had been drinking.

  The days Leonie spent by Lionel’s bed, watching him slowly recover, were days of pain, relief and realization. Her son almost had to lose his life for her to realize that she had been placing him in danger all along. She could have lost him just like that, simply because she was too spineless to stand up to a man who abused her, frightened his own child, and was too irresponsible to put his son’s well-being before his own pleasure.

  She knew what she had to do. She, her son, and the child just beginning to form inside her, would survive…without Raphael Ramjeet.

  ******

  “That’s it, Ma’am?” The voice of the gas station attendant broke into Leonie’s reverie. “Don’t need to top up the oil or nothing?”

  “No, thank you.” Leonie’s blinked, then smiled as she handed him the money. “Keep the change.”

  “Thanks, Ma’am.” The young man’s face brightened at the sight of the bills. “Have a good evening.”

  With a nod, Leonie drove out of the gas station and onto the main road. She was going to have a good evening, alright. It had been five years since she had made that momentous decision and she did not regret it. She had come a long way and she had a long way to go still, but she was her own woman and she was never turning back.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  1974

  “Let me in!”

  It was Princess, as usual, bugging the heck out of him. She was the most annoying nine-year-old Lionel knew. He hissed through his teeth as she pounded on his bedroom door.

  “Let me in, Lionel!”

  “Leave me alone, pest!”

  He hated it when his mother made him babysit Princess.

  She had decided to go to the supermarket after work so he was stuck walking Princess home from school – and he ended up missing the football match between Santos and Wadadah. He had been waiting for weeks to see the Kingston boys get a good whipping from his favourite team. Now he would only be able to hear about it his friends. He could have wrung Princess’s neck.

  He was supposed to make sure she did her homework before his mother got home but as soon as they went into the house and he saw his sister pull her books out of her school bag he considered his work done. He wanted to be left alone. Who wanted to spend the evening with a nagging girl pickney, anyway?

  When the banging did not stop he threw himself off the bed and flung the door open. Princess stood there, glaring up at him.

  “Why you don’t go find something do?” he growled.

  “You’re supposed to be heating up my dinner. You know Mummy doesn’t like me messing with the stove.” She folded her arms across her chest and planted herself squarely in the doorway.

  “Look. I’m doing my work,” he snapped. When she did not move he pushed he roughly aside and stalked off towards the kitchen. “Come feed your hungry belly and then stop bugging me.”

  Princess followed him down the hallway then veered right towards the living room.

  “So where you going?” Lionel turned and shouted at her retreating back. “You not coming to help me?”

  “For what? You’re the one who is supposed to be taking care of me, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember,” he muttered, “but I soon get the hell out of here.”

  He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two saucepans. Within minutes the aroma of brown stewed chicken filled the house. He scooped rice unto a plate then smothered it with the chicken stew, just the way Princess liked it.

  He headed for the dining room where he plopped the plate on the table.

  “Come get your dinner,” he yelled, “but you can go get your own lemonade. You don’t have no slave in here.”

  He did not even wait for Princess to come to the table. He grabbed his own plate and a fork and headed back to his room. He kicked the door shut behind him and went and flopped down on the bed. Then he kicked his Spanish book to the floor.

  “Who the heck am I going to talk Spanish to, anyway,” he mumbled as he chewed a mouthful of the savoury stew. He had only put the book on the bed in case his mother came home early and peeked in to see if he was studying. He had promised her that he would, and he just wanted to make the lie convincing.

  But he had no interest in the Spanish language. In fact, outside of music, there was no subject in which he had any special interest. So, instead of studying, he spent most of his time listening to music. Practically all of his pocket money was spent on 45’s and eight tracks. He owned every album the Wailers had produced. The group had recently broken up but Lionel was ecstatic when the new group, Bob Marley and the Wailers, was formed. When it came to Bob Marley’s music he just could not get enough.

  When Lionel was not liste
ning to music or hanging out with his friends he did just enough studying to pass his classes. And this was only because his mother kept nagging.

  His teacher had called her in, complaining that his grades had fallen. They even questioned whether he was to be allowed to take the General Certificate Exams. His mother had pleaded with the principal because this was his last year - he was in fifth form.

  He had sat in stony silence as she argued that, without his GCE’s, there was no way he would get into university. She explained that she had done all she could to provide the best education for him. She had even paid for him to do private lessons during the past year. Little did she know what a waste that was, he thought wryly. He had hardly shown up for his lessons and the tutor never said a word; he just collected his money faithfully at the end of each month.

  Lionel did not care much for going to university. In fact, he would much rather find a job right after high school. He would be out of school in the next seven months and then he would be free. He was dying to get out of the house, to be on his own, to be a real man.

  The problem was, his mother loved him too much. But instead of making him happy her love only annoyed him. She mothered him and pampered him to the point where some of his friends called him a ‘Mama’s Boy’. He hated it.

  He even hated the way she babied Princess. And what kind of a dumb name was that, anyway? She looked more like a round dumpling than a princess. Ever since she had come into his life when he was seven years old she had been nothing but a pain. When she was a baby all she ever did was scream, throw up and take all his mother’s time and attention. Things would have been so much better if she had never shown up, he thought. His father had left when she was still in his mother’s belly and Lionel had always felt that this had something to do with his departure. He hated his sister for that.

  As for his father, he hated him too. Just the thought of him made him grit his teeth. He sucked his teeth and threw himself back into the pillows, willing himself to wipe his father from his mind.

  Yeah, he thought, he would have to find a job and leave this house - and soon. The main problem was that he did not know if he would get hired. He would have just turned seventeen at graduation and most companies took on workers eighteen years and older. He probably could try out as a mechanic’s apprentice, though. He had heard that mechanics made good money and he had always liked to work with his hands.

  He nodded as he made mental plans for his departure. He would work as an apprentice and rent a room somewhere far away from here. Then he would never have to deal with his nagging mother or his whining sister again.

  Lionel was smiling as he pulled the drawer of his nightstand open then put a fat spliff between his lips.

  ******

  “Whe’ you a say, rasta! Gi’ me five!”

  Lionel turned to see Junior’s outstretched palms. With a grin he slapped them then asked, “What the programme for today, man?”

  “What time your last class finish?”

  “Two-thirty, but I can even skip that. Cho, the teacher would not even miss me. Boring Social Studies.” He took the toothpick from between his teeth and flicked it into the bushes. “Who want to know nothing ‘bout no stupid bauxite levy, anyway. If the government want tax the foreigner them pon de bauxite that is fi them business. We not getting nothing out of it, anyway, just the politician them.”

  “Jus’ dish that class, man. Link me at one o’clock behind the woodwork shop. I have a proposal for you.”

  With a wink Junior sauntered off, whistling as he went.

  Later, as Lionel sat in Math class, he thought about what his friend might have in mind. Junior was a really crazy guy, always coming up with wicked ideas, always playing pranks. The last crazy plan Junior had was for them to pretend to be older and to sneak into a go-go club. That had required him sneaking out of the house at eleven o’clock in the night but he had done it. They had gotten into the Romeo Lounge without any problem. Both of them were tall and could pass for eighteen.

  The Romeo Lounge was a dingy nightclub on the outskirts of Ocho Rios. It was so dark in there you could hardly see. Smoke wafted through the air and people milled around at the bar. But the boys were not interested in any of this. They headed straight for the dance floor on which there was a platform where three half naked girls danced slowly to the rub-a-dub music. On their way they bumped into people clinging to each other, grinding to the music.

  The go-go dancers were the main attraction for young men. On a Wednesday night when the dancers did their work topless the place would be packed. The boys found a table close to the platform and sat down to watch.

  A waitress came to take their orders. Junior ordered a beer but Lionel passed, too absorbed with the scene to be thirsty. He did not like the taste of beer, anyway. As the girls danced Junior took sips of his beer then he dipped into his pocket and pulled out two spliffs. He passed one to Lionel and both of them lit up and drew deeply as they watched. No one objected. In fact, in a place like this, it was commonplace.

  “Mr. Ramjeet!”

  Lionel jumped as the shout snapped him out of his reverie. Mr. Williams was pointing the chalk at him.

  “To the blackboard, young man. Let’s see how much you’ve retained from today’s class.”

  Lionel’s heart pounded. He had not heard a word. He knew it, and the teacher knew it. Well, he would just have to fudge his way through, as usual. Grumbling under his breath, he pushed back his chair and walked slowly to the blackboard amidst giggles from the girls and sniggers from the boys.

  His classmates loved the entertainment. They, too, had been bored with the Math class and relished the thought of some distraction. He groaned as he took the piece of chalk from the teacher’s hand. He had no idea what he was going to write on the board. This was not going to be pretty.

  That afternoon Lionel was still feeling a bit deflated as he walked to the back of the woodwork shop to meet Junior but his mood perked up when his friend asked, “How’d you like to make some good money?”

  “What kinda question that? Of course, man.”

  “Look here.”

  Lionel’s eyes bulged as Junior turned out his pocket to reveal a wad of ten dollar bills.

  “Where you get so much money?”

  “Is for me to know and for you to find out,” Junior smirked.

  Lionel was bursting with curiosity. “Cho, man, just spill the beans.”

  “I know a man that can give me nuff weed. One little bag and that’s ten whole dollars. You know how much money you can make in a day?”

  “You talking ‘bout selling drugs? You mad?”

  “Cho, man, it easy. And with all dem guy roun’ de place a look weed to buy, dem might as well buy it from us. The school full a people who smoke weed. Just like we.”

  “Bwoy, mi nuh know…me never even think about selling weed before. That illegal, you know.”

  “So is smoking it. Don’t be a wimp. Look how much money me make off it.” He thrust the wad of bills under Lionel’s nose. “If you do this you won’t even have to worry about work after graduation. You set for life !”

  “But it dangerous… what if we get in trouble?”

  “So who goin’talk? All you have to do is find some special customers who can keep them mouth shut and you just keep them supplied. That’s it. You don’t need nothing more than that.”

  “Bwoy, I don’t know…if them ever catch me, my mother would kill me…”

  “Don’t worry, man. You won’t get caught. Anyway, is not your mother you should be worry ‘bout. Mothers, them soft. Them will let you off the hook. Is the ole man you mus’ worry ‘bout. I know mine would bruck me up if him ever find out.”

  Lionel hissed his teeth. “Ole man? I not even see that man or hear from him since I was twelve. I only know that once in a while him send a checque to my mother. That’s it.” His voice was rough with emotion.

  It was still painful to talk about his father. He felt he would never get over the
hurt. Maybe it would be a good thing if he did get caught selling drugs. Then his father would be sorry he had left. Then again, maybe he would be glad if Lionel were sent to some prison. That would mean one less set of maintenance checques.

  He felt the anger rise in him and unshed tears burned his eyes. He looked at Junior. “Me ready. Give me the details.”

  ******

  As the judge’s gavel fell Lionel watched his mother struggle to hold back the tears. He had been involved in selling drugs for four months and the business was going well but it ended when someone reported him to the Form Teacher. The principal called the police.

  Caught with several bags of the weed, Lionel could do nothing but confess. Now he was faced with twelve months in Saint James Remedial School. No G.C.E.’s for him now. Graduation was only a month away but he would not be a part of it.

  He kept his eyes averted, too ashamed to look his mother in the face. He knew he had hurt her deeply and dared not face her pain. Without a backward glance he followed the guard out of the room.

  Life in remedial school was like torture for Lionel. Back at home he would have had his own room where he could watch television when he liked. He could visit his friends when he liked. In his new home he slept in a bunk bed and shared a dorm room with five other boys. His television time was restricted to specific shows on weekends and, as for friends, he had none.

  His mother had come to visit him five times already but each time he had given her a cold reception.

  He remained glum. He never heard from his father and was afraid to ask his mother if she had told him what happened. Although her eyes pleaded with him he never had much to say to her. He was too ashamed, too hurt, and too angry with her, with his father, with the world.

  Lionel found that his new school was full of angry people. He kept out of the way of the other boys as much as possible. Sometimes, though, no matter how hard he tried, he would end up getting into trouble with them. Some of them just had something to prove. Today was P.E and he felt that, like so many other days, this one was not going to be incident-free.