I decided to stop by my mother’s room to check on her. Earlier, I watched Ma perform the steps of her bedtime routine. First came a shower, then a pill to calm her, then Ma brushed and braided her hair before putting mom into bed. The entire time, she said nothing. I shuffled closer to her bed, wanting to see her face again, and was surprised to find her awake. We gazed at each other as I stood there awkwardly.
“Is that pudding?” She asked, sitting up against the headboard. I looked at the plate in my hand and smiled.
“Yes, it is,” I replied.
“I like pudding,” she sighed longingly.
“I can share it with you,” I offered. She smiled and scooted over to make room for me. We sat there in silence, except for a few giggles of delight from our snack. When it was finished, I sighed, unsure of what to do next. I was afraid of setting her off into another episode like she had with Drew. I figured it was a good time to head back to my own bed, and rose to leave. As I was about to say goodnight, my mother’s voice stopped me.
“Please don’t go yet,” she pleaded. I understood the desperation in her eyes, from the many nights I cried as a little girl, hoping she would come back. Setting my plate on her nightstand, I crawled into bed next to her. We lay side by side on our backs, both staring up into the ceiling.
“Thank you,” she whispered into the silence between us. “Thank you for coming.” She repeated, as she reached for my hand. I turned my head to face her, and witnessed the tears sliding towards her ears. Of course I joined her, squeezing her hand back in acceptance. I didn’t know if she would remember it, and I didn’t care. I had made peace with my mother.
Ch 30 Mango Love
Unexpected. That is the word the summed up the time with my family. Over the next two days, I met more cousins and extended family than I could ever imagine existed. Once the word spread that we were here, people came out of the woodworks. Instead of spending our vacation lounging, each day we received offers from a different family member to be picked up, or for them to take us sightseeing. That was great. I’m sure our vacation would have be fun without it, but having someone who really knew Jamaica showing us around, and introducing us to places that were off the beaten path was incredible. We were able to experience the local culture, sampling exquisite food from little huts and men who knew how to cook using only what nature provided. One man, a rasta who specialized in making what is know as Ital food, made an entire meal wrapping veggies, yam, and fish in huge banana leaves and roasting them over an open pit. Delicious! His long dreadlocks swung down his back as he explained his philosophy of only eating pure foods. The flavors were so fresh and robust, I questioned why we ate any other way. That is, until Nicole took us to her favorite jerk hut and I tasted their jerk pork. Nope, my fancies of being a vegetarian vanished before my eyes.
The time I spent with my mother was a mixture of highs and lows. My hopes of having a real conversation with her were dashed when I learned of her mental incapacity first hand. The first night I spent with her was an anomaly, and she spent the remainder of our visits making polite small talk one would with a stranger. There were a few moments when I would feel eyes on me and find her studying me intently, but most of the time she held little more than a passing interest in Drew’s and my presence. As disappointing as it was, I felt worse for Drew, because other than her outburst about her baby, he was never able to connect with her. I hoped that this visit wouldn’t be damaging to him emotionally.
Jackie’s behavior was the most surprising. She was more subdued than I had ever seen her, and spent most of her time just observing or following Ma around like a little puppy. I, on the other hand, was not my usual self. I spent hours with Nicole examining the differences between growing up in Jamaica and America. Grandpa Fred took to calling me Curious George because I asked so many questions. I wanted to learn as much as I could about each person I met, or the history of anyplace we visited. He was my go to for all things Jamaica, and the person who finally told me the story of my mother from her side. It wasn’t quite what I expected.
It was the last day we would devote to spending with our family. I was explaining to Papa Fred that the three of us agreed that we wanted to spend at least two days at the resort we were paying for, but hardly seeing. We would spend Christmas Eve and morning with them, then head back to the resort. As much as I was loving connecting with my peeps, I needed some time to decompress from everything and come down off this hyperactive streak I was on since I laid eyes on my mother. He expressed that he understood what us ‘young folks’ wanted to do with the rest of our trip, and then asked if I wanted to go for a walk. I grabbed my camera, excited at the opportunity to take some more pictures of the beautifully landscaped yard. We strolled in a comfortable silence, traveling about a quarter mile to the property’s gate. Making a right turn taking us downhill, I followed my grandfather as he lead me towards a small market area boasting a fruit stand, and a man selling fresh and roasted fish. Several people were lined up to make purchases from the lively gentleman running the fish hut. We stopped, and I took snapshots of my surroundings. I focused in on the hut, taking candids of the animated vendor who seemed to have a large following.
“Wow. His fish must be really good,” I mentioned to Grandpa Fred.
“Yeah man, he is very popular in this area. He has a way with people, you know,” he replied with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. I returned my attention to the man in the hut, realizing that we were there to see him. Or watch him, since my grandfather hadn’t moved away from the gate he was leaning against since we arrived. Letting my curiosity get the best of me, I began with my questions.
“Do you know him? I mean personally?” I turned to watch his reaction to my question. Papa Fred continued to stare at the person of interest.
“I’ve known him for years, from the neighborhood. His boys attend my school.”
“Papa, why are we here?” I didn’t understand what was going on.
“Jade. Take a good look at him. Tell me what you see. What you notice. Describe him for me,” he instructed.
Once again, I watched the familiar looking, man this time paying attention to the details. He was tall, about 6’1 and in his late forties, from what I could tell. A small afro of wavy curls adorned his head, and his complexion was a sun burnished sandy brown. What stood out the most were his eyes. Even from where I stood, I could see their hazel color. I frowned in confusion. Was this another family member? What was the significance of this stranger. I waited for my next prompt, having recanted what I noticed.
“Jade. That’s your father,” Papa said sullenly. I snapped my head around. Say what?
“But that’s not... No it can’t be. I have pictures...” I stammered in defense. Once again, another lie from the past was unraveling before my eyes.
“Yes, Jade. He is your real father. The real reason Drew’s father is not with your mother wasn’t just because she had been unfaithful, it was because she had a pattern. When she got tied up in that mess with your aunt, she didn’t confide in him. She reached out to your father for help. Davidson was her first love, and she never got over that. Not even when she found out he was already married. Not even after Trevor agreed to raise you as his own, along with Drew. Your mother was always different, always getting into trouble growing up. It wasn’t until she came back home that I understood her struggles.
Your mother was born bipolar. Back then, we didn’t have labels for things like that here. Even now it’s still an elusive diagnosis here, unless you have the money or education to pursue treatment. Trevor didn’t leave her, she ran away and came back here because Davidson told her to. It broke Trevor’s heart, and keeping his word he made sure that both you and Drew were raised together. That was the beginning of her breakdown. She was convinced Davidson would leave his wife and be with her, and then she would send for her children and live happily ever after. As you can see, it didn’t work out that way. Ma was so angry with Vivian because she needed someone to blame, and of c
ourse Viv’s lifestyle was the catalyst for the drama that unraveled the delicate fabric of your mother’s grip on reality. There was no way that any of us could know or understand what was going on in her mind.” The entire time he spoke, my grandfather kept a disparaging eye on Davidson, my real father. So did I, as I listened to the tragic story of my mother’s unfortunate life. Once again, I was at a loss for how to feel about this information. I appreciated finally knowing the truth, but other than that, I found it hard to feel anything beside pity. Davidson finally looked our way, acknowledging my grandfather’s presence with a respectful nod, which was met with a kurt one in return.
“I want to blame him for his role in enabling my daughters antics, but over the years he’s been helpful in keeping her ‘happy’. He visits her often enough and is the only friend Monica has. My hope is that once we figure out the right combination of medication, that she will be able to live out her life with a little dignity. Not this bubble of isolation. Me and your grandmother won’t be around to take care of her forever,” he continued. My gaze was still trained on my biological father. After noticing us standing there he had began to appraise us between customers. As my grandfather turned to lead me back home, we made eye contact. I could see the instant recognition and then the remorse in his eyes. I’m not sure where it came from, but I was able to offer him a smile before I walked away. Albeit a sad one.
On the walk back, Papa Fred continued to fill me in on various details of my mother’s past. Trevor Spencer, the man I believed was my father all these years, was now assumed to be living in England. No one had seen him since the early 90’s so that was neither here nor there. I always found it strange that he didn’t even come to his own mother’s funeral. I think that’s what really sent Drew into a tailspin. He was much more optimistic about the return of our parents, like some sort of fairytale. When the funeral came and went and the only person who was there for us was Aunt V, he just shut down. I didn’t even know how to explain this to him. The fact that we had different father’s was inconsequential because we were all we had, but the fact that my father pushed his father away was troubling.
Back at the house, Drew and Jackie were waiting on my return. Nicole was there to take us back to our villa, and would spend the night with us there. She smiled wide when I joined them in the kitchen, eating ripe mangos. Over the last few days we formed a bond, and I would certainly miss her. She handed me a juicy slice of fruit. Mmm Mmm Mango Love!
“You an’ Papa Fred have a nice walk,” she asked when I sagged into one of the kitchen chairs. I chose my words wisely, careful not to giveaway my secret just yet.
“Yep. I got a lot of pictures.” Well at least I wasn’t lying. Nicole simply nodded.
“Oh thas’ nice. Which direction uno walk?” She peered at me with an unusual amount of curiosity about a walk with an old man. I shrugged casually.
“We just walked down to the bottom of the hill and back. That’s it,” I answered.
“Ahhh, that’s a good walk,” she responded, seeming to catch my drift. Of course she knew that my father worked seconds away. It would seem romantic if it wasn’t so damn tragic. I gave her a smile of gratitude for catching on. I knew we’d discuss it later.
We ate lunch with my grandparents one last time. My mother had been having a bad reaction to one of her prescriptions and spent the day in bed. I think she understood what I was saying to her when I let her know that we were leaving. The sadness in her normally blank eyes spoke volumes, and I had to leave the room when she embraced Drew. She held him tightly, telling him to be a good boy. Poor Drew just stroked her hair, his eyes misting up as he did.
The drive back to our resort was quiet, each of us lost to our own thoughts. Something about my mother’s story really bothered me. I couldn’t help but to compare her love triangle with my own. I mean no, I wasn’t bipolar, and I didn’t have children, but what if I did wind up pregnant from one guy, but realized I loved the other more? With all the stress that I had gone through, would something like that be enough to break me? It was a bit of a stretch, but I didn’t like that fact that I could make even the slightest comparison. This all had to come to an end soon.
Ch 31 Rum Punch
We decided to hit up the hotel club for some fun after dinner. It looked like a much needed good time after the emotional high of the last couple of days. I told Drew to order me another round of rum punch while I went back to my room to change my shoes. I wasn’t tipsy yet, but planned to make the most of my last few days in Jamaica.
I took my time on my walk, enjoying the warm, fragrant tropical breeze. The scent of the ocean mixed with the tropical flowers the resort boasted would not soon leave my memory. For the first time in a long time I felt, good. Connecting with my family really changed a lot of things for me. I wanted a family of my own. I was ready for that. Maybe it was bonding with little Maya, or seeing how devoted my grandparents where to each other, but that’s what I wanted for myself.
I slipped off my heels the last few steps towards my little villa to walk in the sand. Pausing at the door to retrieve my key from my purse, I bent down to drop my shoes on the ground. When I stood up, I was met with a tight grip from behind and a hand over my mouth.
I tensed with fear, and all kinds of wild thoughts.
“Don’t scream, Bella.” The hand was slowly removed.
“Damn it, Julian! You can’t keep doing this. Jesus!” I panted as my heart rate deescalated.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want you to bring us any unwanted attention if you screamed.”
“Why am I not surprised? What are you doing here? Um, can I turn around now?” He was still standing closely behind me, but then backed up at my request. As usual, all my anger subsided once I laid eyes on him. It was ridiculous that he be so damn sexy, and still have this effect on me. I shook my head as we regarded each other silently.
“I need to talk to you. Can you come take a walk with me?” He nodded towards the side of the beach with the dock.
“So, I take it you remembered our plan.” Not waiting for an answer, I opened my door to grab my flip flops and then headed back to have our talk.
I followed him in silence, noting the length of his hair. He reminded me of a Latin Fabio. I giggled to myself at my own inside joke. Julian narrowed his eyes at me in confusion.
“Care to share?” He asked as we made our way to the edge of his boat. The Ana was an unassuming house boat on the outside, but all Julian on the inside. Even in the dark, I could tell everything was stylish and top of the line. Julian led me to the deck and motioned for me to sit on one of the plush deck chairs. He walked over to a mini bar and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of red wine.
“I didn’t know we had to get drunk to talk,” I half joked. Julian shot me a wary look, and continued to pour our drinks. He handed me a glass and sat in the chair across from me.
“I know I’m an ass, but cut me some slack. A life on the run requires it’s vices.”
“How are you doing? Any new developments?” It was weird trying to maintain talking to him like this, after we ended everything so dramatically.
“Well, other than Edward vanishing, same ole as they say.” Our eyes met and he held his gaze before he began to assess me as he normally did. My skin burned, flush red, wherever he looked at me. The chemistry between us was still there, except now there were lines drawn. Boundaries we shouldn’t cross. He took a sip and then sat back in his chair.
“You look amazing. It’s like every time i see you is like the first time.”
“Thank you?” I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to say. I hoped to hell he got to the point, because there was only so much of this I could take. Julian just smiled and put his drink down.
“I’m sorry Jade.” Leaning forward, he grasped my hands into his. My heart constricted slightly, but I refused to panic. No matter what he said, I was in control. I tried to remember every victory quote from my therapy sessions.
“Sorry for w
hat? You were honest, so what’s there to apologize for?”
“I lied Jade. I can’t let you go. I mean I can, I just don’t want to. I’ve always done things my way. I don’t have to compromise. You know? It’s like a bad habit. But it doesn’t work with you. I don’t want to feel like I didn’t try.” His eyes were serious and imploring me to accept his words.
Deep breaths, point of focus, deep breaths. I rolled my head back and stared at the brightest star I could find. I wonder if that’s the north star.
“Jade, I don’t know what I thought would happen to my feelings for you, but they just seem to change or grow. And I...” He caressed my cheek with the back of his hand. I stilled his hand, pulling it to my mouth for a kiss, then I stood up, looking over the deck.
“Julian. Why can’t you compromise? It can’t always be your way or my way. I deserve better than you always shutting off on me.” I turned to him at that point, hoping he understood what I meant.
“You do deserve better, and I want to give it to you. Don’t you think, if I had a real chance that I wouldn’t love you better?” I barely heard his words, his voice was so low and full of angst.
I couldn’t hold the tears at that point.
“Bravo! I love nothing more than a good drama, or comedy depending on how you look at it.”
Edward continued to clap as he made his way from the main cabin, followed by a menacing companion with a gun pointed at us. Upon closer look, I recognized my old doorman, Manny. I froze in place as Julian side stepped in front of me and crossed his arms over his chest. My body shook as fear caused me to cry harder.I looked up at Julian to measure his reaction, but other than the tightening of his jaw, his face was impassive.
Only Her Heart (The Jaded Hearts Club) Page 26