Dear Haiti, Love Alaine

by Maika Moulite

  How to ask for what you deserve in salary negotiations and look good doing it

  11:30 A.M.–12:00 P.M.

  Mindfulness Moment: A Conversation with Class President Nina Voltaire and Prescott Voltaire, Executive Producer of Will You Be Mine?

  What did you just say to me? A lesson in conflict negotiation and anger management on the set of America’s biggest reality show

  12:00 P.M.–1:00 P.M.

  Keynote Luncheon: Josephine Kobayashi

  What happens when your baby is no longer yours? The tech maven and St. Catherine alum on her company’s IPO

  1:00 P.M.–3:00 P.M.

  Networking and Summer Internship Career Fair

  Parents, guardians, and students come together for an opportunity to mix and mingle

  The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant

  I knew I was going to have a crappy day as soon as I took a look at the agenda for Career Day. Not only did they start it off with a shady, backhanded mention of Mom’s fiasco—“in light of recent updates”—they replaced her presentation with a chat about resolving disputes “the nonviolent way,” moderated by my nemesis Nina and her dad, Prescott. Seriously?

  What’s worse is that each session was assigned seating and of course Tatiana and I were nowhere near each other in the auditorium we were stuck in for hours. Sister Gayle explained during the Welcome that our placements had been selected pre–Career Day to prevent us from talking with our friends and shaming her in front of the people who pay our tuition ensure that we got the most from the day’s activities. But what really solidified today as the day from hell was when the Voltaires wrapped up their presentation. Nina had insisted on having the largest projector screen possible temporarily installed in the auditorium, where her Mindfulness Moment would take place. Throughout the talk, we were forced to watch clips of various women losing their cool as they tried their hardest to one-up each other and win the affections of a young venture capitalist millionaire named Jake. Each lesson in conflict negotiation and anger management was interspersed with a horrible demonstration by Nina and her father on the “right” way to handle whatever squabble had presented itself on Will You Be Mine? It was super weird to watch from my dead-center seat in the front row. I would twist around to make eye contact with Tatiana from where she sat in the crowd behind me at each strange reenactment. Finally, we had suffered through the last scenario when Mr. Voltaire dismissed us for lunch.

  Just as we started gathering up our things to leave, another scene popped up onto the projector. It was my mom on the set of Sunday Politicos, seated across from Senator Andres Venegas. My stomach tightened as my mom’s outburst played in front of the entire senior class of St. Catherine de’ Ricci Academy. The world slowed down as I felt the gaze of my peers fall on me and heard the buzzing of their whispers and cackles thunder like a shaken beehive. As if watching it once wasn’t traumatic enough, my mom slapped Venegas over and over again on a continuous loop. Nina must’ve enlisted the help of one of our more tech-savvy classmates, because Mom’s eyes grew larger with each smack, her face turning red as a tomato, steam pushing out of her ears like a too-hot teakettle.

  “And this is how you don’t solve interpersonal conflict,” Nina shouted over the steam train engine sound that I could only guess was coming from my mom’s head. “Isn’t that right, Alaine?”

  A hundred sets of eyes kept their focus on me while my own lasered in on Nina. My classmates’ laughter echoed throughout the auditorium, drowning out the locomotion noises. Just as I opened my mouth to reply, Mr. Voltaire stepped in.

  “All right, all right. That’s quite enough,” he said, hardly trying to conceal the smirk on his face as he pressed some buttons on a small remote. “How do I turn this thing off, Nina?”

  “You’ll miss the grand finale, Dad!” she replied, snatching the remote from his hand.

  Suddenly, the steam engine noise grew so loud that even my classmates’ laughter couldn’t be heard. Mom’s face had turned an alarming shade of magenta, the smoke from her ears shifting from milky white to black. A countdown appeared on the screen—5...4...3...2...1—BOOM. My mom exploded into a cartoony burst of fireworks and perfectly pressed hair.

  I imagine that Mr. Voltaire finally grabbed the remote back from Nina and turned off the projector. But I was already gone, pushing roughly past my classmates as I made my way to the bathroom. As I left, I could hear Tatiana shouting after me to wait, but I didn’t care. I was plotting. I didn’t usually stoop to high school level antics, but Nina Voltaire had chosen the wrong person to mess with.

  Saturday, December 12

  The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant

  One of the perks of our expensive private school was “free” access to the local college library. Tatiana and I were supposed to be spending our Saturday finishing up our final safety school applications, but instead I had spent the last thirty minutes whisper-raging about the passive aggressive shade spectacle that was Career Day. It wasn’t until I looked up from my computer that I noticed Tatiana sleeping with her eyes open.

  “Dude! Did you hear a word I just said?” I waved my hand in front of her face. She started suddenly.

  “Sorry. What were you saying?”

  “I said this is worse than when Nina had everyone calling you ‘Tatiana la Haitiana’ after your mom came to Mr. Berger’s class freshman year. It actually had a nice ring to it. But the fact that we know she was saying it in a derogatory way just made it so nasty. Anyway, sorry I didn’t turn around when you called after me when all of this went down. If I had stuck around, it would’ve definitely been Celeste Beauparlant Smackdown 2.0 and I couldn’t let that happen. Besides, I’ve already got an idea—”

  Tatiana snored loudly and startled herself awake.

  “Girl. What is going on?” I asked, annoyed. “Why can’t you keep your eyes open?”

  “I fell asleep again? Ugh. I’m sorry. Church got out later than usual last night,” she yawned. “Cri de minuit, more like cri de four o’clock in the morning.”

  “Jesus Christ—is God even awake to hear you then?” I loved hearing about Tatiana’s holy ghost stories.

  She rolled her eyes. “We were in the homestretch. The pastor was winding down when some lady jumped up from her seat and began convulsing. Of course, he needed to exorcise her and the congregation started singing and my mom had taken my phone, so I couldn’t even record the thing.”

  A college boy sitting behind a tall stack of GMAT prep books and a venti coffee looked up from his laptop and frowned over at where we sat in the corner of the library reserved for groups.

  “And then! He started to preach again to round out the night with positive energy or whatever and went into this tirade about evil people who do vodou and split their souls into pieces and hide them in jelly bean jars so they can’t die.”

  “You mean Horcruxes?”

  “Puh-leez. We had all that before JKR wrote about it.”

  “But is all vodou evil though?” I asked. “I feel like that particular instance would fall under the ‘bad’ branch of the spirit tree, but there are good uses too, right?”

  Tatiana laughed. “Not at my church,” she said simply. “There’s no difference to us.”

  “So if I went to church with you on Sunday like your mom has been hounding me about for the past four years and they found out I had a family curse, would they try to pray it away?”

  “What?!”

  College Boy growled.

  “How have you never mentioned a family curse to me?” Tatiana hissed.

  “There’s not much to mention. Whenever anything bad happens, my aunt says our family’s cursed and my mom tells me to ignore her.” I chuckled.

  “Wow. Cursed how? I’m surprised you believe in all that.”

  “I never said I did. And my mom doesn’t let my aunt get into the details.
Mom always brushes it off as silly Haitian superstitions, but my aunt seems pretty adamant that it exists.”

  “You’re always chatting with your aunt though,” Tatiana said. She tried to lower her voice when College Boy gave an exaggerated sigh. “She’s never explained what it is?”

  “Whenever I bring it up and try to get her to tell me more, she says she can’t out of respect for my mom. Personally, I feel like it’s something my aunt made up to scare me into behaving as a child, and it just stuck around.”

  “Hmm. That’s nothing to joke about,” Tatiana said. “Either way, don’t ever mention this to my parents, because they’d have me stop hanging out with you in a heartbeat.”

  I nodded. “I promise I won’t.”

  College Boy sighed heavily and started throwing his books into his bag to leave.

  “You can find the quiet zone upstairs,” I said in a sticky-sweet voice when he was close enough to our table. I pointed to the Study Rooms Level 3 sign by the elevators right across from where we sat and watched as he looked between me and the sign and grumbled thanks as he walked away. He stepped into the elevator and I waved at him until the doors closed.

  “You’re so annoying,” Tatiana giggled. “You’ve got to learn to let stuff go.”

  “Or people can learn to use their words in a productive way instead of huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.”

  “Your curse has to be being a smart-ass,” Tatiana smirked. “In all seriousness, do you think maybe that’s what’s behind what happened with your mom on air?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Your family curse. Maybe that’s what caused your mom to flip out on that senator.”

  “Ha!” I fake laughed. “She flipped out because he put his hand on her when he had no business doing so.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “It was just a thought.”

  Tatiana turned to the computer in front of her so that she could put the finishing touches on her applications. I stared at my laptop screen but couldn’t get to work. I’d never seriously considered our family curse as anything more than a tall tale. Yet for some reason, I couldn’t totally shake the feeling that Tatiana might be onto something.

  Friday, December 25

  The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant

  I’m trying to be mature, but I just want to scream.

  Your mom’s in Haiti, Alaine, which means she can’t be in Miami.

  She’s trying to feel better, Alaine.

  So what if it’s been, like, a month? It’ll take the time it’ll take.

  Playing “Jingle Bells” on repeat is supremely annoying but one of your dad’s Christmas traditions, Alaine. No need to rock the boat there and bum him out.

  Those stupid kids in class don’t know anything, Alaine. Even if your mom basically instructed them to tune in and watch her professional demise. Don’t sink to their level.

  Even though it’s very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very hard not to.

  Just smile and be thankful for your new DSLR camera and bookstore gift cards. Yippee.

  Merry Christmas. Bah humbug.

  Friday, January 1

  From: Alaine Beauparlant

  To: Estelle Dubois

  Subject: Oh, look, it’s me, checking in

  Dear Tati,

  Greetings from sunny South Florida! How are you doing on this glorious morning? Let me give you an update on my life, it won’t take long: Like my good friend Harry Potter, I've been in my room, making no noise, and pretending that I don't exist. You break curfew one time... (And the worst part is, I was late coming home from a party I didn’t even want to go to in the first, second, or thirty-third place. My friend Tatiana recently graduated to the level of mutually indifferent nodding between her and this meathead she has a crush on. She was ready to up the stakes by having one of those conversations that can only happen in a corner of someone’s damp basement over loud music and grinding. I was stuck snapping at and ignoring comments about Mom’s...situation...by the food table. Tatiana’s little tryst took longer than she thought it would, and since her older brother was our ride, I couldn’t just leave without her. Dad was not impressed with my explanation. These are the best years of my life, right here.)

  I can hear you telling me to “quit being so dramatic” so I’ll stop.

  What’s going on in your neck of the woods? By woods, I mean the ruggedly deforested and mountainous lands of my ancestors. And at the risk of burying the lead, how’s my mom? What’s she doing all day? Is she going up the wall without any sketchy politicians to interrogate? Oh wait...

  Sincerely yours truly forever and ever Amen,

  Alaine

  P.S. Don’t think I forgot that it’s a special day for my people. Independence Day. Boy, would I kill for some (pun intended). I’ll send over my paper on the very subject as soon as I’m done with it. It’ll blow your socks off.

  Monday, January 4

  From: Estelle Dubois

  To: Alaine Beauparlant

  Subject: Re: Oh, look, it’s me, checking in

  Chérie,

  It’s been ages. I hope you weren’t referring to me as one of those sketchy politicians! To answer your questions in order—

  I’m doing very well. Another round of funding for PATRON PAL was successful and I couldn’t be happier. Our new intern Jason is already putting out fires. The app was accidentally double charging some PATRONS and he fixed it in record time! We sent out a statement and most of the feedback from our users was they hadn’t even noticed. We’re helping so many underserved kids.

  As for your mother...you know how she is. We might be twins but we’re like night and day. She doesn’t come with an off switch (or even a place to remove her batteries) and hasn’t been doing much relaxing. The last time I saw her eyes unglued from her phone was when we had a blackout a few days ago and the battery died. She was forced to go outside and fraternize with her relatives, poor thing. I may or may not have been behind said blackout. ;)

  P.S. Our Haitian ancestors did what they needed to do to win their freedom and become the first Black republic in history. I am proud to descend from them, as I know you are too. Your mother made the most delicious soup joumou to celebrate the holiday.

  P.P.S. The issue of deforestation in Haiti is much more complex than a pithy line in an email. Don’t tell me your school is saying that Haitian children eat trees too.

  Bisous,

  Estelle

  ——

  Estelle Dubois

  Haitian Minister of Tourism

  CEO of PATRON PAL

  L’Union Fait La Force

  Wednesday, January 6

  Alaine Beauparlant

  Latin American History/Creative Writing

  Sister Wagner

  PART 1: THE LIST

  DUE—WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 6...... 10% OF FINAL PROJECT GRADE

  Instructions: Create a list of notable individuals in your chosen country’s revolution. Include the defining moments of five or more principal actors (at least one should be from your prominent family) and describe his or her claim to fame. Use the List as a framework for both the Presentation and Story sections of your project. Be sure to also include a short paragraph describing your presentation plans.

  Who’s Who: The Major Players of the Haitian Revolution

  History wasn’t made for the folks who “win” participation ribbons. There were a lot of people who were instrumental to the eventual formation of Haiti as an autonomous state. Just being there as a Conscious Observer or having the smallest part in the making of a country is admirable—and more than I’ve done in these past seventeen years. Sadly, we don’t know the name of the woman who might have watered Toussaint Louverture’s horse and allowed him to keep riding into the night to
warn my people that the French were coming, the French were coming. History has left us with only a few names to attribute to Haiti’s inception and, unsurprisingly, they’re all men. These are the guys who would win superlatives in the high school yearbook of antiquity. They were operating at the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries, which explains the lack of a strong female presence in their freedom fighting. I’ll cut them some slack, I guess.

  Who am I kidding? I won’t.

  Without further ado, a sneak peek of some of the “Who’s Who” of the Haitian Revolution (1791–1804):

  Vincent Ogé: Freeman known for sparking a two-month rebellion against French colonials near Cap-Français (now known as Cap-Haïtien) in 1790, which was considered a precursor to the 1791 revolt that began the Haitian Revolution. Ogé was rich, educated, and what people in the olden days called a quadroon, which sounds like a type of pirate but is a person who’s of one-quarter African and three-quarters European ancestry and also an offensive word. He was in favor of giving other free men of color in the colony the right to vote, but nothing too outrageous like the women or slaves. Ogé and his fellow free supporters were able to overthrow numerous white colonial militiamen before eventually being captured. He was executed on the Catherine wheel, which entails tying the offending party’s limbs onto the spokes of a large wooden wheel and hitting him with something hard and heavy to break his bones while the wheel turns. Don’t worry, it’s named after St. Catherine of Alexandria, no relation to our school namesake, St. Catherine de’ Ricci. I checked.

  Jean François Papillon: An African slave who worked on the Papillon Plantation. Papillon means “butterfly” in French and that’s exactly what he wanted to be. Papillon yearned to escape that horrible cocoon of slavery and morph into a free butterfly. He was also a maroon until the 1791 slave rebellion he helped lead. And although maroon sounds curiously similar to something pirate-related, it refers to African slaves who ran away and set up settlements separate from their bondage systems. Think of 1791 as the Big Bang of the Haitian Revolution.