“I need your hand. Your blood,” she said.
“My blood?!” I asked in alarm, pulling away.
“That was a test, Alaine. I do not need your blood. But if you agree to this, then you must be prepared to do whatever it takes. I need us to be in this together. No hesitation. When your mom and the others attempted to lift this curse, they only had one chance and they failed. Your mother was the leader of the group. Her illness proves this as she has been targeted first. You have to try it just as they did. But unlike them, you will be successful. There is no other option.”
I nodded in understanding.
Roseline continued with the ritual, repeating some of the same steps that I remembered reading in my mother’s diary. She pulled a large red candle from her pocket and used one of the matches to light it, placing the candle in the center of the white plate. Roseline motioned for me to place my hands above the mortar and pestle. She rinsed our hands without a word, splashing the Florida water carefully between our fingers. I watched as Roseline took a handful of leaves from the inside of her pockets and placed them in the mortar and handed it over to me. I took the pestle and mashed up the leaves, focused on grinding them into as fine a powder as I could manage.
“Ancestors, we ask that you protect Alaine as she moves forward on this journey,” Roseline said once I was done and placed the container on the table. “She is but a humble servant performing your will.”
I watched as Roseline grabbed the large bottle of rum that I’d noticed when I first entered her house. She used her teeth to unscrew it and poured three splashes of the dark liquor into the mortar, then placed the bottle on the ground beside her. She then took a match and with two quick swipes, a bright flame ignited. Roseline tossed the match into the mortar, closed her eyes in what looked like a silent prayer and then, finally, we were done.
Roseline gathered up her skirts and left through the back door. She returned with the now-finished tea. “Drink this, it will open your eyes. But I suspect you’ve already begun to see,” Roseline said cryptically. I squirmed in my seat, thinking about the dream I’d had the night I’d learned of my mom’s condition. Her face slowly transforming before my eyes.
The tea burned sliding down my throat. I pressed my lips together and held my breath, barring any of the salty mixture from making its way back up.
“What should I be—” My head suddenly weighed twice as much. I jerked my head toward Roseline, catching the end of her request. My mind slowly drifted away. I knew that I should feel panicked, but instead a strange calm washed over my body, as if I was settling into a deep sleep after an exhausting day of working in the sun. Roseline’s words sounded as though they were being transferred through a tube under water. I could barely lift my arms to wipe my eyes in an effort to shake away the blur from her appearance.
“Send Marie-Louise my best.”
The world went black.
PART V
MO NOU GEN ZEL
(OUR WORDS HAVE WINGS)
Sunday, February 14
The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant
RECIPE FOR A TRIPPY DREAM-TRANCE PARTY
Incurably sick mother
Snarky youth in need of answers and assistance
~180 pounds of an above-average height Haitian woman promising both
10 minutes of a freaky ceremony
A dash of disbelief
Tightly balled tea bag
2 pinches of sugar
1 tablespoon of salt
3 chopped lemon leaves
Crushed piece of ginger root
A mind swirling with letters of desperation
Approximately 200 years of buildup
Directions: Combine your ingredients in a small kettle before pouring into a chipped yellow teacup. Drink hastily and prepare to have limbs feel like lead. Try not to hit your head when passing out. Remember everything.
Become your ancestor. Experience the strongest wave of loneliness you’ve ever felt when you stand at your daughters’ graves for what you know is the last time. Consider staying put so it won’t be. Dry your tears and promise to do better with the next generation. Take a rickety ship back to your homeland. Console your granddaughter when she gets seasick.
Be at peace when reuniting with remaining family. Do not cry when leaving them to fulfill a promise. Dress up. Pretend to be charming. Make a powerful man fall in love with you. Be surprised when you realize one day you’ve fallen in love too. Feel shame when you can’t reconcile the gentle person you’ve come to know with the man who fought actively against your first love.
Accept the irreconcilable. Cut out the knife you’ve kept sewed into your pillow for years. Pour out the bottle of poison. Keep his secrets.
Avoid all summons to the palace. Grow old. Watch your child’s baby become a woman. Convince yourself that you made the best choice for your descendants. Know deep down that this is not the truth.
Serves one.
Monday, February 15
From: Jason Williams
To: Alaine Beauparlant
Subject: Did you read this VoxPop article?
Have you read this yet? The writer was thirsty as hell but your aunt kept right on redirecting to what’s important. Estelle is fi-yah.
J
P.S. Please forgive my use of “fi-yah.” It was now or never.
P.P.S. How have you not thrown being related to a founding father in my face yet?
Meet the Woman Who Is Making Millennials “Swipe Right” on Charity
VoxPop | Owen Smith
Estelle Dubois has the easy grace of a member of the British royal family. She’s pleasantly aloof when citizens walk up and thank her for, well, existing. She nods her head as regally as Meghan Markle but has superseded the Duchess of Sussex in this: Dubois is the descendant of Haitian revolutionary leader and king, Henri Christophe, so she is royal by the blood coursing through her veins.
“It’s absurd to actually claim such a thing,” Dubois says. Her laugh tinkles like wind chimes on a breezy day.
Henri I, self-appointed sovereign that he was, tragically became the first and last monarch of the island nation. He sired four legitimate children, one of whom is a distant ancestor to Dubois. But crown or no crown, it’s clear that she is special. The people who engage her in conversation at the crowded Port-au-Prince café where we’re dining call her by just one name: Estelle.
“They feel like they know me.” She shrugs. “And in a way, they do. I love Haiti. It’s my biggest passion in life and an integral piece of myself.”
When I ask her if she has any other passions in life or any other people to share those passions with, she’s coy.
“This has nothing to do with my work,” she begins teasingly. “But the people who bring me the greatest joy are my family and friends.”
Her most famous relative is without a doubt her twin sister, Celeste Beauparlant, the fired GNN Sunday morning show anchor who is currently battling rumors of dementia. It was recently exposed that Beauparlant and the senator she sparred with, Andres Venegas, both contributed in the creation of Estelle’s biggest accomplishment to date. I wondered if there were any suspicions of impropriety between the senator and Beauparlant. Venegas is dodging questions of mismanaging money and he and Beauparlant clearly have history.
But what about the drama between Celeste and Andres? I ask.
“There is no drama. My sister is very dear to me. Andres is a longtime childhood friend. Yes, she and Andres have years of history between them, but we all do. Decades of friendship and support,” she says firmly. “Video doesn’t always show the complete story.”
It’s almost as if Estelle’s saying that, in a way, Beauparlant’s breakdown was like another infamous viral altercation. But in this case, GNN viewers were watching live TV, not a grainy elevator surveillanc
e camera. This is the perfect segue to ask about Beyoncé’s role in the upcoming “Haiti Remembers” music video, so I do.
“I realized that while the world may have forgotten Haiti’s plight after 12 janvier, the Haitian people have not—and cannot. Beyoncé, Bono, and the other amazing performers on that track were gracious enough to agree,” she says. “We’ve lived in this post-traumatic world for years now. We shouldn’t wait until there’s another tragedy to uplift this country.”
Estelle has enlisted her famous friends to help in another endeavor: tourism, which she has run as minister for more than four years. One of the first items on her to-do list when she was appointed was to shake up the perception that the island is a place of depressing destitution. Paparazzi photos of the rich and famous lounging on the beaches of Chouchou Bay have slowly begun turning that image around.
“Let’s say it together,” she says. “‘Haiti is the poorest country in the western hemisphere.’ We know. We know. Let’s promote a different narrative. That was the crux of my ‘Meet Me in the Haitian Sunshine’ program.”
“Meet Me in Haiti” is a campaign to promote travel to Tortuga, a beautiful enclave on Haiti’s northwest coast. Tortuga Island is known primarily as a former hub for piracy and was depicted in the Pirates of the Caribbean films.
“Whenever tourists come to Haiti, there’s a good chance they’ll spend all their time in Labadie,” she says, stirring her scalding cup of coffee before bringing it to her lips and savoring it on her tongue. It being unbearably hot outside does not appear to trouble her. “I love Labadie. It’s beautiful. Make my life easier and please keep coming! But.”
She pauses.
“It’s a very specific sort of experience. I wanted to offer the same comfort and amenities it has but with a more...regional twist,” Estelle says. “You have a native tour guide highlighting all the amazing history, architecture, and dignity of this nation. You don’t just stay on Tortuga, then get back on your cruise ship and sail away. You engage with Haiti.”
And it can use the engagement. As the poorest country in the western hemisphere (sorry), Haiti will take all the boosts to its economy that it can get. The Tortuga plan is a better deal than Labadie, simply by virtue of being headed by the country itself. Haiti earns just $9 per cruise ship visitor to Labadie because it outsources the heavy lifting to an American company.
More Haitian citizens will work on the island, which will also stimulate the economy, I note.
“And that’s what PATRON PAL is all about,” Estelle says, steering the conversation to the purpose of our meeting. “Our intent is not to be dependent on the kindness of strangers for eternity. We didn’t fight for and win our freedom in 1804 to accept handouts. We simply want a fair shot. This little ol’ app is connecting our youngest citizens to people who can assist them in gaining the resources to learn what they need in school and in life.”
I can speak from experience.
“PATRON PAL is everything,” says my fourteen-year-old daughter. I will admit that teaching her the value of generosity has not been my biggest focus over the years. But this burgeoning company, with an estimated worth of $10 million, has succeeded in that aspect of parenting where I and others have failed.
No less an endorser than Oprah Winfrey has lauded the merits of this “little ol’ app.” Estelle shows me handwritten notes from some of the Pals, students with hopes of being doctors, lawyers, and maybe even ministers of tourism. They’re like her children, she explains, showing pictures of precocious kids in clean blue uniform vests and white shirts. At forty-three, she looks at least a decade younger but has none of her own.
Joseph P., 8: “I love my new uniform and pencils!”
Daphne L., 7: “I’m learning so much.”
Melyssa M., 10: “I can eat and go to school. Thank you.”
Micheline A., 6: “Merci beaucoup, Estelle. We love you!”
My thoughts exactly.
Tuesday, February 16
The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant
I came into work this morning with a mission in mind but was temporarily derailed by a certain good-looking intern. Jason was all smiles when he stopped at my desk with a large red box wrapped with an equally large white bow. I could feel the eyes of the others in the office trained on us as they tried unsuccessfully to make it seem like they weren’t following our every word.
“I know it was just Valentine’s Day, but...um...this is a little abrupt,” I said slowly as I reached out for the gift.
“Open it,” Jason said with a grin.
I tore the wrapping paper to find a brown baby doll with a small curly ’fro wearing a purple onesie. It was sitting on a new copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland with an affixed note that read Figured you could relive your favorite scenes in your downtime at work. Thanks again, Child Whisperer, scrawled in what I could only presume was Jason’s terrible handwriting.
“This is amazing,” I said. “I love it! Thank you.”
“I was hoping the two-day buffer between Valentine’s Day and today would take some of the pressure off, but I guess I was wrong,” Jason laughed. “Anyway, it’s the least I could do. You saved me from an untimely death at the hands of Thierry. He would’ve pulled a Red Queen and chopped my head off with that machete he keeps under his desk if he knew that I had mixed up those kids’ info.”
“You can live another day to buy him a Cubano. Maybe for all eternity.”
“How long is forever again?” he said, clearly pleased with his allusion.
“Sometimes, just one second.”
Jason walked back to his seat and I didn’t stop the dopey smile splayed across my face behind his back. I realized that I must’ve looked like a swooning schoolgirl and quickly fixed my expression into something more dignified for a strong, independent working woman who don’t need no man. *Read with neck roll.* My nosy coworkers were probably memorizing every joyful twitch of my face to chat about around the water cooler and snack pantry. Or worse, to tell my aunt.
I arranged the doll so that it leaned against my computer monitor and resisted the urge to reread my favorite chapter (Chapter Five: “Advice from a Caterpillar”). Instead, I pulled up the PATRON PAL database to settle into my first task of the day... Only to be called by Florence into back-to-back morning meetings. Someone needed to take notes to keep our Fearless Leader abreast of everything going on while she was out of the office. I was but a lowly intern after all.
SAVED INSTANT MESSAGES ON THE ONLINE
WORK PLATFORM “SLACKR” B/T ME AND JASON
Jason W. 2:15 PM
Finally back at your desk I see!
Alaine B. 2:16 PM
Finally! If I had to sit through one more meeting, I was going to scream.
Jason W. 2:16 PM
Lol what were they about? Thierry has had me teaching him how to scrub his computer clean for the past 3 hours. He can’t seem to pick it up.
Alaine B. 2:17 PM
Oh Thierry why can’t you just use incognito mode like a normal person... Florence wants to put together some marketing materials to highlight how our Pals are better off after becoming a part of PATRON PAL. We were brainstorming some of the ways to get the info and to present it.
Jason W. 2:18 PM
That sounds like a great idea
Alaine B. 2:19 PM
Yup. I was thinking that I’d look up the kids who were quoted in that article that you sent me and track their progress throughout the program. But first... I’m going to watch some hair tutorial videos on YouTube lol
Jason W. 2:20 PM
Bahaha well you deserve a little break. And honestly, they can’t blame us for being a little unproductive when we have a chat program called “Slackr”
Alaine B. 2:23 PM
You mean you’re not any closer to solving world hunger? Unimpressed.
Jason W. 2:27 PM
Oh man, I let you down. I think you’ll have to sort that all out once you get to college.
Alaine B. 2:35 PM
Argh first I’d have to figure out if I really want to go right now...
Jason W. 2:38 PM
No clue huh
Alaine B. 2:41 PM
College has always been in The Cards, that’s not the problem... And to toot my own horn, I should be getting into pretty dope schools...but with my mom the way she is right now...I don’t think I want to be away from her.
Jason W. 2:45 PM
Have you thought about taking a gap year? School will always be there...
Alaine B. 2:49 PM
No... I hadn’t considered it. Telling my Haitian parents that I’m not going straight to college would be like one more disappointment I’ve ladled on them in these past few weeks. PLUS! Like, am I supposed to be a legit adult in six months? HA.
Jason W. 2:50 PM
If it helps, I don’t think I became a real grown-up until...
Jason W. 2:51 PM
...
Jason W. 2:52 PM
...
Jason W. 2:53 PM
...
Jason W. 2:54 PM
...
Jason W. 2:56 PM
...
Jason W. 2:58 PM
You know what, how about I tell you once that happens?
Alaine B. 3:00 PM
Deal! Idk. I feel if I had just ONE more year before I embark on the rest of my life...it’d make all the difference
Jason W. 3:01 PM
To be serious for a moment—you’re on the right path. Whatever it ends up being. You wouldn’t be interning here if you weren’t doing something right.
Alaine B. 3:04 PM
Well... Not quite. Let’s say everyone has one pass to do something really dumb and not be penalized too, too much for it...
Dear Haiti, Love Alaine Page 19