Me Dying Trial

by Patricia Powell

  She also was a woman used to having plenty family pictures sprawl out all over her house. Back up at Porous, she did have family pictures put up in every room, from Rudi right down to Grandma’s first cousin on her mother’s side, Miss Albertine. But in this little cubicle, that she paint beige with grey trimmings, she did only have room for one photo on the small bureau, after she lay out her underarm deodorant, her sweet-smelling cus-cus, her face cream, and her Jergens hands and body. She put up the picture with Grandma and Grandpa, her two brothers Samuel and Jeffery, and her one sister, Icilda, standing in front the church where Grandpa preach and Grandma play the organ, and where she, Samuel, Jeffery and Icilda used to go to Sunday school every God-send Sunday morning.

  Them work her like dog up at the college. Plenty days she never even have time to just sit down talk to herself. She go to classes in the morning, break for lunch and was back in the afternoon. Sometimes the sun so hot outside, it make inside the classroom warm. Many days she long to sit down in the back and doze. But the teacher love to call on her it seems, and since she was so anxious about getting the certificate, she more than careful not to get on his wrong side. After she eat dinner inside the big dining hall that always loud and noisy, she study long into the night until around eleven when company come visit.

  From the very first day Gwennie never have any problems find friends. She love to chat and argue and people take to her quick. Further more, she wasn’t bad looking a tall: round face with full eyes, lovely features, thick head of hair that she pull to the back and tuck under, and pleasant burn cocoa-butter complexion. The fellows at the college who married and unmarried never take long to latch on to her. And so till all hours of the night, she and them would be up in her room laughing, chatting, drinking and playing dominoes. Sometimes them would get down into deep conversation, lasting until early morning when roosters start crow. And them would touch on every subject possible: science, social studies, politics, geography, philosophy, every little thing, and them come to respect her very much, for Gwennie was sharp and her mind broad.

  And she get to thinking, here she was with these fellows, about her age or more—Walter’s age the most—who think nothing a tall bout asking her opinion to settle whatever little arguments or disagreements come up. She think about when Julia or Trevor or her family would come visit. Them would be sitting around talking, with Walter sitting around too. And anything she say, him would just kind of fling it aside as if it don’t count.

  Once at a teachers’ party with Walter and a whole group of others talking about Prime Minister Lewis and how his cabinet members mashing up the country, him did shame her. For even when every last one of her family and even Walter never into Lewis, she did still manage to keep her faith in him. So they were all sitting around drinking beers and voicing disapproval of the man.

  And after them finish, Gwennie turn to the Spanish teacher beside her and quietly say to him: ‘You know, all the talking you talking, I still don’t hear mention of one good thing Lewis do. And as much as you don’t like him, you still have to give him credit. For you can’t say unemployment never go down.

  ‘You can’t say the price of things never go down. You can’t say him never take all the poor people from off the streets, cut taxes. You can’t say gas price not cheaper and that him never give country people electric light, run water pipe through them back yard, and asphalt them road. You can’t say him never open training centres for the youth or start up plenty literacy programmes.

  ‘But just because the man believe in democratic socialism and friends with Castro and believe that poor people must have a chance too, even if it be at the expense of the rich, you don’t like him because him is communist. What kind of thinking that? Tell me how you figure, intelligent as you call yourself?’

  The room so silent you could hear a pin drop. Walter just finish call Lewis a blasted idiot and hope that them kick his ass out of power next election. Now Gwennie taking up for Lewis, her voice loud and strong, commanding plenty attention.

  Walter take a long swallow of his beer, push back his chair with a loud scraping on the concrete, stand up, yawn, then open his mouth to speak. ‘See what happen when you give a woman two beers. Her mouth start fly and you can’t get it to stop. No matter if she talking her mouth full of dry horse manure.’ Then him laugh, loud and raucous. And the other men sitting round sort of grin with them lips, not long though, for most of them know Gwennie talking truth. And Gwennie laugh too, not with her eyes but with just the corner of her mouth.

  And so when she think about how the fellows here treat her good—fellows, for the women don’t talk to her much—have respect for her, and give her attention when she want to talk, she just sort of push Walter to the back of her mind.

  II

  It never take long before one or two of the young men start stay after at night and help Gwennie clean up, long after everybody else gone. This one fellow, Percy Clock, take a liking to her. Most every night him come by and them would just sit up and talk, long after everybody else gone. And him was a soft-spoken and gentle fellow, very expressive with his hands and eyes. Gwennie never know another man who keep his fingernails cut neat and keep clean like Percy Clock. She take a sudden liking to him. She was afraid at first though, and so when him just start come over to her room late, she used to drop one or two hints about her children and about Walter, but Percy Clock never give one blast.

  Pretty soon Gwennie loosen up, and she and Percy Clock start to do things together and confide in one another. She tell him how she never know Walter walk round and talk in his sleep till two days after them marry. And how she was frightened, for him would be looking at her, eyes wide open, yet fast asleep, for when she call, him never answer. Now her second son, Dave, have the same bad habit. Only thing though, him walk with his two hands stretch out infront and his eyes close. Percy Clock tell her his wife funny that way too, for even though she don’t walk about, she speak three different languages in her sleep even though is only English alone she know well. And she and Percy did grow so close that when she break down in her period of depression that last one whole month, it was him who was her right hand, and who she come to rely on plenty.

  It start out with the letter. Gwennie get a letter from her Aunty Cora, saying how the little baby, Peppy, growing up healthy and strong with every mouthful of Lactogen formula she swallow. How her voice loud and hefty and her bones strong, and every day she getting more and more round. Gwennie so glad to hear of it, she read the letter over and over. But then she start to have bad dreams, night after night, and every morning when she wake up, her feelings just sink lower and lower.

  The dreams were all the same. Every time she go over to New Green to look for Peppy and see her Aunty Cora, is always like a transformation come over she, Gwennie. And all of a sudden she get afraid and don’t want to spend time, anymore. She want to leave. And so she always tell Walter come, we can’t leave the other children home by themselves so long. And poor Walter’s face used to just puzzle-up, for after all them just arrive, what kind of hurry-hurry so to leave. And Aunty Cora would just look on, not saying a word, just sipping her Red Stripe beer, one swallow after another. But poor Gwennie, in all her fright and confusion, couldn’t tell them that every time the little girl turn to face her is not Peppy she see, but Luther’s round face with the dimple in his chin. All of the tenderness and softness gone out the baby’s face, and a rugged hardness set in instead.

  As Gwennie’s feelings drag down lower and lower, just like a bad thing, her mind start to bring up things she well want to forget, depressing her even further. And so laying down there in her bad feelings, Gwennie remember the Saturday morning, about one year ago. It was two and a half months since her last cycle and one week since the morning sickness start. Up to this day, she still don’t know what possess her that morning, but she remember that after she throw-up and was finally feeling better, she put on her clothes, tell the children she soon come back, and walk down to Porous S
quare where she catch the bus to carry her to market.

  If it was a tall up to her, she wouldn’t attempt what she attempted that morning, but something else was holding her hand. So when the bus let her off at Porous Market, she stop inside the bread shop, put on a pair of dark glasses, tie her head with a red and yellow scarf, and proceed back to the market. She know exactly where them sell the herbs, for she used to go all the time and buy different things. Herbs for when the children teething, when them have fever, headache, toothache, bellyache, when them constipated, when them belly running too much. And she know exactly which one she looking for, the one with the plenty small leaves that have a brownish colour to them.

  But she wasn’t in any hurry that morning. The market yard was filled with plenty people talking loud to one another. Mangoes and oranges selling over in that corner, fresh fish and shrimps over in that other corner, yam and breadfruit over there, pots and pans over here, clothes somewhere else; plenty activity taking place. Gwennie take her time.

  She never get to the higgler selling the herbs until about forty-five minutes later, even though the higgler only three feet from where she stand up looking at baby clothes. She walk up close, focus her eyes on the herb, then turn round and look about her to see if she see anybody she know. The higgler start to make up her face, for she is a woman who like when people come, buy what them want, then leave, so other people can come.

  But here was Gwennie standing up, looking about her as if she put down something and can’t find it, while people crowding up behind her. The higgler wasn’t too please that morning, for things not selling quick enough for her, and already it getting late, night soon come down.

  ‘Lady,’ she call out to Gwennie. ‘Lady,’ she call out again for Gwennie was still looking about her. ‘Lady in the lovely red and yellow scarf, can I please be of assistance to you, mam? I have lovely herbs today for every complaint, fresh-fresh, just pick them from me garden this morning. So, please, can I be of assistance? That scarf sure is pretty.’

  It was the first time since she pregnant that real fear grip Gwennie. And when it dawn on her what she doing, a heat wave wash through her soul that morning leaving her eyes wide open and her mouth corner dry.

  ‘So which one of the roots you want, lady? Tell me the complaint.’ The higgler’s voice was rising now with the heat simmering off the pavement next to her goods. ‘Lady, plenty people behind you waiting.’

  ‘That one over there.’ Gwennie point.

  ‘This one?’

  ‘No, that one.’

  ‘Lady, it don’t have name? What the complaint?’

  ‘Oh, never mind.’

  ‘What you say, never mind? But Jesas, look down.’ The higgler clap her hands loud and look up to heaven. ‘Lady, look how you come and waste me whole entire morning with your simple self. Look how much people waiting behind you and you just stand up there like a blasted idiot with that bad-colour rag tie up your head like you mad. Lady, don’t pull me tongue this morning.’

  But Gwennie already gone. And by the time the higgler finish curse, Gwennie on her way home, her eyes wide open and her mouth corner dry as chip same way.

  All these things run through her mind now as she lay down sick in her little room, Percy Clock holding her hand talking to her, and Gwennie looking out her window, her eyes fix nowhere in particular. The depression last one whole month. Every day Percy Clock come with a cup of cocoa or mint tea or steamed ginger root, and him would try talk to her, try comfort and console her.

  Then one morning, the depression pick up itself and leave. That morning when Gwennie get up out her bed, her head did feel light, her heart happy. She start sing and dust down her room, put on fresh covers on her bed, and open-up the windows wide to let in freshness. Since them did move the sitting up late at night to somebody else’s room, when Gwennie open the door and the surprise to see her pass over, and them see that her face look sturdy and strong again, that her eyes healthy, and she her old self again, them move the domino playing and sitting up late at night, the arguing and the chatting back into her room. And every Saturday after Gwennie finish teach her sewing class, where she pick-up a little income, Percy Clock pick her up in his blue Austin Cambridge, and together them go movies and then to dance.

  III

  Gwennie start her practical the final few months of the programme. Since she did already have several years of teaching under her belt, she just zips through the practical, but not without plenty headaches. For some of the children’s head hard, them just couldn’t learn. Day after day she teach them the same Wordsworth ‘Daffodil’ poem, and day after day them can’t recite any further than the first stanza.

  Some of them she could tell come to school hungry, for as bell ring and classes start, heads hit the desk-top and don’t stir again till twelve o’clock lunch time and three-thirty dismissal. Others, she know, just there to test her good faith. She miss the children up at Porous Primary, for them much better behaving and bestowed with plenty good principles. But no matter how much headache it give her, Gwennie try and make ends meet with the few exercise books and pencils and reading materials the district office dish out, even though them never enough so each student could get their own. But nevertheless, she bite her tongue and try manage. She catch too far now to take careless and lose the certificate.

  But beyond even the certificate, Gwennie did have other things on her mind. Time soon come when she have to start making plans for herself and her children. She have to maybe look new work and probably find a place to live. And so the few evenings she have to herself, she comb the Help Wanted section of the Daily Gleaner back and front. And almost like a charm, it so happen that one night after she and her friends finish argue and chat for the night, and everybody leave, Percy Clock stay behind and help Gwennie clean up as usual. But something about him seem different. Him seem more pensive than usual.

  But Gwennie never concern herself with it too much, for she figure maybe him have plenty things on his mind. Maybe Percy Clock thinking about his family. Him did tell her his mother pass on just recently from cancer in the blood, and that his wife leave him with the two children, whom his sister looking after now. But then she notice how Percy Clock starting to look like him never want leave her room that night. Every time them finish one conversation and the room get silent, him sigh long and deep. Then just as she about to say goodnight, him cut in with another. After this go on for several hours, Gwennie finally say to him: ‘Percy, it look like you not ready to sleep yet, but I tired, bad.’ She yawn.

  ‘Well, Gwennie,’ Percy start off, cleaning his throat. ‘I been thinking lots about you and me, and about how empty me life will be after I leave here.’

  Gwennie open her eyes wide and look at Percy Clock. She could see her children in one room cover up safe under warm blankets that smell strong of camphor balls, but she never like what she see in the other room a tall. And as him continue talk about all the feelings that’s been building up over the last five months, Gwennie start to frame in her mind news she don’t think him particularly want to hear.

  For even though him was a fine looking and fine talking man, she never have romance inside her belly for Percy Clock. Only plenty friendship and lots of love. No different from what she did have with her brother, Samuel, before him leave go Foreign. But she keep her face straight and her eyes expressive, listening attentively to what him have to say.

  ‘Together with your four and my two, we could have a happy family. After we get the papers clear, you and me could get married and . . . Well, Gwen, what you say?’

  And Gwennie feel the sweat trickle down the middle of her back and stop at the waist of her pyjama pants. All through the proposal, him never look at her once. Fingers twitching and twining by his side, as them express how happy she and him will be together, him stare through the window into the blackness. But now him turn round and was walking over to where she sit up on her bed. Him put his face next to hers, and she could feel his breath warm, reeking
of Red Stripe beer. Him was waiting for her to answer, his face close to hers, breath short and hot, eyes searching her face. And Gwennie feel more sweat run down the middle of her back and gather up at her pyjama pants’ waist.

  ‘I have to think about it, Percy. I have to think hard on it.’ She look towards the window. ‘Maybe in about two weeks, I can give you a better answer. You take me by surprise, man. Take me by surprise in truth.’

  With that, Percy Clock pick up his hat, pick up his bag, tell her goodnight, and close her door gently behind him. Gwennie could hear his Hush Puppy pitter-patter, pitter-patter down the stairs until she couldn’t hear anything else. Then she get up, open her window little bit, kneel down, say her prayers and crawl back underneath her cover.

  But as time go by, and the days draw to a close, Gwennie set to thinking again. Here it was now, little more than a week left before the teaching programme finish, and she don’t have husband, she don’t have place to live, and she don’t know where she going to put her four children. And so Gwennie start to think hard and serious about Percy Clock and his offer.

  She did still have few more days before she answer. She glad she never tell him what was on her mind that night, but maybe some kind of arrangement could work out between them. Maybe she could rent out part of his house, that him say so big and lovely, and she and her children could stay there till she find work and find a place for them. She can just imagine what people going to say behind her back, a big respectable married woman living common-law life with this man who just as married. It would be such a disgrace if Percy Clock’s wife come back and order Gwennie and her children out of the house and fling her pots and pans outside as well.

  And all these thoughts linger round and round inside Gwennie’s head early that Friday morning, as she stretch out on the little single bed, her floral spread draw up to her neck, listening to the roosters outside.