Me Dying Trial

by Patricia Powell

  The only time she started thinking seriously about living with the mother though was when she was down at Grandma spending time. Grandma send word to Rudi that she long to see the rest of her grandchildren, especially the baby, Rosa. And so Rudi send Peppy with Rosa the Friday evening.

  And the first thing that reach her ears all the way out the gate when she jump off the bus with Rosa was Grandma’s mouth. She wasn’t sure whether or not she should go in or wait outside till Grandma finish, for Grandma’s temper don’t easily change when she cursing. But she go on in nevertheless, dragging Rosa behind her. She did have to take away the two purple roses Rosa have squeezed up in her hand, slap her on her fingers and then throw away the roses behind the house, over the fence where cows eat the wild grass, for Grandma is a woman don’t like people, especially pickney, touch-touch and pick-pick her flowers. She love to cut them and put them on her centre table, next to the old pump organ and the blue velvety-looking settee that still have the plastic on it and that she don’t allow any of her grandchildren to sit down on, unless them tidy for the evening, and the black-and-white television her son Samuel send her from Connecticut, that she dust every day and don’t turn on for longer than one hour each evening, and two on Sundays for Billy Graham’s special broadcast.

  Grandma didn’t even turn the white of her eyes to look at either she or Rosa as them walk through the verandah, through the living room and into the kitchen, where she stand up over the oil stove, cooking dinner and cursing Dave who was sitting down on the floor in the doorway, not paying her any mind. Nothing hurt Grandma more than when she cursing you and you not paying her any mind.

  ‘I know you break me nice-nice dishes out of damn bad mind,’ Grandma was telling Dave, as Peppy and Rosa take a seat around the kitchen table already set for dinner. ‘I know is because I tell you not to leave the house, why you break me nice dishes. I notice too,’ Grandma push up her cat-like spectacles that was foggy with the steam from her pot, up on her nose, ‘that whenever your Grandpa talk to you, you act like you don’t hear him, and you don’t do as him tell you. The other day him ask you to tie out the cow with the calf, and after the poor man come home tired, him still have to get up and go tie out the cow. And all you do after school finish is sit down on your tail and don’t lift straw.’

  Grandma stop, catch her breath and turn around to look at Peppy and Rosa. ‘How you do me babies. Look how you turn into big woman, Rosa!’ Then she turn right back around to Dave and continue to curse, her voice changing only slightly. ‘But I know what I going to do. That day when all of you must go to the airport, I allow you to go on. But when everybody else ready to board the plane, you can’t put your blasted foot nowhere for I done tear up all your papers.’

  And after she say so, Grandma get response, for Dave look up at her for the first time, face tight, eyes shifting round. And when Grandma see him look up, she stop the cursing for she know she get him right where she want him.

  Grandma turn back to Peppy and call the baby over to her, then she pull up a chair and sit down, asking Peppy to help serve the dinner for her feet starting to hurt. Dave get up from where him was sitting and grunt out ‘howdy’ to Peppy, then him pinch Rosa’s two round cheeks, and walk through the kitchen on his way out to the verandah. Him was almost six feet tall. Grandma say him is the dead stamp of Grandpa’s side of family, long and narrow with big knee caps.

  Peppy never like Dave much, at least not anymore than she like Jeff. Them talk, but them don’t really talk. As long as she live she not going forget how them beat her up and tear up her dolly, Rose.

  As Peppy was serving out the dinner, Grandma say to her, voice sharp, ‘Take care of the papers and the passports. As a matter of fact, tell Rudi to bring them down here. For if Walter see them, you can kiss Foreign ta-ta. That man!’ Grandma pause and shake her head, looking off into the distance. ‘All I can say is I hope Gwennie don’t take damn careless and send for him, for that would be trouble on top of trouble and the Lord knows she have enough. That poor child meet it in truth.

  ‘I know you and Gwennie will get on,’ Grandma continue on, ‘for you quiet just like she, and you industrious, you easy to get on with. But she going to have trouble with Dave and even Del.’ Grandma hand Peppy a plate of food, and Peppy put it on the table. ‘Del quiet too, but is a different quiet. Quiet enough to deafen you. She and Dave give me and your Grandpa a damn tough time, but is me grandchildren. If them want a place to sleep, I have to give them place. But you and Rudi will be big help to your Mama.’

  Peppy try to picture her mother’s face, but she couldn’t remember more than her eyes, brownish-greenish, the colour of leaves when night coming down. She was light skinned, brown like Grandpa’s side of family. Jeff and Dave too. Only thing them have light-brown eyes, same colour as them hair. Del and Rudi dark like Grandma’s side of family, Rosa and Peppy in between. She wonder if she and her mother going to really get on as Grandma say, or if it going to be more like what Aunty Cora predict, that the two have to get to know one another first. She wonder if Rudi going to be different around the mother. Right now him don’t talk about her much, but she wonder if that would change. If him would take the mother in confidence, tell her some of the things him used to only tell she, Peppy. She wonder if she and Rudi would always remain close too. But as Peppy think about it more and more, that evening as she was walking home, a funny feeling in her belly tell her things going to be different. And so she try push away the feeling, for she never want to think about it.

  As for Walter, well, Peppy sigh. She don’t really know. Him alright, she suppose. Most times she just feel sorry for him though. For when him don’t quarrel and curse, him just quiet and sad-looking. When him come home, just him alone sit down and watch the seven-thirty news with Brenton Hall. Sometimes him eat the little dinner Rudi leave cover-up for him in the kitchen. Sometimes him don’t eat a tall. Other times him just take one or two mouthfuls, then call Jeff to come and finish the rest.

  Nowadays she hear him pacing around in his room, sighing plenty, two and three o’ clock in the morning. She know Rudi hear it too, for his breathing not as deep and even. Sometime she ask him, ‘Rudi, what is wrong with him, think him going crazy?’

  But Rudi only kiss his teeth and grunt out, ‘Cho, don’t pay him any mind, just his sins pinching him.’

  And although a chuckle form itself around Peppy’s mouth corner, she know Rudi not serious. She know him wonder the same thing as she. She know Jeff wonder it too, even if Rosa too young to understand. She imagine Walter must miss them mother and must be going through a damn rough time. She can’t imagine it being easy when the woman you love pick up herself and leave you alone a tall, a tall.

  PART SIX

  I

  Gwennie push open the gate and walk up to the door, the big blue woollen sweater she have on over her frock pull up close to her neck. It was only September, but already the evenings starting to blow cold. She never even glance at the letters she pull out of the mailbox, the hurry she in to get inside the house, put down the bag of groceries and sit down rest herself a little before Clive come over.

  The house was dark and cold the Friday evening. Gwennie switch on the passageway light and lock the door behind her. She made her way into the kitchen, dropping off the bills and bags on the small enamel table with the four matching chairs. Her brother, Samuel, used to keep it in his basement. Gwennie never stop to turn on the kitchen light or to put the two packages of chicken inside the refrigerator, she made her way into her bedroom instead, kick off her flat shoes, fling off her sweater and crawl underneath the heavy comforter.

  The house was quiet except for the clock hang up on the wall in the living room going tick-tock, loud and plenty. She buy it from the department store not too far from where she live. Outside, two cars pass, but except for that, the street was quiet. Not a baby’s mouth hollering for it hungry and want feeding. No sound of children making plenty noises as them jump around playing hopscotch or dandy-s
handy, or even skipping. No man or woman laughing and chatting and bawling out ‘howdy-do’ for them glad to see one another. Nothing. The houses on the street just big and far-in-between and cold, especially with the winter coming on.

  Gwennie’s ears and nose start to thaw out. She could feel the tension that cause her neck and shoulder to ache and throb plenty, easing. She take long, deep breath as Percy used to tell her: in, out, and in again. She miss Percy in truth. Him did plan her going-away party, inviting almost everyone from the meeting. Them was sorry she leaving, for she used to care whole heap about country people who don’t get good representation in government. Them hope she would be able to bring her good work elsewhere.

  The week before leaving, she ask Percy if him think she would find meetings like these abroad. Him never answer for a long time, face cross as usual, plenty lines on his forehead. She wasn’t sure if him hear her. ‘Percy, you think . . .’

  ‘I hear you, Gwennie,’ him sigh long, shaking his head from side to side. ‘The situation abroad different. Them have meetings like these, but the government don’t like it. It ten times worse than when Jackson was in power out here. You remember how him wouldn’t put money towards social programmes, wouldn’t even turn the black of his eyes look at poor and illiterate people; people who don’t have work. Everything go into tourism and further build-up of what done build-up already. Over there them have meetings, but them underground.’

  Gwennie look over at him, her eyes searching around his face: long and thin and smooth, almost like baby’s. Him have a scar over his left eyebrow.

  ‘I have a friend over there,’ Percy continue on. ‘Now and again him attend the meetings, maybe hand out the newsletter them used to publish, now and then do a little fundraising. Him wasn’t involved in any kinda government overthrowing or anything. And shit!’ Percy’s fingers start to dance round the steering wheel, ‘him say all hours of day and night him would notice people watching his apartment.

  ‘Sometimes when him come in at night, him buck-up into strange-looking people just lurking around. Sometimes after him arrange his apartment a certain way, when him come home, everything arrange differently. Him say him was afraid, for the very same thing was happening to plenty people in his group.’

  ‘So what him do?’ Gwennie ask, wide-eye.

  Percy shrug, hands calming down. ‘Nothing. You can’t really hide from the government over there. I suppose them either kill you or lock you up on various bogus charges. If them see that you not too dangerous, them probably leave you alone. I really don’t know. I don’t think me friend go to the meetings as much, anymore though.’

  Gwennie never say anything when him finish talk. She face the road ahead, forehead puzzle-up. ‘It don’t spell sense a tall,’ she say to Percy long after. ‘After him wasn’t doing anything bad, all him want . . .’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ Percy cut in. ‘Same way you hear people out here bad-talk communism, same way over there. When them hear the word, first thing come to mind is Cuba and Russia. Them hear the word and them think how people can’t own anything for themself. Them can’t have three cows when everybody else have only two. Them can’t own a shop or supermarket and so on. The government in America not any different. Them want to own the whole damn world. Communism is a big threat to them.’

  Gwennie understand. She still hope she’d be able to find a meeting to attend nevertheless, for she like things of that nature. It was of surprise to her when she arrive and ask Samuel and his wife, Dorothy, if them know about any, and all them could suggest was the Caribbean Club that have party every weekend, no community involvement whatsoever.

  But apart from the meetings, she still miss Percy. Him was so keen when it comes to how things should be arranged, or how a room must decorate. The children soon come, she need beds, dinette set so everybody can sit down while eating, winter clothes and boots, she need curtains, rugs for the various rooms. She want somebody she can browse around with from store to store, like she and Percy used to do. She don’t make plenty friends, yet. And yes, Clive was nice, but she and him have completely different taste in furniture, furthermore him lacking that little quality that was special about Percy.

  And is not that Samuel or Dorothy wasn’t interested in helping her, for them used to drive her places, and show her where she can buy furniture and such, but she never have the money then. Every paycheck either go to the damn thief lawyer man, or to the bank for the down payment on the house or to the children, back home. Now that she have a little bit more spare money, for things clear up with the lawyer, it look like them not willing to help her as before. And she know it wasn’t out of grudgeful and bad feelings, for kinder than Samuel and Dorothy you can’t find, but Clive say probably them want her to fend for herself now, and she think maybe is true.

  ‘Them want you to stand up on your own two feet,’ Clive tell her the evening down at the Caribbean Club.

  Gwennie didn’t say anything. She sip her drinks.

  ‘Them find you the house, them find you work, them find you lawyer. Them carry you around, show you things, introduce you to people. Now them want you to do things for yourself. Them want you to be independent and have your own place.’

  She remember that after buying the bedroom set and finally moving in, Dorothy and Samuel used to come over often. Sometimes them bring dinner, sometimes a set of dishes, candle and candle holder, calendar, things to make the house smell good. Sometimes them just used to come over and keep her company, the days she wasn’t living in at her housekeeping job. And then them just stop. Them still call sometimes. But all-in-all, she barely see them. It used to bother her at first, for she wonder if it was something she say or do, but it spell plenty sense to her as Clive explain it. She also get more time to herself now, too.

  Working just about every day, she glad to get the few hours to herself, for nothing please her more than to just chat to herself as loud as she want, cooking whenever she feel, without a worry about children and the plenty energy them take up, about husbands and them sometimish nature, about family and them whole heap of problems. During those times she like inviting Clive over, for whenever him in a good mood, it’s a pleasure to be around him.

  Sometimes them drive to the top of the Blue Hills, park the car and watch the sunset, for Clive romantic that way. But other times when him come over, him can’t get her to budge. She don’t have any energy whatsoever, she just want to sleep all the time. And Clive would always say to her: ‘Gwennie, since you miss the children so much that you unbearable to spend time around, it spell sense you just send for them.’

  But it wasn’t that easy. She just can’t bring her children to Foreign without first providing beds for them to sleep on. It already take her four good years and plenty money to get permanent citizenship, now she have to wait another two years before it okay for the children to come.

  ‘Times and times again, I wouldn’t mind letting them come for vacation,’ she say to him one evening while at his house, her forehead knit-up plenty and her face pucker-up like she ready to holler, ‘but it too expensive. Might as well use the money to buy one more chair so them can sit down comfortable when them come.’

  And as Clive would never quite know what to say to her during these times when her feelings low, him always just clasp her two hands in his and press them to his jaw, his own face puzzle over.

  Them keep her more than busy at the place where she work though, and she prefer it that way. Plenty time on her hand just cause her to worry and fret herself over her children back home. Her evenings off, she make sure she keep busy. She watch the little black-and-white television in her room, other times she listen to the radio and read plenty. The man she work for, is a professor at one of the universities in the area, so him have plenty books about the house, plenty leather-bound, nice smelling, interesting books. Every week she read a new one, when is not Dickens or Austen is Thackeray or Edgar Poe. Them remind her of high school back home in Miss Mullins’ class.

&
nbsp; Sometimes she write one or two letters to people back home, but it always leave her so cut up inside and tired, she don’t look forward to it especially whenever she have to write Rudi. Even after so many years, she still can’t write Rudi a letter and don’t holler and depress for the remainder of week. And every time she get depress, a certain letter Percy did write her a long while back always flash cross way her mind.

  It was towards the end of her two months’ vacation. Time soon come to return home to her family. But Gwennie was having second thoughts. The little money she earn under the table from day’s work was giving her a certain independence. The thought of going home to Walter never bring her comfort and joy. She like the splendour Dorothy and Samuel have. Maybe if she stay and work, she could have it too.

  Not that things weren’t dangerous sometimes, especially on Main Street with all the shootings and killings going on. Everyday she listen to the radio, and when is not news about somebody’s pickney getting kidnapped, is news about accidents caused by rum-drinking. Just last week them set fire to a supermarket close to her street, to get insurance money she hear. Winter was another story. Sometimes the air so cold, if you not careful, you freeze right there at the bus-stop waiting on the bus to come.

  But even with them things, she know if she work plenty she can have something for herself, something she can call Gwennie’s. Dorothy have her own car separate from Samuel’s jeep. When she ready to go about her business, Samuel can’t say anything to her cause is her name on the registration. Well, is so she want to have something for herself, something that don’t belong to husband, but to she and her children. And so Gwennie did write Percy and tell him, she think she going to stay. Better opportunities, over here, she tell him in the letter, children can go on to college, them can find work easy, and for she, Gwennie, change of direction in her life.

  Him write her back, the letter running almost five pages. And after him talk about the two little girls whom Gwennie still never meet, and about the wife and divorce papers, about school and the meetings, him express how proud him was of her, and how much respect him have for her decision, even though her life will be sheer hell.