‘Gwennie, how are you?’
‘Alright, Bob.’ She show him her bus pass and sit down at her usual spot, across from him.
‘You work too hard, Gwennie. You’re going to kill yourself before you know it.’ Bob laugh, jaw and chin shaking, same way his belly, for him was a little bit fattish.
‘Aw, Bobby. Can’t go any better. I have to eat.’ Gwennie laugh. She like Bob, for him was a very kind and jovial man. She can’t forget that morning, when on route to her very first cleaning job and did ask him for directions, how detailed and generous he was in his instructions, pointing out places of reference so she could remember and then asking her to recite it back to him, patiently smoothing out all errors till she finally get it right.
And she was grateful, for she’d not too long come to Foreign and did just get the weekend work. But him never think twice about helping her. And after offering out the directions, them start to talk, conversation leading first to his family then to hers back home. All during the conversation, she could feel the eyes of the other women on the bus boring deep into her neck-back. But she never pay them any mind.
The next Saturday, she bring him a small basket of fruit, for Grandma used to say people must always repay kindness with kindness. She hand it to him the morning as she was leaving the bus. She never see him the next Saturday, but she see him the one following. And from she set foot inside the bus the morning till she reach her destination, twenty minutes later, him never finish talk about her kindness.
‘You make it worth my while to drive this bus, Gwennie. In all the twenty odd years, I’ve been doing this, no one has ever given me anything. Sometimes people don’t even say thanks when I help them.’
Gwennie only grin, for it wasn’t any big thing to her. Back home people give and take like every day is Christmas. Here in Foreign, it look as if people make gift-giving into big thing. She tell Bob him welcome and is nothing. But even when him stop to let her off, him was still talking about the little basket of grapes and banana and orange and tangerine and the one big Julie mango she get from the West Indian store Miss Daphne tell her about.
III
Gwennie did have about quarter mile to walk after the bus let her off. The path ahead was long and winding after leaving the main road, and it was up hill. Every time she walk, by the time she reach her destination, she always have sweat running down her neck-back, pass her ears temple and gathering-up underneath her armpit.
Gwennie grab on to her duffle bag. She look crossway the road two times, then cross the street. A man, a woman and them big black dog pass by. The dog was pulling the man, but him hang on tight to the leash. Them turn around and look on Gwennie, face empty. Then them continue on, heads turn back around, the dog pulling the man same way, not a word spoken.
The road leading to the Duncan’s house was lined with plenty trees. With the approaching winter, colours were starting to turn, some red, others yellow, purple, orange. Gwennie look up at the trees. In three months’ time all the leaves will fold over dead, every thing cover over white. She can’t wait till her children come so them can see these wonders, she know Rudi especially would enjoy it, for him sensitive that way about nature. His fingers can make any flowers grow, bring back any seedling to life. Clive promise was to bring her up to New Hampshire, where the colours of trees even more dazzling. That was one year ago. Gwennie shake her head. That was the other thing about Clive she don’t like, him love make promises him won’t keep.
The dream last night flash cross way Gwennie’s mind. She wonder if she should mention it to Clive. But then him so analytical about things, him would probably blame the dream on her nervousness about the relationship. It puzzle her too, why Peppy wasn’t in the dream. She wonder if Aunty Cora plan not to send her after all. She remember Aunty Cora’s visit several years back and the endless conversations about the lump moving around in her stomach, beating with a ferocity as if it have its own heart; her son in England; Leslie and how him is a royal needle in her backside and Miss Gertie and her stinking tobacco breath. Aunty Cora did put Gwennie’s hand on the lump. Gwennie remember thinking how big it felt, about the size of her fist double-up, and just as hard.
Them did spend a long length of time discussing Peppy. Aunty Cora had plenty to ask, especially about the business concerning Peppy and the rest of siblings. And as the two of them lay stretch-out on Gwennie’s bed, the only bit of furniture inside the big, empty Foreign house, Aunty Cora tell her: ‘Me love, when that pickney come home the night and tell me that her brothers disown her, that them beat-beat her up and mash-up the dolly, I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know how me and you was going to make out.’ Aunty Cora clap her hands and shake her head slow. ‘I was ready to cross you off me syllabus as no-good and damn careless.’
And Gwennie never say anything, for she wasn’t sure what to say. She take a sip of the Diet Sprite she have lean up on the floor against the bed. ‘Guiding Light’ was playing on the TV out in the kitchen on the little enamel table. Now and again when she have the time, she watch it, for it always sweet her to see the deceitfulness in people’s heart, the way the characters lie and cheat on one another.
‘But thank God for that letter you send, explaining everything. For if you never have a good answer about your secret plans to travel abroad, and about this fellow, Percy, I was going to cross you off as damn worthless.’
Gwennie take another sip of the Sprite, her mind far back to the letter she write in response to Aunty Cora’s. She write it one evening before her meeting start, sitting down inside Percy’s car.
‘I plan was to come up there,’ Aunty Cora tell her, breaking into her thinking as she shift around on the bed. ‘I figure letter-writing wouldn’t be enough. Me and you was going to have to sit down and talk woman to woman. But me heart did soften a little,’ Aunty Cora say to her. ‘For me heart soften for any woman who have plenty pickney, who work, who have family life with husband to look about, and on top of that, find time to do little community work.’
Gwennie breathe free and easy after that, for she did write in her letter about how plenty times she wanted to come up and talk to Aunty Cora but sake of the meetings and the plenty time them take up with everything else, she couldn’t find the time.
‘For in me young days,’ Aunty Cora continue on, her fingers caressing the location of the lump on her belly, her eyes out of focus and far off, ‘when Anderson was alive, I was on a whole heap of board meetings meself.’ Aunty Cora raise her fingers off the lump and start to count. She still wear her two married rings. ‘Me was on coffee board, school board, church council board, road building board, and it never easy. Sometimes for days Anderson alone running the shop for I was so busy.’ Aunty Cora shake her head and push out her mouth.
‘And him never like it a damn tall. Him wanted to go out and look after the livestock, to farm and plant yam and potato and banana. Him wasn’t interested in shop life and to weigh out flour and sugar and measure out oil and cut tobacco. Miss Gertie used to help plenty, and thank God for Miss Irene, she look after all the children so me could go about me business.’ Aunty Cora stop to catch her breath and to sip a little of the Foreign rum.
‘But I couldn’t figure how you manage to allow the children to beat up Peppy and . . .’
Gwennie sigh deep. ‘The man was reading me letters. And after him finish, him tear them up. I didn’t know she was coming. All the letters from Samuel and from the Immigration office, I don’t let them go to the house. I give them me school address, for I can’t put down a thing in peace. Plenty evenings me come home and find the place turn upside down. Walter looking for what him don’t put down. Him looking for papers. All me clothes take off the hangers and search, all the drawers pull out, boxes that keep assignments for me students at school turn upside down. One suitcase I have underneath the bed that have birth certificates and receipts and insurance forms, him tear off the lock and turn it over.’
Gwennie raise up in the bed and look across at Aun
ty Cora. She try read the expression on Aunty Cora’s face, but it was mask ownself. Gwennie remember the Sunday, the Sunday evening Walter come back from New Green, the big quarrel them did have, the last quarrel. She know it was Aunty Cora who tell him she leaving for Foreign, but she couldn’t figure out how Aunty Cora find out, for she did warn Grandma not to tell anybody. Walter was not to be trusted.
‘Good thing I let me friend Percy keep them at his house,’ Gwennie continue. ‘I not sure how much Walter tell you,’ Gwennie pause, choosing her words careful, ‘but Percy is the fellow I met up at the school and turn friends with ever since.
‘The week before I leave, I call the children oneside to tell them. It wasn’t easy.’ Gwennie’s mind wasn’t on Aunty Cora or the letter anymore, it was back inside the house at Porous where she was sitting down inside the off-white couch, her children around her—she looking on them with sadness in her eyes, hoping them will understand, them looking back, eyes shifting round as if wanting to understand but not quite able to grasp what was going on. ‘I tell them I going away to get some rest. For if I don’t go, I will drop down in front them. I tell them I love them and that them Uncle Samuel and his wife kind enough to invite me to spend time and to get a little rest.
‘And I look at them all around me, Aunty Cora—Rudi, Del, Dave, Jeff, the baby was sleeping, and them just look back on me, not saying anything, almost like them dead inside. I tell them it would only be for two months. By the time them open and shut them eyes, the two months will be over, and I would be right there back with them. Well, is two months going on four years.’ Gwennie sigh out loud and the eye water start to bubble-up around her eyes. She reach over for the half-empty can of Sprite, and Aunty Cora raise up and change her position. Outside a motorbike roar pass and after the noise die down, Gwennie continue on, her voice hoarse.
‘Del don’t even write. Since I left she don’t pick up pen and paper to write. Almost as if she vex with me. Dave write, but after him complain how him hate living with Grandma, him send a long list with things I must send. Sneakers and sweat pants and so. No little tenderness inside the letters. Only Rudi alone write . . .’
And with that song, the bubbles in her eyes burst forth and run down her face. And even when Aunty Cora reach over to rub Gwennie’s hands in her own, the crying never stop. And Aunty Cora rock her and sway her, all the time muttering over and over again, ‘Aah gal, life not easy a blasted tall.’
And after what seem like a good ten minutes, Gwennie take a deep breath and start again, her voice little bit more strong and the bubbles under control. ‘When Samuel see how me worry-up and fret-up meself over me children, him go and get the lawyer. The fellow come from back home too, but him damn expensive nevertheless. Samuel file for me citizenship, for me couldn’t get any more extension on me visa. Me time was up.’
Gwennie turn around inside the bed and face Aunty Cora. It was the first time since Aunty Cora’s visit that she feel relax all the way. The feeling she have now remind her of when Mr Anderson was still alive and she and Samuel used to go over to New Green every Christmas and spend time with Buddy, Aunty Cora’s son. Aunty Cora’s face was stronger then, her hair not as white, jaw not as slack.
‘So me file for them after the lawyer clear me.’
‘What about Peppy?’ Aunty Cora’s eyes cease from wandering around and look hard at Gwennie.
Gwennie catch her breath. She wonder if Aunty Cora think she avoiding the little girl. ‘Me file for everybody, all me children.’ Gwennie pause long. She feel an aching coming on.
Aunty Cora turn the rum-water glass to her head and drain it. ‘You must write to write her, Gwennie. She will keep good correspondence.’
Gwennie nod her head. ‘She ask about me?’
‘But yes.’ Aunty Cora’s voice harden at the edges. ‘After all she don’t know you a tall.’
Gwennie sigh again. ‘What she ask?’ Her fingers were starting to twine around one another.
Aunty Cora scratch her head. It was silver all over. Since her arrival, Gwennie been combing it, parting and plaiting it every day. Usually she don’t get to comb it but once a week for she wear the wig all the time. ‘You know,’ Aunty Cora wrinkle her brow, ‘things pickney ask . . . Lord, I can’t remember now.’
‘Well, things will be better when she come.’
‘No,’ Aunty Cora grunt. ‘Write her now. Make friendship with her, first.’
‘You think she alright with Walter?’
Aunty Cora shrug. ‘She and Rudi get on. She don’t mention much about Walter in her letters.’
‘Rudi always mention her in his. Say him glad she there. The two of them get on in truth.’
Aunty Cora shift around in her bed. ‘You ever think about him, Gwennie? Peppy’s father?’
‘Sometimes.’ Gwennie let out a long sigh. ‘Sometimes I wonder if him know about her. But I don’t think about him often. That pass and gone.’ Gwennie raise up. ‘Come me fix you another drink.’
Aunty Cora never say anything else. And Gwennie wasn’t sure what to say herself. No, she don’t think about Luther, often. But then she don’t have to think about Luther to remember. Things like these don’t go any place but deep inside you belly where them sit down and form things hard like the lump inside Aunty Cora’s belly.
And even months after Aunty Cora left, Gwennie would still find herself thinking often about Peppy, even looking forward to her visit. The other children too, but Peppy mostly. She wouldn’t arrive till later though, according to how she and Samuel figure, but that alright. Aunty Cora say she playing the organ nicely at church and her brain quick in school, love to chat and argue just like she, Gwennie. Gwennie did smile to herself. Maybe if them hit it off when she come, them can talk. Maybe she might have interest in some of the meetings, she, Gwennie used to be involved in, but don’t have time for anymore. Maybe she will turn out ambitious, make something of herself, so that she, Gwennie can feel proud of her.
Gwennie reach the gate, damp with sweat and out of breath as usual. She careful not to take off her sweater outside, as hot as she was. Samuel tell her that is grounds for pneumonia, for Foreign weather and back home not the same. She pick up the little envelope with the housekey from out the mail box and step through the gate. Only one car was in the driveway, the Volkswagen. That means Lucille on call, and it was Bill’s weekend off. Gwennie kiss her teeth under her breath. She hope Bill have plans for the day, for as much as she like the two of them, she still don’t want them in her way while she working. Them always want to chat. And is not that she don’t like to sit down and chat with them, but she have plenty things to do and she would rather just do her work and go home, for she tired.
Gwennie never have to use the key, for the front door was wide open. She step inside the kitchen.
‘Good morning, Gwen.’ Bill was sitting down around the table drinking coffee from the big ‘Good Morning America’ mug. Him get up and pull out a chair for Gwennie, handing her an extra mug. Him was bright and cheery. Gwennie wonder what it was. ‘Doesn’t this coffee smell wonderful?’ him say out loud, filling up her mug.
Gwennie puzzle-up her face. Him was too cheerful. She wasn’t really a coffee woman, but she sip some anyway. Then a small smile start to gather-up around her mouth corner. It spread crossway her face. She take another big sip of the coffee. ‘Oh! So you buy the coffee from back home. Blue Mountain. You like it?’
‘It’s really wonderful, Gwen. Lu even took some to work.’
Gwennie grin even broader.
‘And you know what else, Gwen?’ Bill’s grin was almost as broad as Gwennie’s. ‘Last night Lu and I went to that restaurant, the one on Talbot Avenue that your friend, Daphne gave you the address for.’
Gwennie look up at him. Surprise write all over her face.
‘The food was so good, Gwennie. I ate like a pig. I had that Escovitch Fish you were talking about.’ Bill lick his lips.
Him did have on thick, black frame glasses that morning. They
make him look younger than his thirty-four years. Him was still wearing pyjamas and his wavy brown hair with the sprinklings of white look as if him run neither comb nor brush through it since morning.
‘Lu had goat, Curried Goat. She drank about a quart of water with that. It was so peppery, but good. We’re going back there, Gwen. We’re going to take our friends. It was too good.’
Gwennie put her hand to her jaw. She never know what to say. She just look at the grin spread crossway Bill’s face. She did hand them the address last week, but she never expected them to go. Something about Bill remind her of Rudi. She can’t quite put her fingers on it. Maybe is the way him was always trying to please her, always trying to get on her good side. Sometimes when she arrive at work with her face a little-bit longish, him would always want know what is the problem. When she just started working there, and him find out where she was from, him went out and bought several cassettes of popular singers back home, playing them over and over till him learn the words by heart. Now his collection even bigger.
But then sometimes him and Lu quarrel, and him turn into completely different person. Fling and break things, and a whole heap of cursing. She remember one Saturday morning, after letting in herself as usual, a whole heap of door slamming and bangarang greet her from upstairs. Fear grab her same time, and she couldn’t tell whether or not it was damn thief in the house, or if the two of them was up there killing one another.
She grab a heavy dish pan from out the cupboard, and head towards the stairway, only to see Lu running down the stairs, face red and blotchy and tear-stained, while upstairs Bill was cursing ‘bitch’ and ‘damn’ and ‘shit’, brushing offhand-full of things off dressers, slamming doors, breaking bottles against the wall, flinging out books through the window.
And Gwennie just sigh long and hard, wait till her heartbeat settle down back to normal, then head back to the kitchen to put down the heavy dish pan.
Me Dying Trial Page 16