And then Rudi in his white suit came over, and started hugging her up tight. But behind the hugging she could feel his eye water wetting up the back of her neck and hear him whispering to her over and over. ‘I didn’t know,’ him say, ‘I didn’t know a tall. I feel so ashamed. All this time I was so preoccupied with other things, I didn’t know you was doing so well. Me and you used to be so close. Share every little thing. Now you making long speech that sound so good and winning so much and I don’t know what’s going on anymore.’
And she was a little bit embarrassed, for some of her classmates started to gather around ready to congratulate her on getting away with so much scholarship money, and here was Rudi laying crossway her shoulder crying during this period of merriment. And so in all her embarrassment Peppy never notice Gwennie hovering in the background not quite certain if she to join the circle or wait till them go home. Peppy’s eyes meet Merle’s at same time, and all of a sudden she wish she was back at Merle’s little one-bedroom apartment, wrap up safe underneath her heavy quilt, with Nagasaki’s cold nose press close against her chest. But Peppy brace herself and introduce Gwennie to Mr Taylor. Then to Merle. And Gwennie was very polite. She engaged herself in small talk with them about the size of the auditorium, the excellence of the acoustics and the amazement of everybody about Peppy’s achievements.
Then Merle squeeze Peppy’s hand and tell her good night. Mr Taylor take leave as well, and Del too, for she did have Young People’s meeting to attend. Then it was Rudi and Gwennie and Peppy. Rudi cry excuse. Him was going go pick up the car and bring it around to the front. Then it was Peppy and Gwennie. And Gwennie’s face seemed older and tired. Her jawbone wasn’t as tight. She losing weight it seems, the purple frock she have on with the white embroidery at the collar wasn’t flattering, it just hang off. But to tell the truth, Peppy wasn’t sure if that was her natural weight or not, for from that day in the kitchen, Peppy and Gwennie’s eyes never connected again, going on two years now.
And Gwennie open her purse, take out a white envelope and give Peppy. And the heat that pass from Gwennie’s finger to Peppy’s as them accidentally touch was so hot, it cause Peppy to pull back same time, dropping the envelope.
‘Sorry,’ she mumble and bend down to pick up, for she didn’t want to stand up there with Gwennie. She wanted to leave and go home, she was tired, the day was long. Down on the ground, she didn’t take notice of what was inside the envelope, she think instead of the dreams about her father that don’t come anymore, Aunty Cora’s body, bloat-up and black. Then she hear Gwennie clear her throat from up above, so she straighten up herself and tell Gwennie thanks.
‘The University you going,’ Gwennie say to her, her face composed, eyes cover over expressionless, ‘I use to do day’s work for a man that teach there. Stevens. Nelson Stevens. I think him teach English literature, so many books about Dickens and Thackeray and Brontê were in the house, it have to be.
‘You will like Nelson Stevens,’ Gwennie continue on. ‘His wife not as pleasant, but him easy to talk to, kind gentleman. When you start school I will give him a call.’ Then she pause, waiting for Peppy to respond. But Peppy never have anything to say, her fingers were twined up around the envelope, her back tense. ‘The students at the University used to call the house all the time,’ Gwennie continue on, face pensive. ‘Sometimes him even invite them over, young children, gal and boy alike, young like yourself, and them would sit down in the study and chat with him about politics and geography and social studies. Them the courses you must take plenty of,’ Gwennie tell her, ‘teach you plenty about world affairs, and allow you to hold a point in long conversation.
‘Them did have a young baby.’ Gwennie’s face was far off, and a youthfulness and calm came over it. ‘Well, not so young now, about Rosa’s age. Cheryl was her name. The wife didn’t know a thing about baby caring, not one blast.’ Gwennie chuckle.
And as Gwennie go on talk about Nelson Stevens’ wife, Mary-Jane Stevens, and how she did have a child-care book in every room, perhaps so she can lay her hand on one in cases of emergency, Peppy couldn’t understand this peculiarness that come over her mother. Imagine two good years and not a word pass between them. Peppy sigh. Her mother was so cheerful now, her face almost peaceful. Aunty Cora used to say what don’t happen in a year, happen in a day. And Gwennie was still on the subject of Mary-Jane Stevens when Rudi came back inside to tell them the car was ready and waiting outside. The auditorium was empty by this time.
Beacon Press
Boston, Massachusetts
www.beacon.org
Beacon Press books
are published under the auspices of
the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations.
© 1993, 2003 by Patricia Powell
Introduction © 2003 by Beacon Press
All rights reserved
First published by Heinemann Educational Publishers in 1993.
Text design and composition by Daniel Barks
Cover art and design by Louis Roe
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Me dying trial / Patricia Powell.
p. cm. — (Celebrating Black Women Writers)
ISBN 978-0-8070-1972-6 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-8070-1981-8 (ebook)
1. AIDS (Disease)—Patients—Fiction. 2. Gay men—Fiction. 3. Jamaica—Fiction. I. Title. II. Series.
PR9265.9.P68M4 2003
813’54—dc22 2003057942
Me Dying Trial Page 25