When Life Gives You Mangos

by Kereen Getten

  He drags me away as a group of people gathers on top of the rocks and a rope is thrown down. I find out later it was too late. They didn’t get to her in time.

  * * *

  —

  Every day after the accident, I would wake to find Gaynah sitting at the edge of my bed. She was like the Gaynah I remembered. Her hair was long and straight. Every day she would say the same thing: “Come on, you can’t sleep forever.” I would pull the covers over my head and not move until I was sure she was gone.

  One day, I woke up to see Gaynah’s long eyelashes blinking at me. Her bag was safe across her chest.

  “Get up, lazy. There’s a new girl coming today.”

  It was as if nothing had happened. I was living the day all over again. Only this time, we would not go to the beach. This time, we would avoid the beach at all costs. It would be just as I wanted it. The new girl would be my new friend. I would take her to the fort and the river, and maybe to the city if we’re lucky. I will show her the banana grove and my secret hideout. It would be the summer I wanted but never got.

  My face is wet with tears and my throat feels like stones are inside. “I think I must have wanted the summer we were meant to have. But things were different. Gaynah hated me, it was like she blamed me for everything.”

  Eldorath waits patiently for me to finish. “Gaynah isn’t mad at you,” he says softly. “You are mad at yourself. She is here because you can’t let her go. The arguments, the adventures, everything you have done is all you. This is what you wanted. Clara. You are controlling all this.”

  I think about the river and Gaynah laughing at me. I think about her revealing my secret dugout. Gaynah didn’t do any of those things when she was alive. Sure, she said some mean things, and she treated me pretty badly for a best friend, but the river, the dugout, I made that up. I needed a reason to be mad at Gaynah. Maybe I haven’t forgiven her for the argument on the beach because that’s how it all started.

  “What happens now?”

  When he doesn’t answer, I look up and he is a blur. “I’ve made peace with my ghosts a long time ago. Now, dear Clara, it’s time for you to make peace with yours.”

  WHEN I ENTER THE ROOM, GAYNAH looks up angrily. “Where have you been? I thought you left me and went home. I looked everywhere for you.”

  I collapse onto the bed to stop my legs from shaking.

  She stands above me, glaring down. “Well? Where have you been? And how are you going to explain this to my mama, because she’s going to be mad at you for bringing me here.”

  I stare at the carpet with its swirly lines and white dots. “I didn’t bring you here. You followed me,” I say quietly.

  “No, I didn’t. You brought me here.”

  I realize she’s right. I did bring her here. I bring her everywhere. Make peace with your past, Eldorath said, so I raise my eyes to meet hers.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” The words tumble out in a river of pain, and my voice cracks under the strain.

  Gaynah’s eyes widen. “Why do I hate you? Why do you hate me?”

  I fumble over my words, completely confused. “What? Why do you think I hate you?”

  “Because you left me, knowing full well I couldn’t swim.”

  I lose my breath and sink to the floor. The room closes in. I cover my head with my hands to block out the thoughts of that day, but they still seep in, forcing their way through the cracks. I must be screaming, because Eldorath rushes in. He gets down on the floor next to me, saying words I can’t hear.

  After some soothing, the clouds slowly clear.

  “Clara, remember what I said. It’s all in your head,” he says, peering under my arm so I can see him. “She’s only saying what you’re thinking. Remember, you’re keeping her here. It’s your story she’s reliving. There were so many questions I asked myself when I realized I was seeing the ghost of my father. What was I blaming myself for? Why couldn’t I let go? And the truth is, there is nothing I could have done, just as there is nothing you could have done. If you want it to stop, then you must first stop blaming yourself.”

  I’m not convinced. There are so many things I could have done to stop her from swimming to that rock. I knew the waves could be powerful around there. Just because it looked calm didn’t mean it was. Papa told me all the time to never take the sea for granted. Always be prepared, he said. It can change at any second. I failed him. I failed Gaynah.

  I wipe the tears away, but they come back just as quickly. “I should have told you not to swim over there, Gaynah. I’m sorry.” I see her take a breath. Her shoulders go limp and she turns. We look at each other for what seems like the first time, and I feel a deep sadness for her that I cannot describe.

  I wish I had told her I was sorry at the beach.

  None of this would have happened if I had just said sorry.

  * * *

  —

  I’m woken by someone shaking my arm When I open my eyes, Mama is standing over me, her eyes filled with worry. I rub my eyes and look around. It takes me some time to remember I am in Eldorath’s house. Mama points a flashlight at my face and I squint in its glare. She tells me to get up. I turn to wake Gaynah, but she is gone.

  “Is the storm over?”

  Mama grabs me by the arm and leads me out of the bedroom, where Papa is waiting on the landing.

  “Is the storm over, she says.” She repeats my words to Papa, who asks me if I am okay. They usher me down the stairs in the pitch-black, and I wonder if they sneaked in without telling Eldorath, because none of the lights are on.

  It’s only when we reach the front door that I see him hovering in the darkness, a gown wrapped tightly around him. The electricity must have gone, because Eldorath has a flashlight too.

  “Thank you for looking after her,” Papa says, hugging his brother firmly. “We tried to get here sooner, but the storm wasn’t letting us.”

  “Don’t be too hard on her,” Eldorath says, nodding to me. “She’s special.”

  Papa glances down at me and agrees, pulling me closer. Then he says, “Will you come with us?”

  I look up at Eldorath with pleading eyes, but he shakes his head, forcing a smile. “Not today,” he says quietly.

  Papa opens the front door, and the howling wind rushes in as though it has been waiting for us. “You’ll come and see us soon?” Papa asks Eldorath, and I can tell it’s not the first time he’s asked, because he doesn’t wait for Eldorath to answer.

  Papa turns to face the rain, wraps a towel over my head, and pulls me to him, bracing me for the outside.

  “Ready?” he shouts to Mama over the noise of the storm.

  “She’s gone,” I choke.

  Papa looks down at me. “Who?”

  “Gaynah.”

  They both exchange that look I have seen so many times. The look that says they know Gaynah has been gone for some time.

  Papa squeezes me closer and kisses my forehead. “Let’s get you home.”

  Pastor Brown is waiting in his car on the narrow road that leads back to our village. He is watching a wavering tree nervously when Papa opens the door, and we jump in. Juliette is in the front seat next to Pastor Brown, while me, Mama, and Papa squeeze into the back. Juliette turns, scowling at me.

  “Not now, Juliette,” Mama warns.

  Juliette faces forward again. “That girl will be the death of us all,” she mumbles.

  I scowl at the back of her head. No one asked her to come out in the storm. The car rocks from side to side on the stony road. The wind and rain are the only sounds we hear for the rest of the journey home.

  Rudy is fast asleep in my bed, so Papa must have convinced Ms. Gee to stay. I slip under the sheets, being careful not to wake her. Mama tucks me into bed like a baby, while Papa waits for her by the curtains. Mama kneels on the floor and st
rokes my face.

  “I didn’t mean to worry everyone,” I whisper, because I want her to know I’m not a bad person like Pastor Brown suggests. “We—I just got trapped in the storm.”

  She nods. “I know, baby, but you know how special you are to us.”

  She kisses me on the forehead, then joins Papa at the door.

  “Mama,” I whisper before they leave, “is this why you didn’t want me to go to Eldorath’s house?”

  “What do you mean, baby?” she says. Papa lays a hand on her shoulder.

  “Because he knew that I saw Gaynah.”

  Papa smiles. “It’s all good now, though, right?”

  I nod because it is, but it doesn’t answer my question. They leave, pulling the curtain behind them.

  Outside I hear their lowered tones. Pastor Brown, Juliette, Mama, and Papa. Eventually they say their goodbyes, and the front door closes.

  THE NEXT MORNING, MAMA IS THE first one outside assessing the damage. Her loud gasps wake me. I join her, Ms. Gee, and Papa outside. Rudy is a few seconds behind me, and so is her mom, barefoot in a head tie and nightie. Ms. Gee demands to know what Mama sees, so Mama describes what is in front of her.

  The roof is the worst of our damage. The zinc roof over the kitchen is completely gone. Mama and Papa tried to give it a temporary fix last night while we all slept. The mango tree was completely blown over and is now leaning against the house. The yard is sprayed with telephone lines, a chicken pen from someone’s house, and a random chair. Branches are everywhere.

  Slowly people emerge from their houses. There is a silence that only implodes with cries of dismay as something else is discovered. From our yard I can see that Gaynah’s house is damaged. Her roof, just like ours, has taken a major hit. Ms. Gee demands we guide her back to her house. No one argues because we are as desperate to see as she is. Still in our nightclothes, we make the slow, painstaking journey down the hill, stepping over zinc panels, branches, and fallen trees.

  I feel Rudy brush beside me. She slips her hand into mine, gripping me tightly.

  Water streams down the hill like a river, bringing rubble and branches with it. We pass Pastor Brown’s house, and his wall is damaged, his roof in the same state as everyone else’s. Ms. Gee is unusually quiet. She doesn’t ask for any more updates, but that’s maybe because she can tell from our silence it is not good.

  When we reach her yard, she lets go of Papa’s arm, then feels her way across the garden to the steps to her house. Papa rushes over and grabs her, but she fights him off. She feels in front of her frantically.

  “Where is it? Where’s my house?”

  No one wants to be the one to tell her. There is nothing left but the steps.

  Ms. Gee’s house is a crumbled heap on the ground. Broken wood and furniture litter her yard. We knew of all the houses to be hit the worst, it would be hers.

  All her belongings are scattered around the yard. Her mattress is stuck in a bush, her dining table in bits. She has lost everything, even her rocking chair, the one she sat in every day. Ms. Gee collapses on the steps, wailing, her voice echoing over the hill.

  Her screams bring everyone running. Not just Pastor Brown and Calvin, who live around the corner. Everyone. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes more; some dressed, others still, like us, in their nightclothes. Within minutes Ms. Gee’s yard is filled with neighbors all surveying the scene in utter dismay.

  Ms. Gee has always been part of Sycamore Hill. Ever since I was born. Ever since Mama was born. Everyone knows Ms. Gee as the mean old lady, but they say it with fondness. They roll their eyes when they hear her yelling and chuckle when they see me running. They talk among themselves about how her face is so mean, it’s going to stick that way.

  Ms. Gee is the real head of our hill. If you know Sycamore Hill, you know Ms. Gee. The kids are frightened of her, but no one hates her. She is just miserable Ms. Gee. So with her house destroyed, it is as if our own houses were destroyed. Her tears are our tears, because Ms. Gee never cries.

  People begin to pick up pieces of her house and place them in piles. Someone finds a broom, someone else pulls her mattress from the bush. Rudy and her mom sit on either side of Ms. Gee and do not leave her.

  I roam among the rubble, collecting items I know Ms. Gee will not want to lose. Her Bible from the tree branches and pieces of wood. A gold necklace with a cross, sticking out of the dirt. I bend down, brushing away the dirt and rubble to find a bunch of letters neatly packed together with a ribbon. The envelopes are soaking wet, but I recognize the ink stamp on the top right-hand side of the letters: New York.

  I look around for Calvin and find him gathering branches to make a pile. I thrust the letters under his nose. He peers at it. “What is it?”

  I wait until he throws the branches on a pile and walks over to me, taking the letters out of my hand.

  “You’ve never seen them before?”

  He frowns, flicking through the white envelopes. “No.”

  “Ms. Gee never asked you to read them to her?”

  He shakes his head, handing them back to me.

  “What about Anton? Or the twins?”

  “Don’t you think we would know if they read letters from New York?” he says, piling more branches into his arms. “Nothing happens around here, remember?”

  I look over at Rudy and her mom. So if none of us collected Ms. Gee’s letters and read them to her, then who did?

  Papa stands on the steps and asks for everyone’s attention.

  “This is a terrible thing for all of us,” he says somberly. “This is our community. When one of us suffers, we all suffer. When one of our houses is gone, it feels like all our houses are gone. I know you all want to help, so let us do this the right way. Let us go home, get dressed, have some food, and meet back here in a few hours. There is a lot to do, but let us start here.”

  Everyone agrees and returns to their own homes.

  FOR THE NEXT WEEK, THE HILL gets busy cleaning up after the storm. Papa organizes everyone to start at Ms. Gee’s house, the worst hit. We work in the intense heat, collecting pieces of wood that used to be Ms. Gee’s house and placing them in a pile.

  Pastor Brown offers to go into town to get bottles of water to keep us going, but I think he just doesn’t want to work in the sun.

  I don’t see Gaynah and assume she has gone. I can’t help but feel a sense of loss all over again. She was my best friend. I miss our adventures. Even the sad ones down at the river. Even the arguments. I miss them all.

  Amber Wilson scoops handfuls of leaves from the ground, making a pile. She glances at me from under her long eyelashes. “It was me,” she says quietly.

  I look up at her blankly.

  “I told Anton about your hideout.”

  I stand, placing my arms firmly on my hips, and glare at her.

  “I can see the back of your house from the coconut tree in our yard. I go there sometimes to think. Training for relays gets to be a lot sometimes and, you know, parents. The pressure is a lot, you know?” She pauses. “I was there when you ran in by yourself. I saw you take those mangos from the ground and hide in there. I told Calvin and Anton, but I didn’t think they were going to say anything. I thought it was cool you had somewhere to go and hide. I wish I had somewhere like that.”

  I think back to that day at the river when Anton made fun of me. When I blamed Gaynah before I knew Gaynah wasn’t real.

  “It was you,” I say quietly, almost relieved. After I knew Gaynah wasn’t real, I started to think I had made those things up, that they weren’t real either. I nod slowly. “Okay.”

  “You’re not mad?” she asks.

  And I realize I’m not. Before, I would have been mad, but something has changed in me. I have made peace with my past and no longer feel angry. “No,” I say, and I walk away. Amber and I will
never be close friends, but maybe if I go to my hideout, I will look for her in the tree, and maybe, just maybe, if I feel like it, I might invite her down.

  * * *

  —

  Collecting all the wood takes a full day. After we have all the wood in one pile, we sort out what can be reused.

  Ms. Gee refuses to build a new house from brick like the rest of us, and I can tell Papa is frustrated that we might be doing this all over again after the next storm.

  On the second day, around late afternoon, Rudy and I are busy sweeping the leaves in the yard, when the normal chatter and laughter around me stops.

  I look around, and everyone is staring toward the entrance of Ms. Gee’s yard. It’s Eldorath, dressed in his usual purple suit, even on this hot day. Rudy squeals and runs over to him. My heart beats fast and I run to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I hear his relief as he hugs us back.

  “Was this a bad idea?” he asks me through a fixed smile. I shake my head, knowing deep down this might not go well. This is the first time anyone has seen Eldorath at a gathering for years. Calvin shakes his hand, but Eldorath pulls him into a tight hug. It’s as if we have all been through something special together, something no one else could understand. Even if the village doesn’t accept Eldorath, at least he has us now.

  Papa approaches us and shakes Eldorath’s hand. “Thanks for coming, brother,” he says, and his voice is a little shaky as they hold on to each other for a little longer than normal. “You here to help?”

  Eldorath looks behind Papa at the staring crowd. “Yes, if you want me to?” It is more of a question whether Papa wants him there, and I wait anxiously for Papa to do the right thing.

  Papa turns to the curious faces and points to a pile of wood. “We’re sorting out the good wood from the bad.” Papa glances at Eldorath’s attire. “You might want to take that off, though. It won’t stay that pretty.”