Thu, 05 Nov 2026 02:23:28 -0500WeeblyTue, 03 Nov 2026 04:02:11 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-twenty-two-jeremyI saw no other way out. Jersey would be the move, and I had to get on that as soon as possible. To make Marsha feel comfortable, I considered areas that were right over the George Washington Bridge. Uncle Marvin suggested a little further out, in areas where there were more relatives. I settled on East Orange. It wasn’t the best part of Jersey, but since my relatives were nearby and there was a large Haitian community, I knew we would be safe and welcome.
Marsha thought the battery charge was business-related, but it wasn’t. I’d gotten into it with a guy over a girl and a domino game. I had a friend named Barry who held weekly domino games in his backyard or basement, depending on the season or weather. Barry lived in the cutthroat neighborhood of Edenwald, where gunshots were as common as cracks in the sidewalks and sirens were the background music.
On that night, the game was in the basement. I wasn’t particularly fond of hanging out in the basement, but I was stressed about an issue with an arms shipment, and Uncle Marvin was on my neck about it. Not being able to go into Brooklyn made things harder on everybody, and Uncle Marvin was forced to do things he’d tried to phase himself out of. He and I met in lower Manhattan earlier that evening, and the meeting went smoothly as usual. Uncle Marvin cut me the most slack in the family, but not this time. I needed to blow off some steam and perhaps win an extra dollar or two. So I figured I could stomach the stale beer and old carpet smells for a few hours before cuddling up to Marsha at home.
As usual, I dominated the table, collecting everyone’s paycheck leftovers. All the while, a quiet Jamaican, with skin as dark as night, about my height, and a broad stature, skulked in the corner watching. Finally, he sat down across from me, looking for a challenge. When I won the first round, he sucked his teeth. Money lost and all, none of the usuals on the table were sore losers. This guy, however, made it clear that he wasn’t too thrilled about being on the downside of my winning streak.
“Barry, how long ya gonna let a cheater take up everybody money?” the guy growled.
“Cheater?” I retorted. I was used to being called a cheater, but not in this regard. Dominoes was something I was actually good at. I had absolutely no reason to cheat. I played for fun, to decompress, and because it guaranteed me extra spending money. If there was anything I didn’t have to do, it certainly wasn’t cheat at a dominoes game for money, when I made more off his illegalities in a day than all of these guys made in their biweekly paychecks. “Who’s the cheater?” I asked for clarification.
“You!” The guy pointed his sausage-sized finger across the table directly at me.
I tried to laugh it off. “Look, if you can’t take the heat, then get out the kitchen. Ain’t that what the Americans say?”
“Word,” said someone in the background.
“It’s not heat mi cyan take. It’s cheaters mi nah like!” The guy pounded his two fists on the table, rattling the dominoes out of place.
“Yo, take ya losses or get up from the table, dude!” I hurled the words back at him, letting him know I wasn’t no punk.
The guy stood, and I stood too.
“Ah, who di bumbaclot you ah talk?” the guy roared.
Finally, Barry came over to settle the situation that was not going to settle itself. “Kev, sit down,” he insisted. But Kevin shrugged Barry away.
“Whole time mi ah watch dis guy play, mi say mi know him from some place. Him ah cheat pon di table and him a cheat pon him woman too!”
Something jolted through me. Was this one of Marsha’s brothers? To my knowledge, none of them were in the States, and Marsha didn’t interact with them much either. Why now? My mind raced. I’m being good. I haven’t touched another woman in weeks.
“What di hell ya talkin’?” Barry shouted.
“Now mi recognize him,” Kevin went on. “Dis di one dogged out mi sister!”
“I don’t know your sister, man,” I chanced.
“You don’t remember Chantel?” Kevin was now coming around the table.
For a split second, I didn’t remember Chantel. But looking at the guy’s features, it hit me. I’d slept with that girl one time, months ago. She got all upset when she asked me to leave Marsha, and I refused, and I never spoke to her again. I rolled my eyes. “Your sister was never my woman. Didn’t she move on? Let that shit go. Me and my lady is good. Been good. Know what? I’m out.” I moved to step around Kevin, but Kevin shoved me, knocking me off balance for a moment. It baffled me that the guy was willing to take it there after all this time. He don’t know me, I said to myself as I decked the guy square in the nose.
“Yo! Yo! Yo!” Barry shouted, not wanting any violence in his hovel. But it was too late. Kevin charged forward, not caring that blood gushed from his nose. He threw a punch, but I dodged it, sending him flying forward into a wall. Barry and a few others scrambled to break up the fight, but Kevin was back on his feet in a flash.
“Vin chen!” I challenged him in Creole.
Kevin, looking more frustrated that he had no idea what I was saying to him, slung his arm around my neck and pressed me down into a stifling headlock. I could feel the pressure tightening around my throat, making me lightheaded.
“Mi ah go kill you, you fuckin dutty bumbaclot Haitian bwoy,” Kevin snarled.
As I gasped for air, I reached for and grabbed a beer bottle teetering on the edge of the domino table. I managed to swing upwards and crash the bottle down on top of Kevin’s head. Kevin’s grip on my neck loosened as he fell to the floor, holding his head. Blood colored his black skin red and soaked the front of his clothes. I stood out of breath and rushed for the door, but was backed in by the police with their guns out.
We all got picked up, but I was the only one held on a battery charge. It was time to get out of The Bronx.
]]>Fri, 30 Oct 2026 03:24:19 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-twenty-one-marsha“Marsha, girl, what are you doing?” Desireé asked as the two girls sat in their school uniforms on her front steps.
Marsha looked down at her clothes, confused. Never wanting to show what she didn’t know, she didn’t bother asking Desireé what she was doing there or how they’d ended up back in Antigua. Yet, somehow she knew what Desireé was talking about. 
“I am doing what I have to do,” she answered. “Everybody tink I’m a fool, and I don’t know anyting, but I know what I have to do in this situation.”
“This isn’t you,” Desireé said softly.
Marsha could see the concern in her eyes.
“You would never let a man bring you to this, to so much humiliation. It’s like I don’t even know who you are. You let a whole summer go by since meeting this man, and you haven’t done any traveling. What happened to that? You were supposed to start traveling after undergrad.”
Marsha took a sharp breath. “Mi nuh have time fa tink ‘bout that.”
“Why? Because you spent the summer running behind Jeremy? You almost got shot! Matter of fact, before that, the red flags were there!” Desireé seemed near hysterics.
Marsha matched her energy. “Mi nah know what yuh talkin ‘bout! The man never do me nuthin until last night, and even then, it was nuthin!”
“You gotta be kidding me! Sheila told you from the get-go, then there was the situation with Tina, the chick in the club in Miami, you almost got shot! I don’t know how that wasn’t the last straw right there. But nah, you stayed around. Now he got a beeper—”
“I have one too—”
“Oh, shut up, Marsha! That beeper is for his ho’s. One of the ho’s you caught him with in the club last night,” Desireé shrieked. She jumped off the steps and stood in front of Marsha with her arms folded. 
Marsha noted the long, square-shaped acrylic tips and wondered where she’d gotten them done. They didn’t get their nails done in Antigua the way they did in New York. “If me ah try fa leave he, everybody’ll be right, and I’ll be wrong. If I don’t stay on him, he’ll mek a bunch of babies out there like muh father. I didn’t follow my dreams, so this has to be worth it. He can be a perfect mon. Muh know he can.”
“Wake the fuck up!” Desireé yelled. She shoved Marsha so hard that Marsha lost her balance. She gasped for air as she anticipated the back of her skull hitting the concrete step behind her.

*****



My eyes popped open at the sound of Jeremy’s key turning in the lock. As I sat up, I felt a slight dizziness. Slow down, I told myself. As I gained my bearings, I thought about the dream. Desireé. I shook my head as if I were shaking up the details of my delusion to make them make sense. Jeremy appeared in the doorway. The sight of him rattled my stomach. I jumped out of bed and scrambled for the toilet. The Antiguan breakfast that I’d enjoyed so much now had me hugging the commode. 
Jeremy followed me into the bathroom. Without a word, he made a cold compress with my washcloth. When I was done, I flushed the toilet and sat on the edge of the tub. Jeremy filled a cup with cold tap water. He held the compress to my forehead and helped me sip from the plastic vessel.
“What’s up?” he finally asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Where did you get the fish from?”
“Hill Avenue,” Jeremy said nonchalantly.
I nodded. “Maybe it’s just muh cycle comin on,” I pondered out loud.
Jeremy nodded his head this time. “You want some ginger tea?”
“No tanks. I can just go lay down.” I stood from the edge of the tub slowly and took my time getting back to the bedroom. I could think of nothing other than lying back down. The bed, even after my strange dream, seemed like the safest place to be. 
“It’s late,” Jeremy said as he followed me. “You didn’t have anything other than breakfast?”
“No,” I said flatly. “I was tired, so I went back to bed.”
“You still tired?”
“I just don’t feel well, Jeremy,” I moaned. He was getting on my nerves. I wondered where he’d been all day, but at the same time I wanted him to go back there. I was lying in the bed; he was standing by the window, and somehow there wasn’t enough distance between us. He was in my way. 
Either Jeremy was ignoring my energy, or he didn’t feel it because, instead of leaving the room as I wished he would, he sat on the end of the bed and took my feet into his lap. I pulled her knees up to my chest.
“You don’t want a foot rub?” Jeremy said, his voice dripping with confusion.
“No, thank you,” I said abruptly.
“Okay,” Jeremy now sounded disappointed, but I could not concern myself with that. 
“I want to be alone,” I admitted, without looking at him.
That was all he needed. “Okay,” he said. He was gone until the wee hours of the morning.

*****



There was no need to discuss it. We would not be attending church the next morning. In fact, we would not be attending church at all anymore. I was embarrassed, and I was surprised at how much of a toll that humiliation took on me, to the point of actually feeling ill. I didn’t vomit anymore, but I didn’t feel normal. To distract myself, I put my waning energy into the undone Saturday chores.
Once the house was clean, I tweaked my lesson plans for the week. Again, Jeremy spent his time coming in and out of the house. I didn’t bother to ask where he was going. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I just didn’t have the energy to talk about it. I told myself I would get to it later. 
After a few days, my curiosity started to nag at me again. This time I was struck with the idea to check Jeremy’s beeper at night and write down the numbers I didn’t recognize. I planned to call the numbers back when I had the chance. I kept them scribbled in the back of a notebook I used for work. Jeremy never looked in my workbag or paid any mind to what I used to teach, so I wasn’t worried about him finding anything.
The next Friday rolled around, and I had the opportunity to make some calls. Jeremy picked me up from work, dropped me at home, and drove off claiming he’d be back shortly. That was around four o’clock in the afternoon. It was after eleven when I found myself sitting by the phone with the numbers taunting me.
“You got us,” they seemed to whisper. “What are you going to do with us?” 
“I need to call,” I said out loud to myself. I wondered what I should say when someone picked up on the other end. What would I say if it were a woman? Or worse, what would she do if it were a woman I recognized? I took a deep breath, straightened myself out in the kitchen chair, and started to dial the first number on my list. The phone rang four times. I hung up. I froze. What if Jeremy was with the person I called? With that, I ripped the paper to shreds and threw it away. “Forget it,” I said and headed to bed.
It was around three o’clock in the morning when my sleep was interrupted by the phone ringing. I regretted not bringing the cordless phone into the room with me as I dragged myself to the kitchen. I was annoyed but worried at the same time. Jeremy still wasn’t home. My heart pounded as I groaned, “Hello,” into the phone.
“Marsha?” Jeremy said in a husky tone.
“Jeremy, where are you?” I asked.
“Marsha, don’t panic. I got arrested.”
“Arrested?”
“Yes. Calm down,” Jeremy commanded.
My eyes were wide open and filling with tears. I rushed back to the bedroom and searched my dresser drawers for something to throw on. “What’s goin on?” I asked. “How you get arrested? Where are you? Can I bail you out?”
“There’s nothing you can do right now. It’s Friday night. They’re gonna keep me here until Monday, bail or no bail. I’m lucky I could even call you. Look, I need you to call Lovelie.”
“Lovelie!” I nearly shrieked.
“Yes. She’ll wire the money to get me out. I’ll have court on Monday. We can post bail then.” Jeremy spoke in quick whispers. 
“I don’t understand,” I said, with the tears still on the brims of my eyelids. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it. I only have a few more minutes. I need you to take down Lovelie’s number and call her in the morning.”
“There’s nobody else mi can call?” I said, not wanting to speak to Lovelie. We hadn’t had any communication since our meeting in Miami months earlier.
“No, now are you ready to write the number?”
I ran back to the kitchen and hurriedly got a pen and notepad from a drawer. “Go ahead,” I instructed.
Jeremy gave me the number and told me to call Lovelie first thing in the morning. I would do anything for Jeremy, but I didn’t realize how taxing that might be. 
There was no need to wait for morning. I never went to sleep. I simply lay in bed waiting to have to make the dreaded phone call to my boyfriend’s sister, who hated me.
Stalling, I showered carefully, brushed my teeth meticulously, and slowly made tea and porridge for breakfast. By eight-thirty, I could not stall any longer. Jeremy said, “First thing in the morning,” and I had to do what he said, or we probably wouldn’t be able to post bail on Monday.
I picked up the phone and dialed the numbers one at a time as if the digits were now foreign to me.
“Bon maten, bonjou, rezidans Laguerre,” answered a housekeeper.
I cleared my throat. “Bon maten, is Lovelie available?”
“Yes, may I ask who is calling?”
I said a quick prayer that this would go over well. “It’s Marsha. Jeremy’s girlfriend.”
“Ah, kenbe yon ti moman tanpri.” The housekeeper left the phone off the hook and went off to find Lovelie.
I’d nearly bitten a hole into my lip when I heard Lovelie’s voice on the phone. “Bon maten, Marsha, is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted. “Um, Jeremy is in jail.”
Lovelie sucked her teeth and sighed. “Are you kidding me?” 
“He called me last night, and he told me to call you.”
“Uh, huh. Okay.” Lovelie sucked her teeth again and grumbled something in Creole to herself. 
I could tell she was annoyed, and I knew it was only with Jeremy. 
“Did he tell you where he was picked up?” Lovelie asked.
“Yes,” I said and quickly relayed the information Jeremy had given me.
“Okay. Mesi Marsha.”
“Ou byen akeyi,” I responded.
“Your Creole is soundin’ good. Keep workin’ on it. I’ll call you Monday morning. You’ll have to pick up the money from Western Union and take it to the court. Can you do that?” Lovelie confused me. Was she being nice, or was this her version of simply being cordial?
“I have to work.” I considered the fact that I had never called out of work before.
“Well, if you want him to come home, you’ll have to go to the court instead. Just call in sick,” Lovelie explained.
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I can pick up the money on Monday.”
“I’ll call you back with details. Pale ak ou pita.” Lovelie hung up without waiting for a goodbye from me.

*****



I did my best to keep myself busy that Saturday. I was gradually getting used to being home alone, but it was different knowing that Jeremy was in jail. My mind replayed prison scenes I’d seen in movies. On its own, my imagination would insert Jeremy’s face, often as the victim of a shanking or a slock beating. I wished I could just fast forward to Monday. 
After a tumultuous night of tossing and turning and discomfort in my belly, I opted to go to church. I was still feeling embarrassed by my behavior at the club. I knew the community was still talking. Yet again, I felt the church was the safest place for me to be. I figured I could stay unnoticed and sit in the back, as Jeremy often favored. That made me wonder if there would be more chat due to his absence. 
I looked myself over in the mirror attached to my dresser. I smoothed my hands over the satin brown top and black pencil skirt. My hair was in its usual style, a bun at the nape of my neck, and I wore minimal makeup. I hoped this look was low-key enough to go unnoticed. 
Twenty minutes had passed when I finally secured a cab over the phone. I was so used to Jeremy carrying me everywhere and arriving on time that I hadn’t considered the possibility of being late or not getting a ride at all. I sighed as I settled into the backseat of the Lincoln Town Car. The air was thick with body odor, and I only had to glance at the floor once to know that although it was morning, I was far from his first passenger of the day. I sat with my buttocks clenched on the tattered leather seat and clutched my purse to my rib cage. This wasn’t my first cab ride, but I’d forgotten how filthy New York cabs could be. Jeremy wasn’t perfect, but at least I was spared this experience regularly. Monday morning, I would be the first at the courthouse because transportation like this was unacceptable, and the bus wasn’t an option for a Sunday morning.
The upside of arriving at church late was that only the back rows were available, and upon entering, no one would notice I’d arrived without Jeremy. Towards the end of the service, as he did on most but not all Sundays, the pastor did an altar call. Anyone who wanted to seek forgiveness, lay down their burdens, rekindle their relationship with the Lord, or begin a relationship with Him was encouraged to come to the altar for prayer. This was a public display of humility that I could never see myself performing. I believed in God, the holy trinity of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit. I prayed often and found peace in attending church, but this act was too much for me. Still, I admired those who brought themselves forward for the whole congregation to see.
This particular Sunday, as I chastised myself for sitting through a forty-minute sermon, distracted by Jeremy’s dilemma, I saw a familiar figure move to the front of the church. My stomach rumbled a little as she watched Sheila, from behind, kneel at the altar. I wanted to run out of there, but I also wanted to know what was going on with her, what had brought her to church that Sunday. I hadn’t seen her since I’d left her home right before summer. I ground my teeth together as my stomach, brain, and heart all danced off-key to the same song. I missed my cousin, and I felt guilty for leaving. Now more than ever, I knew that Sheila was right about Jeremy. I knew it didn’t matter how much he loved me; he was a bad apple, same as my father. My parents stayed together all those years, and my father was no good to my mother. I was repeating the same pattern. She knew it, and I knew that Sheila knew it too.
I watched as the call came to a close and Sheila rose from the carpeted floor. I squared my shoulders and reminded myself that although I had fallen into the same predicament as my mother, Jeremy and I were still very young and things did not have to stay that way. I would still find a way to make him focus all his attention on me. Surely a weekend in jail would fix him as far as the so-called family business. Before Sheila and I could make eye contact across the sanctuary, I turned and walked briskly out of the church. I walked nearly halfway home on my toes when my feet began to burn, and I remembered that I only intended to walk a couple of blocks to hail another nasty cab home.

*****



Monday morning had finally rolled around. I had not slept in two days, and it showed. I called my job first thing in the morning and let them know that I did not feel well. Shortly after, Lovelie called and told me where to pick up the money. I had everything written down like an itinerary. I went down to the courthouse, but before entering, I picked up the cash at the nearby Western Union, then waited for Jeremy’s hearing.
I nervously twirled a lock of hair from my low-bound ponytail around my finger as I waited for Jeremy to be seen by the judge. I wondered what he’d done and if my affiliation with him could jeopardize my job. Finally, Jeremy stood at the front of the courtroom in the same clothes I had last seen him in. He looked like he’d had a rough weekend, and I could imagine how bad he smelled from where I sat. 
Jeremy had been held over the weekend for battery. The bail was $1,500. I sighed, thankful Lovelie had sent $2,000. Jeremy was let go, and the bail was processed. 
We rode home in silence, and I wondered what Jeremy thought about as he stared out the window on his side. I kept my lips pressed together to stomach the smells of Jeremy and the car, which battled for the title of most nauseating.
As we neared their apartment, Jeremy finally said, “You gonna have to learn to drive.”
I paid the driver and scooted out of the car behind him. Once we were upstairs, I waited on the edge of the bed while he showered. I wanted the full story. I wanted to know exactly what happened, but the right way to ask stumped me.
He was in the bathroom for a while, and as bad as I wanted to get all the details, I was glad that he was washing thoroughly. The odor that came off him was the only thing that kept me from throwing my arms around him the minute he was released. 
Finally, he emerged from the bathroom, and I was hit with an urge to cry.
He looked over at me with befuddlement. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I—I don’t know muh jus start cry.” I shed the tears into my lap uncontrollably. 
Jeremy sat beside me on the bed and cradled me in his arms. “Shh,” he hushed me. “I’m here. I’m home now. Everything was okay while I was gone?”
I nodded. “I was just so worried, and I was scared. What happened? They said batt’ry. What did you do?”
“It was a crazy situation, Marsha. Nothing for you to worry about.” Jeremy stroked my head gently.
“But they arrested you and kept you for the whole weekend,” I cried.
“That’s what happens when you’re picked up on a Friday night. You stay for the whole weekend.”
“And the bail?”
“I told you. It’s nothing for you to really worry about. I’m home now.”
“What if it happens again?”
Jeremy didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to try to console me. He rocked me for a bit, and when my cries calmed to whimpers, he finally spoke again. “I been thinking,” he said. 
I picked my head up.
“I been thinking we should leave The Bronx.” He stared into my eyes.
I could see that he was serious. “Leave the Bronx and go where?”
“Jersey,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Jersey? Mi nuh know nobody in New Jersey.” I stared back into his eyes.
“Don’t worry about that. I know people out there. We gotta get out of New York, Marsha. Between the incident in Brooklyn and this weekend, I just don’t think New York is where we need to be.”
“You know people out there, but I don’t.” I shook my head back and forth wildly. 
“It’ll be fine, Marsha, just trust me. I want you to be safe.” Jeremy took my wrists in his hands and peered harder into my eyes to reason with me.
I sighed heavily. “What about my job?”
“You could find another one.” Jeremy tilted his head towards me. 
I cocked my head to the side as I looked for a way to understand him. He made everything sound so easy, but I knew nothing was ever that way. “I know I could find another one, but I have my benefits and everyting here. The teaching system is different in every state, Jeremy. I’m in my second year here. I would probably have to start all over—”
“No,” Jeremy shook his head in disagreement. “I’m sure your college credits count for something out there, where you’re not starting from scratch. I could ask around just to make sure. You won’t have to work for much longer either way. I just need to make sure we’re good, then you could go back to school for your master’s and start traveling like you always wanted to do.”
I pursed my lips. The beginning of my teaching career was extremely rough. It got better with Mr. Joseph’s help, but things were not smooth and bump-free yet. I still didn’t feel secure in my stride, and now Jeremy wanted to uproot me and start me all over again. He didn’t understand what starting over meant. “I need to tink ‘bout this,” I said, freeing my wrists from his hands.
Jeremy nodded his head. “Well, by the new year I’ll have something for us. So think and get ready.”
I sighed deeply again. ​
]]>Fri, 30 Oct 2026 03:23:23 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-twenty-jeremyI never slept that night. I made love to Marsha and watched her sleep, but I was too rattled to sleep. I felt horrible as I caressed the scratches on her buttery-smooth skin. She didn’t have a blemish anywhere on her body until the fight, and it was all my fault. The next morning, I drove to Hill Avenue to get her favorite Antiguan breakfast, then picked up some roses for her on White Plains Road. When I returned, she was still in bed. I needed to meet with Uncle Marvin, so I left the roses by her bedside, the food on the back of the stove, prepared a cup of ginger tea, and headed back out the door.
Except for the weekend receptionist and Uncle Marvin, the law office was empty.
“What’s going on?” Uncle Marvin asked, seeing the distress in my face. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, and I just saw you on Thursday.”
I shook my head in shame, and I told the story. I couldn’t even believe myself as I relayed the tale. “She was like the fuckin Hulk,” I told Uncle Marvin. “She punched that girl square in her face. I never seen her that way before.”
“Maybe now it’s time to stop the bullshit,” Uncle Marvin said, taking a sip of his coffee.
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“Seriously. She’s a good woman. I don’t know why you do what you do and in such proximity. At least take your shit somewhere else.” Uncle Marvin shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Marsha’s more than a good woman,” I said, as I thought about how good she made me feel. The way she looked at me, the way her touch felt on my skin. I was so proud to be seen with her, and I didn’t say it often, but I was just as proud of who she was. She came to the States, excelled in school, landed a job, and became good at it in no time. Her family bragged about her, while my family was frustrated with me. At first, I couldn’t let her go because there was no way I would lose the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. Now there was more to it. I knew she could make me somebody. I secretly prayed that whatever she had in her would eventually rub off on me and make me successful, and eventually the apple of my parents’ eyes.
“Kidonk koupe l!” Uncle Marvin yelled, snapping me out of my trance.
“I am, Unc. I’ma cut it out. I’m done. I might even make that move to Jersey like you said. I gotta do better. I am. I’m gonna do right by her, and I’m gonna get better at handling family business, and I been thinking about going back to school.”
“Thinking and going are not the same thing,” Uncle Marvin commented in an even tone.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
Uncle Marvin was right about everything.
After confiding in him, I headed back home. When I got there, Marsha’s cousin Steven was parked outside our building.
“Sup, man?” I said as I approached his car and reached to give him a pound.
Steven returned the gesture, but his face was blank and hard-looking.
“Mek this the first and last time muh tell yuh this,” Steven said, wasting no time on small talk.
I nodded, knowing what was coming, and praying it wouldn’t be followed by a blow. I didn’t want to fight Steven.
“Don’t fuck around on Marsha. She ah good gyal. Is not the first time mi hear yuh cheat pon her. But this ah di first time mi hear Marsha come to the club and find you there. Before, muh jus mind muh business cuh Marsha never like nobody in she business, but now everybody know everyting. Nuthin is left in the dark. So mek this the last time mi have to tell yuh this. Next time, mi nah goh waste time wid talkin.”
I swallowed my fear and relief. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“You was tinkin she like Tina and everybody else yuh fuck around wit. She not. That’s all mi ah say.”
I nodded.
“Go tell Marsha yuh sorry. Not me. Mi nah need ya sorry. Mi nah hab nuthin fa lose. Mi nah ‘fraid of jail.”
“You good,” I assured Steven. “It won’t get there.”
Steven nodded, and his expression finally softened. He dapped me up one more time. “Muh check yuh later.” He rolled his window up and pulled off.
I walked back into his apartment, telling myself enough had happened. I was going to straighten up and fly right.
]]>Thu, 29 Oct 2026 02:22:45 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-nineteen-marshaEvery Sunday, Sarah would find a way to talk to me. She seemed determined to be my friend, but after she suggested Jeremy was cheating, I was no more interested than when we’d first run into each other. I continued bringing Jeremy to church with me and while I made myself known in that community, Jeremy maintained a childlike status of being seen and not heard. I knew he only showed up because I wanted him to, but that didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that he was at my side every Sunday morning, and I could keep an eye on him. If I could keep an eye on him, I could keep him away from whoever it was that left the scent of her perfume on him that Fourth of July weekend.
I hadn’t thought about what I would do when school started back up. I was unprepared for the anxiety that arose within me when he dropped me off to work on an early September morning. In the summer, even if I wasn’t with him every second of the day, I knew how long it took him to get to the local law office in Wakefield, how long it took him to get home, and if he did not call me on his lunch break, I was sure to call the office looking for him. Back in the classroom, there was no way I could time his movements as closely as I had done over the summer. 
On the first day of school, I spent a lot of time steering my mind back to focus on my students. I couldn’t escape the thoughts of Jeremy either being shot or wrapped up in hotel sheets with another woman. Since I had no other face to imagine, I always imagined him with Tina. I hated that these thoughts haunted me, and now that I was at work, they were equally intrusive and vivid. 
During my lunch, I called Jeremy’s office. The young lady at the front desk said he stepped out. I wondered how I would get through the rest of the day without hearing his voice for reassurance. I headed to the cafeteria to heat the food that I would pick at instead of eating. Mr. Joseph was already there when I entered, having a plate of Escovitch fish and white rice. Without my realizing it, my mind had finally drifted away from Jeremy. 
“Marsha!” Mr. Joseph exclaimed when he saw me.
I happily took a seat across from him and another West Indian teacher from St. Kitts, who taught math, Mrs. Hanley. I’d seen my colleagues briefly in the few days prior, but since we taught different grades, or in the case of Mrs. Hanley, different departments, we didn’t get to spend a lot of our professional development or prep time together. 
“So how was your summer, dear?” Mrs. Hanley asked. “Mi did see you the other day, but y’know, we were all so busy. And the math department is so far from the history department.”
“It was okay,” I said, seeing no need to discuss the drama that unfolded two months earlier. “We didn’t travel or anyting. Jus stayed home mostly.”
“If I had known we’d have the same lunchtime, I would’ve told Mrs. Joseph to make you a plate,” Mr. Joseph mentioned as he noticed me observing his platter. 
I caught myself and tried to laugh it off. “It’s okay,” I said. “I made a corned-beef sandwich.”
“Mi love bully-beef bad,” said Mrs. Hanley. “But it sends muh pressure up, so mi cyan touch it anymore.”
I felt worse for Mrs. Hanley than for myself as I took note of the salad she was chomping down on. Mrs. Hanley was the definition of full-figured, and while I thought she was beautiful, I considered that all the weight Mrs. Hanley carried couldn’t be healthy for her. Mr. Joseph cut off a hunk of fish and put it on the foil with my corned beef sandwich, and I did not object. 
“Mr. Joseph,” Mrs. Hanley piped up. “Tell Marsha what you were tellin me, about Antigua carnival this year.”
My mouth dropped open. I didn’t remember Mr. Joseph mentioning going to Antigua for carnival. Though I barely participated anymore since I was a child, I surely missed carnival season. The island would come alive with music and parties everywhere. For almost two weeks straight, Antiguans from all sides of the island celebrated emancipation with music, dancing, contests, parades, and the biggest celebration of all, J’ouvert. J’ouvert was a parade of calypso and soca bands and DJs that began sometime around midnight and went on through the night into the following afternoon. Rain or shine, people followed the trucks that the bands and DJs played on, dancing in the streets of the island’s epicenter, St. John. Vendors lined the side streets, keeping revelers fed and hydrated with codfish cakes, fried dumplings, fried chicken wings, French fries, fried plantains, water, fresh juices, and sodas.
My mouth stayed agape as Mr. Joseph filled me in on who’d won the musical monarch contests and the queen show, the beautiful costumes he’d seen at the parades, and the smaller parties happening around the island at different beaches. My mind went from worrying about Jeremy’s whereabouts to missing my home. I even thought of Desireé, whom I hadn’t thought of in a long time. One year, Desireé convinced me to purchase a costume and walk in one of the parades with her. Later that year, I was the talk of campus, with everyone turning and whispering, “Did you see Miss Stushy-mushy, rollin she hips and she bamsey for the world to see at recreation ground?”
Without Desireé to help me laugh it off, I would have been embarrassed and annoyed, but my high school bestie helped me see the silver lining in being talked about. I was noticed, and really no one was saying anything bad. They just noticed me.
After lunch, I was carrying the weight of homesickness, and since there was no more conversation to distract me, I was back to wondering what my man had been up to all day. I left the building nearly as fast as the students at the sound of the last bell, and to my surprise, Jeremy was there waiting for me with a bouquet. Students noticed and giggled as they watched me receive the bouquet from my significant other. I was happy to see Jeremy, but my mind still tossed “what-ifs” back and forth like boomerangs.
“How was your day?” Jeremy asked as he held the car door open for me.
“It was good,” I said, not wanting to admit that I spent all day anxious and homesick. “How was yours?”
“It was okay.” Jeremy shrugged.
I watched him as he watched the driver’s side mirror before pulling away from the school. When we reached the first traffic light, I was still watching him.
“What?” Jeremy said, grinning when he realized my eyes hadn’t left the side of his face.
“Nothing,” I answered quietly. I then turned to the road. “You went out for lunch?” I asked.
Jeremy nodded his head yes.
“But I made corned beef for both of us.”
Jeremy cocked his head to the side. “Anderson stepped out, so I went with him.”
“So did you eat your sandwich?” I interrogated.
Jeremy nodded his head yes.
“You had two lunches?”
“No,” Jeremy responded with agitation in his voice. “What’s with the third degree, Marsha?”
“I just wanted to know how your day went,” I said softly, cleaning up the fact that I was indeed being nosy.
“Seems like you’re really worried about if I ate a damn corned-beef sandwich.” Jeremy sucked his teeth, and I noticed he was speeding. I decided to keep quiet for the remainder of the ride. I couldn’t risk him getting angry and possibly leaving the apartment for the evening.

*****



Weeks passed, and I accepted that I could not keep track of Jeremy or control him while I was at work. I’d found other ways to deal with that anxiety. When Jeremy was in the shower, I searched his pants and jacket pockets and smelled his clothing for clues of other women. Usually, I came up with nothing, until one Friday night, as I fumbled around in the inner pocket of one of his jackets, I came across something small and hard. I wrapped my fingers around the object and pulled it out. It was a pager. I flipped it around in my hands, wondering when he purchased it. It buzzed, causing me to drop it on the floor. When I picked it up, Jeremy was standing over me.
“What’re you doing?” he asked, glaring down at me. His broad, solid mahogany chest was covered in beads of water, while his bottom half was barely covered by a bath towel not meant for a man his size.
“I—um,” I couldn’t find the words.
“You going through my things, Marsha?” His eyes burned a hole into me.
My throat went dry.
“Why?” he asked.
“I was—I thought maybe the jacket need fa wash. I was gonna trow it in with the laundry. Then I found—”
“My beeper,” he cut me off.
I nodded. “When did you get a beeper?”
“Sometime this week,” Jeremy said, taking the beeper from my hands.
I stood up and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know if I’d keep it,” he said, as he walked away from me with it.
I watched him press the buttons, lighting up the screen.
“Well, are you gonna keep it?” I continued to roll out questions.
Jeremy shrugged. “I feel like you were going through my stuff.”
“No, I—”
“It’s whatever,” Jeremy said as he dropped the towel.
I stared down his body, mildly aware of the cunning smile on his face, and the beeper slowly shifting to the back of my mind.
Jeremy walked up to me and pulled my body close to his. Through the thin satin of my nightgown, I could feel his hardness pressed against my stomach. Mesmerized by the parts of him that I loved to see, smell, and feel, I gave in to the caresses that started down my back.

*****



The next morning, I tried my hand at making my first Haitian breakfast, plantain porridge. I’d watched Jeremy make it a few times and decided to give it a shot. I had to find a way to keep the mood light and loving, the way the night before had ended. Though Jeremy had succeeded in distracting me from the pager, I was not done with it. I would let go of when, where, why, or what he got it for, and focus on how I could get him to give me the number.
I was swaying my hips to Kompe music and dishing up the porridge when Jeremy finally sauntered into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood at the counter, filling his bowl first. “What is this?” he asked with delight in his voice. “Is this a Haitian breakfast?”
I nodded my head proudly.
“Smells good,” Jeremy said as he inhaled the aroma over my shoulder. “Coffee too?” he asked as he noticed his coffee pot was full and hot.
“Yes,” I said, matching the delight in his voice.
“Well, well,” Jeremy said in his best Antiguan accent. “Mi is a lucky man today!”
I giggled and elbowed him. My plan was working. Jeremy was happy and amused. All I had to do was wait for the right moment to make my request.
Jeremy appeared impressed with my ability to make plantain porridge and suggested that I make it more often.
“So you don’t like fungee?” I asked about the Antiguan porridge.
“It’s okay,” Jeremy responded, his mouth full of the plantain porridge. “But I been telling you, Haitian food is the best ever. Once you start eating it, you’re in love with it, and once you learn to cook it, there’s no turning back. Now you just have to learn to cook beans and rice.”
“It’s no different than rice and peas,” I argued.
Jeremy shook his head. “I see we still have a little work to do with you.”
I rolled my eyes playfully.
We finished our breakfast, and Jeremy stood to clear away and wash the dishes.
“I was thinking,” I said, feeling this was my moment.
“Uh huh,” Jeremy said, turning on the hot water to first rid the bowls of the thick polenta.
“You should keep the beeper. Ever since that day in Brooklyn, I’m always so worried. I think you should keep it for safety.” My heart raced as I kept my back to him at the kitchen table. Though the time seemed right, I could’ve been wrong.
“Well, I was thinking,” Jeremy said in return. “Maybe you should get one too for the same reasons.”
Though I was caught off guard by this, it wasn’t a bad suggestion. I didn’t have anything to hide, and I could be contacted if there was an emergency. “Okay,” I agreed, still with my back to him.
“So this week, I’ll pick you up one.”
“Sounds good to me. We could have each other’s numbers and always be contacted in case of emergency.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said in a matter-of-fact tone.
I sighed quietly. That was easier than I anticipated, timing and all.
Whenever I felt I had a handle on one thing, something else would slip from my sight or control. Now that we had pagers, Jeremy started going out late at night without me. He would throw out the phrase “family business” and reassure me that everything would be fine because we had pagers, but deep down, I was still feeling uneasy. I was back to worrying and not trusting him. I barely slept, and this turned me into an unfocused crab at work. I had finally gained my footing with my students, and the freshmen especially seemed to like me, but the older students were annoyed with the changes they’d experienced in my demeanor from when they’d met me. I went from pushover to stern, to plain old mean. I didn’t intend to be nasty, but I wasn’t getting enough rest, and all that mattered to me was Jeremy’s whereabouts at night.
I’d even started allowing myself to fall into conversation with Sarah. I would stand and listen to whatever Sarah talked about after church. We even exchanged numbers. Sarah called and gossiped about church members and people we’d gone to school with back in Antigua. Though I didn’t care for many of my classmates, I was rather entertained by some of the paths they chose, and the paths that chose them. Sarah herself arrived in the States with her family, like many, just looking for a way to make money to send back home. She wasn’t as academically ambitious as I was, and she made her living as a nanny for a family in Manhattan. I had to admit it was good to have someone else to talk to besides Jeremy and my coworkers. Sarah’s company was nothing like Desireé’s, but it was something. I knew what everyone was up to, and I knew I could count on Sarah to fill me in on anything she’d heard about Jeremy.
“Marsha, muh know yuh don’t love when mi ah chat bout ya mon,” Sarah spoke freely in Antigua-talk to me over the phone as I tidied up the kitchen before heading to bed. As usual, Jeremy was out tending to “family business.”
“Whatsup?” I asked, my voice dripping with exhaustion, though my ears were perked and ready.
Sarah sighed heavily. “So, mi know yuh love Jeremy bad and muh understand, but him have quite a reputation y’know?”
“Mi know,” I said, waiting for Sarah to get to the point.
“Muh try fa tell yuh before but yuh nah lissen. Plenty woman have tings to say ‘bout him there in the church.”
“Ah, who?” I inquired.
Sarah sighed again. “So first mi hear about Tina, but that was old news, before you mi tink.”
“Taaarl,” I confirmed. “That was before muh even meet him.”
“Okay, so, next mi hear about some gyal inna di church name Jasmine. She family from Guyana, mi tink.”
I stopped wiping down the counter. I knew who Jasmine was.
“Marsha, you there?” Sarah checked.
“Yeah. Muh ‘till here. So what did you hear?”
“She claim she had someting to do wid Jeremy. That he took her out one night and,” Sarah’s voice suddenly dropped off.
“And what?” I tried to maintain an even tone.
“She say them fuck.”
A pain shot through the bottom of my stomach. “What make you tink it’s true?” I asked.
Sarah hesitated. “She’s not the only one,” she finally went on. “A few girls in the church, either they been wid him or them sister, cousin, smaddy they know been wit him.”
“So that mek it true?” I made sure my tone encouraged Sarah to doubt her own thought process.
“Them all have the same details about him,” Sarah insisted.
“So that mek it true? What details? Yuh know, people never did like me. People said all kinda tings ‘bout me back in school. Them see me livin good wid a mon now, yuh tink people change? Them nah change. Them ‘till ah talk ‘bout me, and mi never did nobody nuthin.” I did all I could to keep my composure.
“Look,” Sarah retorted. “Mi know yuh think people always have a problem wid you, but you was never the problem, Marsha. Back home, ya father was the problem. Here, ya man is the problem. Nobody hab a problem wid you. The men in life is all ya problems.”
Tears slowly fell from my eyes as the words sank in.
“Last night I went by Mingles wid some other girlfriends for a drink. Jeremy was there wukkin up on the dance floor wid a next light-skinned gyal. First mi tink it was you. But after a while mi see it was not. Yuh don’t have to believe me. Muh jus telling you what mi see wid muh own eyes.”
I wanted to bawl, and though I had opened myself up to friendship with Sarah, I hadn’t opened up enough to be vulnerable with her. “Tank you fa that,” I said, ready to close the conversation. “I will talk wid Jeremy and straighten everyting out.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah apologized.
“You didn’t do anyting. Jeremy is a flirt. Mi know him gon out to get a drink last night,” I lied. “Muh jus didn’t know he was at Mingles. Him nah reach home too late, so muh sure he didn’t do anyting wrong while he was out.”
“Muh jus want you to know.” Sarah’s voice was still remorseful.
“And mi did tank you. Muh have to go to bed. Y’know muh days start early.” I yawned for emphasis.
“Mine too,” Sarah concurred.
“See you in church,” I said before hanging up the phone.
Unsure what to do next, I did the only thing I could. I cried myself to sleep.

*****



My heart pounded as I stepped out of a cab on a cold Friday night. After another conversation about Jeremy’s exploits with Sarah, I finally decided to go and see for myself. It was after midnight, but I sported oversized sunglasses to disguise myself. Jeremy left the house saying he had family business to tend to in Queens, so I wasn’t sure I would find him at the club, but in case I did, I didn’t want anyone to spot me easily. Mingles was the place for West Indians to hang out on the weekends. All I needed was for one person to recognize me, and there would be no way for me to continue pretending that everyone else was wrong about my man.
My eyes stretched wide behind the dark sunglasses as I recognized a few faces from church. Even Sarah was there. I ordered a rum & coke at the bar and made myself comfortable in a space where I could go unnoticed. The DJ transitioned from lovers rock to dancehall, bringing more partiers to the dance floor. I rocked on the barstool as I stuck to my mission.
After nursing my drink for nearly an hour, I stood and stretched my legs and considered going home. Soca music had the club hot and shaking. A song I liked came on, so I hesitated to leave. I still hadn’t seen Jeremy, so I figured when the song was over, I would go. If Jeremy were spending time with all these different women, I would have to confirm it another way or not at all. All I had was Sarah’s rumors to stand on. I hadn’t seen anything with my own eyes since our trip to Miami.
I wiggled my hips to the beat, gradually easing towards the door. Suddenly, I spotted Jeremy on the floor working his hips behind a woman I didn’t know. My heartbeat increased, but my movements slowed as I watched Jeremy glide his hands up and down this woman’s sides. I made my way back to the bar, careful not to lose sight of him, as he whispered what could only be sweet nothings in this young woman’s ear.
Evidently, Jeremy had a type. This woman was about my height and her complexion was only a shade or so lighter. She too was slim, but curvy in the right places. Her skimpy red dress made me look down at the plain blue knee-length sheath dress I’d worn to keep myself unnoticeable. My heart wilted as I watched Jeremy’s attentiveness to this woman. I noticed how they blended in as a couple among others on the dance floor. But they can’t be a couple! He’s my mon! How could he look so happy and appear so comfortable, knowing he had a devoted woman like me at home and that others would surely tell me what he was doing?
The music crossed over to the slow and sensual Kompe music. The woman turned to face Jeremy, locking her arms around his neck. Jeremy buried his face in the woman’s cheek, smothering himself in her scent. His hands slid down to her behind as they grinded against each other. I lit up with a fury I’d never felt before, and the tears that rapidly pooled in my eyes behind the sunglasses did nothing to cool me down.
Images of Jeremy kissing my cheek before leaving the house flashed in my mind. I bit down on my bottom lip, hard, to confirm that I was not dreaming. I heard Sarah’s voice in my ears, “Sorry, Marsha, mi jus have to tell you. Mi did see Jeremy in Mingles wid a next woman again.” I took deep breaths, as I was no longer concerned with staying unnoticed by the bar. I watched Jeremy intently as I moved slowly towards the dance floor to get a better look. My body shook with disbelief.
“Muh sit up all night worrying,” I whispered to myself. “Mi nah even have no license but is me who have to be getaway driver, cuz somebody try fa kill you, and you out here foolin wid all kinda dutty skettel.”
The stance between Jeremy and the other woman was all too familiar. I was the only woman Jeremy should hold that way. His head turned from the woman’s cheek, and the two were nose to nose. Memories of Jeremy and Tina in the hallway during the Christmas party, the time he kissed the woman’s hand in the club in Miami, and finally that of my own father groping a teacher clouded my vision. I lost control. Before I knew what I was doing, my body propelled forward. I rushed the middle of the dance floor and grabbed Jeremy’s shoulder. My fingernails tore into the fabric of his shirt. “What the hell is this?” I hollered, spinning him around.
Jeremy gasped.
“Excuse me!” the woman cut in. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes, there is. This is my mon!” I jabbed my finger into Jeremy’s chest.
“From when?” the woman in red screamed at me.
Infuriated with both of them, I pulled the woman down by her hair and cocked my other hand back to deliver an earth-shaking blow to her face. She clawed at any part of me she could reach, but fiery adrenaline gave me the upper hand. Jeremy yelled for me to stop as I pummelled her face.
The DJ commented on the microphone. “Finish her off!” Someone must have told him to tone it down because he switched up his commentary. “Ladies, ladies, the mon nah wort’ it!”
Security pushed through the crowd of onlookers, snatched us up, and tossed us from the club exit, followed by Jeremy. I stumbled, regained my balance, and charged towards the woman in red. Jeremy jumped between us, but we continued to curse each other in our respective dialects. Jeremy attempted to pin my arms down. Finally, I slapped him across his face. “This is your fault!” I bellowed, realizing I had done exactly what I hated. I caused a scene.
Jeremy grabbed my shoulders and squeezed. “Don’t you ever put your fuckin hands on me again,” he snarled.
The sound of his voice brought me back to reality. The anger I felt was dissolving into sadness and embarrassment.
The woman in red wasn’t alone. Friends appeared to rescue her from the scene. They pulled her in the other direction, yelling more expletives at us.
Jeremy walked around to his car, and I silently followed after him.
“The fuck is wrong wit you?” he asked, glaring at me from the driver’s seat. “You lost your mind?”
“Me?” I questioned through my angry tears.
“Yes, you! What the hell are you doing here?” Jeremy growled as he backed out of the parking space.
“Yuh don’t tink is me who should be askin you that?” I shrieked.
“I told you I was going out to handle business. On my way back, I stopped here for a drink. You know the shit I deal with is stressful as hell, and now you wanna add to the shit!”
“Who’s that gyal?” I cried.
“What girl?” Jeremy kept his eyes on the road.
Instead of answering, I sobbed uncontrollably. “In red,” I finally forced the words through my blubbering.
“I don’t even know,” Jeremy exclaimed. “She’s just some girl in the club.”
“You was dancin close, like you—”
“Like what? Like the way we dance Kompe all the time?”
“Yes!” I wailed.
Jeremy sucked his teeth. “I told you that’s how we dance, and it doesn’t mean anything. You Antiguan girls grind on everybody and say it doesn’t mean anything. So what’s the damn difference?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“So now dancin is cheatin,” Jeremy chortled.
I cried harder.
“Cut it out,” he said, pulling into a spot near our building. “You did this shit to yourself. Nobody told you to come spying on me.”
I’m getting the hell away from him, I thought as we entered the apartment. I couldn’t believe the direction the night had taken, and I didn’t recognize the woman I had been less than an hour ago. Jeremy was often aggressive with me, but the lack of love or regret in his voice killed me. In the bathroom, I saw in the mirror that my hair was all over the place, my dress was torn, and my skin was red and blotchy. Tears burned my cheeks, letting me know that the other woman had indeed scratched my face, and this was real. I left the bathroom ready to pack up and go.
Jeremy was sitting on the edge of the bed shirtless, with his hands clasped in his lap. “You can’t act like that, Marsha,” he said calmly.
I stiffened, not wanting anything he had to say to penetrate my resolve.
“I don’t even know that girl. I just started dancing with her to let off some steam. I just needed a drink and a little time before coming home.”
“You made a fool of me, Jeremy.”
“I didn’t mean to do that. But I’m telling you, you cannot act like that.”
I stood in front of him, feeling stuck on stupid. I walked out of that bathroom ready to pack, and now I was wondering where the hell I would go. I swore I would never return to Sheila’s place. I had other cousins in The Bronx, but I knew none of them had room for me. Even if they did, word would get back to Sheila. Word would get back to Sheila regardless now that there’d been a major scene in Mingles.
Jeremy grabbed my hands and kissed both my palms. “Promise me you’ll stop all this spy stuff, Marsha. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Don’t ever embarrass me like that again, or I’m leavin’,” I said quietly while the tears continued to sizzle my cheeks.
Jeremy stood and brushed them away with his thumb. He kissed all over my face and held me tight. “It’s only me and you, mon amor,” he whispered in my ear. “There’s no reason for you to act like this.”
I was stuck between Jeremy the rock and my own pride—a hard place.

*****



The next thing I knew, the phone was ringing loudly. I had no memory of actually going to bed. The stinging scratches on my face and a pounding headache immediately reminded me of the club fiasco the night before. I rolled over and noticed a bouquet of fresh roses in a new clear glass vase on my nightstand. The phone stopped ringing for a moment as I leaned over to smell the flowers, but when it started up again, I somehow knew it was my mother. I dragged myself to the kitchen, hesitant to answer, knowing already the word had gotten back to her about the club fight. I noticed a pan of food sitting on the back of the stove, as well as a note written in Jeremy’s handwriting stuck to the microwave that read: Had to run out, but I got you breakfast. There’s some ginger tea in the microwave. Be back soon.
“Mawnin,” I answered the screaming phone.
“Mawnin?” Mummy’s tone chastised. “It’s half past one. So mi see yuh nah make breakfast or clean ya house today.”
“No, Mummy,” I admitted.
“Well,” my mother continued, “I guess that would be hard to do after fightin wid Darlene Richards’s daughter in a nightclub.”
I rolled my eyes.
“What kind of behavior is that for a college graduate, daughter of Dr. Delmont Lindo?”
I sighed. “Mummy, Jeremy was there in the club huggin up on smaddy. Mi nuh even know it was Miss Richards’s daughter.”
Mummy sucked her teeth loud enough for me to imagine just how she looked doing it. “Lissen Marsha, you know what kinda mon you shackin up wid, so why yuh playin surprise?”
“I don’t know.” I fought back tears. “But last night I was tinkin of jus leavin him.”
“And where would you go?”
“I don’t know, Mummy,” I admitted.
She sucked her teeth loud and long again like a true Antiguan woman. “Yuh done burn up ya bridge wid Sheila. But lissen, Sheila is there single, no man lookin her way. She is jealous, Marsha. You reach the States, and you excel in school, and you land yaself a decent mon in no time. Sheila is still huggin up her pillows at night.”
“Jeremy is about as decent as Dr. Lindo, huh?” I figured I’d already been embarrassed the night before. What’s the worst that could happen, talking smack over the phone to and about my parents from miles away?
“Lissen to me, Marsha, these men all do the same ting. Jeremy pay bills, Jeremy buy you nice tings, him carry you nice places, and him hab a good job. Yuh don’t pass that up. The next mon could be uneducated and broke—”
“Is it really all about money and status?” I asked as I paced the kitchen.
“So yuh tellin me, you could love a broke man who cannot provide for you and give you the lifestyle you are used to and deserve?”
“I jus don’t tink men who love you cheat.”
“Stop the foolishness, Marsha! Muh tell you there is no such ting as a faithful man!”
“You fa sure know it.”
“Ya father was a good provider!”
“Okay, Mummy,” I sighed. Arguing with my mother or anybody at all was pointless.
After hanging up with her, I finally opened up the foil pan. The smell of Antiguan ducana and saltfish invaded my nostrils. Though it was hard for me to crack a smile, my heart melted a little. Roses and my favorite food. Jeremy didn’t love me the way I wanted or needed. But somewhere in him, he did love me. All I had to do was find another way to keep the others at bay.
After the fight in the club, I could admit only in the deepest, darkest crevices of my mind that I was spiraling. The phone rang throughout the day, and I could not bring myself to answer it. I enjoyed my Antiguan breakfast, but as soon as my plate was cleared and my mug was empty, I was confronted with an overwhelming sadness. I wanted to delve into my usual routines, cleaning my house, doing my laundry, and preparing lesson plans in advance so that I could be ready to hit the street with Jeremy that night, and then head to church Sunday morning. Instead, though, I washed my dishes and slid back into bed.
]]>Thu, 29 Oct 2026 02:21:22 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-eighteen-jeremyI wove in and out of lanes, cut off cabs, and blocked crosswalks as I focused on getting Marsha to work safely and on time. The morning was crisp, the sun low yet slowly rising between the project buildings that towered over The Bronx streets. Every moment in the car felt like an eternity. Glancing at the time, though, I realized it had taken the usual eight minutes to drop her off. Marsha released her seatbelt, then reached back to pull her bag from the rear. I locked eyes with her for just a moment. Any longer than that, and I would give in to all the guilt I was feeling. Guilt that she’d almost been shot over me, guilt that I would continue the shady dealings to make money, and guilt that I had plans for a midday rendezvous with Pauletta. “You’re picking me up, right?” she confirmed, her voice soft but steady, as if our rigid routine anchored her.
“Of course,” I replied, my tone casual so that I wouldn’t heighten her anxiety with my own. I watched as she climbed the school steps. Then, as if something reminded me, I checked my surroundings for safety again. Long after she’d disappeared into the school building, I waited. In fact, I waited until students began entering the building. That’s when it occurred to me that she was inside safely, and the likelihood of the Peña family harming her was extremely low.
I finally sped off, leaving Marsha in a secure part of my mind, with the freedom to do what I needed and wanted for the day. Only a few miles away, I parked my car in front of a semi-shabby storefront office. I greeted the receptionist and sauntered to the back to find Uncle Marvin. After the shooting incident, Papi decided that I would partner with Marvin again in handling New York business instead of running it on my own. He was pissed that Marsha was present. The family moved swiftly and quietly in everything, and Marsha was to stay mystified about our operations. Her presence while I met with contacts was a huge risk.
“My boy.” Marvin reached out and hugged me as I entered the office.
“Unc,” I replied as I accepted my uncle’s embrace.
“Have a seat,” he gestured.
I sat and folded my hands together.
“Look, your father is talking like he wants me to completely take over New York again, and to tell you the truth, I’m not interested. This is his way of life. But it’s not mine. I’m ready to leave this game alone. We can work out a way to continue with you leading everything here. Eventually, I’m gonna phase myself out.”
I nodded as I processed what Uncle Marvin was saying.
“What’re you thinking?” he asked.
I shrugged. “How do you think we can make it work?”
“We can continue what we started in the spring. I’ll stay on as front-man, but all decisions are up to you. If you need me to advise or wanna know what I think, I can help. I’m just not interested in leading. I’m even willing to take a smaller cut.”
I could see that Uncle Marvin was serious.
“I also think,” he added, “that you should get out of town.”
“Huh?” I was thrown off by that statement.
“You need to move. Yeah, most of what we do is in Brooklyn, but The Bronx is just another borough, not another state. Not even another city. I don’t think you really understand that.”
“I understand,” I cut in, not wanting to focus on any of my shortcomings.
Uncle Marvin raised an eyebrow and continued, “Anyway, I think you should consider Jersey or Pennsylvania.”
“That’s far,” I said, considering how much farther I felt I was being moved from my element. First, my parents moved me from Haiti to Miami, then Miami to New York, and then my uncle was talking about New Jersey or Pennsylvania. Just when I would get my bearings, someone else would decide to make a shift.
“I said, ‘consider’ it,” Uncle Marvin stated as if he were reading my mind.
“I’ll think about it,” I agreed.
Suddenly, my beeper sounded, and Uncle Marvin eyed me suspiciously. “You just don’t know how to lay low, do you?”
“It ain’t like that,” I said, unsure if I wanted him to know I was cheating on Marsha.
“Uh huh. Whassup with school?” Uncle Marvin changed the topic to what he knew Papi would want us to discuss.
“I gotta head out, Unc,” I said, rising from my seat. If anything was going to hold me up from this midday romp, it wouldn’t be a conversation about school. I was tired of pondering my failed efforts. I needed to feel good.
I knew Pauletta was lying when she said she wouldn’t link with me again. I parked on a residential block, out of sight of the project building where she lived. I took the rank, pissy elevator up to her floor, conscious to stand only in the middle of the tight rectangular lift. Pauletta was standing in her doorway, wearing a satin robe, her hair protected in a satin scarf. I watched her mouth struggle not to smile as I approached.
“You don’t even know why I paged you,” she said, backing up and allowing me into the apartment.
I removed my jacket once over the threshold. “You only page me for one thing.”
“Could’ve been something different,” Pauletta went on.
I snorted as my eyes scanned the short ceilings and close walls. Paint chipped everywhere, and the tile seemed to click with stickiness under my feet. The smell of bleach and Mistolin let me know she kept the place as clean as she could, but New York City Housing Authority dragged their feet on the upkeep of government residences. It didn’t matter if she cleaned with vinegar, bleach, ammonia, baking soda, lemons and limes every day. It would be nasty. Layers of blood-red curtains shielded the windows, as if anyone could see into a tenth-floor apartment. A matching rug covered a square space in the middle of the living room floor. One wall was overtaken by a fully loaded entertainment center and the living room set was simple black leather.
I felt Pauletta’s hands caressing my back and coaxing me out of my shirt. She didn’t waste time, and I didn’t mind. I didn’t plan to be there all day.
When our brief but intense encounter satisfied us both, I rose from the couch and got ready to head home.
“So what’s the deal with you and that girl? What is she Jamaican or something?” Pauletta asked.
I stiffened. I hated for these outside women to bring up Marsha.
“Nah, she ain’t Jamaican.” I slid my feet into my shoes and reached for my jacket, which I had draped on the back of one of the black leather armchairs.
“So whassup? You gonna leave her?” Pauletta continued to dig.
“Leave her? Nah.” I hoped that she would leave the topic alone.
“Lemme get this straight,” Pauletta started in.
I sighed with exasperation, but that didn’t stop Pauletta.
“You sneak around behind her back, you come over here to sleep with me, and then what? You just gonna go back to her? Why are you even with her? She’s clearly not enough for you if you had to come over here to sleep with me?” She stood with her robe open, body still naked, slippers on her feet, and hands on her hips.
“I never said she wasn’t enough,” I said as I looked into her glassy eyes, primed for crying.
“I just don’t understand you men,” she said. “You get with these women that you have to cheat on—”
“I don’t have to cheat,” I said, cutting her off.
“I heard she’s boring.” Pauletta sounded like she was running out of steam.
I shrugged. “She’s my woman,” I said. “I love her, and I’m not leaving her. That’s it. I don’t have to cheat. I don’t have to fuck you. You let me. So I did. You don’t want to do it again, and we won’t. But as long as you let me, I will. Don’t ask me nuthin about my woman. Okay?”
Pauletta bit her bottom lip. “Soti lakay mwen,” Pauletta spat, kicking me out in Creole.
I nodded and left without a word.
A few hours later, after a thorough shower and nap, I pulled up to the high school and waited for Marsha to come out. I watched the foot traffic in front of the school, and the cars that pulled up to pick up students and leave. I watched for any signs of the Peña family. My heart raced while I waited, and I took deep breaths to calm myself. I’d started going through that since the incident. I didn’t tell Marsha; she was nervous enough for both of us. Maybe moving to Jersey could be the solution, I thought when teachers finally started exiting the building.
When Marsha climbed into the front passenger seat and pecked me on the lips, I felt a slight twinge of guilt from what I’d done earlier that day. The guilt and the anxiety played tug-of-war in the pit of my belly. Marsha hated being outside now, and I felt the same way. I couldn’t wait to be in the safety of our simple abode.
]]>Wed, 28 Oct 2026 03:42:44 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-seventeen-marshaI’d heard the phrase “Put God first in your relationship” many times. But since I’d avoided dating for so long, I never thought I’d have a reason to apply it. Now, as I watched Jeremy snoring lightly, his arms outstretched across the pillows as if he were trying to embrace all his dreams, I realized I hadn’t put God first, and that was probably why this relationship was headed downhill. It’s not too late to fix it, I thought to myself. On Sunday morning, we were going to church.
Jeremy had errands to run that Saturday that had to do with the “family business.” I still wasn’t clear on what his duties were in the business. According to Jeremy, he handled the legalities of the restaurant, barbershop, and mechanic shop. This didn’t quite make sense to me, considering all three businesses were in Miami. What could he be doing to take care of those businesses all the way in New York, and why did he have to run these errands so often? Why were there so many phone conversations about them? Jeremy talked to his sister and parents several times a week about “family business.” Of course, the family never asked about me, and I wouldn’t dare interject a hello. How long could I stay in the dark about what was going on with the Anthony family?
Jeremy got up and dressed to go out, and I followed right behind him. I made it clear that we would spend the day together regardless of what he had on the agenda. “I can’t have you in every meeting, Marsha. You can’t come into every place I go. You’ll have to sit in the car a lot,” Jeremy warned.
I shrugged my shoulders. I had nothing else to do that day. I didn’t mind sitting in the car if it meant I could keep his focus off of other women. 
The first thing we did was get breakfast. We enjoyed a typical diner meal of scrambled eggs, sausage, toast, and tea at a North Bronx diner. 
“I want to go to church in the morning,” I stated as I dropped honey into my ginger tea.
“Church?” Jeremy snorted.
“I went often before we met, and I haven’t been in a while.” I stirred the honey to my preference and took a sip. The hot tea eased down my throat and relaxed the rest of my insides. Bagged ginger tea didn’t hit like the pure ginger tea I made at home, but it worked for the moment.
“Where did you go?” Jeremy asked.
“The Church of the Good Shepard on Matilda and Nereid. You know it?” I asked.
“I’ve heard of it.” Jeremy dipped his toast in his tea, and I scrunched my nose in disapproval.
Jeremy laughed. “Why you always look like that when I do that?”
“Soggy toast is nasty,” I said, shaking my head.
Jeremy shrugged and bit into his soggy toast.
“Anyway,” I directed the conversation back to where I wanted it. “Service is at ten.”
“In the morning?” Jeremy exclaimed.
“Yes, in the mawnin’. It wouldn’t be in the night.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes.
“And you have plenty suits to wear, so ya already ahead of the game.” I smiled slyly.
Jeremy nodded with no fight, which shocked me.
Though I’d expected a fight, I didn’t get my hopes up that one would never come. Things could change in the morning, or even that night, for that matter.
We finished our breakfast and headed out to our first stop in Brooklyn. We pulled up to a neat brownstone on Dean Street that resembled the home of the Huxtables on The Cosby Show. I expected to wait in the car, but Jeremy told me to follow him. A housekeeper met us at the door and led us to a sitting room. She instructed me to wait there while she guided Jeremy to another part of the home. I sat for a few minutes twiddling my fingers until I remembered I had Toni Morrison’s Beloved in my bag. Before I could lose myself in Sethe’s troubles, the housekeeper returned and offered me some tea. I declined and turned my attention back to my book as the housekeeper left me alone again. Slowly, I lost myself in late 1800s Ohio, but was again interrupted by a little girl no more than five asking what I was reading.
I smiled at the pretty little doll-faced child. Her skin was velvety Black and her big, brown eyes shone with honest curiosity. “I’m readin a grown-up book.” I thought that would suffice.
“About what?” the little girl pressed.
For lack of a better response, I simply responded, “Ghosts.”
“Oh.” The little girl looked a bit taken aback, but a smile returned to her face. “I have lots of books,” she offered.
“Me too,” I said. “Do you like to read?”
The little girl nodded.
I could hear someone calling out, “Roseline!” The voice got closer, and finally, the woman who had clearly given the little girl her face appeared in the doorway to the sitting room. “Roseline,” the woman’s voice rasped. “Ou pa tande m ap rele w?”
“No, Mommy, I didn’t hear you,” little Roseline claimed.
The woman looked annoyed, and her expression did not change when she laid eyes on me. “Who are you?” she asked.
“I–– I came with Jeremy,” I stammered.
“Oms?” the woman inquired in Creole.
“Um, Jeremy,” I repeated as soon as I remembered what “oms” meant. “He’s my boyfriend. He um––”
“Fè vit!” the woman nearly yelled.
I froze. I had no idea what this woman was talking about.
Thankfully, Jeremy entered with the housekeeper. He walked over to the woman, reaching for a hug. Reluctantly, the woman returned the embrace. “I see you’ve met Marsha,” he said, smiling.
“Kisa ki mal nan li? Li pa pale kreyòl?” the woman continued in the same aggravated tone.
Jeremy chuckled. “Nothing is wrong with her. She’s still learning the language. She’s Antiguan.”
“Oh,” the woman said as she eyed me suspiciously. She turned back to Jeremy, continuing in Creole as if I wasn’t there. “Ou pa t 'kapab jwenn yon ti fi ayisyen?”
Jeremy pursed his lips. “Marsha, this is Josephine. Josephine, this is Marsha.”
I tried to crack a smile, but my pleasantry was no match for the woman’s disapproving face.
“Nice to meet you, Marsha,” Josephine lied.
“And I’m Roseline,” little Roseline chimed in, as the adults forgot about her.
Jeremy chuckled.
My eyes wandered around the room, not wanting to contend with Josephine’s attitude.
“Alright, we’re gonna get going,” said Jeremy.
Josephine nodded. “Esther will show you out.”
Once we were back in the car, I asked, “So what was all that about?”
Jeremy shook his head. “It’s the doctor’s wife. She’s a lil stuck up.”
“What was she saying about me in Creole?” I was pulling my seatbelt across my lap, ready to get as far away from that house as possible, as soon as possible.
“She just wanted to know why you didn’t speak Creole.” Jeremy checked his mirrors before pulling out of the parking spot.
“All of that was about me not speaking Creole?” I was not satisfied with that answer.
Jeremy shrugged and chuckled, just as he had inside when Roseline introduced herself. “She asked why I couldn’t find a Haitian girl who spoke Creole.”
“Oh,” my eyebrow shot up.
“Yeah, I told you, she’s a little stuck up.”
“I see,” I said as I settled into my seat for another stop. I was beginning to regret going out with him, but then I reminded myself of the reason why.

*****



The next stop was uneventful, so I sank deep into the passenger seat and read after Jeremy parked somewhere near Prospect Park. He told me to wait and strolled down the street. We were still in Brooklyn. He was gone for about thirty minutes, and in that time, I read through Beloved voraciously. I’d heard mixed reviews about the book, but I enjoyed it. Toni Morrison done it again, I thought to myself as I turned a page. Jeremy’s return was too soon. I had lowered the back of my seat and was resting my feet on the dashboard by the time he came back to the car. I sighed, careful not to be too loud. I couldn’t show that I wasn’t really enjoying the day, or Jeremy would never take me with him again.
“Hungry?” he asked when we stopped at a light.
“Sure,” I responded simply. The truth was, I could eat, but I wasn’t necessarily hungry. That answer seemed to suffice for Jeremy, though, and I knew that we would head to the nearest Haitian restaurant for lunch. He used every opportunity to visit Haitian restaurants in Brooklyn and Queens. They were few and far between in The Bronx, and I didn’t know how to cook Haitian food. 
As much time as I’d spent in Brooklyn with Jeremy, I still didn’t have much sense of direction when I was there. When Jeremy pulled up to a small Haitian takeout spot, I immediately recognized it and then was surprised to see how close it was to Prospect Park. The restaurant only had about ten tables that could seat two at a time. Except for two old men in a corner enjoying a fritay platter, the place was empty. 
“You want fritay?” Jeremy asked me as I eyed the old men.
“No,” I said as I turned my attention to the menu.
“You want your usual?” Jeremy said as he leaned across the table to steer my attention back to him.
I nodded. 
“You think you can order it yourself in Creole?” Jeremy grinned.
I fought off a goofy smile. “I would sound crazy.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You gotta practice. The more you practice, the more you’ll understand and the more fluent you’ll be.” Jeremy held his palms out to me as if he were making an offer I couldn’t refuse.
I thought about what he was saying, and as a teacher, I knew what he said was true. I took a deep breath. “Okay. What do I say?”
“Mwen vle diri nwa ak poul tanpri,” Jeremy said slowly.
I watched his mouth, trying to match the sounds with what I knew of the language and what I wanted. “Mwen,” I whispered.
Jeremy smiled. “Good, good, I.” He nodded his head, encouraging me to continue. 
“Vle?” I questioned.
“You got it,” Jeremy pushed. “I want––”
“Mwen vle diri––” I was stuck.
Jeremy laughed. “You know, diri, you don’t play about the black rice.” He laughed harder, and I laughed with him. We laughed so hard that we had not seen the two other men enter. I only noticed them when they approached the table.
I could tell Jeremy was startled and playing it off. “José? Manuel? You guys a little early, aren’t you?”
“Never too early,” said the man who appeared to be José. 
The men were tall, tan, and broad-shouldered like Jeremy, but they looked more menacing. I turned toward the window and noticed the sky darkening. I didn’t remember anything about rain in the forecast. I turned back to Jeremy, who was now speaking Spanish with the gentleman. I knew he spoke a little Spanish. I did too. There was no way to survive The Bronx without knowing enough to get around. Jeremy was speaking more than survivalist Spanish, though. He was speaking as fluently and rapidly as if he’d been born in the Dominican Republic instead of Haiti. The conversation was heating up with words like mierda and puta. When Jeremy stood, and the word maricon flew out of his mouth, I knew things had surely taken a turn for the worse. 
“Go to the car, Marsha,” he said, handing me the keys.
“What about the food?” I asked barely above a whisper.
“Go,” Jeremy said without taking his eyes off the guys. 
I backed away from the table, not wanting to take my eyes off the guys either. 
“Watch your mouth,” said Manuel. “You fuckin monkeys from the other side, get beside yourselves.”
A fear I’d never felt before crept up my neck, and a cold sweat slid down my spine.
“I suggest you fellas let me get my lady home,” Jeremy said as he pushed his chair in. “It won’t be good for y’all if anything happens to her.”
“She’s good,” said Jose. “But I don’t know if we can let you walk out of here so easily.”
My heart pounded so hard, I felt like my chest would crack down the middle.
“Y’all got a legit beef, but it’s not with me,” Jeremy went on. He noticed I was still standing in the doorway. “Marsha! Go!”
I was frozen. What would happen if I got in the car? What would happen if I didn’t? My stomach started twisting.
“Your people didn’t make good on the deal!” Jose hollered. “The beef is with all y’all!”
In a flash, Manuel had pulled a gun from his waistband. Male restaurant workers rushed from the back, and the two old men joined them in surrounding the feuding men. I stumbled backwards out of the restaurant, fearing for my life. Warm tears clouded my vision as I fumbled with the car keys. Somehow, I was able to unlock the doors and jump into the driver’s seat. I turned on the car and quickly remembered I couldn’t drive. Still, Jeremy dove into the passenger seat and barked, “Drive!”
I shifted the car into drive. My foot smashed the gas pedal as if I’d stomped a rodent. The car jerked forward and screeched down the street. As I ignored all rules of the road, I welcomed blaring horns if it meant we were getting away from the popping noises in the background.
When we seemed to be at a safe distance, Jeremy urged me to pull over, which I did not do successfully. I abruptly slammed on the brakes in the middle of a residential street. With my heart pounding and limbs shaking, I gripped the steering wheel. 
“Put the car in park,” Jeremy whispered.
I took a deep breath and did as I was told.
Jeremy got out and walked around to the driver’s side. Horns honked as we blocked traffic on the narrow street. 
“Fèmen fout la!” Jeremy yelled toward the angry drivers. He carefully pulled me out of the driver’s seat and walked me back around to the passenger side. The sky had opened up, and we were both soaked once he took over the drive.
An hour later, we climbed the stairs to our safe and tiny abode. 
“I told you, it’s not always safe to go with me,” were the only words Jeremy said to me before we reached home.
I didn’t respond.
Once home, I took myself into the shower and washed slowly, giving myself time to cry it out without an audience. When I finally emerged from the bathroom, Jeremy was in the kitchen on the phone, whispering in Creole. I released a heavy sigh. “Family business” was not for the weak. The rain had stopped, and the sun had returned, but I was in my pajamas, ready for a new day. This one had gone bad and smelled rotten, and regardless of how hard I scrubbed, I could not wash its toxins away.
Jeremy finally came into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Tomorrow we go to church,” I said firmly.

*****



I tossed and turned all night. Nightmares featuring the faces of the men in the restaurant kept me clammy and uncomfortable. Jeremy was somehow sound asleep. When we got home, he didn’t seem shaken at all. Was this normal for him? Now more than ever, I needed to know what the family business really entailed, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I was afraid that the more I knew, the harder it would be for me to stay in the relationship, and I was not going to leave Jeremy. 
As luck would have it, the alarm sounded when Mr. Sandman and I finally met in the wee hours of the morning. I’d slept less than five hours when I not only heard the alarm blaring but also heard Jeremy’s heavy arm slam down to shut it off. I knew one day the clock would not work at all, the way Jeremy used no restraint in stopping the noise.
“We still going to church?” he asked as I rolled out of the other side of the bed.
“Yes,” I responded. “You don’t think we need it after yesterday?”
Jeremy shrugged. “It’s a crazy world we live in, Marsha.”
“And what part do you have in making the world crazy?” I blurted out. 
Jeremy snickered. “The less you know, the better. I told you before, it’s not good for you to go everywhere with me.” 
“Nothin like that ever happened before.” I stood with my hands on my hips. 
“I know,” Jeremy said. “And I’m sorry. Nothing like that will ever happen again.” He swung his tree trunk legs out of bed and sauntered over to me. I fell into his embrace and started crying again. “I was so scared.”
“I know, trust me, I know. I can’t tell you too much, but I can say my family has had to do some things we’re not so proud of to stay afloat. Haiti is not an easy place. To be Haitian in America is even harder.” Jeremy nuzzled the silk scarf that protected my tresses at night.
“But you are here now,” I said, looking up at him. “You don’t have to do those things. Just go back to school, take the bar, find a small firm, and work for them. It can’t be that hard to do.”
“Marsha, I know our apartment is small, but how do you think we got it so fast? How do you think I furnished it so quickly? The best way for me to bring in money so that we can have what we want, do what we want, and go where we want is for me to stick with my family.” He looked into my eyes, and I stared back into his, while my heart and mind battled with each other.
“We need to get ready for church,” I said, easing out of his embrace. I wouldn’t say anything else to him about working with his family; I would find other ways to deter him, and I was starting with church.
I walked into the house of worship, my head held high with Jeremy at my side. It had been a while since I’d been to service, but I wasn’t ashamed, especially now that I would be arriving with a handsome, charming man on my arm. Many of the church members were from Antigua, and Antiguan people could circulate a hot story in minutes. It was the hazard of being from a small island. I would use this to my advantage. I knew the word would get back to Sheila that I was living happily ever after with my prince charming. I also knew that word would get around to most of the women he’d fooled around with. Jeremy was my man now, and no one else had a chance.
The sanctuary wasn’t overcrowded, but it wasn’t nearly empty either. Jeremy wanted to sit in the back, but I allowed the ushers to lead us to the seats they felt would be best. I recognized a few faces as we were ushered to a middle row. The shooting experience the day before terrified me and made me feel like I needed the safety of a church. Like many, I felt closer to God when in the presence of His messengers. My initial reason for wanting to go to church still stood, though, and my plan was working. Those familiar faces would surely talk. “Yuh know mi see Marsha in church wid that Jeremy bwoy.” I grinned inwardly as I imagined the gossip that would go on. 
During the praise and worship hour, the children’s steel pan band played, and I could hardly contain myself. I hadn’t realized how much I missed home until I heard the pinging of the hollowed-out steel. My chest rose and fell as I fought back the tears of homesickness. I closed my eyes, and just for a few minutes, I could smell the salt of the ocean-glazed island air, mixed with the Ladies of the Night flowers that grew outside my home. I caught Jeremy staring at me when I opened my eyes and felt a twinge of awkwardness. 
“You okay?” he mouthed.
I nodded reassuringly. 
Jeremy nodded as well and turned his attention to the front of the church. 
The minister preached a sermon on finding one’s ministry and allowing God to lead. I thought to myself how I’d never joined a ministry in church before. Maybe now was a good time. But what would I do? I couldn’t sing, and I felt I had to be a people person to be on the usher board. Maybe I could teach children’s Sunday school. I settled on the potential of that idea. I had to do something that would bring me closer to God, and I could then bring Jeremy closer to me. I turned my attention to him to see how much he was listening. He seemed attentive, but I couldn’t be too sure.
As soon as the sermon was over, Jeremy stood to leave. I was a bit disappointed in his hurry, but I was hungry. I started thinking about what I could make for brunch at home. We shuffled our way to the back, both of us eager to discuss what our first meal of the day would be, when I was waved down by a young lady whom I’d known in Antigua.
Sarah was a kind girl who’d attended high school with me. She was slim and petite with a strong voice. “Is that you, Marsha?” she exclaimed.
I forced a smile. Though I wanted to be seen, I didn’t want to have a conversation with anybody. Sunday school teacher might not be such a good idea, I thought to myself as I considered how many people might want to talk to me after class. “Hi Sarah,” I said in an even tone.
“My goodness, Marsha. I didn’t know you come to this church. How long yuh been comin here?” Sarah seemed excited to speak to me.
I stared at her in bewilderment. Though I thought Sarah was nice, I wanted to blurt out, “Yuh never stop laugh when them ah call mi Stushy-mushy.” Sarah never made fun of me outright, but she also didn’t defend me. Instead of addressing those thoughts with her, I simply said, “Been comin here since mi reach here ah while ago.”
Sarah smiled. “Right, yuh did leave straight out of school. Well, mi jus come up last year. And who is this?” she asked, eyeing Jeremy.
Jeremy stepped forward and took Sarah’s hand. “I’m Jeremy.” He bent as if he were about to kiss Sarah’s hand, but I cleared my throat loudly. 
“My mon,” I stated sternly.
Jeremy quickly dropped Sarah’s hand, but I could see that Sarah was already awestruck. 
“Well, good fa you, Marsha.”
I watched Sarah struggle to keep her eyes on me, instead of Jeremy.
“Who would’ve thought Stu–,” she stopped herself.
My eyes fixed on her mouth, waiting for the nickname to make its way out, but it never did. 
Sarah breathed in. “Who would’ve thought the studious Marsha would come ah Big-merica and get married?”
“Oh, we’re not married,” Jeremy corrected.
I wished he were mute. “Not yet,” I said, adjusting his sentiment.
Sarah nodded.
“Good seein you, Sarah. We have to go.” I gripped Jeremy’s wrist, ready to continue out the door.
“Oh, good to see you too, and mi hope to see you more here at church.” Sarah nodded, making eye contact with both of us. 
“You will,” Jeremy threw in.
I dug my nails into the inner part of his wrist, and Jeremy winced. Once in the car, he brought up brunch. 
“Don’t flirt wit people right in front ah mi face,” I hissed through my teeth.
“What? I wasn’t flirting with anybody.” Jeremy faked confusion.
I turned to him on the verge of an outburst. Outside of the church, I no longer felt as safe, and anxiety returned, manifesting as aggravation. “You were gonna kiss her hand.”
“I was gonna kiss her on her cheeks. You know that’s what Haitian people do,” Jeremy insisted.
“She is not Haitian.” I shoved the seatbelt into its latch.
Jeremy sucked his teeth. “And what is this, not married yet?” 
“You are going to marry me, aren’t you?” I quizzed. 
“Yeah, but––” 
“But what?” I interjected.
“Nothing.” Jeremy shook his head as we rounded the corner. “You want to go to Hill Avenue for a plate?”
“I can cook salt-fish at home,” I said, ready to be in the safety of our apartment.
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “You cook salt-fish every Sunday.”
“So?” I rolled my eyes in return.
“So can you cook something different?” 
“No,” I said, wishing he would just read my mind. “Yuh want someting different? You should cook it.”
Jeremy sucked his teeth again, silencing the rest of the short ride home.

*****



I did make church a part of our weekly routine, and Jeremy wasn’t as resistant as I’d anticipated. In fact, he seemed a little too happy to attend some days. 
As school began and summer ended, we had fallen into a quiet, boring routine. Jeremy could not go to Brooklyn, and this was a problem for his family. It was up to him to conduct business in that borough, but the attempt on his life made that impossible. Another cousin would have to take over duties in that area. 
My anxiety and fears kept us in the house on weekends, and we didn’t see very many places other than church. One Sunday afternoon, as Jeremy excused himself to the restroom before leaving, Sarah waved me down as she did often. When Sarah could not get a seat near me, she made sure to stop me for conversation. I pondered this newfound interest Sarah suddenly had in me. Sarah never paid me this much attention in Antigua, and now it was as if she were actively pursuing a friendship. Maybe she homesick, I thought to myself. But half of the church’s members were from Antigua. Sarah had plenty of options for friends from home.
“Where’s Jeremy?” Sarah asked in a hushed tone.
“He went to the bat’room,” I said, making it clear that my man was not far from my side. 
Sarah nodded her head and looked around. “Can I talk wid you over there?” She motioned to an empty corner toward the front of the church as most of the congregation headed towards the back. 
I shrugged my shoulders and followed.
“Mi nah too sure how fa tell ya this,” Sarah continued in her secretive voice.
“What?” I inquired.
Sarah looked like what she was about to say would hurt. “I think Jeremy is seein smaddy else.”
My heart began to race, but I couldn’t let Sarah see me sweat. I kept a straight face as she continued.
“This gyal Tina––” Sarah stammered.
I held up my hand. “He dated Tina a while ago.”
“Yes, but she was tellin me about another girl, a Haitian girl. She live on Gunhill Road in those projects.” Sarah seemed jittery and nervous, glancing toward the back of the church.
“Let me jus stop you there,” I said, setting the tone. “Jeremy dated a lot of girls before me. He has someting of a reputation, but he is wid me now, and nuthin is changin that. Everyting else is jus gossip. People try fa break us up, jealous people, y’know. So please doh bring me them kinda bone.”
Sarah stepped back. “I don’t think it’s something he left in his past, but that’s ya man, you would know better than any of us, I suppose.”
“That is right. Enjoy the rest of ya Sunday,” I bid Sarah goodbye and went off to find Jeremy so that we could get back to the safety of home.
]]>Wed, 28 Oct 2026 02:37:22 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-sixteen-jeremyI tightened my grip on Marsha’s waist and jerked her body forward as she grabbed at my T-shirt and tugged it upwards and over my head. The warmth of her bare skin against mine instantly excited me, and I was more than ready to feel the deeper warmth that waited for me between her slender thighs. In an instant, she was stepping out of her denim shorts. I scooped her up, and she wrapped her long limbs around me. I nibbled at her skin, neither of us concerned with the red marks that would speckle her neck and collarbone. I flicked the hooks of her bra open and threw the slinky piece of lingerie to the side. My hands held her bottom close and tight to my waist as I walked her over, and gently dropped her onto the bed.
I continued trailing bites down to her breasts, which were perfectly sized for my mouth only. She used her feet to push my shorts and underwear down. She was already digging her nails into my back, electrifying every nerve in my body. She clasped her legs around me once again. This time, as she pulled me in, I slid all the way into her with ease. Both of us gasped.
Marsha threw her head back, opening up her neck for me to bury my face in. I rocked her slowly at first, but the more I felt her, the more I wanted to feel. Marsha met my every push with a thrust of her own hips forward. In less time than I wanted, I was losing control of my movements. I sped up, grinding deeper and deeper, all the while trying to focus on something that would slow me down, something less exciting, less euphoric. But when Marsha brought her chin back down and looked into my eyes, I came undone. “I love you,” I gasped.
Tears fell from the corners of Marsha’s eyes as she responded, “I love you too.”
Hours later, after a deep nap, I awoke to the realization that Marsha had gotten out of bed. I froze in the dark for a moment, wondering where she could have gone. I sighed with relief when I heard the toilet flush. I couldn’t remember if my secret pager was off, and occasionally, the fear that Marsha would find it crept up my spine and rattled me. I thought about my original plans for the evening, and wondered if Pauletta was disappointed that she’d been stood up. She probably attempted to page me. I decided to wait Marsha out to see if she would fall back to sleep quickly, and she did.
I slipped out of bed, threw on a pair of basketball shorts, and tiptoed into the living room. The pager was in the pocket of a hooded sweater that I planned to throw into the car on my way out. I took it out and turned it on. Sure enough, there were back-to-back pages from Pauletta. I quickly tiptoed back to the kitchen for the cordless phone. Sitting on the couch, I dialed Pauletta’s number and half expected her not to respond, but she did.
“Jeremy!” she hissed.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?” she asked.
I ignored her question. “Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t link up tonight. You wanna link tomorrow?”
“No, and why are you whispering? Where are you?” Pauletta demanded to know.
“I’m home,” I simply answered.
“You have to whisper in your own house like a little kid? Oh no, are you married?” Pauletta sounded panicked.
“No, I ain’t married,” I assured her.
“But you live with ya girl. That’s why you never gave me your phone number.”
“Nah, that’s not it,” I said, now wondering why I called her in the first place. I didn’t actually care that I’d stood her up. Girls like Pauletta came a dime a dozen. I’d meet another one at another party or bar.
“Doesn’t matter. Your number came up on the caller I.D., Jeremy Anthony. You better hope I don’t call back and warn her.”
I sucked my teeth. “Look, if you don’t wanna link another time, just say that.”
“I don’t,” Pauletta said sharply.
“Cool,” I said, and hung up.
I slid back into bed with Marsha after making sure the beeper was off and well-hidden again. Just as my eyelids couldn’t hold their own weight anymore, Marsha whispered, “Who were you on the phone with?”
My eyes popped open, and I stared hard into the darkness, as if it would reveal a suitable lie. “Lovelie,” I lied. “Something happened at the barbershop.”
“Oh,” Marsha said softly.
I felt her arm snake around my waist.
“I didn’t hear the phone ring.” Her voice maintained its whispering tone.
“Nah, I called her. I forgot I was supposed to call her earlier.”
“This late?” Now she was being annoying, and it seemed like she was digging. If she was going to accuse me, why wouldn’t she just come out with it?
“It’s the weekend, Marsha.” I yawned. “I’m about to crash,” I said.
“Mm-hm,” Marsha semi-groaned.
Soon she was snoring lightly again, and I was able to get some sleep myself.
]]>Tue, 27 Oct 2026 01:04:00 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-fifteen-marshaLeaving Sheila and Ansol’s place was bittersweet. Sheila and I hadn’t spoken since our fight before I went to Miami. The silence between us when I returned to pack made the apartment unbearable. The kitchen was once a lively place for us. Regardless of what went on between us, at some point, we would cross paths in the kitchen, and all would be well again. That ended.
The search for a one-bedroom residence was hasty. Before the school year officially ended, I agreed to sign the lease on a tiny dwelling only about six blocks from where I lived with Sheila and Ansol. Though the new apartment I would share with Jeremy was much smaller than the one I shared with my cousins, the buildings were quite similar. Both were tenement walk-ups with fewer than five floors and at most two apartments per floor. I wasn’t rid of Sheila, but at least I didn’t have to reside under the same roof with so-called authority, and I would be close to my man. My commute to work didn’t change much, and I could still shop in the same stores. Big or small, I knew I could live comfortably in any space with Jeremy.
My parents were upset with me for moving, but my father was more disappointed than my mother. The night before I officially left, I sat on my old bedroom floor listening to my parents lament during the long-distance call. They didn’t care what it would cost if it meant that I would try to stay with Sheila a little longer.
“Jus forgive Sheila. Everyting will be okay,” my mother pleaded.
“Forgiveness is not the ting here,” my father said from another receiver somewhere in the house. “This is not how we do tings, Marsha! You are a young woman, you live wid ya family until you is married!”
“Well, they could get married,” my mother offered.
My father sucked his teeth.
I listened and filled a bag with clothes, not saying a word. My mind was made up, and my mother was right for once. We could get married. That was something I could bring up to Jeremy later. I knew I was going against everything I was taught growing up, and deviating from everything I’d planned, but I couldn’t silence the other thoughts about my father that tugged at the back of my mind. How dare you talk to me about what is morally correct, when ya have so much outside pick’ney? My parents were blatant hypocrites. Delmont had children all over the island, and Lucinda accepted it. Was it morally acceptable to be a doormat? My parents would have to learn to accept my so-called imperfections because, as far as I was concerned, they taught, but they did not lead by example.
Jeremy didn’t enter the apartment when he came to pick me up on moving day, and I didn’t bother to say goodbye before tossing my bags into the back of his Audi. Anxiety of the unknown nagged, but I leaned into it. I was determined now more than ever to prove everyone wrong.
The nerve of them, I thought as Jeremy pulled away from the curb. Sheila had a man, but he wasn’t serious about her; my mother was still taking care of children dropped off by my father’s other women, and my father was the worst of all. Of all people, he dared to bring up marriage. I glanced over at Jeremy as he focused on the road. From this point on, it would be the two of us against the world. Now that we were living together, there would be no distractions and no one in the way. He would have eyes only for me. I would prove Sheila wrong, and no one would talk about me the way they talked about my mother.

*****



The first month of playing house with my love was bliss. Every morning, I made coffee and quick breakfasts. Jeremy drove me to work and picked me up. I cooked dinner, and together we ate and cleaned the kitchen. I spent time on my lesson plans while he watched television or talked on the phone in hushed Creole about family business, and the night always ended with passionate lovemaking. It could only get better during summer break.
My period was always horrendous in the summer, though. Something about the heat and humidity made my symptoms unbearable. Jeremy and I were supposed to go to a Fourth of July barbecue and watch fireworks in Mount Vernon that evening. So I did everything I could throughout the day to combat the headache, cramping, and nausea that I was facing. I drank ginger tea, popped several ibuprofen, and tried to take it easy—resting as much as possible. It was all to no avail. By around five o’clock, I couldn’t get myself together to go out.
I lay curled up in our full-sized bed, my arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I felt defeated, and I couldn’t think of anything other than the discomfort passing. I thought about filling my hot water bottle to hold against my stomach, but I was already sweating. The plastic fan in the corner of the room was no match for the New York heat. The window stood wide open, allowing music and the smell of grilled food to waft into the bedroom, occasionally brushing across my nose. At first, it would smell amazing, but when I inhaled deeper, nausea would tap-dance from my stomach to my throat, and I would fight not to gag.
Jeremy came into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. He’d been in and out most of the day, seemingly oblivious to how sick I was. Perhaps he didn’t understand just how bad it was for me.
“What time you wanna head out?” he asked.
“I don’t think I can go,” I murmured.
When he turned to look at me, I was shocked to see that he looked annoyed. “You still feelin sick?”
“These cramps are really bad this time.” I tightened my arms around my midsection.
“Didn’t you take Motrin?”
“Yes but—”
“How many did you take?”
“At this point I don’t even know.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.
Clearly, he was bothered. “We could watch the fireworks on TV,” I coaxed.
Jeremy sucked his teeth. “Nobody wanna watch fireworks on TV. It’s better to go out.”
I cleared my throat as I combated another wave of nausea. “Well, we can’t go out tonight,” I stated softly. “There’s always next year. And here in the Bronx they continue with the fireworks for almost a week.”
Jeremy sucked his teeth again. “I’m going out,” he said, rising from the bed. “You can stay in if you want to.”
“Well, I don’t want to, but I can’t go out like this.” I rolled over on my back and realized blood was soaking through my shorts. “Damn it,” I said, carefully raising my body off the bed. I waddled past Jeremy to the bathroom, who now looked disgusted.
“Don’t take too long in the bathroom,” he grunted. “I wanna start getting ready to go.”
I thought about our conversation as I cleaned myself up. Is he really gonna go without me? When I came out of the bathroom, Jeremy was ironing a red T-shirt to go with a pair of denim shorts that lay at the foot of the bed.
“You’re really leavin’ without me?” I asked.
“I can’t force you,” he quipped.
“I don’t understand why you cyan jus stay here. Why you so determined?” I crossed my arms.
“We had plans to go. You can’t go. No reason why I can’t go.”
“Stay home, take care of me. I don’t feel well.”
Jeremy stopped, set the iron down on the floor, and looked me up and down. “You don’t need me here. Just lie on the bed like you been doing all day.”
I didn’t know what to say to convince him to stay home. I also didn’t understand why he needed to go out so badly. Since we’d been living together, we did everything together. Fireworks would go on all week in The Bronx, and Jeremy was acting as if he had never seen them before. This wasn’t even a real Independence Day for either of us. Haiti’s Independence Day was in January, and Antigua’s was in November. Caribbean people took advantage of United States Independence Day as a reason to have a party and nothing more. I sat on the bed and watched him prepare to leave. When he was finally ready, he kissed me on the forehead and told me he would see me later.

*****



BOOM!
My eyes popped open, and through the window, I could see that fireworks were still ablaze in the city’s sky. I reached my right arm out and found that the other side of the bed was still empty. My eyes darted over to the alarm clock at my bedside. It was three o’clock in the morning. I sat straight up and listened to see if I could hear Jeremy in the living room. Nothing.
I got up and went into the bathroom to clean myself up and make sure I hadn’t soiled my pajamas. I came out feeling refreshed. The cramping had subsided somewhat, but hunger appeared out of nowhere. I headed into the kitchen for some crackers and tea. I figured Jeremy must have passed out on the couch. As my tea kettle boiled, I peeked into the living room and saw that the couch was empty. My heart began to race. Where could he be at this time?
I walked all around the house as if I would find Jeremy hiding behind something, like a small child pulling a prank. Of course, he was not home. The tea kettle whistled, so I went back into the kitchen, made my tea, and leaned against the counter as I slowly ate my crackers. I thought about calling 911 or the hospitals to see if anything had happened to him. I put my mug down and walked towards the cordless phone on the wall. I put my hand on the receiver, but something stopped me. Would anyone know to call me if something happened to him? I took deep breaths, fighting the panic that was spreading throughout my body.
Suddenly, I heard the front door creak open. I marched into the living room, ready to face whatever incident brought my man home so late.
Jeremy looked startled to see me, as if he’d forgotten that I lived there too. “What’re you doing up?” he asked.
“Where were you?” I said, on the brink of tears.
“I told you, I went to the party,” Jeremy said in a snarky tone.
“I know that, but what happened to you?”
“Nothing,” he said as he brushed past me. My stomach lurched as a strong perfume assaulted my nostrils.
“How ya comin’ in so late?” I almost yelled.
“Go back to bed,” Jeremy said over his shoulder as he entered the bathroom.
I went back to the kitchen to finish my snack and wait for him to come out of the bathroom. He couldn’t stay in there all night. That perfume made my insides quiver as I thought about the possibility of him cheating on me. How dare he? And I wasn’t feeling well—so inconsiderate.
The heat of the tea soothed my stomach while rage radiated through my limbs. The longer he took in the bathroom, the angrier I became. Finally, I heard the door open as I was rinsing out my mug. I wasted no time following a freshly showered Jeremy into the bedroom. “I want to know where you was tonight!” I demanded, no longer willing to control my volume.
“I told you I went to the party, didn’t I?” Jeremy matched my energy.
“What party ya gon to till early mawnin?”
“Same party I told you I was going to, and don’t start that Antigua talk with me. Mind your tone.”
“Mind my tone? Mind what time ya come home! Who was you wit?”
“What?” Jeremy snickered.
“Mi say, who was you wit? From when ya walk in, ya smell like discount perfume.”
Jeremy climbed into bed, appearing no longer interested in matching my energy, further enraging me. “Good night, Marsha.”
I sucked my teeth. “Was it Tina?”
Jeremy let out a full-on laugh. “I don’t fuck wit Tina, and you know that. I went to the barbecue I told you about. You too sick to go, you think I was gonna sit around here bored with you? No. I went, I ate, I drank, I played dominoes, I watched fireworks, I came home—”
“Smellin’ like perfume!”
“So what? It’s not like there were no women at the party, shit, Marsha. Go to bed. I’m not talkin about this all night. I said goodnight.”
I swallowed hard, realizing there was no winning this fight. I wouldn’t find out who he was with. He would take his lie to bed and beyond. I climbed into bed next to him as if I had let it go, but I really hadn’t.

*****



If I had any trust in Jeremy, it was gone after the Fourth of July. I’d begun tallying his indiscretions in my head and using them as a guide for my own behavior. I felt he was cheating on me, but now that we were living together, what could I do? I told Sheila I wouldn’t come back, and I meant that. If I left, Sheila would be right, and I couldn’t have that. 
I sat at the small kitchen table, eating an apple as I watched Jeremy move around the apartment, rambling in Creole on the phone. I wished I could understand what he was saying. I would catch a few words here and there, but it wasn’t enough to make out what the conversation was about. My heart felt like a paperweight as I watched him in all his animation. His voice and left arm rose at the same time throughout the intense chat. I figured out that he was on a three-way call with his father and sister. My eyes glided over his smooth black skin. The veins in his neck would bulge at certain reactions. There was little laughter.
I considered asking what they were talking about, but I already knew the answer would be “family business.” As my eyes lowered over his shirtless torso, Jeremy caught me looking. He stopped and stood in front of me for a moment, and when I finally looked up into his eyes, he grinned slyly at me and winked. I blushed. I loved this man, and I believed he loved me back, just not the same way. I knew then I would have to cut off all distractions. 
“You’ll never spend another minute without me,” I mumbled to herself. 
Jeremy turned around from where he was in the doorway to the living room and mouthed to me, “What?”
I shook my head no to signal that I was not talking to him. 
Jeremy shrugged and continued his conversation in the living room.
Later that evening, he announced, “I’m gonna go play dominoes in Edenwald.”
This usually meant I could stay at home curled up with whatever book held my attention for the time, or I could stretch out across the couch and enjoy any historical movie playing on cable. Things would be different on this night, though. I’d made up my mind that I was going to stand in the way of every possibility of being played. Whatever Jeremy had going on behind my back before, it was now coming to an end.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m comin wid you.” I stood up and headed to the bedroom to change my clothes.
“Huh?” Jeremy was confused, as I expected. He followed me into the bedroom and watched me from the doorway.
“I said ‘I’m comin wit you,’” I repeated.
“You don’t like Edenwald,” Jeremy said, noting my distaste for the rough neighborhood. “You said it’s dangerous.”
“I know. That’s why I’m comin wit you. If someting happens to you, I won’t be left here wonderin where you is. I would know. I wouldn’t have to call hospitals and that kinda ting.” I fished out a pair of denim shorts and polo shirt.
“You don’t have to do that,” Jeremy said, stepping closer to me. He grabbed my hand as I dug around in my sock drawer for a pair that would match the polo shirt. “Really, Marsha. I wanna put some money on this game, and you know how those guys are. They’re loud and nasty. They say things about women. If someone loses a lot of money, it can get crazy. You don’t wanna be around for that.”
“I don’t mind. I can bring my book wid me.” I stood my ground as I slipped my hand out of Jeremy’s grip.
“You really wanna sit and read a book in all that rowdiness?” Jeremy asked. Though I pulled my hand away from his, neither of us moved from where we were standing. 
“Yeah. It’s no big deal. You don’t want me to go?” I tested to see what his response would be to that. If he didn’t want me to go, he would have to explain why.
I watched his jaw work back and forth. I imagined he was rolling his answer around in his mouth before spitting it out like a guenip pit. I didn’t care what his answer was. I knew I was going with him no matter what he said. 
Jeremy finally answered, “I would spend every waking moment with you if it was healthy for our relationship.”
“So then you don’t mind if I go.” I turned away from him and began changing my clothes.
Jeremy tried one more time. “You thinking what if something happens to me, but what if something happens to you? Your family would blame me, especially Sheila.”
“I ain’t worried about Sheila,” I said as I eased into my shorts.
Jeremy sighed. “Know what? I don’t need to spend no money. We can just stay home.”
A sharp pain jabbed me in the pit of my stomach. I bit my bottom lip as I realized what this response meant. He was lying. He was not going to play dominoes. “You sure?” I asked.
Jeremy nodded and walked towards me. His hands swirled around my waist as I stood in only a bra and denim shorts. He kissed me on my neck and spoke softly into my ear. “I’m not gonna risk you getting hurt.” Kiss. “Or worse.” Kiss. “You want more time with me?” Kiss. “You got it.” Kiss. “M ap rete lakay.”]]>Tue, 27 Oct 2026 01:03:00 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-fourteen-jeremyI flew between New York and Miami so often that it always felt like a quick trip, with the exception of my first flight to New York and the flight I took back to New York with Marsha. I needed time to think and process what happened in Miami, and create strong excuses for my behaviors. With Marsha being close at my side the entire time, that was impossible. I thought about running into my ex in the club while Marsha was there. That was a close call. I admitted to her that I was there with Marsha, but that I missed her. She blew me off, but later the phone at my parents’ house would ring, and when I answered, the person on the other end would hang up. I knew it was her.
I thought about trying to get a few hours alone with her while in Miami, but with the way Lovelie and my mother treated Marsha, there was no way I could sneak away and leave her with my family. I was almost relieved when my ex blew me off in the club. But then she started the phone calls, and I knew my mother would get fed up and curse me out for it.
I looked over at Marsha, who stared out the airplane window. She loved the window seat. I didn’t care for it. As stuck-up as people claimed she was, she was game for anything most of the time. That was good and bad. Eventually, fancy restaurants and trips to Miami wouldn’t be enough for her. She wanted to really travel, and I didn’t care to. To hold on to her, though, I would possibly have to compromise somewhere down the line. Marsha turned to look at me as if she could feel me looking at her. She gave me a half smile and turned back to the window. She hadn’t been the same since the argument with Lovelie, and there was nothing I could do about it without telling on myself.
I put my headphones on and nestled down in my seat as the plane continued to soar higher above the clouds. I drifted into a light sleep, opening my eyes intermittently to find that we were still in the air. I thought about the moves I would have to make back in New York. Papi had already put in a call for me and gave me some extra money, with a warning not to tell Mommy or Lovelie. Lovelie was already overly opinionated about everything I did, so Papi didn’t want to hear her laments any more than I did. He also explained that Mommy wasn’t too fond of Marsha. She felt she was just like my ex-girlfriend, and she would not be pleased to hear about me footing the bill for us to move in together since Marsha came from a wealthy family herself.
Now that we were moving, I was officially responsible for the family’s business dealings in New York. My father started shifting some duties from Uncle Marvin to my charge. I would have to make time as soon as I landed to meet with Marvin and discuss the recent changes. I was excited and nervous. Finally, I could show them what I was capable of. Lovelie would have to share some of her golden-child spotlight now. I smiled as if I were having his mental conversation out loud, then looked around to see if anyone noticed. This was a huge undertaking, but I could handle it. I had to. Marsha and my family were depending on me.
When we finally landed at JFK Airport, Marsha turned to me and said, “I don’t want to go to Sheila’s.”
I pursed my lips. Marsha had never been in my basement apartment, and I wanted to keep it that way. She asked about it a few times. I told her she wouldn’t like it and tried to leave it at that. “What do you want to do?” I asked, though I’d already started considering the cost of a hotel.
“Can’t I just stay with you?” Marsha pleaded.
I couldn’t say no. Marsha never asked for anything, and now she seemed to be begging. “Okay. I’ll get a hotel.”
Marsha cocked her head to the side. “Do you think that’s a good idea? You just spent all this money on a trip.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, thinking of how I could stretch the extra money in my pocket.
“Why can’t we go to your place?” Marsha pressed.
I sighed so hard it came out like a snarl. “I told you before, you wouldn’t like it.” With that, I walked ahead of her towards the baggage claim. I hated talking to her that way, but I needed her to trust my word and go with the flow. After the week we had, I was not about to expose her to that underground dwelling.
To my satisfaction, Marsha shut down and didn’t say a word. We took a silent taxi ride to my house and immediately transferred our bags to my car. From there, we headed straight to a Marriott hotel in New Rochelle. Once settled in the room, I sat next to Marsha on the bed and put my arm around her.
“Do you have another family?” she asked, shocking me and deterring me from the apologetic monologue that brewed in my brain on the drive.
“What do you mean?” I asked back.
“I mean, like, do you have a wife? Kids?”
I chuckled. “Nah, what would make you think that?”
“I know you don’t want me to talk about it, but you never let me in ya house. I thought maybe—” Her voice faded.
I shook my head. “No wife. No kids. For a while, it was just me, myself, and I. Now it’s me and you. Okay?”
Marsha nodded. I blinked to soften the intensity growing between us as she stared into my eyes.
“I’m really sorry about everything this weekend,” I said, getting back to my planned apology, and I meant everything. I hoped that one word would cover it all and we wouldn’t have to discuss every detail.
“Me too,” Marsha returned.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” I said, taking full blame.
“I’m just sorry your sister doesn’t like me. I don’t know what it is about me or what I did.”
“I told you, Lovelie is miserable. Her husband is weird, and her kids drive her crazy. Seriously, don’t worry yourself, Marsha. It is what it is. Soon, we’ll be in a new place, living a new life together. Just look forward to that.” I did my best to reassure her, rubbing her back gently. The stiffness in her wilted with my massages.
I can handle this, I thought to myself. We’re gonna have a good life. Everything will be fine.
]]>Tue, 27 Oct 2026 01:01:16 GMThttps://vanessamoorellc.com/all-the-wrong-reasons/chapter-thirteen-marshaI marveled at the sprawling ranch home as Jeremy pulled into the circular driveway that belonged to Lovelie and her family. We were gathering for a family lunch, and his parents were on the way as well. I’d spent the morning at Jeremy’s side, accompanying him to the homes of different relatives. I stood silent as they smiled through introductions and then gave all their attention to Jeremy. Their conversations were strictly in Creole, with occasional apologies to me and mentions of me learning the language. 
I followed Jeremy around to the back of the house, where a pool even larger than the one his parents had was centered in the yard, edged with concrete and the typical pool furniture. Beyond that, round tables sat under several large umbrellas. Left of the tables was a small tennis court. To my immediate left was a patio decorated with two luxurious patio couches. I heard a click, and an awning eased out of the side of the house, covering the patio and providing much-needed shade from the Miami sun. Wow, I thought to myself, this was a lot for people who owned a few local businesses. They had to be extremely profitable.
Lovelie came out of the house with her arms outstretched toward Jeremy. “Ti frè, ou finalman isit la!”
“Yes, yes, I’m finally here,” Jeremy responded as they embraced.
“Sak pase? Kòman vòl ou te ye?”
“The flight was good. I want you to meet my girlfriend, Marsha.” He stepped back for his sister to observe me. 
Though we stood eye to eye, I felt small under Lovelie’s assessment and feigned smile. I could tell she did not approve, and my heart dropped. I knew his mother wasn’t crazy about me, and now this. The women might have spoken about me before Lovelie and I met. Her formal embrace was cool against the Miami heat. My heart sank further into the pit of my stomach as I realized I had four more days to go with Jeremy’s family. Four more days of being an obvious outcast, something I never expected.
I quietly observed the Anthony family as they broke bread together. They were loud, and much of their conversation sounded as if they were arguing, which wasn’t too different from the Lindo family. At least with my family, I knew the dialect and could tell the difference between hostility and playful banter. I longed to be more fluent in Creole and mentally chided myself for not continuing to learn French after high school. That might’ve helped, somewhat.
Still, they all fit together like puzzle pieces or a patchwork quilt. Lovelie was almost a spitting image of her mother. Most of the family was tall and built like athletic royalty. The women were brick houses, and the men were hunky. Their complexions ranged from sun-consumed to sun-kissed to lightly sun-pecked browns. Jeremy, Lovelie, and their mother had beautiful brown eyes that disappeared behind their cheeks when they laughed or smiled. Whenever Jeremy laughed, I would say that happiness swallowed his face. I loved seeing that in his mother and sister, even if they never felt happiness towards me, that swallowed their faces. 
After consuming a Haitian spread fit for an imperial tribe, members wandered off in different directions. Jeremy and Lovelie walked further out beyond the seating area, and I sat alone on the patio. A few of the cousins were hanging out by the pool, and Jeremy’s parents were inside. The patio door slid open, and Lovelie’s husband, Ricardo, appeared. He didn’t seem to notice me at first. His eyes stared off into the distance at his wife and her brother, deep in discussion, but he smiled when he saw me looking up at him. 
“Kijan ye?” he asked.
I shrugged and mumbled the few Creole words I knew, “Mwen la.”
“You prefer me to speak English?” Ricardo chuckled.
I nodded my head yes.
“No problem. How do you like Miami?”
“It’s nice.”
“It’s your first time?”
“I’ve been here when I was younger, but I don’t remember it.”
Ricardo nodded his head this time. “It’s different as an adult. The nightlife is something,” his voice trailed off. 
I was lost on what to say next. 
“Is Jeremy planning to take you anywhere?” Ricardo continued.
“Well, he said we would stop by some more family, go to the restaurant, and the beach.”
“Ah. No clubs?”
I shook my head no, as I didn’t recall Jeremy mentioning any clubs.
Ricardo chuckled again, shaking his head. “Ah, that Jeremy is a slick one.”
“How ya mean?” I asked.
“Nothing. Nothing. You guys should hit up some clubs. If he’s not going to take you, I will.” With that, Ricardo winked. 
Anxiety spiked. My throat dried, and sweat crept out of my pores from the back of my head down and down my back. I tried clearing my throat. 
“What?” Ricardo asked. “You wouldn’t like that? You’re a beautiful girl. I don’t know why Jeremy didn’t plan to take you around and show you off. If I were him, that’s what I would do.”
I breathed deeply, trying to force away the urge to take off running, because what was happening?
“De kisa ou de ap pale?” Lovelie’s sharp voice cut the tension and calmed my nerves at the same time, though she angrily demanded to know what we were discussing.
“Nothing to worry about, mon amour.” Ricardo stood and embraced his wife, whose eyes darted back and forth between him and me. 
“Tell me,” she demanded, “tell me what you two were talking about.”
Ricardo rolled his eyes. “I was asking Marsha what Jeremy had planned for their time here, and she doesn’t know. Right, Marsha?”
I nodded my head in agreement.
Lovelie looked me up and down as if I were something dirty and pulled her husband toward the patio doors. 
“You okay?” Jeremy asked, seemingly unbothered by the entire exchange.
“Yeah. Ricardo—”
“He’s weird,” Jeremy said, waving his hand.
“He mentioned we should go to some clubs.”
Jeremy shrugged. “I guess we could do that. I was out here mainly to visit with family and introduce you to them.”
I lowered my eyes to the ground.
“You sure everything is okay?” Jeremy double-checked.
“I’m not sure any of them like me,” I admitted in a mumble.
“What makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I get.”
“Ignore that feeling. You just nervous.”
“Yeah, but—”
“But what? My family doesn’t say any of the things that your family says about me.”
“But they still say things. What have they said?”
Jeremy shook his head. “Nothing, Marsha.”
I whispered, “I know they say things about my weight.”
“Who doesn’t, Marsha? Sheila talks about your weight all the time.”
“Yeah, but it’s different.”
“How different? You worried about my family not liking you, meanwhile, your jealous cousin has been trying to run and ruin your life the whole time you been in this country. Maybe you’re jealous of the relationships I have with my family.”
My insides crumbled. Where was this going? “I was just worried. You’re right. It is me. Every girl wants to be liked by her boyfriend’s family.”
“You don’t think that goes both ways?”
“I’m sure it does, and I’m sorry about how Sheila treated you.”
Jeremy frowned, realizing he really had no way of keeping the argument up. “It’s cool. It’s not your fault. You wanna go out tonight? We can go out tonight.”
I smiled. “Sure, I think I would like that.”

*****



Glad that I packed a skintight gold lamé minidress, I admired my look in the full-length mirror in the bedroom I shared with Jeremy in his parents’ home. Jeremy came in from the hall and whistled. “Lookin’ good, baby. What shoes are you gonna wear?”
I held up a pair of gold strappy stilettos. 
Jeremy nodded his head in approval. “You might have to sleep alone tonight.”
“Why?”
“You lookin too good for me to be on good behavior in my parents’ home.”
I blushed.
Jeremy stepped closer to me. He was delectable in linen pants and a cream-colored shirt. His fingertips grazed my inner thighs, and I shuddered with desire.
“Path to heaven,” Jeremy breathed into my right ear.
I giggled as he kissed me on my cheek. 
“We gotta go, though. Lovelie and Ricardo are waiting.”
“They’re going too?” I asked.
“Yup.” Jeremy nearly skipped out of the room, leaving me slightly dumbfounded. Lovelie and Ricardo made me uncomfortable. I knew Lovelie didn’t like me, and I worried that Ricardo liked me too much. The dichotomy was a lot to deal with, especially knowing I had no one to talk to about it. 
It was after ten when we pulled up to The Villa Night Club in Jeremy’s parents’ sleek black Bentley. I felt like no matter where we went, I could smell the ocean. It reminded me a little of Antigua, and for brief moments, I missed my tiny island. I followed closely behind Jeremy as he skipped the line and led me through the club to a table crowded with his cousins. Lovelie and Ricardo sat amongst them, looking like the big brother and sister that they were. Lovelie wore a flowing jumpsuit patterned with palm trees, while Ricardo complemented her in a pale green shirt, slacks, and white shoes. 
Lovelie didn’t look like she wanted to be there, and Ricardo looked like he wanted to belong there. While the couple made me uncomfortable, I felt sorry for them. Something was going on between them that was not that of a loving pair. I looked at Jeremy and thought to myself, not us, though. We won’t be like them.
I could see the distaste in Lovelie’s eyes as Jeremy and I approached the table. It shouldn’t matter, I told myself. But for some reason, it did. In a few days, I would be back in New York, searching for an apartment for Jeremy and me to live together. I would rarely see his family, especially his mother and sister. Why did it matter so much that they liked and approved of me? I flinched when one of Jeremy’s female cousins, Samentha, grabbed my hand. “Okay, sexy!” She shouted. “Ou gade cho!”
“Of course, my girl is lookin’ hot,” Jeremy chimed in. “We know I only rock with the slim goodies.”
“Mèg tankou yon zonbi,” Lovelie snickered.
Ricardo nudged her, and she rolled her eyes. “Slim like a model,” Lovelie said through her phony smile. “If you turn to the side, we couldn’t even see you. Jeremy likes a slim goodie but never this slim.”
This time, Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay,” he said. He grabbed a bottle of Moët off the table and two glasses. He handed one to me and winked. “Grab a glass, family. We should toast. We don’t do this often enough.”
All his cousins quickly snatched champagne flutes from the table and stretched out their arms for Jeremy to fill their glasses with bubbly. “To family!” He called out.
“A fanmi!” They all responded as they raised their glasses and gulped down the gold fizz. 
I was not crazy about champagne, but the Moët worked for me. I was glad to get on the dance floor with Jeremy and eventually found myself dancing with his cousins. I was caught up in the moment when I realized I had stumbled into a close two-step with Ricardo. 
I didn’t even know where Ricardo appeared from or how Jeremy had disappeared. Kompe music rocked the floor, and though everyone danced close to this type of music, I knew this could go horribly awry. 
“Where did Jeremy go?” I asked Ricardo.
“Not far. He’s at the bar.”
I twisted my neck while trying to maintain rhythm. I didn’t want to be rude, but I needed to know my surroundings. I didn’t need Lovelie or Jeremy getting the wrong idea. 
“He’s talking to an old friend.” Ricardo stepped back an inch, held my hands in his, and pointed his chin up towards the bar.
There, Jeremy stood having an intense conversation with a young woman whose face I could not see. She was very curvy, with thick curly hair that nearly touched her behind. The young lady pointed a long, square-tipped, elaborately decorated nail in his face. Jeremy grabbed the girl’s hand and kissed her knuckles. My stomach jerked. Suddenly, Ricardo swung me around to the music, forcing me to lose sight of what was happening at the bar. 
“Stop it,” I demanded, with alcoholic confidence.
“What? We’re just dancing,” Ricardo faked innocence.
“You know he’s over there with another woman.”
“That’s just an old friend.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“That’s enough,” Lovelie’s abrupt voice cut into an exchange between Ricardo and me yet again. 
“Thank you,” I expressed appreciation for Lovelie freeing me from Ricardo’s weird entrapment.
“Just go sit down and stop flirting with my husband already,” Lovelie hissed.
“What?” I shrieked.
“Ou tande mwen!”
“Yeah, I heard you, but I’m not sure I understand. I’m not flirtin with ya husband.”
“I suppose you’re going to say he’s flirting with you!”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He is too forward, though.”
“You girls that Jeremy brings around are the same with your light skin and long hair. You’re just like that Spanish one. Did he ever tell you about her? She met all his cousins and friends. He was so in love with her, too. But she stuck up just like you, and her father had the nerve to say that my brother wasn’t good enough for her!”
“Okay, okay, okay, c’mon now,” Ricardo attempted to slow his enraged wife down.
“Yes, c’mon, we are leaving. I knew we had no business going out with these children.”
I stepped back and looked around to exit the dance floor while Ricardo moved ahead, somewhat dragging Lovelie behind him. I followed, figuring I would just go back to the table and sit. I would address Jeremy’s shenanigans in private, as well as the craziness between his sister and me.
Lovelie stopped short and turned to face me. “My brother doesn’t love you. I don’t know what he’s running around with you for, or why he brought you here, but your time with him is short. He’s a player. He’s had women all over this city. Some of them are here now. He may not have brought them all home like he did with you and the Spanish girl, but believe me, not you, not her, not none of you are special.” Lovelie scrunched up her face and spat the words, “Haiti had independence long before the rest of you mutts, so you are not better than us. Chen mèg!”
I didn’t have a chance to respond to being called a skinny bitch before Lovelie stormed off behind her husband. 

*****



Determined to keep our issues strictly between us, I waited until Jeremy and I were alone in the Bentley to unleash all that I was holding onto in the club since seeing him kiss that young lady’s knuckles.
“Who is she?” I demanded.
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Jeremy waved a hand, dismissing my third ask.
“You want me to spell it all out again? The girl at the bar. Yuh left me there on the dance floor with ya family. Ya sister don’t like me and ya brother-in-law like me too much.”
We stopped at a red light, giving Jeremy enough time to roll his eyes and turn his head to face me in slow motion. “Why you think my sister don’t like you?”
“She—” I stopped as she recalled everything Lovelie said to me. Every time I replayed Lovelie’s voice in my head, I felt the sting. “She said you don’t love me. You never would. She said you’re playin me, that you had a lot of women and some of them were there in the club. I guess that was one at the bar.”
Jeremy sighed. “You can’t listen to Lovelie. She’s miserable. She’s married to a weirdo.”
“A weirdo who flirts wid his brother-in-law’s girlfriend?”
Jeremy’s face twitched as he tried to focus on the road. “Flirted with you?”
“Yes. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
Suddenly, Jeremy made a U-turn at the light and pressed gas. The car jerked forward, flying down the Miami streets at top speed. I held onto the car door handle for support. “Where are you going?” I asked, although I knew where we were headed. In minutes, we were swerving into Lovelie’s driveway. I rushed out of the car behind Jeremy as he approached the front door. He leaned on the doorbell and then banged loudly. One of the live-in housekeepers came to the door.
“Mr. Jeremy, is everything okay?” she asked.
“Where is Ricardo?” he barked.
“He just went to bed.” The housekeeper looked past Jeremy at me, asking with her eyes what was wrong.
I didn’t know how to answer. Everything was happening like a movie on fast forward.
Jeremy moved ahead, and I followed. I wanted to stop him. This whole thing was getting bigger and bigger, and although we weren’t in public, I was becoming embarrassed. Lovelie appeared in the living room, gripping the sash of a lavender satin robe. “Jeremy, what are you doing here?” she hissed. “You’re waking up my household.”
“You weren’t sleep that long, if at all.” The siblings were both tall, but Jeremy still towered over his older sister. “Mwen vle pale ak Ricardo.”
“What do you want to speak to my husband about now that you couldn’t speak to him about earlier?”
“You left the club in a hurry! You know he did something!” Jeremy roared.
My stomach flipped at the rage in his voice. I worried that the yelling could transform into something more violent. I’d never seen him be violent, but I recognized the potential.
Lovelie was unmoved, though. She stepped closer to her brother, matching his bold intensity. “He did not do anything. It’s your little light-skinned tramp that you brought here! She was all in his face, trying to get his attention since this afternoon.”
“What?” I gasped.
“Don’t lie!” Lovelie attempted to push past Jeremy, but she was no match for the amount of space he took up between her and me.
Finally, Ricardo entered the room wearing only pajama pants. He placed himself between Lovelie and Jeremy. Only his energy could back Lovelie down. “Look, look, everybody is up in arms about nothing. Lovelie, go back to bed. Jeremy, Marsha may have misunderstood. We were dancing kompe. Brotha, you know how it is.”
Ricardo looked past Jeremy to me. “I meant nothing by it, Marsha. In our culture, we dance close.”
“Antigua girls dance close, too,” Lovelie threw in over her husband’s shoulder.
“Yeah, but it’s still different,” Ricardo explained.
My stomach was now in my heels. Jeremy was fighting with his sister and brother-in-law, and it was all my fault. The champagne had surely worn off by now, and I started to think that maybe I had misunderstood Ricardo’s way of communicating with me. And was it really Jeremy that I saw at the bar with the girl?
Jeremy turned to me. “Was it just dancing?”
All eyes were on me, and I wanted to disappear. “I guess,” I murmured.
Jeremy turned back to Ricardo. “Keep ya distance, man.”
Ricardo raised his hands in defeat. “I meant no harm, brotha.”
Jeremy took a deep breath. “Lovelie, we’ll talk.”
Lovelie rolled her eyes.
“We should all head to bed,” Ricardo stated with finality. “You guys can stay here if you don’t want to drive back.”
“Nah, we good,” Jeremy said, backing away.
“I can lock the door,” the housekeeper said out of nowhere. Everyone in the room had forgotten she was there. I finally noticed the whole room. I could see Lovelie’s youngest child standing in the shadows of the hall where Lovelie and Ricardo had first come from. They truly had disturbed the whole house because of a misunderstanding. We needed to return to Jeremy’s parents’ house. I didn’t want to be in Lovelie’s home another minute. The woman already didn’t like me, and now this. I didn’t have to tell Jeremy what was said. It wouldn’t change anything. At least he was willing to defend me against Ricardo. He said Lovelie was miserable, and who would know better than him?
Without a word, I followed Jeremy out of the house and kept my mouth shut on the ride home. Speaking up always caused drama. Jeremy drove in silence. When we finally entered his parents’ home, we silently undressed and slid into bed, facing away from each other.
“I told you, Lovelie is miserable. Ricardo is weird, maybe even a little slow. He doesn’t know how he comes off sometimes. She knows something’s up with him. You sure it wasn’t more than dancing?”
“I guess I misunderstood.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Though I second-guessed what I’d seen in the club, I tried one more time. “So there were no ex-girlfriends in the club?”
Jeremy sucked his teeth. “I saw an old friend. I kissed her hand. We play around like that sometimes. If I can catch up with her this week, I’ll introduce you. I don’t have her number or nuthin like that though.”
“Okay. It looked like she was angry at you—”
“Marsha, go to sleep.”

*****



After the incident at Nasir’s, Marsha didn’t speak for the remainder of her junior year in high school. Then, right before entering senior year, Desireé stopped at her house.
“Hey gyal!” Paige called from the calilou patch as Marsha sat in her favorite spot under the mango tree, with a book in her lap.
Marsha looked up, squinting in the afternoon sun.
“Ya ex-girlfriend ah come look fa you,” Paige proclaimed.
“What now?” Marsha said, in between grunts and sighs. Everything about Paige aggravated her right down to her soul.
Paige knew she irked her sister, and she enjoyed it. Her happiness was woven into the smirk she wore and the way she stood with her hands on her hips.
“Desireé de inna di front yard. Yuh want mi fa tell her ya done tek up wit ya books again?” Paige snickered.
Marsha thought for a minute. Curious about her visit, she waved Paige off and walked through the backyard to the front.
She felt nothing as she laid eyes on Desireé. They still saw each other when school was in session, and Marsha anticipated seeing her around campus for another year anyway. Something felt different as the two approached each other in the center of the front yard, though.
“Cómo estas?” Desireé asked with real concern in her eyes.
“Bien. Y tu?” Marsha opted to give whatever energy she received from Desireé, down to speaking Spanish with her.
Desireé shrugged, “Así, así.”
Marsha nodded. “What ya come fa?”
“I just wanted to wish you good luck this year,” Desireé said solemnly.
Marsha looked her over from head to toe.
Desireé gulped at the knot in her throat. “My parents are getting back together, so we’re going to DR. I won’t be doing senior year here.”
Marsha nodded, slowly taking the information in. Sadness built in the pit of her stomach and pulled at her heart, and signaled her eyes to start the waterworks, but she fought it all.
“Good luck to you, too,” she said. “With the love of your life and all.”
Desireé pursed her lips, unable to fight the tears that were pooling in her lower eyelids. “I’m gonna miss you, Marsha.”
Marsha sighed. “I’ll miss you too,” she said flatly.
Desireé looked defeated by Marsha’s lack of emotion. Still, she reached out and hugged her close. Marsha hugged her back, just not as hard. She wanted to squeeze too, but she couldn’t let her feelings show. After that night at the party, she’d gone back to being the “stush gyal.” She was steeped in character and felt there was no turning back.
The girls released each other, and Marsha watched Desireé walk sadly down the road in the direction of the home she would no longer live in. When Marsha didn’t see her anymore, she went back to her seat under the mango tree and did what always made her feel better. She shut out reality and buried herself in a book.
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