Chapter Fifteen - Marsha

Leaving 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.”