Chapter Nineteen - Marsha

Every 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.