Chapter One

Two days after the graduation party, I found myself sitting by the phone in the kitchen, my sweaty palms dampening the slip of paper on which Jeremy had scribbled his number down. I wondered if only two days were too soon to call. From what I heard when I sat quietly amongst Sheila and her girlfriends, and of what I could remember of my chats with Desireé, there were all kinds of rules to dating. No one knew I’d taken Jeremy’s number. I imagined that Desireé probably would’ve called him by now. My best and only friend, whom I hadn’t seen or heard from in years, had all the gall and not an ounce of shyness. 
The pendulum on the clock on the wall swung back and forth, being the only sound in the house while Sheila and Ansol were out working. I hadn’t realized I would have so much time on my hands, home alone. Sunday was easy. Sheila and I went to church, brunch, and watched Sex in the City that night. Monday was a little different, though. I started the morning having breakfast alone. The only plan I had for the day was to go to the library. After checking out several historical fiction books, I took my time walking back home. When I arrived back at the apartment, the silence took me by surprise. Back home in Antigua, the house was always abuzz with my siblings in and out, my mother and Tanty Belinda bustling around, or even my father entertaining guests on the veranda when he was home. During my years with Sheila and Ansol, I was so focused on school that I hadn’t taken time to stop and smell the flowers, or literally enjoy the quiet of the apartment in the middle of the day. 
As I discovered peace, I also discovered privacy, an opportunity to talk to Jeremy without Sheila’s knowing or disapproving comments.
I stared at the clock. It was now or never. I needed to go for it before my family came home.
“Alo.” Immediately, Jeremy’s voice was familiar to me again.
I cleared my throat. “Hello, this is—”
“Marsha, kijan ye?” Jeremy cooed.
“I’m sorry?” I said, immediately feeling embarrassed by not understanding what he’d just said.
“Kijan ye?” Jeremy repeated. “Kreyol for ‘how are you?’
“Oh,” I chuckled a bit. My speculations were right. He was Haitian. I cleared my throat of the nerves that clung to my vocal cords. “I’m fine.”
“Yes, you are.” His charisma didn’t miss a beat. “So, what is the fine, fine Marsha doin today?”
“Um, well, I jus come back from the library.”
“Library, huh? You really are a smart girl.”
While enthralled with his voice, I second-guessed making this call. I remembered that dating could be the gateway to being trapped with an inconsiderate man. I started to wonder, however, if that was my real reason, or if it was because dating was new to me?
“What did you find at the library?” Jeremy inquired.
“I took out Monster and The Color Purple.”
“The Color Purple? Isn’t that the movie with Whoopi Goldberg and Oprah talking about ‘you told Harpo to beat me?’”
I burst into a cackle at Jeremy’s rendition of the famous line.
Jeremy chuckled on the other end. “That’s not it?”
“No, that’s definitely it,” I laughed and cleared my throat. “I jus never heard anybody say it like that.”
Jeremy continued to laugh. “It was a pretty bad impression, huh?”
“Mm hm.”
We were silent for a moment, then Jeremy asked, “So whatchu doin tonight?”
“Tonight? Um—” My face grew hot with anxiety. This sounded like he was asking or about to ask me on a date, and there was no doubt in my mind that I wanted to see him, but could I handle seeing him so soon? 
“You busy? You got a date with some other smart guy?”
I released another nervous laugh. “No. I’m not. I didn’t have any plans for tonight.”
“So, you wanna go out?”
The short answer to that was yes. But how would I pull this off? Sheila had been on me for all four years of college about dating. Now that I was finally a tad interested, it was in someone that she didn’t approve of. I considered what Sheila would do if I went out with someone she didn’t approve of. Like, what could the consequences be? “Can I call you back?” I asked.
Sounding caught off guard, Jeremy said, “Sure.”
I hung up and ran to the bathroom. My palms hadn’t stopped sweating, my heart continued to race, and my mouth was beginning to dry up. “What is happening to me?” I asked myself out loud. I splashed cold water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t have given you his number, I thought to myself. Peering into my own eyes in the mirror, I wondered if I could maintain whatever it was that Jeremy seemed to like about me, or would he deem me “too stush,” like many of my old classmates back in Antigua, and give up on me? Then I asked myself, what would Desireé do?

*****
Sheila and Ansol weren’t yet home when I stepped out of the house in a denim mini skirt, lavender tank top, and flat white sandals. I slicked my hair into my favorite simple bun at the nape of my neck. Before heading to the front door, I double-checked the bathroom mirror and considered makeup, but I didn’t really know how to apply it. I dashed into Sheila’s room and scanned her caboodle filled with all kinds of color palettes, lipsticks, and pencils. I stuck to what I knew and chose the simplest pale pink lipstick, hoping that Sheila wouldn’t notice I’d been in her things. Puckering my lips in the mirror, I was struck with a tinge of guilt, because the only reason Sheila would disapprove was that Jeremy was the date.
I was still shrouded in anxiety. I didn’t want to run into Sheila or Ansol and have to explain where I was going. I left a note on the refrigerator stating I’d stepped out with a friend from school. A note couldn’t be questioned, and I wouldn’t have to lie. I rarely met with classmates, and my only reason for ever meeting up with anyone was to work on school projects. Sheila, more than Ansol, would know that I was up to something. To seal the deal, I agreed to meet Jeremy down the block and around the corner, on another quiet residential street. I didn’t want to run into them or chance them seeing me getting into Jeremy’s car.
The same butterflies I felt at my party fluttered around in my stomach when I saw Jeremy posted up against his 1997 Audi. He smiled widely, and the gap in his teeth caught my attention.  I hadn’t noticed it before, and I realized it added more to his appeal. His arms opened up as he peeled his body away from the car. I walked into his embrace and carefully enveloped him in my arms in return. Sandalwood, coconut, and a hint of marijuana wafted off his skin, filling my nostrils, seeping down my throat, coating my lungs, and calming the butterflies in my stomach. It was an ah-ha moment. I understood what connected men and women: an inexplicable natural high.
Jeremy walked me around to the passenger side and helped me into the car. He looked so sure of himself as he pulled away from the curb. All he had asked me earlier was if I wanted to go out, and what I liked to eat, so all I knew was that we were probably going somewhere to eat.
He turned up Hill Avenue, not too far from where I lived. “It’s hard to find Antiguan food,” he said. 
“Is it easier to find Haitian food? I wouldn’t mind trying it out if you would rather have that.”
“Oh no. I found Antiguan food. It just isn’t a fancy place. Don’t feel bad. Most Haitian restaurants are in Queens or Brooklyn.”
I nodded. My nerves were working up again when I realized we were not going to a restaurant, but a house. “Is this your house?” I asked.
“Nope,” Jeremy said as he helped me out of my seat. He took my hands in his and looked into my eyes. “Can you trust me, Marsha?”
I hesitated. Men were the least trustworthy beings on earth, as far as I knew. Now this sexy, charming stranger was straight out asking if I could trust him. 
“I would never do anything to harm you,” he said. “Something about you hooked me the other night, girl. I just wanna get to know you and make you happy if you let me.”
Maybe men aren’t so bad, I thought. Or maybe, just Jeremy isn’t so bad.
“Let me show you a nice time tonight,” he assured, still looking into my eyes.
I nodded and yet cautiously followed Jeremy down a narrow driveway that led to a grassy backyard where an older deejay was set up in a corner playing reggae. There were several patio tables covered by umbrellas with tiny candles as the only centerpieces. The yard was decorated as if there had been or would be a party. 
Jeremy led me to a table and pulled out a chair for me.
“Are you finally going to give me an explanation?” I asked as I continued to soak up the ambiance.
Jeremy grinned; that gap drew me further in. “So this guy that owns this house is from Antigua. I’m actually surprised you never been here. Apparently, this is a spot for a lot of your people to hang out. Anyway, on the weekends, he serves food, plays reggae and calypso music, and sometimes there’s dominoes. But people really come here for the food. There’s no Antiguan restaurants around here, but there’s this place.” Jeremy shrugged. “You really never been here on the weekend?”
I shook my head, although I did recall my cousins talking about going up to Hill Avenue for a plate. 
A man appeared in the doorway to what was probably the basement. He walked over and shook Jeremy’s hand. “Jeremy, good to see you. Maurice told me to have the backyard set up fa you. Ya try fa impress this beautiful young lady?”
Jeremy nodded. “I mean, I hope she’s impressed.
The man reached to take my hand, and I let him. “I’m Nigel,” he said, “welcome to my yaad. It don’t have no fancy name. It’s not a restaurant. I don’t even have a menu. But I know you was lookin for aut’entic Antiguan food, so you are in the right place.”
“Thanks for having me,” I said in my most polite voice.
“It’s my pleasure, pretty girl.”
“Okay, beautiful, pretty, don’t try to push up on my girl,” Jeremy joked.
The words, my girl, echoed in my ears. The date hadn’t even really begun yet. Did things really happen this fast?
Nigel laughed. “Okay then, young man.” He turned his attention to me. “So, what do you tink of grilled red snapper, seasoned rice, and callaloo?”
My insides warmed. Antiguan food had been relegated to Sundays at Sheila’s house. The three of us were too busy to cook during the week. New York had introduced me to fast food and TV dinners. I was deliberately eating to live at this point. I didn’t mind hot dogs until they became a regular thing. “Sounds delicious,” I said, smiling up at Nigel.
“Okay then. I’ll have it out to you shortly. What would you like to drink?”
“What are the options?” Jeremy chimed in.
“Ginger ale, apple juice, cranberry juice—”
“No rum?” Jeremy asked.
Nigel smirked. “Yuh come to an Antiguan house, and yuh expect we must have rum, huh?”
Jeremy shrugged.
“You t’ink you coulda handle English Harbor?”
“I’ve had it,” Jeremy assured.
“Had it and handled it is two different tings, young man.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Jeremy insisted.
Nigel then gave his attention to me again, and I settled on ginger ale.
I thoroughly enjoyed my meal, and though I was embarrassed by the belch that had erupted from the pit of my stomach, Jeremy seemed unfazed. I felt myself relaxing some more and going with the flow. 
Jeremy asked me a lot of questions, and he seemed to enjoy listening to me talk. Talking was something I didn’t do a lot of. He didn’t say much about himself, but he made me comfortable and kept me laughing. Oddly, at points in our conversation, my mind drifted to Desireé. I wondered what her life would be like if her mother hadn’t whisked her out of Antigua as suddenly as they’d shown up. As I wrestled with these thoughts playing in my mind like background music, I was slowly opening up to having a new friend in Jeremy.
“So do I have to drop you off at our meeting spot?” Jeremy asked as he neared my block.
“Unfortunately, I think that would be best,” I solemnly replied. I’d finally done the thing Sheila had been pressuring me to do, and I couldn’t even tell her about it.
Jeremy pulled the car over to the curb where he’d picked me up earlier. He got out and rushed to my side to let me out. Then he walked me to the sidewalk and held both of my hands firmly in his. 
Tiny hairs rose and prickled on the back of my neck as Jeremy looked me in the eyes. “This was a good, good time, Marsha.”
This must be what blushing and melting feels like, I thought as my cheeks warmed and my joints went weak. 
“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“Is this something we could do again?”
I shrugged, not wanting to consent to another date so soon. 
Jeremy chuckled. “I mean, if it’s not, you can say that. Or better yet, is this something you would like to do again?”
A giggle escaped my lips, and I didn’t know why I was holding it in the first place. I told the truth. “Yes, I would like to do this again.”
“Okay, I guess we’ll talk in a couple days to decide when.”
“I should call you,” I threw in, reminding myself and Jeremy that the family wouldn’t approve, so he shouldn’t call the house. 
Jeremy nodded his head, keeping his gaze steady in my eyes. “I don’t know if it’s too soon,” he said softly, “but could I kiss you?”
I tensed up, realizing I still hadn’t had a real first kiss yet. There was a high school mishap and nothing since. Was I ready for this? I didn’t even know what ready for a kiss should feel like, so I declined, slowly shaking my head.
“It’s okay,” Jeremy said, but disappointment was obvious in his voice. I didn’t want to let him down, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that just yet. 
“I’m gonna go now,” I said.
“Take your time,” Jeremy said. “I wanna drive by to make sure you get in safe.”
That statement warmed me from head to toe. Sheila made him out to be such a bad guy. Either he really wasn’t that bad, or perhaps I was the girl who had changed him.  
*****
​It was a blazing hot morning in September in Antigua when Marsha was dropped off at her new high school campus. She had been building an invisible fortress around herself for so long that she was almost numb as she walked across the grassy fields, feeling no jitters even on her first day as a ninth grader. Half the students’ faces she recognized, the other half she did not. Either way, it didn’t make a difference. She’d lost interest in having friends in primary school, and she was sure that she could rely on the old faces to inform the new faces that she was quiet, untouchable, and unreadable. After homeroom, she found herself a seat on a bench that gave her just enough sunlight to relax, just enough shade near a tree to avoid suffering under the blanket of tropical heat, and a good view of her history classroom. She wanted to be the first to enter and sit where she pleased. As the heat beat down on her neck, Marsha considered tying her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, but she always wore her hair that way. She wasn’t one to get overly excited about the first day of school, even her first day of high school, but she thought it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let her tresses hang loose. She was also becoming concerned that her hair would lose its volume and shine from constantly being tucked away. Over time, her mother’s hair had thinned out from always being pulled back. Marsha didn’t want the same for herself.
She had not anticipated the stares and comments from all the young men who passed her by, and she wished, with all her intelligence, that she could tap into that untouched part of the brain and will the door to her history class open. Did freshmen always get that much attention from upperclassmen? She knew history would be the highlight of her day, but then she’d have to spend the rest of the day with nothing else to look forward to but the next day. Her eyes stayed glued to the small building’s door with the number twelve on it.
“Niceness…” she heard a young man say in a low tone behind her.
She thought he might’ve been talking to her, but she didn’t bother to look up.
“Don’t you know who she is?” she heard a girl say, confirming that she was indeed the intended target of the young man’s flirtations.
“No, but I’m sure I want to,” the boy went on. “She look good… those long legs look like they lead all the way to heaven.”
Marsha pretended not to hear them as she pushed her knees together, tensing her slender body on the wooden bench.
The girl sucked her teeth. “That’s Marsha Lindo.”
“Ah, so what that mean?”
“She is Dr. Lindo’s daughter.”
The boy whistled. “Taal! Mi never know Dr. Lindo breed models… but Dr. Lindo breed some of everyting. You sure this one of he pick’ney?”
“No doubt she is. She is the wife’s baby.”
The low “ooohhh” came from others, and now Marsha knew there was a crowd passing her, not just a boy and a girl.
“She stiff like tree wood. She mek nuns look like ladies of the night,” the girl said, and the crowd snickered.
“She jus need some bad mon wood to mek her back bend,” said the young man.
“Good luck with that,” the young lady cackled along with the rest of the crowd.
Marsha narrowed her eyes at the number twelve, then looked down at her schedule to make sure she was in the right place at the right time. Nothing had changed since the last time she’d looked at the schedule. She had not made a mistake. She was in the right place at the right time, but her teacher was not.
Marsha continued to watch old faces greet each other in excitement. Some gave her a nod, regardless of how stuck up they felt she was. She would give a slight nod in return, with no facial expression, though.
Finally, she saw a tall, busty woman with long grey locs, wearing a dashiki, entering the classroom. Marsha stood up immediately and power-walked across the grass, eager to get the show on the road. Other students dragged themselves toward the classroom; the only other enthusiastic classmate was one of the unrecognizable faces. Marsha figured she must have been a student at a different primary school on the island. It wasn’t until they were settling in and making introductions that she learned who the fellow eager learner was.
“Well, Señora,” said the young girl with round wire-framed glasses and thick curly black hair resting on her shoulders, “My name is Desireé Almonte. I jus came here from Miami. I was supposed to go to the Carol Morgan School in the Dominican Republic, but jus a few months ago, my mother decided to move here to Antigua. So here I am.” She shrugged and smiled.
Marsha cringed hearing her pronounce the “u” in Antigua. That irked her nerves, but when she looked around the room, she noticed that Desireé had all the boys in a trance.
“You didn’t answer the main question,” said the teacher, who they’d all learned was a Jamaican historian named Ms. Reid.
“Oh, lo siento,” said Desireé, “I mean, I’m sorry. So, one thing I wish I could change in history is the annihilation of the indigenous people of our islands. I feel like we will forever be a lost people because we are living on land where the original people have been erased, and our other ancestors were snatched away from Africa and forced to forget their roots.”
Smart was the only word Marsha heard in her head.
Even Ms. Reid looked impressed.
The pro-Black students were intrigued and ready for discussion. The girls who were in class simply because they had to be there forgot that they weren’t supposed to be chewing gum, allowing their jaws to work Bazooka in annoyance. The boys who were there for that same reason watched her mouth, not hearing or comprehending a word coming from it.
When the bell rang, Marsha shoved her coveted Trapperkeeper under her arm and headed out of the room, back into the heat of the campus grounds. She stopped for a moment to check her schedule and find out where her next class was. When she looked up, Desireé was coming toward her. For a moment, she felt bad for the girl. She was new. There wasn’t anyone there to warn her about Marsha’s blank personality.
“I don’t mean to bother you,” Desireé said apologetically, “but do you know where this building is?”
Marsha set her attitude to the side and glanced at Desireé’s schedule. She didn’t know much about the campus either, so she shrugged. “Sorry. I’m new here, too.”
Desireé nodded. “Okay, gracias. I mean, thank you.”
“I speak a little Spanish,” Marsha admitted. “It’s fine.”
Desireé smiled and nodded. “See you around, I guess.”
Marsha cracked a slight smile and nodded.
As lunchtime approached, Marsha looked forward to finding herself a secluded spot in the picnic area to enjoy her turkey sandwich and her new book, The House of the Spirits. The popular kids tended to gravitate to each other, fulfilling their need to be the center of attention and therefore the center of the courtyard. Other quiet girls and guys like herself managed to find their pieces of solitude, giving Marsha hope that she would find her own. Eventually, she saw a grassy area that, like her earlier spot, had just enough sunlight to peek under the tree, providing just the right amount of shade. Always prepared, she laid out a throw blanket, size enough for a picnic for one, and propped herself up against the tree. Sandwich in her lap, thermos at her side, she was ready to dive into this classic story that she’d yet to read, about Estebán, Clara, and Blanca and the “big house on the corner,” when a shadow darkened the book’s page. Marsha looked up to see a grinning Desireé, bagged lunch in one hand, and backpack dangling in the other. “Hi!”
“You lost again?” Marsha asked.
A fleeting look of shock and confusion shot across Desireé’s face. But it was as if her smile couldn’t help itself. “No. I just… well, I still haven’t made any friends here, and you’re the only girl who’s been nice to me. So, I figured we’d eat together.” Her smile widened when she noticed the book Marsha was holding. “You’re reading The House of the Spirits? Oh my God, it’s so good. My brother thought I was crazy for reading it in like seventh grade, but it’s a good story.”
Marsha nodded. “I haven’t read much of it yet.” She hoped that statement would send Desireé on her way. Instead, Desireé dropped her backpack on the ground and sat against the tree next to Marsha.
Marsha let out a slow, exasperated sigh, but Desireé didn’t seem to notice. She opened a ham sandwich and started to eat.
The girls sat side by side, and a few pages into the first chapter, Marsha realized Desireé wasn’t sitting by her side to annoy her. She was a smart, beautiful girl with a thick Dominican accent, in a new school, in a new country. As much as Marsha loved to be alone, she could understand Desireé’s contentment with sitting side by side in silence.
Later that day, Marsha walked to the campus entrance to wait for her Tanty Belinda to pick her up. Belinda wasn’t her real aunt. She was her mother’s best friend who worked somewhat for the family as a nanny. Marsha was the baby of four siblings, but the big sister to the three new children that had been dropped off on the doorstep in the last few years. Lucinda Lindo opened her doors and her arms to her husband’s illegitimate children, and recently widowed Belinda came along to help. Marsha loved Belinda, but she felt she was only around to live in their big house, and she sometimes felt guilty for that thought.
When she reached the edge of the campus, she noticed Desireé wasn’t too far behind. Their eyes met, and Desireé picked up her pace, wearing the same grin she wore at lunchtime. Marsha’s eyes darted towards the road in hopes of seeing Belinda’s blue Toyota Camry, but she hadn’t arrived yet. Her mind juggled a bunch of ways to tell Desireé to get lost, but none of them seemed fair. Everyone else accepted her reserved personality and stone face as a reason to stay away. Desireé bypassed all of it as if she hadn’t noticed it at all.
“Waiting on your parents?” Desireé asked.
Marsha nodded. “Well, waiting for my aunt. She went to pick up my sisters from primary school first. She should be on her way here for me soon.”
“Cool,” said Desireé. “So how far do you live?”
“I live in Hodges Bay.”
“¡Me too, increíble!” Desireé exclaimed.
Marsha pursed her lips. She had a nagging feeling that she would never get rid of this girl.
“So maybe we can ride to school together sometimes, if my mom and your auntie don’t mind.”
“There’s seven of us,” Marsha blurted out.
“Seven? Like you have six siblings?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s amazing. I only have a brother… that I know of.”
Marsha didn’t see that statement coming. “That you know of?”
Desireé rolled her eyes. “My dad’s a ho girl.”
Marsha’s eyebrows shot up.
“Soy seria… I mean, serious.”
“I understood,” said Marsha.
“Right, you speak a lil Spanish.” Desireé sighed. “Yeah, that’s why we’re here in the first place. My mom just got tired of all the different women calling, showing up, claiming pregnancy scares… it was too much. Literally four months ago, she found a house here, sent for me and my brother, and enrolled us in school.”
“Your dad just let her leave like that?”
“Let her? He’s hardly around as it is. He works for the Dominican Republic embassy in Miami. He works so much I don’t know how he has time to have affairs, but men… y’know.”
Marsha empathized, but there was no way Lucinda could just pack up and leave Delmont and forget about separating him from his children. Her entire household did what Delmont said when Delmont said it, regardless of how many women called or dropped off children.
Finally, Marsha could see Belinda’s car in the pick-up line. “There’s my aunt,” she said to Desireé.
“Okay, it was nice meeting you, Marsha. Thanks for letting me sit with you at lunch!”
Marsha only waved as she hopped into the front passenger seat.
“Yuh mek a new friend?” Belinda asked.
“Tanty, yuh know mi don’t do friends.”
Belinda chuckled and turned up the music that Marsha’s younger siblings were bopping to in the back of the car.
High school would not be as uneventful as she’d hoped.