Chapter Seventeen - Marsha

I’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.