Chapter Twenty-one - Marsha

“Marsha, girl, what are you doing?” Desireé asked as the two girls sat in their school uniforms on her front steps.
Marsha looked down at her clothes, confused. Never wanting to show what she didn’t know, she didn’t bother asking Desireé what she was doing there or how they’d ended up back in Antigua. Yet, somehow she knew what Desireé was talking about. 
“I am doing what I have to do,” she answered. “Everybody tink I’m a fool, and I don’t know anyting, but I know what I have to do in this situation.”
“This isn’t you,” Desireé said softly.
Marsha could see the concern in her eyes.
“You would never let a man bring you to this, to so much humiliation. It’s like I don’t even know who you are. You let a whole summer go by since meeting this man, and you haven’t done any traveling. What happened to that? You were supposed to start traveling after undergrad.”
Marsha took a sharp breath. “Mi nuh have time fa tink ‘bout that.”
“Why? Because you spent the summer running behind Jeremy? You almost got shot! Matter of fact, before that, the red flags were there!” Desireé seemed near hysterics.
Marsha matched her energy. “Mi nah know what yuh talkin ‘bout! The man never do me nuthin until last night, and even then, it was nuthin!”
“You gotta be kidding me! Sheila told you from the get-go, then there was the situation with Tina, the chick in the club in Miami, you almost got shot! I don’t know how that wasn’t the last straw right there. But nah, you stayed around. Now he got a beeper—”
“I have one too—”
“Oh, shut up, Marsha! That beeper is for his ho’s. One of the ho’s you caught him with in the club last night,” Desireé shrieked. She jumped off the steps and stood in front of Marsha with her arms folded. 
Marsha noted the long, square-shaped acrylic tips and wondered where she’d gotten them done. They didn’t get their nails done in Antigua the way they did in New York. “If me ah try fa leave he, everybody’ll be right, and I’ll be wrong. If I don’t stay on him, he’ll mek a bunch of babies out there like muh father. I didn’t follow my dreams, so this has to be worth it. He can be a perfect mon. Muh know he can.”
“Wake the fuck up!” Desireé yelled. She shoved Marsha so hard that Marsha lost her balance. She gasped for air as she anticipated the back of her skull hitting the concrete step behind her.

*****



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

*****



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

*****



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

*****



Monday morning had finally rolled around. I had not slept in two days, and it showed. I called my job first thing in the morning and let them know that I did not feel well. Shortly after, Lovelie called and told me where to pick up the money. I had everything written down like an itinerary. I went down to the courthouse, but before entering, I picked up the cash at the nearby Western Union, then waited for Jeremy’s hearing.
I nervously twirled a lock of hair from my low-bound ponytail around my finger as I waited for Jeremy to be seen by the judge. I wondered what he’d done and if my affiliation with him could jeopardize my job. Finally, Jeremy stood at the front of the courtroom in the same clothes I had last seen him in. He looked like he’d had a rough weekend, and I could imagine how bad he smelled from where I sat. 
Jeremy had been held over the weekend for battery. The bail was $1,500. I sighed, thankful Lovelie had sent $2,000. Jeremy was let go, and the bail was processed. 
We rode home in silence, and I wondered what Jeremy thought about as he stared out the window on his side. I kept my lips pressed together to stomach the smells of Jeremy and the car, which battled for the title of most nauseating.
As we neared their apartment, Jeremy finally said, “You gonna have to learn to drive.”
I paid the driver and scooted out of the car behind him. Once we were upstairs, I waited on the edge of the bed while he showered. I wanted the full story. I wanted to know exactly what happened, but the right way to ask stumped me.
He was in the bathroom for a while, and as bad as I wanted to get all the details, I was glad that he was washing thoroughly. The odor that came off him was the only thing that kept me from throwing my arms around him the minute he was released. 
Finally, he emerged from the bathroom, and I was hit with an urge to cry.
He looked over at me with befuddlement. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I—I don’t know muh jus start cry.” I shed the tears into my lap uncontrollably. 
Jeremy sat beside me on the bed and cradled me in his arms. “Shh,” he hushed me. “I’m here. I’m home now. Everything was okay while I was gone?”
I nodded. “I was just so worried, and I was scared. What happened? They said batt’ry. What did you do?”
“It was a crazy situation, Marsha. Nothing for you to worry about.” Jeremy stroked my head gently.
“But they arrested you and kept you for the whole weekend,” I cried.
“That’s what happens when you’re picked up on a Friday night. You stay for the whole weekend.”
“And the bail?”
“I told you. It’s nothing for you to really worry about. I’m home now.”
“What if it happens again?”
Jeremy didn’t answer. Instead, he continued to try to console me. He rocked me for a bit, and when my cries calmed to whimpers, he finally spoke again. “I been thinking,” he said. 
I picked my head up.
“I been thinking we should leave The Bronx.” He stared into my eyes.
I could see that he was serious. “Leave the Bronx and go where?”
“Jersey,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Jersey? Mi nuh know nobody in New Jersey.” I stared back into his eyes.
“Don’t worry about that. I know people out there. We gotta get out of New York, Marsha. Between the incident in Brooklyn and this weekend, I just don’t think New York is where we need to be.”
“You know people out there, but I don’t.” I shook my head back and forth wildly. 
“It’ll be fine, Marsha, just trust me. I want you to be safe.” Jeremy took my wrists in his hands and peered harder into my eyes to reason with me.
I sighed heavily. “What about my job?”
“You could find another one.” Jeremy tilted his head towards me. 
I cocked my head to the side as I looked for a way to understand him. He made everything sound so easy, but I knew nothing was ever that way. “I know I could find another one, but I have my benefits and everyting here. The teaching system is different in every state, Jeremy. I’m in my second year here. I would probably have to start all over—”
“No,” Jeremy shook his head in disagreement. “I’m sure your college credits count for something out there, where you’re not starting from scratch. I could ask around just to make sure. You won’t have to work for much longer either way. I just need to make sure we’re good, then you could go back to school for your master’s and start traveling like you always wanted to do.”
I pursed my lips. The beginning of my teaching career was extremely rough. It got better with Mr. Joseph’s help, but things were not smooth and bump-free yet. I still didn’t feel secure in my stride, and now Jeremy wanted to uproot me and start me all over again. He didn’t understand what starting over meant. “I need to tink ‘bout this,” I said, freeing my wrists from his hands.
Jeremy nodded his head. “Well, by the new year I’ll have something for us. So think and get ready.”
I sighed deeply again. ​