Di Taxi Ride and Other Stories

by Brenda Barrett

  It took the three of us to get Winston up to his room and into bed; he kept paddling his hand and laughing.

  “Daisy…the pool is so nice…come on in.”

  The doctor gave him a sedative and he fell asleep.

  “What brought this on?” The doctor took me aside and asked me quietly.

  “I have no idea, he has been acting strange lately, but this is the worst yet.” I whispered.

  “It could be stress,” the Doctor said, “probably you should find out what is happening at work.”

  I nodded.

  “I am going to give him two weeks sick leave; he has to abide by it Daisy,” he said softly, “or this could develop into something much worse. Here is the name of a psychiatrist, if you ever feel the need for it, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Doctor Williams,” I touched his arm, as he was about to leave. “It runs in his family you know, his brother and grandfather have it. I don’t know what to do now, what if this does not go away?”

  I trembled and the doctor hugged me, “call the psychiatrist,” he whispered, “don’t go through this alone. Where are the children?”

  “Cassy is in England doing her Masters and Jim is working in Ocho Rios; he will come when he hears, but I don’t want to bother him now.”

  I showed the doctor out and sat in the kitchen, while Rosy flitted to and fro preparing dinner.

  “I ain’t never seen anything like that in my life,” she kept mumbling. “I am working for a rich, mad man.” She laughed and clapped her hands, flour flew in all directions as she imitated Winston’s leap into the hibiscus bed.

  I was too tired to protest, besides, I had to call the firm to find out what was going on. I grabbed the phone and tiredly punched Winston’s office number.

  “Mr. Carstairs’ office,” I heard the cultured voice of Winston’s secretary.

  “Hi Wendy, its Mrs. Carstairs, may I speak to Mr. Brown.”

  Joshua Brown was Winston’s second in command; if anyone should know what was wrong with Winston, it would be Joshua.

  “Hello Daisy,” Joshua sounded harried.

  “Joshua is something wrong at the office?”

  “Nooooo…. why do you ask?”

  “Well Winston is here and he kept saying that it’s all gone, and then took a dive in my hybrid hibiscus for a swim.”

  “Everything is okay here,” Joshua said, sounding puzzled. “Winston was acting a bit strange today; he kept rifling in his desk and asking for an account that we closed ten years ago.”

  I sighed, “okay look, he is not going to be in office for the next two weeks, doctors orders.”

  After Joshua hung up, I called the children to let them know what was going on and reassured them that everything was under control.

  From there on, the day went as normal. I kept listening for Winston to get up. When he did, it was as if nothing happened, he was back to his old self, with the exception of a few scratches.

  “Are you alright, honey?” I was sitting in the living room, when he came down the stairs.

  “Yes,” he said, then flung himself in the sofa on the other side of the room, “I feel so refreshed.”

  I nodded and decided not to bring up his strange behavior, besides he looked much better. We watched television together for the rest of the night.

  Rosy had already retired to her quarters, I could hear the faint sounds of her radio, it was on her favorite Christian station. There was a fire and brimstone sermon being preached and it was lulling me to sleep.

  It was time for us to go to bed; Winston traipsed behind me, trying to grab the end of my negligee. His eyes were alight with laughter and I ran into the room squealing. It was just like old times.

  In the middle of the night I got up when I heard a faint sound as if someone was talking in a tearful voice. Winston was not in bed.

  I hurriedly put on my clothes and started to search the house. I heard sobbing coming from the kitchen so I went there and turned on the lights; I found Winston in a corner, between the island and the wall.

  “Winston?” I whispered. “What’s wrong?” I was really careful in advancing to his prostrate form; fearful any sudden movement would cause him to bolt.

  “Daisy, Daisy,” he held out his hands and I grabbed them and crouched beside him in the dim light; the grounds outside providing enough illumination for me to see his tear streaked face.

  “Daisy they are outside, they are coming to get me. We need to move Daisy.” His voice rose in a plaintive plea.

  “Winston who is outside, who is going to get us?” I asked alarmed.

  “The cat and Rosy’s pet rabbit were planning, I heard them when I came to get some water, the dog is in it too Daisy, he was telling them where to find me.”

  “The dog, you mean Rover, our dog?”

  “The dog and the cat are conspiring against us, they are going to take away my business and the house. I don’t know what to do now. I worked so hard for this and the animals are taking it away, they are taking over the world. Don’t trust them Daisy, don’t trust them.” He was trembling like a leaf.

  I had to coerce him into bed. I sat and watched him all night, while he held my hand in a death-like grip.

  In the morning, while we were sitting on the patio, with the verdant smell of roses assailing our nostrils and the lush foliage creating the perfect backdrop, it seemed as if nothing happened the night before. Winston was sitting across from me, his face buried in the paper.

  I had to clear my throat loudly, before he looked up, his face beaming.

  “Oh Daisy, you should get something for that cold.”

  “I don’t have a cold Winston, I just wanted your attention.”

  Rosy was hovering about, so I was hesitant to say my piece.

  “Winston, you need to see a psychiatrist...”

  “No, I do not,” he said, slamming down the paper on the table. “I am fine, stop the hysterics, I was just undergoing some stress, what I need is a vacation and I will be as good as new.”

  Rosy appeared at the doorway at the same time, to clear away the dishes. She looked at him and snickered.

  “Who are you laughing at?” Winston asked. “Didn’t I fire you two days ago? You are fired, pack your bags and get out of here!”

  “Before or after I clear the dishes, sir?” Rosy asked facetiously. “Before I leave, I will need a severance pay and all the vacation money I am due, plus grievance pay and an abuse package. I know my labor rights.”

  I half listened to the familiar argument; it was now such a common thing between them that I was just glorying in the normality of it.

  However, before Winston could respond, the cat screeched and made a leap on the patio rail, the dog following in hot pursuit, barking for all he was worth, his shaggy brown body bristling with energy.

  This play was typical of Tabby and Rover. It was always a treat for us. Everyone knew that they really got along well, as far as cats and dogs go.

  However, in the blinking of an eye, my husband squealed. He could not get away from the table fast enough. He ran into the house, brushing aside a surprised Rosy who was just about to complete her diatribe on labor rights. He was running as if all the legions of hell were at his feet. The dog thinking that it was a part of the fun, ran after him.

  “Daisy, help!” Winston ran and bawled, heading upstairs “Help Daisy, the enemy is here. The intruders… they want to rule the world.”

  I stood at the doorway, I could see his robe flapping as he ran from room to room, upstairs and then downstairs and then upstairs again; with the dog barking behind him in hot pursuit.

  Rosy was hysterical, she clutched the table for support and howled with laughter.

  “Rover, come here.” I called the dog that was in our family for the past six years.

  Even though Rover was having fun, he came and sat at my feet, his tail wagging.

  “Good boy,” I patted his head and went to search for my husband; he was cowering in the closet wit
h the door barely closed.

  “Winston, its Daisy,” I opened the closet door wider and the tie rack fell down with all his ties.

  “Daisy?” he questioned, tears streaming down his face. “Take the snakes off me, take them off!” He proceeded to hit the ties viciously, hitting himself in the process.

  Rosy came behind me, her voice gentle; “Mrs. Carstairs, mi just call Parson Hall from mi church, him know how fi deal wid dem tings here.”

  “Help me with him Rosy,” I said, advancing to Winston.

  “No Miss,” Rosy said, “im demon possessed; mi not touching ‘im wid a long stick.” She backed away and left the room.

  I had to haul my 230lb husband from the closet, unassisted. By the time I was through getting him to lie down, I was exhausted.

  My first thought was to give the psychiatrist a call, despite what my husband said, he needed help.

  The doorbell rang and Winston started to get restless again. I did not want him to think that the doorbell was out to get him, so I rushed to answer the door.

  I was feeling sweaty and tired and was in no mood for visitors. When I peeped through the keyhole, I saw a short, fat, bald man; he was formally dressed and had a Bible in hand.

  Oh no, Rosy’s Pastor, I did not remember that she had called him while I was struggling to put Winston to bed.

  I opened the door, searching my brain for a suitable excuse to get him off my property.

  “Ehem… Pastor Hall is it?”

  “Oh yes, yes my sister,” he looked me up and down and then he asked, “may I come in?”

  “Ahm…sure.” I opened the door wider and stepped aside for him to pass.

  Winston chose that moment to start singing, or should I say bellowing, from the bedroom. “I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot the deputy, yeah- yeah- yeah.”

  I closed my eyes, bit my lips and took a deep breath.

  When I opened my eyes, the Pastor was heading for the stairs. “No… No… Pastor, I don’t know what Rosy told you, but your help is not needed here…”

  I ran behind the Pastor, who was walking determinedly to the source of the sound. “Its okay sister, most people don’t know that they need help until they actually get it.”

  “Pastor Henry…er… Howell… ahm, whatever your name is.”

  “Hall, sister,” he looked at me disapprovingly.

  “Pastor Hall,” I clutched his arm, “my husband has a mental problem…”

  He smiled placatingly, “that is why I am here, with the aid of the Lord, sister, we will prevail.”

  I stopped trying to convince Pastor Hall because by this time, he was at the bedroom door.

  Winston had managed to remove all his clothes, and was standing in the middle of the bed; clutching a perfume bottle tightly as he sung at the top of his lungs. “Mi seh, mi seh, a mi shoot di sheriff,” he was flailing his hands and catering to his imaginary audience. Stark naked.

  I looked at my poor husband and hunched my shoulders.

  “Sister, I am going to ask you to leave,” the Pastor whispered to me.

  Rosy was standing behind me silently; I glared at her, before responding. “Pastor, do what you have to do, but don’t think for one minute that I am going to leave you alone with my husband.”

  “Lack of faith,” he mumbled and then put his Bible on the dresser.

  “Winston,” he said firmly.

  Winston stopped singing long enough, to look down at him from his stance on the bed. “I am going to run the demons out of you, Winston,” he said, advancing to my husband.

  Winston sat on the bed abruptly, a stunned look on his face.

  “Daddy?” He asked innocently. “Daddy? It’s Daddy!” “Daisy look, its Daddy,” he leaped off the bed and hugged the Pastor.

  He was towering over the short man, so it was no easy task.

  Pastor Hall had to pry the babbling Winston from himself. “Its worse than I thought,” he said breathing hard.

  As soon as he put some distance between himself and Winston, my husband would grab him screaming- ‘Daddy’- a look of delight on his face.

  After a couple of minutes, Rosy and I stood and watched as the Pastor restrained Winston by giving him a sweet.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” Winston said, sucking the sweet with relish and swinging his feet on the bed, like a shy eight year old.

  “Okay…Eh-he-hem…” the Pastor cleared his throat noisily. He was purple in the face and breathing heavily, he looked ready to sit beside his patient.

  “Winston you have many demons in you, I see the demon of the past and the demon of the present.”

  I wrinkled my nose in distaste; this was utter garbage.

  “I am going to run them out Winston,” he touched Winston in the forehead as if he was taking his temperature and closed his eyes; his lips moved silently.

  At the same time, Rover came dashing after the cat in the room.

  I had forgotten to lock them up, so that Winston would not see them. I watched fascinated as the cat chose the bed as its refuge, meowing all the way.

  “Arghh…,” Winston screamed and wrapped himself around the Pastor, the poor Pastor fell on the bed, with the weight of my husband on top of him.

  A barking Rover jumped on top of my husband, licking his exposed body and wagging his tail. By this time, he had forgotten the cat and she was cleaning herself in the middle of the bed, while my husband clutched the Pastor.

  “Help, Help!” Winston was shouting in the Pastors ears. “Intruders… the enemy. Help…” he was gasping for air.

  The Pastor was helplessly floundering; the dog having heard his master’s voice was encouraged to bark and wag his tail even more.

  My housekeeper was on her knees laughing, adding to the pandemonium.

  “Rover,” I snapped, tired of the foolishness. He spotted the cat heading through the door and decided to go after her instead.

  It took around fifteen minutes to pry my husband from the Pastor.

  “Daddy it’s the dog, he wants to rule the house and Rosy’s rabbit wants to marry Daisy,” he whimpered in the Pastor’s ear.

  “This is awful,” the Pastor sputtered; “ I will have to run the demons from that dog as well, Rosy where is your rabbit?”

  I had to run down the passage behind the Pastor as he searched for Rover.

  “Pastor Hall, this is ridiculous.”

  “Step out of the way sister, this is no longer our call; if even the animals are possessed something must be wrong with this house.” He looked at me with reproach.

  “Rosy,” he called, as he spotted Rover, “I will have to anoint you at church tonight, you must be contaminated also.”

  “Yes Sar,” was Rosy’s not so meek answer.

  Rover ran when he saw the scowling Pastor heading toward him.

  My husband started wailing about animals taking over the world and my helper was laughing uncontrollably. I had to call the doctor to sedate my husband and it was a struggle to stop the Pastor from going after my dog.

  After the house quieted down somewhat, I had to drag a flustered Pastor Hall to the front door. “This is the end of the world,” he kept muttering. “The very end, repent and set your house free.”

  I called the psychiatrist and told her of the symptoms and the incidents that took place and made an appointment for the next day for Winston.

  It was a major hurdle to get him dressed and out of the house; I had to bark all morning for him to get ready. Every time he looked as if he was about to refute the fact that he needed help, I would imitate Rover’s growl and bark through the door. He was ready in no time to leave the house.

  I learnt that his condition was brought on by stress and that all he would need was medication and lots of rest.

  I had to give away the dog, for the remainder of his convalescence at home. It became a task for Rosy to hide the inquisitive cat and she would mumble about an increase in salary, for domestic helpers, who worked for mad, rich people.

  One mor
ning, while we were eating breakfast on the patio and Rosy was being fired for the umpteenth time, Winston asked, “where is Rover? I miss him and Tabby. I haven’t heard them for a while.”

  I smiled at Rosy and she smiled back, things were back to normal, at least for the time being.

  The Wedding

  “Why are they getting married?” Lucy asked me as we sat in church, awaiting the beginning of the much-heralded wedding between my cousin Tanya, and the reluctant groom Fitzroy.

  “We are in church,” I whispered to Lucy. “Why don’t you wait until after, for us to bad-mouth your sister’s nuptials.”

  “Fitzroy has four baby-mothers!” Lucy said furiously, “and Tanya had to go and mix up herself with this uneducated, uncouth, ugly-looking gold teeth bwoy? Have you seen the dirty color that he dyed his hair, and do you notice that his pants are never on his hips?” she paused catching her breath.

  “A garbage collector,” she huffed, discarding the idea of whispering, “after mama and papa spent so much money to send her to teachers college, shi guh hook up wid di gold teeth garbage collector.”

  She had a look of utter disgust on her face; I tried to calm her down.

  “Lucy, lower your voice, people can hear you.”

  “Meck dem hear,” she said loudly, “Meck dem hear. Everybody is here for the drama anyway.”

  “So why did you come?” I whispered, as people filed pass us.

  “I would not miss this travesty of a wedding for the world,” she said with a haughty look. “Do you know who came to Jamaica especially for the occasion?”

  “No.” I said distractedly, as I waved to some of our family members who looked eager for the wedding to begin.

  “Ragina,” Lucy said loudly, “the vampire from Foreign.”

  “Ragina!” I said in shocked surprise, “Sketel Ragina, she has a nerve showing her face around here again. After she stole my solid gold watch and Aunty Pearlita’s rainy day money.”

  “She same one,” said Lucy, her lips pursed in displeasure. “Rumor has it that the man that shi married, to get her stay in foreign, beats her every day. Suit her right. Watch Uncle Lewis, all him come fa is the food.”