Dear Staceyann,
I will always love you, forever and ever and ever. You are the one true love of my whole life. Please do not worry that I am after your stuff. I respect you and would never want to touch you down there. I will only hold your hand. I do not even want to do any nasty things with you. I have enclosed my address. Please write and tell me if I can write to you again. I have so much to tell you about my school, Monroe College.
Until we meet again,
All my love,
Randall
I am a little disturbed that he does not even want to do anything nasty with me. I hope he is not one of those batty boys who don’t want to have sex with girls. But just in case he is a normal boy, I pen my response on yellow paper. Sandy says that yellow is a neutral color.
Dear Randall,
I am not saying that I love you or anything. But thank you for your lovely letter. Enclosed is my post office address. I hope to hear from you again.
Yours truly,
Staceyann Chin
Back at school, Sandy tells me she met a boy on her holiday in Westmoreland. His name is Robin and he has promised to write to her. If any boys write to us, we have to collect the letters from Mrs. Burnett, Nellie’s mother, who is also the postmistress for the Montego Bay Post Office.
Sandy and I race downtown to the post office. We go every day for three weeks. On Friday evening Mrs. Burnett hands me a yellow envelope. “A letter from Monroe College. My, my, somebody must like you a lot! You know how much a stamp cost these days?”
Randall’s handwriting is small and neat. And there are little hearts drawn in red in the margin.
Dear Staceyann,
The new term has started and I know I am going to die if don’t see you soon. I think about you after curfew every night. This boarding school for boys is unnatural. Girls give boys a reason to dream of pretty things. After supper and homework, all I do is think of you till lights out. And then I think of you when the lights go out.
I promise you my thoughts are pure. I think of you while I am in the chapel. I don’t ever think about you in any sexual way. I do not picture you naked. And I do not think of orgasms or anything like that. I think of you fully clothed and smiling.
I am yours in purity and love,
Randall
I get my dictionary out in order to respond. I want to make sure our interactions are intellectual. I believe if he is stimulated mentally he will forget about the feelings of the flesh. Still, I write my response on pale purple writing paper and draw flowers around the edges of the page.
Dear Randall,
I am glad you are luxuriating in your supper and your dreams. I hope the term continues in a manner that is beneficial to you and your studies. Things are excellent here. I am busy with both schoolwork and church.
I am extending my most heartfelt gratitude for your very illuminating letters. I know the cost of stamps has become quite astronomical. If you can, please pray for my soul when you go to chapel. I will continue to advocate to the Good Lord on behalf of all the boys at Monroe College.
Yours truly,
Staceyann
“Good evening, Mrs. Burnett, any letters for Staceyann Chin today?”
“Stacey, you were here three days ago and you got a letter. You expecting another one again today? Is Randall writing you all these love letters?”
I turn red in the face and say, “No, Mrs. Burnett, they are not love letters. We are just pen pals. Is there anything for me today?”
“No, ma’am, and there is nothing from Westmoreland for Sandra either. Come back next week.”
A few weeks later another letter arrives. The envelope reeks of cologne. When I open it there are flower petals inside. And he has drawn little hearts and lips all over the back of each page.
Dearest Staceyann,
Thank you for writing back to me. Your letter was very moving. But too long has gone by since I have seen you. I miss your hair and your hands and the way you use big words that no one ever understands.
I miss your pretty legs. I miss every part of you. Even the parts I have not seen. Yet. I must tell you, Sweet Staceyann, I have slipped and fallen off the wagon of purity. The other night, I was sleeping and dreaming about you. I awoke to feel my hands in my pajamas. I continued to pleasure myself until I fell prey to an Orgasm.
That Orgasm was so pleasurable and so satisfying that I knew I was meant to give you your first Orgasm. I hope I am not offending you. I know you are a good Christian girl. But if you allow me to take you into the unknown forest, I promise I will definitely marry you as soon as we get old enough to do so.
Please let me know your answer in the next letter.
Your Loving Husband to Be,
Randall Peterkin
I am shocked by the letter. I am also a little excited by its contents, but I know I cannot allow the relationship to go any further. If we keep writing to each other he will think that I am the kind of girl who will have sex with him before I am ready. I immediately tear a page from my notebook and quickly scribble the note on the lined white paper.
Dear Randall Peterkin,
I have no idea to which personage you were addressing in your last letter, but I know it could not have been myself! I am disgusted by your suggestions and your words. I would never marry you if you were the last boy on earth.
I am asking you to cease and desist from writing any letters to me. I hope your life turns out favorable. I say farewell now, because I will never speak to you again.
Your past friend,
Staceyann Chin
P.S. Please try to respect my wishes and refrain from writing to me again. You have already disrespected me so much. You may redeem yourself if you at least try to respect my wishes now.
Randall does not write again. But Nellie tells me that he always asks about me when he calls.
Take Up Your Bed and Walk
When Grace straightens Elisha’s hair, I am so jealous I tell Auntie that if she doesn’t give me permission to straighten mine she is cruel and unfair. She laughs and turns back to her Bible. The next day I remind her that Natalia’s mother will do it for free, that straight hair is easier to manage. The week after that I tell her that straightening it would give me more time for schoolwork. I am sure to get better grades. But no matter how much I beg, the answer is always no. Almost every girl in my class has had her hair straightened, I whine. Her response is quick and without apology. “Them other girls don’t live here. And as long as you live under this roof, what I say go. Your hair is fine as it is. You have good hair. Not like them other children. Leave your hair the way God give it to you!”
Frustrated and angry, I complain to Natalia.
“So why don’t you just do it?” she asks.
“You mad, Talia? Auntie would kill me!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Staceyann! She cannot kill you. Think about it. If you went ahead and straightened it, she couldn’t do anything. The most she can do is beat you. And then what? Your hair would be straight and that would be that. You can’t just reverse the process overnight.”
The next day I tell Auntie Bamsey that Auntie finally said I could straighten my hair. As I sit in the swivel chair and watch her separate my hair in four equal parts, in my excitement I try not to think about Auntie and what she will do to me when I get home. Auntie Bamsey applies the sticky cream and leaves it in for about ten minutes. My hair smells like it is being roasted. When she combs through the messy paste, my scalp feels like it is on fire. I am glad when she washes it all out. Little sections of the straight hair are smoothed onto curlers and pinned into place. I sit under the burning-hot dryer for an hour and a half, wondering why anyone would do this every six weeks. But when the curlers come out and the hair is blown into smooth waves, I understand.
I stare into the mirror at the new me. Long straight hair, with just a hint of a curl, hangs past the back of my brassiere. Perfectly formed large loose curls frame my face. If I shake my head, the curls move indi
vidually. My hair looks just like Andrea’s blond-white hair, except it’s black. I look almost exactly like April and Natalia. For the first time in my life I feel beautiful. Now I really look like my father could be Uncle Hartley or Uncle Charlie or Junior Chin.
I step through the front gate with my heart in my mouth. I know I am going to get the biggest beating of my life tonight and I am not certain that I am ready for it. Auntie watches me as I make my way carefully up the stairs. She does not respond when I say good evening. And she does not take her eyes off me either. Elisha also watches me from across the room, but she does not say a word. We are both waiting for what Auntie is going to do. I stay in the room and read until it is time to go to bed. For most of the night I lie awake waiting for her to come and say something, but she doesn’t. The next morning when I am leaving for school, she tells me, “Stacey, I see that you are a big woman now. And since two bulls cannot reign in one pen, it is time for you to move out of this house.”
“What? What you mean by move out, Auntie? Where I must move to?”
“You should have think about that before you go out there and do what you want. Please to collect your things together and take them out of this house.”
“But, Auntie—”
“No but. Just get your things and go. You are a big woman. Go and live by your own rules.”
I ask if I can take enough things for the weekend and come back to get the rest later. I just need some time to talk to Uncle Hartley. He will help me figure it out.
She says, “No. If you take anything, take everything today.”
I promise to come back for my things later that day. At school I tell Sister Joan Claire what has transpired. I ask her to call Auntie Ella in Kingston for me, but when Mrs. Bremmer answers, she tells me that Auntie Ella has emigrated to America. And no, she’s sorry, but she doesn’t know where Grandma is living now. When she asks what’s wrong, I hang up. Sister Joan Claire sits with me while I cry. She might be able to find someone to take me in, she assures me. But I am not sure what she means when she says take me in. I know I don’t want to be a charity case anymore. I don’t want to go to someplace where I am a burden to anyone. I am tired of not having a home. I try not to panic as it dawns on me that I have nowhere to live. Natalia is sure that Uncle Hartley will let me stay with them until Sister Joan Claire finds me a place, but I am not so sure. My experience is that people are nice until they have to take me in.
I am quiet as Natalia fills Uncle Hartley in on the ride home. He listens and nods and taps the steering wheel as she tells him that nobody in the world seems to want me, that I have never really done anything to deserve my situation, that I get such good grades in school, and that I won’t be any trouble. Uncle Hartley nods and nods and nods. It is only when Natalia says she knows I will repay him for his kindness that he interrupts her. “No, Natalia, no.” His tone is serious as he continues, “When you do something kind for someone, it is not something to be repaid. You do it because it is necessary, not because you expect something back. And Stacey, let me tell you something. You are welcome to stay in the house, but no thank-yous are necessary. This is a critical year in your life. It is your second-to-last year in high school. You have final exams next year. So if you are without a place to live and you are my daughter’s very good friend, it is my duty to take you home. You hear me?”
I nod because I cannot find any words. Natalia gently pats my arm while I wipe the tears from my eyes and blow my nose into my tie.
Two weeks pass before Sister Joan Claire finds me a room with a woman named Mrs. Lyn. Mrs. Lyn’s husband died last year and her only daughter is away at college in Miami. Sister Joan Claire gives me the address and tells me to go there after school on Monday. Mrs. Lyn’s house is on the nicer side of Paradise. That side is called Paradise Acres. Uncle Hartley drops me there after school. Paradise Acres is just a short walk from the taxi stand at Blood Lane, but the neighborhood feels like a whole other country. The houses are all concrete. And everybody has metal grilles over the windows and doors.
Mrs. Lyn is a tiny half-Chinese woman who speaks very softly. She opens the door and motions me in. She points to the big plush red couch and I sit down. “Good afternoon, Stacey—or is it Staceyann? Which do you prefer?”
“Ah—I—I like to be called Staceyann.”
“Okay, Staceyann, Sister told me about your situation. She told you what the room and board will be?”
I nod and reach into my pocket, but she shakes her head. “No—no, you don’t have to give it to me until you come with your things. We just have to go over some basic rules. First thing is first, I will not touch anything that personally belongs to you and you will afford me the same courtesy, right?”
I nod again.
“Second, if you are not coming home you have to call and let me know before ten. And if you forget, please call first thing in the morning. I am an early riser, so it doesn’t matter how early you call, okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lyn.”
“Another thing. All the boarders who have stayed here have called me Aunt Lyn. Mrs. Lyn sounds so formal for people who are sharing a house, you agree?”
“Yes, Mrs.—I mean, Aunt Lyn.”
“Don’t worry, it will take a while before it becomes habit. Now, you can eat what you like as long as it is not without consideration. The helper cooks every day, but she leaves at three, so you have to share out your own dinner when you get home. It will always be there in the fridge. Eat it if you like. Leave it if you don’t. Come with me.”
We leave the living room and head to the back of the house.
“This room in here is yours. The bathroom in there is yours alone. The helper will clean it once a week. If you want it cleaned more often, you will have to do that yourself.”
I follow her to another room with a concrete sink.
“The washing machine and dryer are in this back room. Sheets and towels go in the laundry basket back here. You will be responsible for your underwear, and that includes your brassieres too. If you make a mess—for example, if you spill your period on your sheets—don’t put them in the basket. Just drop them in the machine and run a cycle. This is not a nursery. I expect you to take care of yourself. Understood?”
“Yes, M—Aunt Lyn.”
“Those are the general housekeeping rules. Now, no sex in this house. None at all. And if I catch you, the consequences will be considerable. No boys when I am not here. And if you have friends over, they have to leave by eleven, okay? Oh, and no phone calls after eleven. And try not to give the phone number to people who will make crank calls. You think you can live with those rules?”
I don’t think I have absorbed everything, but I nod anyway.
“When would be a good time for you to move in?”
“Aahm…I think—I think Uncle Hartley will give me a ride over here tomorrow.”
“Okay, ma’am, I guess I will see you tomorrow. Let me give you some keys. This opens the front grille, this silver one is for the front door…”
I walk from Aunt Lyn’s to Natalia’s in a daze. I feel sort of giddy with freedom. I tell Natalia everything Aunt Lyn said.
She can barely contain herself. “Wow, you are lucky for real. It seems like you hit the jackpot with this one. How you feel about everything?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“You guess? You know how many people would kill to have that kind of freedom? You can spend the night with your boyfriend and not get in trouble! You have the life that every teenager want to have, Stacey! Why you look like something is wrong?”
“I am happy to have all me freedom, but guess I feel sort of sad too, to know that I can do anything and nobody would care.”
“I guess I understand that, but it must be cool to be able to do anything you want.”
“I suppose so. But make us do our homework before Uncle Hartley come check on us.”
That night in bed I lie listening to Natalia’s even breathing. The sheets are clean and smell like lem
on. The room is kept cool by a silver overhead fan. I wish this room were my room. The room at Aunt Lyn’s is nice, and it is quite an unexpected luxury to have my own bathroom, but I know it is not really my room—not the way that this room is Natalia’s room. Uncle Hartley took her to the paint store to pick out her own paint. Even when she is married and living somewhere else, this room will still be her room.
I think of Elisha and Grace stretching out in the bed I used to sleep in. I know that Grace is glad to see the back of me. She will throw out the few clothes I left there. By next week there will be no sign of my having been there at all.
Heaven and Earth Will Pass Away, but My Words Will Not Pass Away
I am the only fifteen-year-old in the tenth grade who can do anything I want after school. But while everyone dreams of going dancing with boys, I choose to spend my evenings doing homework with Natalia.
I hardly see Uncle Desmond or April anymore. I no longer visit the furniture store. It feels strange to hear April tell people that we are cousins when my father maintains that I am not his daughter. At Junior Chin’s house I am a charity case. I ring the bell, pick up the money, and say thank you and good-bye.
I don’t even like to visit Delano. He and I hardly talk. We just sit there watching TV until it is time for me to leave. I only go when I have to ask Uncle Charlie for money. Everything in the tenth grade is about preparing for the eleventh-grade finals. These exams will mark the end of our lives as secondary school students. Uncle Hartley says that even though it does not feel like it, our big graduation is only a year away. Before we know it, summer will be gone, and so will everything we learned in the tenth grade. He insists that we take extra lessons during the summer to keep us sharp. “If you ladies are to do well, you have to work hard while others are at play.”
When June comes, Aunt Lyn asks if I have any plans for the summer holidays. I tell her I will be at Natalia’s for most of it, studying. Relief washes over her face and she blurts out, “Well, that is just as well, because my daughter is coming home from college for good in September and she needs her room.” She sighs and looks away “Staceyann, I am sorry to drop this on you so, but you think you could find another room for the next school year?”
The Other Side of Paradise: A Memoir Page 23
