by Penny Dixon
When I get off the phone Mel shout from the kitchen, ‘Why she so mad?’ She making macaroni pie. I lean against the fridge and watch her. She look comfortable here. Jeannette would die if she could see her. I cut a piece of cheese and chew it, for something to do.
‘I didn’t tell her you’re living here.’
‘Why would that make her so mad? She think it’s too soon after your wife?’
‘No is not that,’ I say slowly, trying to think of the best way to put it.
‘What is it then?’
‘I promise to go up and do some work with her husband on two of the restaurants that he manage. They don’t want to give the work to anybody else because they’d have to pay them too much. She think if I come over I get the money and they get a good price. What she call a win-win arrangement. She into that kind of management speak.’
‘And she think is me stopping you going?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh. I see why she so mad.’
I watch her sprinkle cheese on the pie and put it in the oven. That story is partly true so is not a bareface lie.
‘Why don’t you go Grant? Is it the money for the fare?’
‘No, they’ll cover that from the fee.’
‘Is it because of me, because I moved in?’ Anything I answer to this could get me in trouble. If I say no she might think she too insignificant, if I say yes she might think she too important. Safer not to answer that one.
‘Is because of Darron. Now that Jeanette not here somebody have to be here while he going to school. I can’t just get up and leave. On top of that, he sliding and I have to keep a watch on him.’
Her back to me as she wash the bowls, grater and spoons. Then she turn round, hand on her little hip. ‘I can look after Darron, make sure he goes to school, help him with his homework at night.’
I don’t know what to say. Its not what I expect.
‘You sure?’ She must hear the doubt.
She lean on the sink and look straight at me.
‘I live here already. Darron used to me. We have a laugh. He tells me things he don’t tell you because he’s frightened of you sometimes. I think he will go to school and do the work.’
‘You would do that?’
‘It’s what families do. They help each other.’
She always talking about family. She born in Antigua but her mother married a Bajan man. They travel around a lot before he come back to settle in Barbados. She say anywhere is home if your family there with you. I feel kinda touched that she claim us as family. Maybe is because her parents split up now, one in Canada, the other in America.
‘Let me think about it.’
It’s a good idea but I have to make sure Darron will do his part. Maybe a break from me will do him good. I bring it up at dinner.
‘Darron, you know your Aunt Roxy want me to go to the States to do that job for her in New York?’
‘Yes.’ He’s nervous, not sure where I’m going.
‘She call again today and want me to come asap.’
He look at me, a fork full of mashed potato halfway between his plate and his mouth. He wait for me to go on before the food find its destination.
‘I couldn’t go because of all the problems you having at school.’ He tense up. ‘Not just that, but since Jeanette leave there’s only one adult in the house at night’. He relax a little. Not all the blame is his. He take another forkful and watch me.
‘Now that Mel live here she say she will make sure she here at night.’ His eyes move to Mel and they share a look that don’t mean anything to me.
‘If I go I will have to be confident that you not going to abuse the situation, that you going to do your work and not slide down anymore on your grades.’
‘Yes Daddy.’
‘Yes daddy what?’
‘I will do what you want.’
‘I’m going to give you a month. If I see improvements in that time I’ll go, if not I’ll have to stay. I can’t have the school thinking I’m leaving a failing student to go and look for money.’
‘But that’s what most people do. A lot of my friends’ parents working abroad. They being looked after by family.’
‘Yeah, that new bunch of no-good failing friends.’
‘No Daddy,’ he persist, ‘a lot of the kids’ parents work abroad.’
‘But that’s not what I want for us.’ We have a bond between us, and although it taking a battering at the moment, it still strong. I still look at him and see a skinnier version of me. He nearly as tall as me. Same open face but nose not quite as wide and lips like his mother, full and fleshy. He walk like me, shave his head when I shave mine.
He’s fourteen. He know my financial situation. He don’t like the downgrade in the house but he understand why. He know why Mel move in, we explain it to him. Then I explain it after she gone. She not my one true love, not here to be his mother, she need a place to live and I could use the help. We have to squeeze her bits of furniture in, make the living room look a little cramp. We get on well. That absent parent thing is not what I want for us.
‘You on a month’s trial Darron. I’m going back to the school in a months time. If I get a good report I book the ticket, if I don’t you have me on your back. Do we have a deal?’
‘Deal,’ he say with a broad grin. We touch on it.
He keep his part of the deal, so I’m sitting on the plane thinking about my life. My fourteen year old son at home with my twenty year old girlfriend and I’m on my way to meet a possible wife. A wife that dragging me into the gutter in the process of becoming ex, an ex who still can’t get over it and punish me by telling my son all kind of lies about me (I see the way Derrick watch me when he come for the holidays, the way he watch me and Darron and I wonder what he taking back home to his mother). All I need is a job, or some means of making some money quick. Them little men hammer happy again. I switch on the in flight entertainment and watch a movie. Runaway Bride. Halfway through, I fall asleep.
Grant
No matter how often I do it, I’m never prepared for the difference in the speed of life in the Caribbean and New York. They have just one gear in New York – top gear, and after a while people don’t notice that their engine always revving, never on idle. Every time I see my sister I notice it more. She talk faster, walk faster, eat faster, sleep faster.
When I finally come through customs at JFK she rush over and hug me, but it’s a little bit shorter than the last time. Although she put on a bit more weight since I last see her, she have to slow down for me when we walk back to her SUV. It’s like her body slow down but her head racing ahead. We shave ten minutes off the drive to her house. My nieces give me long, tight squeezes. They talk fast but they still remember how to hug long.
‘Hi Uncle Grant, did you have a fun trip?’
‘How’s Darron and Derrick and Marcie?’
‘Didn’t they want to come with you?’
‘It’s ages since we saw them, they must be real big now?’
‘Yes, fine, yes but they couldn’t, and yes.’
They look at me puzzled.
‘The answer to all your questions,’ I say, and they laugh.
Roxanne don’t waste time with chitchat, she want to get straight down to business. We have Chinese take out delivered, she send the girls to bed and she and Tyrol explain about the work on the restaurants. They don’t want me to do the physical work, just to oversee it and make sure it finish on time and stay in budget. They building extensions to two of the restaurants. I will have to supervise the two of them. Tomorrow he’ll show me the plans and I’ll tell him what he’ll need and how much it will cost.
He’ll take me to meet the builders the day after. It feel like I hit the ground running, but I’m getting a buzz. Like some wires re-connect and electricity flowing round my body. This is work I like and want to do. For the first time in months I’m looking forward to tomorrow.
Roxanne’s away on
a business trip all this week so any introduction to my potential bride will have to wait till the weekend. I’m relieved.
They’re small extensions, one contractor doing the two. It feel good to be back with trades people. They’re nice guys, like me – grateful for the work, eager to make a good impression. They start on one building and move between the two for first fix, second fix and finish and fittings. It feel good to wear my hard hat again, to call Darron and Mel. Tell them about my day at work. This part of the trip is a big success. I can’t say the same for the other.
Roxanne invite Sophia round to dinner on Saturday night. We have Chinese take out again. It’s the girls’ favourite, and Sophia’s. I have to admit I’m a little nervous. This isn’t a normal date, more like those arranged marriages Indian people do. Part of me hoping I’ll like her, the other part wondering what the hell I’m doing. Even if I like her, what then? I’ve been in New York a week now and I’m not feeling it as a place to move my kids to. To come and live for two or three or more years. After a week I can’t see what work I can get. The recession is here too. Hardly any buildings going up, and they’re using people they know. There’s even more unemployed site managers here than in the Caribbean.
I’m thinking all this and hoping she’ll be something special, someone that will make me laugh, make me not mind the cold, or the speed of life; someone that will make me want to stay in spite of everything.
The ringing doorbell announce her arrival. Roxanne fly to the door to let her in. I think my sister nervous as hell. She invest a lot of time in this project. She wants us to like each other. The girls watching a TV programme. They think Sophia just coming over for dinner, don’t understand the significance of this meeting. Tyrol keep his eyes on the TV. He don’t know what to say.
‘Come through,’ Roxanne say.
‘Everybody here?’ She mean ‘Is he here?’
She walks through the door and our eyes meet. I stand up and go to shake her hand.
‘Sophia, Grant, Grant, Sophia.’
‘Hi Aunt Sophia.’ The girls rush to hug her like a couple of large Alsatian puppies.
‘Girls! Girls!’ Roxanne chides. ‘One at a time please, give Uncle Grant time to say hello.’
They back off and go back to their TV programme.
I’m glad for the interruption. Give me time to take her in. To let it re-register that she not my type to look at. She look nice in black pants, black high heels and a long red, green and blue blouse that stop halfway down her thighs. Her hair piled high on her head – make her look taller. With the heels and the hair, she the same height as me. She make her eyes up to look like slanting cat’s eyes. They look strange but is the most interesting thing about her. She’s about 160 pounds. I’m a good judge of a woman’s weight. I like to carry my women to bed. I might need a few sessions at the gym to carry Sophia.
I take her hand again. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Pleased to meet you too Grant, finally.’
I hold her hand in both of mine, trying to feel some connection, some spark that I can build on. There’s nothing. I smile.
‘The pleasure’s all mine,’ I lie in my smoothest, most seductive voice.
‘Would you like a drink?’
‘What you got?’
‘Let’s have a look.’
I take her to the small bar in the corner of this large living room.
‘I can offer you some Mount Gay rum straight from Barbados, still have the sunshine in it.’
‘Oh Roxanne, he has such a sweet tongue,’ she squeal at my sister on the other side of the room.
‘Do you have some coke honey? Can’t have rum without coke.’
‘I’ll get some from the fridge.’
I feel her eyes on my back as I walk to the kitchen.
‘He’s nice hon.’ She has a very loud whisper.
Even though she not my type, I still feel satisfaction that she like me. I’m wearing jeans and a long sleeve Ralph Lauren jersey stretch tight across my muscles. I decide to turn on the charm and enjoy the night.
I let my hand touch hers when I give her the drink. She don’t miss the intention. She give me a big encouraging smile. She have nice teeth, small and white and even. I like her teeth. She have nice lips too, not as plump and fleshy as Jeanette’s but softer than Mel’s. She look like she wearing a corset.
‘You work out, don’t you?’ She squeeze my left bicep.
I always wonder how women think they can just feel up a man when they want. If we do the same they slap our face, call their man or threaten to report us to the police for harassment.
I can tell she like what she see; like what she feel. I check out her hips, about three times Mel’s. She would take some handling, but I’m up to the job, taken on bigger. I just don’t think I want to be working so hard for two years, and God knows what kind of appetite she have. She could have me as a sex slave; threaten to turn me in if I don’t service her. I wouldn’t mind being a sex slave, but not hers.
Roxanne call us into the dining room.
‘Oh my what a spread!’ shriek Sophia.
‘Real plates and wine,’ Tyrol says, ‘you guys should feel honoured.’
There’s so much food on the table. That’s one of the things I don’t like about New York. People waste so much food. There’s enough ribs, chicken, beef, pork, shrimp, rice, noodles and crackers to feed us three times over. Roxanne will throw the leftovers in the garbage. She never used to be like that, used to only buy what she need.
‘Grant, you’re there, Sophia, you’re there, Tyrol, here, Cora, there and Courtney, there.’
‘Oh I get to sit next to you, Grant! Isn’t that sweet?’ She sound pleased. I know Roxanne arrange it that way, so does Sophia.
Tyrol say grace; thank the Lord for the food, for the means to provide it, for family, for friends, for his love and grace. We all say ‘Amen’.
Sophia talk about her business.
‘It was busy today, black heads never stopped coming all day.’
‘Guess you should be happy business so good in a recession.’
‘Wait up though, they’re not having the expensive treatments, no weaves or twists or human braids. Too many wash and cut and simple relax. Black women trying to look good on the cheap.’
‘At least you still have them coming through the door,’ Roxanne say.
‘Can I have my hair relaxed at Sophia’s Mom?’ Cora ask.
‘When you’re older baby’
‘What’s wrong with now?’
‘Might damage your roots.’
‘If you ask me it might damage your roots any age you are,’ Tyrol say.
‘That’s why nobody asking you.’ Sophia give him a “don’t knock my livelihood” look.
He look at me for help. I point to my shaved head. ‘Don’t have any roots to damage.’ Everybody laugh, like I cracked a big joke on stage. In a way, I’m the star of the show, the one everybody come to see.
I let my arm touch Sophia’s when they move to another topic. She press back to let me know. I wonder if she feeling anything because I’m not. No rushing in my pulse, no tingling on my skin, no stirring in my boxers. Maybe I just have to work on it, after all, I just meet her.
They eat fast. The girls want to get back to their TV show. Their parents excuse them. There’s a bit of paperwork Roxanne and Tyrol have to attend to urgently – won’t take more than and hour. Me and Sophia both know they leaving us alone to get to know each other.
‘If we’re going to get to know each other you have to come spend some time with me.’ She say quite matter of fact.
‘I guess that make sense.’ I’m trying to figure how that going to work. ‘How you see that working?’ Might as well ask.
‘I have a spare room, come and stay by me for a week, see how I live, see how I work.’
‘I’m still on these jobs. How…’
‘You can use my car. I can walk to work.’ She
slap her thigh, laugh. ‘Might do me good.’
Silence.
‘How come a good looking woman like you not married?’
‘Never found the right man, I guess.’
‘Let me get this straight; this is a business arrangement right?’
‘Sure is, but if the mood takes us, and we both feel the same way, nothing stopping us having a little fun along the way.’ She wink at me, like she playing with me.
‘I have to talk to Roxanne and Tyrol, about the work and everything.’
‘Sure hon, wouldn’t expect any different.’
‘You been in New York long?’
‘All my life, Brooklyn born and bred. Mind if I have a sneaky smoke?’
‘We have to go outside. Roxanne don’t…’
‘I know, just out the back here, where it won’t blow back in the house on the girls.’
I stand with her as she take a deep drag on her cigarette. I purposely tell Roxanne I don’t like smokers. Like she read my thoughts, she say, ‘Only once in a blue moon.’ I look up at the sky. She laugh. ‘I like your sense of humour.’
One week isn’t enough to get to know someone. Both of you on your best behaviour, both of you showing what you want the other person to see and trying to hide everything else.
Sophia have a nice first floor apartment in a converted house. It bigger than my house, square footage wise. Master bedroom with bathroom, big high spec kitchen, quality bathroom with power shower and bidet. Living room with flat panel TV, cream leather suite that you just sink into, cream rugs on hardwood floor. In fact, the whole apartment is like a giant cream marshmallow, quiet and padded.
As soon as I see the apartment I have two questions for her.
How she see children fitting into all this white?
Why she doing this cause it don’t look like she need the money?
