by Penny Dixon
‘You calling five minutes late, when sometimes I have to wait half hour for you?’
‘I’m late because of work. It’s not like you have work to do. I would like to know what you do all day that you can’t get here on time.’
I was about to tell her to mind her own fucking business, to tell her she taking advantage because I’m not working and remind her that is she run me down when I wasn’t even interested, when the idea pop into my head.
‘Mel,’ I say trying to control my excitement. It’s a risk but it might just work. ‘Mel, I meet that lady again today, you know the one I meet on Sunday. I find out she’s a business consultant. She might be able to help me with my business. It’s her job. She definitely looking to build a house in St Patrick. In fact, she might build more than one and she looking for quotes. But she was giving me some ideas for marketing my business. That’s what I was doing. I had to break off the discussion to come and pick you up. I arrange to meet her tomorrow.’
‘The lady from England?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you get the chicken for dinner?’
‘Oh shoot! I forget.’ I was so wrapped up with Josi, all house things went clean out my head.
‘I’ll stop and get some.’ I feel bad because I know she hungry and is my turn to cook. Then I have another idea.
‘Mel?’
‘So no dinner don’t cook yet?’
‘Why don’t we invite her for dinner?’
She look at me puzzled.
‘Invite who?’
‘The lady I just telling you about. She really nice. You would like her.’
‘Why you’d want to invite her to your house?’
‘I have a good feeling about her. I think she could give me the job if nobody else get in there first. I think I was nearly convincing her when I had to pick you up.’
‘But you seeing her tomorrow.’
‘Yes, but not till the afternoon. She talking to other people Mel, I don’t want somebody else to get in there before me.’
‘How you going to get her to come. You just going to phone her and say, ‘Hi Lady, come to my house and eat with my girlfriend and my son. You don’t think she might have other things to do?’
‘Mel, try and work with me on this,’ I plead.
I really don’t want Josi to go off the heat. If I can see her tonight it will keep me fresh in her mind. It will also show her that there’s no big thing between me and Mel. I don’t know how it going to work, don’t know if she have anything plan for tonight but I have to get Mel to agree first. If Josi say no then that’s that, but I can’t give up without a try.
‘I’m trying to work with you Grant, but you say you want to talk to Darron tonight. How’s that going to work?’
‘We can talk first and ask her to come later.’
‘What if Darron in a bad mood.’
Now she give me another idea. I almost kiss her.
‘Mel you’re a genius.’ Now I have the perfect reason to invite her.
‘Mel, she’s a psychologist. When I was telling her what happen with me and Darron she say she would be happy to talk to him for me.’
‘What! Does Darron know about this?’
‘No, but I’m sure I can get him to agree.’
‘The same way you think you can get me to agree to bring some person to the house at such short notice.’
‘Come on Mel, don’t you see Darron could get some help, and me too. I don’t want another scene like last night, and we could get it for free. And I might get a contract into the bargain. Don’t you think it’s worth a few hours inconvenience?’
She don’t answer.
‘Mel?’ I plead.
‘All right.’
I’m thinking fast. That was only the first part of the plan. I still have to get Darron and Josi to agree. I’m not too worried about Darron but Josi is another matter. While Mel go in the supermarket to get the chicken I text Josi.
Are u busy lata. Can I see u?
I pray she text back straight away.
To do what?
It’s a surprise.
What time?
About 7
Text me then.
Is that a yes.
It’s a maybe.
Ok. C U Lata.
It’s better than a ‘no’. Enough to plan the night around. If she don’t come I have to make up a reason to tell Darron and Mel.
Darron get home on time. Lucky he don’t have a lot of work to do on his project. That’s a good sign. I tell Mel to leave it till after we do the work to tell Darron, because I don’t want to distract him from the work. I force myself to concentrate, block her out for the hour it take to help Darron. It feel good sitting with him after last night. I don’t want another night like that.
When we finish I tell him I have a friend coming to visit tonight. That she’s a psychologist and would like to talk to him and me so we don’t have another night like last night. He look at me worried.
‘Is she a shrink?’
‘No, she’s a psychologist. I don’t really know the details but she definitely not a shrink. She help people with their problems, even with business advice. I want the business advice but I think she agreed to come quicker because she really like to help people.’
‘What you want me to say to her?’
‘Anything that’s bothering you.’
‘You going to talk to her?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Mel?’
‘Mel not having any problems with us. Anyway, she coming for dinner so Mel will get to talk to her too. Will you do it?’
He look at me a bit doubtful but nod his head. At seven o’clock I phone Josi.
Josi
‘You sure attract some strange people on that beach.’ Celia laughs at me as we enter the apartment after her post work dip. ‘How do you do it?’
‘Don’t know. I must have a sign on my forehead that says ALL WEIRDOS WELCOME.
‘I think you should set up a board with your fees. You should be charging for all that counselling you giving away for free.’
‘You think I should start a business down there?’ I laugh.
‘You’d probably get some peace when they see your fees.’
My phone rings. It’s Grant.
‘Are you busy?’
‘Why?’
‘I want to ask you a big favour.’
‘What?’
‘Will you talk to my son. I just been talking to him and I would love for you to give me some advice.’
‘When?’
‘I can come right now. I can be there in ten minutes.’
I go into the kitchen where Celia’s washing mangoes. Holding my hand over the phone I ask her if we doing anything tonight.
‘Haven’t got anything special planned. Why?’
‘Being invited out,’ I whisper.
‘Who?’ she whispers back.
‘Grant.’
She waves the back of her hand at me as if to say ‘Go’.
‘OK. But give me twenty minutes,’ I tell him.
‘You have a date then,’ Celia smiles.
‘Not exactly,’ I draw out the exactly.
‘What do you mean “not exactly”?’
‘He wants me to talk to his son.’
Celia laughs out loud. ‘I hope you’re going to send him the bill.’
He’s right on time. I go out to meet him as he pulls up.
‘Good luck,’ Celia says, ‘and don’t forget the bill.’
He takes in everything in one glance. I hope he approves, though technically I shouldn’t care. It’s not as if it’s a date. I’m doing him a favour, but I still hope he approves of the simple green, pink and beige print dress I’ve chosen. Not too tight or provocative – belted snugly under my breasts with a wide gold belt and a pair of Celia’s gold sandals. I wear my hair out, draped over my shoulders like a shawl.
‘Hi,’ he drawls and leans across to kiss me as soon as I shut the car door. I’m a little taken aback for a moment. My mind’s in work mode. I’m going to see a client. This feels wrong.
‘Whaz up?’ he asks, sensing my reluctance. ‘You still mad at me?’
‘What’s the matter with your son?’ I ignore his question.
He starts the engine. ‘I’ll tell you on the way. I have to get some gas and some drink.’
‘What’s the matter?’ I ask again.
He explains that things have become very strained between him and his son since he caught him lying about his school assignments six months ago. He’d been skipping school and lying about that too. He (Grant) had been very angry, very disappointed with him and had come down on him hard.
‘What do you mean by hard?’
‘You know, stop playing sport with him, ground him, stop buying him computer games, make him do his homework at weekend before he do anything else. That kind of thing.’
‘How long did you do that for?’
‘What you mean how long?’
‘When did you let him have these things back?’
‘He don’t get them back yet.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he don’t do well in his exams yet.’
‘Let me get this straight. You mean you’ve been punishing him for six months?’
‘He still not sticking to the grounding rules. He did for a while when I went to the States, but since I come back he slide right back. Like last night, he don’t come home till half past nine when he should be in the house by four thirty.’
‘What did you do?’
He pulls up at the garage. ‘Just need to get some gas.’
He pays for the fuel and asks me what I want to drink, Hennessey or rum. I tell him rum but I have no intention of drinking before talking to his son. He comes back with a flask of Mount Gay and a bottle of coke.
‘You eat already?’ he asks me.
‘No, didn’t have time.’
‘Good. You can eat with us. Mel and Darron cooking dinner.’
‘Mel will be there?’
‘Yes. I think it will be good for you to meet her. See what your competition is, see that you have nothing to worry about.’
‘Wait a minute Grant! You didn’t say anything about Mel being there. I agreed to come over to talk to your son, not to play gooseberry to you and your girlfriend. Does she know I’m coming?’
‘Of course. That’s why they cooking,’ he says casually.
I don’t know what to say. I’m baffled as to why he’d want us to meet. What’s he playing at? Is he on some kind of big ego trip? Is he trying to make Mel jealous? Or maybe its me he’s trying to make jealous. One half of me thinks this is ludicrous, possibly dangerous; but the other half can’t help being curious about his girlfriend. Then I realise I’ve dressed to meet his teenage son, not the competition.
‘What did you tell your son about me?’
‘That I have a friend who can help him.’
‘Help him to do what?’
‘Help him do better at school. Help him and me get on better.’
‘And what did you tell your girlfriend?’
‘That you looking to build a house in St Patrick and want to talk it over with me, so I invite you to eat with us.’
I am dumbstruck.
‘So your son’s expecting a friend and your girlfriend a business deal.’
‘I had to tell Darron you’re a friend because when I tell him about you he ask if you’re a shrink.’
I try to let this sink in. This man can certainly spin a web. What am I stepping into? Am I his fly? There’s one voice inside my head saying, ‘Tell him to take you back home,’ but the one saying, ‘This is very intriguing’ wins.
He puts his hand on my knee as we speed past houses. ‘You OK babes?’
‘Yes. Fine.’
‘You gone all quiet on me.’
‘It’s not every day I have dinner with the girlfriend.’
‘It will be fine. Melissa’s OK about it. Anyway, we here now.’
He pulls up outside a modest looking white house with closed gates. It’s got a neatly trimmed croton hedge, small lawn, garage and four steps leading up to a small veranda.
‘I’m gonna put it on the drive,’ he says, squeezing my knee with one hand. He pulls the car on the drive and beckons to me to get out of the car while he closes the gates. Despite my calm exterior, my heart’s beating wildly. I feel like a teenager going home to meet the family; even though I tell myself I may never see these people again, I’m still nervous. I don’t have a protocol for this kind of meeting, don’t know the etiquette.
He motions me to precede him up the steps. I’m acutely aware of his closeness. There’s an intoxicating mixture of anticipation and anxiety. He, on he other hand, appears relaxed, his movements easy and fluid as he kicks off his sandals by the door. I keep mine on.
‘Melissa, Darron, this is Josi, my friend I told you about,’ he announces as we step into the room. It’s a long room divided into two by a wooden divider. We are in the lounge section. I look past the sofa, the TV, the dining table in the other half of the room to the two people standing in a doorway. I assume the boy, about an inch shorter than Grant, much more slimly built with short cropped hair and an uncertain smile, is Darron.
Next to him is a girl who could be his sister. Her short, strapless, pink cotton dress adds just a touch of femininity to her slight boyish frame. Her braided hair, piled high on her head exposes a long attractive neck and slender shoulders. Thin, almost wiry legs extend from the edge of the dress to bare feet – neat and orderly on the floor in front of her. I’m stunned when Grant introduces her as Melissa. This slip of a girl transforms my misapprehension of voluptuousness.
The hand that shakes mine is small, soft, flaccid. Darron, although looking a little nervous, has a firmer grip.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Grant asks briskly.
‘Just some water,’ I answer. I need my head clear.
He goes into the kitchen to get the drink. Melissa and Darron part like the red sea to let him through. Both stare at me, not knowing what to say or do.
‘Melissa. That’s a lovely name,’ I say to break the silence, ‘do you ever get called Mel or Lisa?’
‘Sometimes people call me Mel,’ she answers in a matter of fact way.
‘And what about you,’ I turn to Darron, ‘does your name ever get shortened?’
‘Sometimes people call me Ron.’
They part again to let Grant out of the kitchen. They’ve been standing like guards of a treasure cave, shoulder to shoulder. All that’s missing are the uniforms, shields and swords. Grant sets the small tray with the water, an ice bucket, a small bottle of cola and a bottle of Hennessey on the coffee table in the lounge part of the room and indicates for me to join him.
I look around casually, trying to work out why two sets of suites are crammed into the lounge and dining area. The trophies, pictures and ornaments on the divider, the two coffee tables, one on which sits the aging TV, the computer stand with a PC and all the accessories all make sense. What doesn’t are the pink plastic flowers dotted wherever there’s a spare surface. By the side of the TV, on the top of the divider, on the dining table. Does Grant have an extremely feminine side or just poor taste in flowers?
‘Where do you want to talk to Darron?’
I pull myself back to the task in hand. I assume there’s another room we can use. There isn’t. Grant suggests I talk to him in the lounge and he and Melissa will withdraw to the kitchen. I know it’s highly unlikely any teenager will to speak to me freely and honestly if there’s even the remotest possibility his parents can overhear. I need time with him on his own. I have a hunch which might work.
‘Do you mind if we go for a walk?’ I ask Darron.
There’s a hint of confusion in his eyes as he looks from me to Grant. Grant too looks a little
confused, then the penny drops and he nods approval to Darron.
‘I guess so.’
We head for the door and he stops to put his sandals on.
‘How long you going to be?’ Grant asks.
‘Shouldn’t be any more than half and hour.’ That’s usually long enough for most teenagers.
‘So, Darron, what do you know about me?’ I enquire as soon as we’re out of earshot. It’s dark and I can’t see him very well but I sense his nervousness. After all, it’s not everyday he has to talk to some stranger about his life.
‘Just what Daddy told me.’
‘Which is?’
‘That you’re his friend and you help people with problems.’
‘And you believe him?’
He’s silent.
‘Is there anything you want to know about me?’
‘Are you some kind of shrink?’
‘No, but your dad’s right. I do help people with problems.’
He’s silent.
‘Do you think you’ve got any problems?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Why do you think your dad wants you to speak to me?’
Silence. I wait. When he realises I’m prepared to wait through the silence, he says, ‘Because me and him not getting on too well.’
‘Why do you think that is?’
‘He says it’s because I drop grades at school.’
‘And is that what you think?’
He’s silent again as we listen to our quiet padding on the pavement, interrupted occasionally by a passing car.
‘Do you think it’s because of the grades?’
‘It was at first.’
‘But now?’
‘He’s changed.’
‘Changed how?’
Silence. I explain that I won’t tell his dad anything he doesn’t want me to, unless it’s a matter of life and death. He looks up from the ground at me as if checking that he heard me correctly.
‘Look, Darron, I can’t put things right between you and your dad, but I can help you and him to understand what’s happening so the two of you can put it right.’
Silence.
‘I know you might be feeling that talking to me would be disloyal to him or that I’m going to tell him everything you tell me but its not like that. I can see you’re not happy with the situation and he’s not happy with it either. At least talk to me. See if we can make it better.’
