“The whole summer in Dominica?” I was beginning to picture it, smell it even.
Matter of fact, I wished I could get on the plane with Drew that very moment and never again be stuck in another traffic jam.
“So what do you do during the summer?”
“Work…I told you about the new school we’re starting in that village up north. Plus, one of my boys and me might be working on this resort in Barbados if the seller takes our offer.”
I hadn’t known about that. I thought now would be a good time to ask one question that had been bugging me for quite a while. I mean, I knew he had been successful while he was in the States. But just how successful had he been? And where was all this money coming from? A part of me was afraid that he was some charismatic yet brutal drug dealer, and that sooner or later I’d end up his hostage while the DEA trained guns on his house. But those kinds of thoughts made me have flashbacks of Whitney’s breakdown. I had to stop.
“Where do you get all the cash to do these things?” I said this lightly so as not to sound like Christiane Amanpour.
He didn’t miss a beat. “I sell young children into slavery.”
Um…
“I’m kidding, Amelia. Geez. I have a lot of investments. I’m not rich, but I’m not too bad with money. Does that satisfy you, or will you be needing bank statements and tax forms?”
“I was just wondering. I mean, you work, but what you do doesn’t seem to have any obvious lucrative value.”
“Building a school doesn’t?”
“It’s a public school.”
“The government does pay me for the work I do.”
“I see.”
“I bet you’re probably thinking I’m some kind of criminal.”
“I am not! What do you take me for, Drew?”
“A girl with a wild imagination.”
“Whatever.” I felt stupid. He actually could read my mind. That sucked.
When we said good-bye at the terminal it wasn’t sad. I knew I’d see him again soon. I was already packing in my mind. “Love you,” he said as he walked into the gate. I stood there and watched him walk away. I liked this feeling. I wasn’t wasting my love on some undeserving bastard. This was a good guy. Even my brother liked him! I stood in the airport and let the happiness really sink in for a good ten minutes before going home.
Chapter 22
I called Whitney’s room at McLean, eager to make things right with her and to tell her my news, that I was going to spend the whole summer in Dominica. But a nurse said she wasn’t there.
“What do you mean she’s not there?”
“She checked herself out this morning.”
“You let her do that?”
“Ma’am, she’s here of her own free will.”
I immediately called Whitney at her home. She answered sounding cheery.
“You scared me, chica,” I said. “I called up there looking for you and they said you were gone.”
“I felt better so I left. I woke up this morning and it was so gorgeous out, I decided that I wanted to be outside. Then I went outside and I wanted to go home. You know, at the beginning of this year I said I was going to start doing my own gardening.”
“Uh-huh,” She was so chatty and random that I almost wanted to laugh. Was the old Whitney back?
“So, I left that place, took a cab to Home Depot, and bought a whole bunch of stuff. Now I’m outside in the front, planting tulips.”
“Tulips?”
“Yup. And azaleas and some other purple little flowers I don’t know the name of. My yard is gonna be the bomb.”
“Okay. I’m coming over then. I’ll help you.”
“Where’s your Caribbean man?”
“I just dropped him off at the airport.”
“Oh, so now you wanna hang out with a sister?”
“Please, Whitney.”
“I’m just playing…. Yeah, come over. We’ll garden and then we’ll go shopping.”
That sounded like a fine plan for a Saturday to me.
Hours later, we sat at the California Pizza Kitchen in the Back Bay. Whitney ate pizza and I ate a salad grudgingly. There was dirt under my fingernails.
“See what you made happen? You and your gardening…”
I looked in my bag for a nail file.
“Dirt is good for you. It’s cleansing.”
“Whatever, Whitney.”
“So, you’re really gonna be gone all summer?”
“Yeah.” I looked at her, searching for signs of approval or disapproval. “Is that bad? You think it’s too much too soon?”
“You’re asking me if it’s too much too soon?” We could laugh at that now.
“I don’t know. I just feel so comfortable when I’m with him. We argue about little things and laugh and eat and stuff…”
“Yup, you’re already like an old married couple.” She sipped her iced tea, and I prodded my miserable salad.
“I just don’t know how this is gonna work, though.”
“You mean the distance?”
“Obviously someone’s gonna have to move.”
“It’s gonna have to be you,” she said.
“Why me?”
“Sounds like he has a lot more to give up than you.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“No offense, but you have this job that you can do anywhere in the world. There’s really nothing tying you to Boston. Or America for that matter.” Her eyebrows narrowed. “Actually, I have an idea. I think I’ll go spend the summer in Rome. I’ve always wanted to do that and since you won’t be here…”
“Don’t go to Rome for the summer!”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s my fantasy!”
“No offense, but you couldn’t afford that fantasy, dahling. Anyway, you’ll be living my fantasy…getting laid every day on some Caribbean island.”
“Maybe we could switch up halfway through the summer then.”
“You’ll have to find me a man down there. I’m not taking your seconds.”
“I’m so ready to get out of here,” I said. I was going. The plan was now set. I’d spend the summer with Drew in Dominica and Whitney would jaunt off to Rome.
“Maybe you could come spend a weekend with me,” she said.
“Unlikely. I just don’t have the funds,” I said.
“Well, ask your sugar daddy.”
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Or maybe I’ll come down there.”
“You should!” I said. “You’d like it. Drew’s got a lot of good-looking friends.”
“Hmmm…Sounds like a plan then.”
We didn’t talk about her illness. I could tell that she was not in the mood to relive the past few weeks. But she seemed fine. She did say that she was on new meds and that had made her sleep better the last couple of nights. That was probably why her mood had improved so much. But with Whitney, one never knew. I just hoped that this version of her would last. I didn’t want to see my girl losing it again.
The weeks flew by as the temperature rose in the city. It seemed that I was always running somewhere. I had increased my exercise time to five days a week because I’d gotten so addicted to the rush I felt when I was on that bike. I was now down to a size 12 proper. But there were still days when I’d go to Godiva and scarf down a handful of raspberry chocolate eggs and two jelly bean cups. I just couldn’t help it. That was me. But at least I was exercising.
On the last day of school, my classes were less than half full. The kids were even more cantankerous because they knew summer was at the door. A lot of them I probably wouldn’t see next year. That is, if I came back. Even though they were wild and badly behaved I was sad that I was losing another group of kids. Every year it was the same thing; I never got used to it. I was regretful for the ones I hadn’t reached and sad to lose the good ones to a higher grade.
“Ms. Wilson, what you doing this summer?” Shanae asked. “Y
ou gonna work?”
“Nah, I’m going to the Caribbean to hang out with my friend.”
“Ain’t it hot down there in the summer?”
“Yes, but it’s hot here, too.”
“But it’s Africa hot down there,” one boy, Darryl, said.
“It’s a tropical island, so I guess you could compare the two….”
I noticed that Treyon had his hand on a girl’s butt, and she was pushing it away only to have him replace it each time.
“Treyon!”
“What?” He glared at me. He took his hand away and the girl scurried away.
I can’t lie. I was happy to say good-bye to them at the end of the last period. But then I was so touched when Shawn came up to me and said, “Be careful down there. You don’t want to catch Ebola.”
“I don’t think they have Ebola down there, Shawn.”
“They’d never tell you that in the brochures.”
“Okay, Shawn. I’ll be careful.”
Others walked up to the front of the class to hug me. Actual body contact! I’d only seen that happen with Lashelle and her students. Could I possibly be shedding my Mean Ms. Wilson image, or do they get this way just because it’s the end of the term? Oh, well. I’d savor the moment. They could be so sweet when they wanted to be, I thought as I watched them running out of the school, raising hell.
In the teacher’s lounge, we stood around chatting about the year. I finally felt that I was in the clique.
“So you gonna be with your man all summer?” Lashelle asked.
I nodded.
“That sounds so romantic,” Ms. Owens said. She was an older English teacher who was always impeccably dressed, one of those devout, old-time AKAs who continued to live and breathe for her sorority even in her old age. “Make sure that man marries you, girl,” she said.
“I’ll work on him,” I said. But that sounded so devious. It’s not that I didn’t want it. But it was too soon to think about something like that. At least out loud.
Later I went to see Ma and Gerard. It would be the last time I saw them before I flew down to Dominica.
“Ma?” I called out from downstairs once I’d let myself in. I thought she might be asleep. A few minutes later she came down the stairs in a satin robe, a guilty look on her face.
“What’s going on, Ma?”
“I got company.”
“Company?” Oh, then it dawned on me. Male company.
“Ma, I thought you were gonna be celibate,” I teased.
She glared at me.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Amelia, you sure you want to go all the way down there? Is that man worth it?”
“I thought you liked him!”
“Yeah. But why he gotta be so far away? Can’t you find someone here?”
“Like you did?”
“Stop minding my business.”
“I’ll miss you, Grace,” I told her, and I smiled. I smiled because she looked uncomfortable standing there in her robe, probably naked underneath, with a man upstairs in her bed. I had her just where I wanted her: vulnerable and ashamed.
“He’s a nice man,” she said defensively, glancing up the stairwell. I hated it when she read my mind.
“Be careful.”
“I should tell you to be careful.”
Then she opened her arms and hugged me. “Make sure you go see your brother before you leave.”
“I know. I’m going there now. I love you, Ma.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. “You’ll make me think something bad’s gonna happen to you.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“You better, Amelia.”
“Be careful!” she yelled from the window as I walked to my car.
Yes, Ma, I will.
Gerard’s girlfriend, D’Andrea, lived in one of those noisy buildings that I hated just driving by. Someone was always blasting music out loud, and there was always at least three or four roughneck guys hanging out in front. I don’t know how she could stand to live there by herself. I knew that Gerard had other girls so he wasn’t with her every night.
I rang the doorbell under the icy stare of two teenage boys.
“Who is it?” she yelled through the intercom.
She buzzed me up, and I walked into her and Gerard having a fight in her second-floor apartment.
She was holding his cell phone in her hand and he was trying to snatch it.
“Who’s this bitch, this 763 number?” she was yelling.
“Hello?” I stood at the door.
She turned around. “Oh, hey, Amelia. This fool think he’s gonna lie to me.”
“Shut up, D’Andrea!” Gerard said.
He smiled at me. “So you leaving, huh?” It was as if he’d signaled a time-out from the fight because D’Andrea, on cue, sat docilely on the couch, probably gathering her strength for round two.
The place was neat. D’Andrea worked hard at some insurance agency, and obviously she liked to spend her money on her house. She had a huge flat-screen TV, there were video games neatly stacked in a corner next to a fancy looking stereo. Hundreds of DVDs were in an oak entertainment center to the side of a leather couch, and tons of scented candles were everywhere. Martha Stewart would be proud. No wonder Gerard viewed her as his steady; she was the most stable woman I’d ever seen him with.
“I just came to say bye.”
“Aiiight,” he said. “Yo, if you see any fine honeys down there, hook a brother up.”
D’Andrea was shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
“Gerard, you’re silly,” I said.
Then I hugged him. “Bye, little brother,” I said into his shoulder.
“Take care, sis,” he said. “Bring me back some weed.”
“You’re gonna have to come get that yourself.”
“Bye, D’Andrea,” I said, hoping her anger at Gerard didn’t extend to me.
“Have a good time, Amelia,” she said wearily.
As I walked down the hall, I could hear her yelling again. Round two of the fight had begun. One thing I was certain of, I would not miss my family drama.
Chapter 23
I couldn’t believe that I was about to be attacked by a herd of goats. Every day I’d walk up in these hills and all I’d ever see was curious little birds, butterflies, caterpillars, and other cute animals. But today I had to run into the goat mafia.
Why did I have to tempt fate and follow that nosy dog all the way up in these hills? And how far had I wandered from the house? Sonny and I had been walking for over two hours and I needed to get back to the house before the sun shone any brighter or hotter. The skin on my bare shoulders and legs was beginning to burn. But from the looks on these goats’ faces, they were not letting me go anywhere.
“Sonny, do something!” He did nothing. All 100 German shepherd pounds of him decided to stand right next to me and stare at those mean-looking goats.
“Shoo! Shoo!” I said for the fifth or sixth time. Maybe they didn’t understand my American accent?
The biggest one had a formidable pair of horns that I decided could probably kill me. Would anyone find my body? Would Sonny dig up some courage deep down and go find help? Like Lassie.
I looked around for a stick or something. I saw trees, flowers, bushes, the usual sights that made these morning walks so pleasant and peaceful. They were of no help. I’d been on this island exactly two weeks, and with each passing day it was becoming less idyll fantasy and more strange reality.
I hadn’t been ready for Drew’s ridiculous schedule. He was up at four A.M. every day and then worked out for two hours. Straight. An hour running way up in the hills and then lifting weights. Then he ran the blender at six A.M.—for his protein shake—so that was the time that I woke up. He then read the paper while simultaneously watching CNN International and making phone calls. Then he was gone by seven. He called me throughout the day but I wouldn’t see him till after dark. �
�There’s so much to do here,” he urged me. “Get out and have fun.”
I took Sonny out walking every morning. We ventured high in the hills, bathed in the pool under the waterfall, and I learned not to be afraid of cricks and cracks in the forest-like area around the house. I seldom ever ran into anyone else. Drew’s neighbors were workaholics, too. How terrible to live in such a beautiful place but never to be home to enjoy it.
But what was I going to do about these goats? I had the cell phone Drew had given me; I could call him. But what would that solve? How could he make them move? Would I give the phone to the ram with the huge horns and let Drew order him and his crew to get out of my way? I had to figure this one out for myself.
“Sonny, do something!” But the dog just looked at me blankly and then turned to the goats; two of them sat down on the trail. Aw, man!
“Help!” This was pathetic but maybe someone, maybe the goats’ owner, would hear me and come running. “Help!”
I waited and waited. No help came. The goats did not move. Neither did Sonny. I’d been standing in the same spot for fifteen minutes. I looked down and saw a rock, a big one. I hated violence. I was a peaceful person, but these goats were not leaving me any choice. I picked up the rock and looked at the goats’ leader again. He looked me straight in the eye. He would not be capitulating today. I raised my arm, aimed, ready to throw the rock; he lowered his head and charged toward me. I screamed and dropped the rock.
“Run, Sonny, run!” I yelled and feinted left of the herd and then ran around them as quickly as I could, channeling Flo Jo as best as I could. Sonny ran ahead of me, barking the whole time. Sure, bark now, I thought. I looked back after I’d felt that I’d run a good distance. The goats were not in pursuit. We were safe. Whew!
I was soaked in sweat as Sonny and I trudged up the path to the house. Jimmy Wilkes and his sitter, an older woman, were in their garden. She waved to me and I waved back, still out of breath. Jimmy looked at me but didn’t even smile. “Hi, Sonny!” he yelled, and Sonny ran over to him.
Letting Loose Page 15
