If I Never Went Home

by Ingrid Persaud

  ‘Hello, Granny Gwen,’ he said with a shy smile.

  ‘You well resemble your mother. Yes man, you is Corrie child. You nice and fair just like she. How your parents them? They well?’

  Michael nodded. ‘They’re fine and sorry not to be here. But they send their love to you. I’m really sorry.’

  ‘I so glad you here to see your uncle bury. Never mind you not blood. Your father grow up here like me own son, you hear. So you is one of me own.’

  Granny Gwen sighed and rubbed her forehead as if detained from her grief long enough by these conversations. Tears began silently flowing again and she motioned for them to sit. Bea sat down and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘He left that morning to see a friend living Claxton Bay side,’ said Granny Gwen to no one in particular. ‘They say the other driver was drunk as a sailor. Is a wonder he only kill one person that day. Wasn’t nothing Alan could do.’

  Bea looked up from behind her hands. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘My heart must be strong as an ox,’ said Granny Gwen. ‘They call the hardware. He was driving the Toyota and we have the hardware sign painted on the car door them. The police see the number and call we. Your Uncle Robin was the one answer the phone.’ She paused, wiped her eyes and put her hand over her heart.

  ‘I hear Robin bawl out so I run come to see what going on,’ Granny continued. ‘I had a feeling in me waters before he did even say one word. Then he tell me the policeman want him to come quite by San Fernando General Hospital to identify the body.’

  The old lady broke down again and Bea gently stroked her back. ‘Just so, just so, I find out me son dead,’ whispered Granny Gwen. ‘One day Alan here good-good, talking and laughing right under this same chenette tree. Next thing you know he gone and dead.’

  She wiped her face. ‘Is not right. Is not right,’ she said from behind her hands. ‘A mother never supposed to have to bury one son. Now I burying a second one. I can’t believe he not going walk in here any minute now.’

  Granny Gwen’s tears flowed uncontrollably. Mira was quietly crying too. Occasionally Granny Gwen plunged into her blouse and removed a small, stained handkerchief that she used to blow her nose loudly before secreting it again in the folds of her ample bosom. Bea looked so small and lost. Faced with pure raw grief she did not know how to comfort Granny Gwen, or herself for that matter.

  People continued to pour into the yard. Bea felt dehydrated so she and Michael made for the makeshift bar under a tent.

  ‘This is a good wake, yes,’ said the bartender who Bea did not know.

  ‘Yes. Good turnout,’ said Michael.

  The man next to him quipped, ‘At least nobody ain’t get shot.’

  All eyes at the bar looked at him.

  ‘Man, all you didn’t see the papers today?’ he went on, beaming at his audience. ‘A young boy get two bullet in he stomach point blank when he was in a wake. And the wake was for a next young boy who did get murder the week before. It have nowhere safe these days.’

  Another man shook his head. ‘When you see thing like that going on it must be drugs and gang in that.’

  Bea took her fresh lime juice and went to sit down. She propped her head in her hands and sipped the drink. A steady stream of silent tears rolled down her small face. She felt like a scared sad child. Her Uncle Robin, Alan’s brother, came and led her through the crowd of family and friends, introducing her to everyone. Wherever Bea went, Michael followed. Death was in the air they breathed.

  During the long night, Bea accepted condolences, listened to stories about her father, and heard updates on lives she seemed to have fallen out of step with. Missing second cousins were found to have moved to Toronto. Wendy who lived two doors from the hardware had finally received her green card and migrated to New York.

  ‘When your father went New York last year for holiday, he went and spend a day by Wendy. I think he carry some of my homemade pepper sauce for she,’ said Aunty Doris, Uncle Robin’s wife.

  Bea was quiet.

  ‘Everybody liked your father, Bea,’ said Aunty Doris, absently stroking the gold cross that hung on a chain around her neck. ‘He didn’t have a single bad bone in he body. Alan always had a joke to tell you. That man was a happy, happy soul.’

  Michael put his arms around Bea and she sobbed aloud again, her whole body shaking. He was holding her tight when a man about their age came up and bent down to give her a hug.

  Michael let go to make way for him.

  ‘Beezy, I’m so sorry about Uncle Alan. It’s such a shock to everybody. I can’t believe he’s gone.’

  ‘Charles!’ she said, looking up. ‘Michael, this is my darling cousin Charles, Aunty Doris’ son.’

  ‘So my uncle have to dead for me to see you, Beezy? Like you forget you have family in Trinidad?’

  ‘Don’t say that, Charlie. You know you’re my favourite cousin.’

  Charles gave her another tight hug.

  ‘You don’t remember Michael, do you?’ asked Bea, holding Michael’s hand. ‘He lived next door to us on Sydenham Avenue in St. Ann’s.’

  Charles’s eyes widened.

  ‘No way,’ he said, reaching out to shake Michael’s hand. ‘You’re the little boy from the orange house? I remember your family had one sweet Julie mango tree. How you doing, man?’

  Michael smiled and chatted easily with Charles until interrupted by Aunty Doris.

  ‘All you see that red-skin girl over there in the tight-tight black jersey?’ asked Aunty Doris. ‘That is Kim. I think she and Alan had a little something going on right before he passed.’

  Bea glanced at the woman. If it was true, then Alan had been dating a woman roughly the same age as his daughter.

  ‘And look over by the drinks,’ said Aunty Doris, pointing with her chin. ‘You see that old Indian lady in the blue dress talking to Mira? That is Mrs. Ramlogan, and the little girl is her granddaughter, Tina.’

  She paused. ‘Town say that Alan once had a thing going with Mrs. Ramlogan daughter. But it’s real sad because the daughter died in a car accident. The little girl Tina is the dead woman daughter. If what they say is true, maybe that little girl is your half-sister, eh Bea?’

  Michael gave a little laugh. ‘It sounds like your Dad had a full life.’

  Bea shot him a dirty look. ‘I don’t know if I can be proud of my father being the village ram goat,’ she said, roughly wiping her eyes.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Michael.

  Bea turned to look Aunty Doris in the eye. ‘You really think that little girl is related to me?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Is probably only old-talk. Your father never did anything that make me think is he child. I only telling you what the parish say.’ Aunty Doris turned to Michael. ‘You take a plate of food yet? It have plenty dhalpouri roti and curry goat.’

  ‘Thanks, Aunty,’ said Michael. ‘But I’m okay for now.’

  ‘Bea, is time you accept your father for what he was,’ said Aunty Doris, taking her hand. ‘Everybody here loved him and none more so than Granny Gwen. No woman was ever good enough for she son. Alan never say nothing, but I telling you this, Bea. I feel that he would still be married to your mother if it wasn’t for her interfering all the time.’

  ‘That’s all far in the past,’ Bea replied.

  As the night progressed more stories about Alan were exchanged. A teacher from the local primary school told how Alan gave freely of his time to coach the cricket and football teams. Someone from St. Theresa’s church made a point of finding Bea to tell her that Alan never failed to give generously at Christmas time. Bea wondered if he died knowing he was so well loved. Tears laced with regret trickled down her cheeks.

  It was well past midnight when an overwhelming exhaustion suddenly hit Bea. She looked at Michael and could see that he too was drained of all energy. They walked through the thick throng of people in search of Mira. A tall man who had the same straight nose as Alan and was about the s
ame age was hugging and consoling Mira. As they approached, Mira pushed him gently aside. ‘You all look like you ready to leave,’ she said. ‘Say hello to Uncle Kevin.’

  ‘Hello, Bea,’ said the man. ‘My condolences.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Bea. ‘Sorry, but I think we need to go. I’m really tired.’

  ‘Well, I will see you all tomorrow if God spare life,’ said Uncle Kevin. ‘Nite, Mira.’

  He bent down and kissed Mira gently but directly on the lips.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Every freaking day is an argument. Today is about the cooking. It is Charmaine’s sweet sixteen party and that means I am out the house. Apparently I should cook beforehand and leave food for Nanny. She going to be alone but I have to boil rice and fry fish for her. You would think her hand break. She going on and on about how since I finish my high school exams that I should be doing the cooking. But I didn’t know that mean if I’m going out I still have to cook before I can go out. When she out doing her church meetings and Bible study and is me alone I make do with biscuit and cheese or open a tin of sardines. This blasted woman want a full meal left on the stove. I told her if she wanted cooked food she could make it herself.

  ‘Tina, I could never talk to my grandmother the way you does talk to me.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘You feel because you nearly sixteen you can behave like a big woman. I have seventy-two years. You should be trying to ease me up now and not making more trouble. How hard is it to make a little bit of food for me, eh? How hard?’

  I steups. ‘I still have to do my hair and iron my clothes for tonight.’

  ‘When I was your age I was bringing money in. Every Friday I used to come and put my whole pay in my mother hand. When she take what she need for the house is only then I get something for myself. I don’t ever tell you to get a job and put one cent towards the house. You have a roof over your head and food in your belly. Since your mother passed, God rest her soul, you never want for nothing.’

  ‘I said I will get a job. I need a little break first.’

  I sat down by the kitchen table and started to undo my two plaits.

  ‘You ever hear me say that you have to work?’ said Nanny. ‘I glad for you to go back to school and get your A levels or whatever them does call it these days.’

  I kept undoing the plaits. ‘Boring. I have zero interest in doing more school.’

  ‘Your teachers say how you is a bright girl but you don’t apply yourself. You forever distracted.’

  Nanny on a roll today.

  ‘Please don’t go over that again. Results supposed to be out next week.’

  ‘You have a plan? What you going to do if you don’t get the marks to do A levels?’

  ‘I’ll find a job.’

  ‘And is where you getting a job with no qualifications?’

  I took up the comb and started pulling it through my knotty hair.

  ‘Thanks. Thanks a lot. The results ain’t even out and you write me off already. Can’t you stop bugging me all the time?’

  ‘You going nowhere fast. Your poor mother must be turning in she grave. You uses to be so smart. I remember you reading before you even reach big school. Now is only boyfriend and liming I hearing about.’

  That was it. I dropped the comb and went right up in her face.

  ‘Why you always have to bring up my mother? You think I happy? You think I want to live with you and all your fucking Bible shit?’

  The swift slap across my face was a shock and before I know what was happening I got another one. By the third slap I felt the sting. I held on to her hand and twisted it away. She start to bawl for me to stop. I was blue vex.

  ‘Who you think you slapping, eh? Bitch. What give you the right to slap me?’

  Nanny give me one hard look. ‘As the Lord is my witness you are going straight to hell and damnation. Satan have you good.’

  I left her right there and slammed the door to my bedroom. Then banging started on the door.

  ‘You are nothing but a little slut. I take you in when nobody wanted you. Nobody. And this is how you treat me, Tina? You curse your grandmother? You hurt my hand? You take the Lord’s name in vain? This is how you show gratitude for all that I do for you? All the sacrifice I make for you?’

  Now she bawling and crying like somebody from church dead. I wish she would shut the fuck up.

  With the sticky afternoon heat and all the craziness I must have dozed off because next thing I wake up and hear one set of pounding on my door.

  ‘Tina, come out here now! You hear me? Open this door right now!’

  Oh great. The old bitch only gone and put Aunty Indra in the mix now, so I ain’t getting no peace. I opened the door and Aunty Indra was standing outside with hands on her hips like she is some bad woman.

  ‘Tina, get yourself in the living room right now. I have a few words to say to you.’

  I hope she not going to be too long. I still have to iron my clothes for the party. She and Nanny sit down on the sofa and I sit down opposite in the armchair.

  ‘I hear something from your Nanny that I can’t believe. You hurt your Nanny hand and then you curse her using the B word and the F word? Tell me that is not true.’

  Nanny started to cry again. I don’t have nothing to say.

  ‘Answer me, Tina. Did you do what Nanny tell me?’

  ‘Yeah. But she slap me hard first. Three whole times. Across my face. What I suppose to do? Stand there and take the blows?’

  ‘What make you feel you can hit my seventy-two year old mother and curse her? You just a pissing-tail little shit. I feel like knocking you down but your Nanny tell me to spare you.’

  I am thinking she should shut up. Stupid.

  ‘We have put up with all kind of bad behaviour from you that this family has never seen before. We had the shame when the principal call us in because you cut school and went liming with a boy. You take money we give you for school books and buy headphones. I didn’t even know headphones could cost so much. But you crossed the line today, Tina. You crossed the line. I don’t want my mother to have to deal with this kind of abuse in her old age. She should be taking it easy now and instead look how you have her in tears.’

  I choked. Whatever happen I am not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  ‘I never wanted to live here in the first place,’ I blurted out.

  Aunty Indra ain’t missing a beat.

  ‘And where you think you was going to live? If Nanny didn’t take you in, out of the pure goodness of her heart, you would be in an orphanage. You wouldn’t have a decent house and your own room and everything you need. You don’t appreciate the sacrifices people make for you.’

  I stopped listening. Aunty Indra was going on and on. All she wanted was to see me cry. Fuck them. I have to find my father and move in with him. He will want me no matter what. They must know who he is and out of bad-mind they keeping it from me. They can’t stand to see me happy. I will find him. If it’s the last thing I do I am going to find him and leave these damn backward people alone.

  Before Aunty Indra left she banned me from going to Charmaine’s birthday party. She really think she can ban me from my best friend’s sweet sixteen? I texted this guy Ken who is so cool and he said he will pick me up around eleven. Best to make real sure Nanny sleeping. Besides, no good party does get going until about eleven thirty.

  And man, it was a party and a half. They had it around the swimming pool with a bar on one side and a dance floor on the other. Lanterns were hanging from the trees and flashing disco lights made the dance floor look like they expecting John Travolta to make an appearance. Everything was perfect. And Charmaine looked like a princess in this tight strapless maxi dress. All the cool people were there. Oh, the cake. Wow. It had two layers – like a wedding cake with beautiful pink roses tumbling down one side. If you dreamt about how to do your party you would want it to be like hers. My sweet sixteen is next month and I will be lucky if
I get so much as a cake and then it will be the same fruit cake Nanny always bakes at home no matter what the occasion. They don’t care that I hate fruit cake.

  *

  Results coming out today. Aunty Indra pull up nine o’clock on the dot for us to go to the school and hear what I get. I don’t care because I am no Priya with her straight A grades. She’s already doing her A levels and always making out that she’s better than me. And Nanny forever telling people how proud she is of Priya and calling Priya her favourite granddaughter. You ever hear her say a good word about me? Hell will freeze over first. I am just the orphan they pick up from the garbage.

  I passed five subjects. I got a B in English Language and four C grades in English Literature, Maths, History and Geography. I didn’t expect to get Geography. The Geography teacher never explained anything in a way that you could picture it in your head. Still, I taking my C and run. Charmaine and her mom were there. She did better than me, as expected, but then again she did go for extra lessons six days a week. She got five B grades and three As and was waiting to see the principal about doing A levels. Aunty Indra was talking to Charmaine’s mom, no doubt telling her how useless I am. Then all of a sudden I heard her shouting.

  ‘Tina, come here!’

  We were in the courtyard and Aunty Indra’s voice was so loud and so sudden it wasn’t only me who turned around.

  ‘Yes, Aunty?’ I said walking fast so she would stop talking loud.

  ‘Come here,’ she said, looking me hard in the eye. ‘Charmaine’s mom was just telling me about the birthday party and I want to hear it from you.’

  Christ. Why today? Why here in front everybody? I looked down.

  ‘Answer me when I speaking to you. Did you go to Charmaine’s birthday party last Saturday?’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘Didn’t I specifically ban you from going because of how badly you behaved towards your Nanny? These people know how you curse your grandmother using the F word?’

  It seemed like the whole courtyard had stopped what they were doing and were checking out the action my family providing.