MOST NIGHTS, WHEN HE HAS FINISHED work in the fields, Uncle Albert walks down the hill to his best friend’s house, where they sit on the veranda overlooking the sea. They will talk about work and politics but mostly about how much fun they had when they were younger. How they ran the streets, how the music was better and people were kinder.
Sometimes, because Uncle Albert doesn’t talk much, they just sit in silence listening to the sound of the waves hitting the wall that protects Leroy’s house from the sea.
At eleven every night they say their goodbyes and he heads back up the hill and straight to bed, ready for work the next morning.
Tonight, he takes us through the banana grove on the path that the workers use. It gives easy access to the road without climbing the hill. The banana grove is so big that if you don’t keep to the path, it’s easy to get lost.
The moon shines on Uncle Albert’s bald head, and the shadow of a banana leaf forms on his dark skin. We follow in a line, and I think how Uncle Albert has always been there for me in his own quiet way. How he always made sure he knew where I was without suffocating me. How good he is at keeping Mama happy while still leaving me be. How he made signs so I wouldn’t forget what route to take when I would help him in the banana grove. He would pick all the bananas and tell me and Gaynah to pile them in the back of his truck. Then we would drive farther into the hills to get more.
The grove goes on for miles into the hills. It’s owned by a businessman named Mr. Hyke, who I’ve only met once, when he came to check on his land.
Mr. Hyke lives in the city, and Uncle Albert says he has a big house with servants and a swimming pool.
There is only one road going into the hills, and it’s barely drivable. It’s full of potholes and big rocks, and it’s so narrow that you can see the sheer drop over the edge. Only one other person lives that far into the hills: Papa’s brother Eldorath. But Eldorath doesn’t like people visiting him, not since Pastor Brown turned the town against him.
As we come out of the grove and onto Sycamore Hill by the junction, I almost forgive Uncle Albert for retrieving the memory box from the river.
I take the lead as we turn off East Avenue and down another steep but wider road. I know these roads like the back of my hand. I have walked these roads to school and with Uncle Albert when he knew I needed to get away.
East Avenue has four or five houses on either side with grassy front yards and big gardens. The houses here are closer together than ours, but it is obvious these people are the ones with the money. They have shiny American trucks parked in their driveways, and black BMWs.
We reach the end of East Avenue, and I point to our police station, tucked away on a dead end. “Anton’s dad works there. He’s the chief of police.”
“It’s so small,” Rudy says in awe. “Our police station is ten times bigger, with hundreds of cops, and they drive around in their cars staring at you like this.” She scrunches up her face to look as mean as possible. “They never leave us alone; they’re always watching us.” Her voice rises in waves of frustration and sadness.
We pass Phillip James Church, where Mama and Papa got married and I got baptized.
“Where I live,” she continues, “there are some bad kids, but there are a lot more good kids, but the cops think we’re all the same.” I am torn between wanting to interrupt her to show her everything and wanting to know about her life in New York.
The road veers round a narrow bend and turns off down the hospital road. Rudy has stopped talking about home and is now transfixed once again by her surroundings. I point to the hospital as we pass the entrance, the crumbling stone surrounding it still not fixed after the last storm. “Mama used to work there, and my grandma.”
“Why doesn’t she work there anymore?” Her voice is gentle, as if somehow she knows the reason is sad. I am ashamed to tell her that I don’t know. One day last year, she just stopped, and I never asked why.
“She just doesn’t.”
Rudy doesn’t ask me anything more about it, and I change the subject, pointing ahead. There is an old guard post almost swallowed by overgrown grass. On either side of the path are two stone pillars that used to hold impressive gates, but the gates have gone, replaced by tufts of grass. Rudy spots the first cannon at the seawall and starts to screech words I can’t make out.
Uncle Albert leaves us at his friend’s gate and tells us to come and get him when we’re ready to go home. I tell him I will wave to him from the wall, and take Rudy’s hand as we run through the gate.
Fort Charlotte is an old fighting fort that the English used to defend the island. It was built hundreds of years ago, when England ruled our island and they didn’t want anyone else to have it.
The fort has fallen apart since then, but you can still recognize what it was. They’re rusted and peeling and none of them works, but the four cannons facing the sea still stand tall. There are lookout points and oval windows cut out of stone. There is a wall surrounding the fort that you can walk on and see the entire town and ships far out to sea.
Gaynah was never interested in history or rusty cannons. I was afraid Rudy would turn her nose up at it, but she doesn’t. She plays along.
Rudy goes to the first cannon, running her hand along it, her mouth wide open. She catches sight of the lookout posts and sticks her head through; then she runs up the steps to the wall and looks out across the bay. She turns and shouts down to me, “Ah ho! I see a ship! Get your men ready to fight.”
My heart swells as I order my men to position their guns.
“Take aim. Fire!”
We pull back the cannons, sending cannonballs sailing across the water and straight into the unsuspecting ships.
“We have a hit! And another!”
“Look out for the boat below!” I warn.
She jumps down next to me. “Thank you, soldier.” She pats me on the back. “Leave this one to me.” She runs across the court, pretends to grab a gun, and sticks it through one of the windows. She fires, but her ammo is stuck. She calls for help. I leave my position, pick up my gun, and run to save her. I hand her a spare gun, and together we fire until everyone on the boat is dead.
The last ship explodes into the night sky like fireworks.
AFTER AN EXHAUSTING GAME, WE SIT on the stone wall, our legs dangling over the edge. We are parched, and I wish I had grabbed a drink before we ran off. We could go to Uncle Albert’s friend’s house; he would have plenty of drinks. But that would mean leaving the fort, and I am not ready to leave yet.
Rudy crosses her legs, resting her elbows on her knees, staring out to the ocean.
“I’m so glad we came here.” She sighs. “It’s the best decision Mom ever made.” I think about Ms. Gee and how angry she seems to be that Rudy and her mom have returned home, yet still, Rudy is happy to be here.
“I heard you don’t remember anything about last year. Is that true?” she asks.
I pull my legs up to my chest and hold them close, as if the waves might rise up and take me. My chest closes in, and I don’t know why she’s asking me this. Gaynah must have been talking about me again. Telling people my business.
I feel Rudy take my hand, and she is smiling at me “It’s okay. I don’t remember things sometimes. My mom says it only happens when I don’t want to do something, like make my bed or put the trash out. Selective memory, she calls it.” She giggles and it forces me to smile.
We sit quietly with only the sound of the waves lapping onto the side of the wall.
“Did I tell you I want to be a Broadway star when I’m older?” She catches my blank face. “Broadway is a place with theaters and lights and hundreds of musicals on all the time. Some of the stages are big, some are small. Sometimes they have really big celebrities play there. If you want to be a star, that’s where you have to go.” She takes a breath. “What do you want to b
e when you grow up? A dancer, a singer, a movie star?” Her eyes grow wide. “A pirate?”
I am afraid to tell her I used to want to be a surfer. I don’t think she would understand why a girl from Sycamore would want to surf. I told Mama once and she asked me why. I told her I didn’t know why, I just knew that was what I wanted to do because I loved the water so much.
“I want to be a nurse, like Mama used to be,” I tell her.
She beams. “That sounds like a perfect job.”
I can’t tell her what I really want to do. Rudy might be a nice person and she might understand. But if I tell her the truth, that I want to surf all over the world, she will want to know why I no longer surf, and I don’t know why. I just know I’m afraid of the water now.
She stands. “Come on, Mrs. Nurse Woman. I heard there are hundreds of soldiers out there who need our help. Let’s save them before our enemies get to them first.”
And just like that she is running along the wall and down the steps to a new adventure.
* * *
—
The air feels thick like just before a storm when all the air is sucked out. The sky is a dark gray and the clouds are swollen, like they are about to burst. The water is slow at first. It creeps slowly into the room like a thief in the night. Then, out of nowhere, it grows tall and strong, hovering over my bed, threatening to take me under.
I wake up with a start, gasping for air. Stumbling out of bed, I fall to the floor, my head in my hands, waiting for the fog to clear. These flashbacks are getting more frequent and more frightening. I slip on my slippers and make my way out of the bedroom and into the living room, looking for Mama.
There is a weird air on the hill this morning. Kids are still playing, and dogs are still barking, but everything else feels different.
For a start, Papa is still home. Usually he would be bartering with the stall owners by now, trying to get the best price for the fish he caught that morning. Instead, he is out on the veranda with Mama, and they are talking in low voices. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but Papa is rubbing Mama’s back, and she is shaking her head.
I decide to return to my room and stay out of the way. I’ve upset Mama enough already.
I spend the morning cleaning my board in my bedroom. Around lunchtime I hear Rudy’s voice. I go outside and find her with her mother, talking to Mama and Papa.
“Clara.” Rudy waves me over.
Mama and Papa seem startled to see me. Mama mumbles something about having so much to do today. “Clara, make sure you’re not under my feet.” And she slips by me into the house.
Papa gets to his feet, brushing his hands on his torn jeans, which have seen better days, but Papa doesn’t like to buy new clothes. He says there are more important things to spend money on, like food.
He picks up a familiar basket from the veranda floor. “Be good,” he says, and heads down the hill. I know where he’s going, where he always goes this time of the week: to see his brother. Eldorath.
Rudy has noticed the weird air too. She said Ms. Gee actually let her mom cook her breakfast today, and on their way to my house this morning, Pastor Brown was praying on his porch. “His face was all screwed up like this”—she scrunches her face so her eyes are closed and her lips are pursed—“and he was begging for God’s help.”
I have a feeling that prayer was for me, but I don’t tell Rudy that.
Today Rudy is wearing white pants that are splashed with red, green, yellow, and blue, as though she threw paint on it herself. Her hair is covered with a white bunny hat with two long ears that fall to her shoulders. She looks so cool, like nothing I’ve ever seen before.
“You look nice.”
She beams. “Really? You think so?” She then goes into detail about why she chose that outfit today. Apparently, she doesn’t just choose the first thing she sees, like I do. For Rudy, there is a story behind everything.
“Today I was feeling a little sad after the party. It started so nice, but then the happiness was taken away. So the paint on my clothes is me trying to bring back my happiness. You know? Like I’m saying no to sadness.” She wags her finger at the air with an exaggerated frown.
I don’t know what to say to that.
“O…kay” is all I muster.
“I like what you’re wearing,” she continues, taking in my old blue shorts and black T-shirt. “It really suits you.”
I frown, looking down at myself. “It does?”
She nods. “Yep. Blue is definitely your color.” No one’s ever said they liked what I was wearing. I imagine Gaynah’s face if she were here. She would scoff at Rudy and tell her she was clearly still jet-lagged from the plane.
I climb off the veranda wall we have been sitting on. “Want to know a secret?”
Her eyes light up. “Yes!”
So I take her somewhere I’ve never taken anyone before except Gaynah. I take her to my secret dugout.
I’m nervous she might not like it. Rudy is so loud, and everything is so big to her that maybe my hideout will be a letdown. I have nothing to worry about, though, because when I show her, she jumps up and down, screeching.
“Is it your secret hideout? Like a cave where you keep hidden treasures?”
“Um…not really.”
“Oh, are we pirates with stolen gold and we have to hide it before the gun-shooting soldiers come after us?”
I can’t help but feed into her imagination. “No, it’s from the plantation owner in the big house behind the banana grove. There’s treasure on that land and it’s ours. He stole it from us. We need to get it back.”
Her eyes widen. “Eighteen hundreds role play. I love it.” She clasps her hands together and paces outside the dugout. “How will we get the rest of the gold and our freedom? We must get the gold. Then we must burn his house down. We can’t have him coming after us. Which way to the evil owner?”
I stare at her blankly. I don’t know anyone evil. But I do know someone with a big plantation house that fits in with her game. Eldorath.
Three generations of our family have lived in that house on the hill. When the British left, the owners abandoned it, and Eldorath and Papa’s great-grandfather, who used to work on the land, took it over. Now Eldorath lives there by himself.
Rudy is insistent we play the game, so I play along, for now.
We gather supplies from the kitchen: a bottle of water, some leftover ackee and salt fish from breakfast, and some coconut cookies.
I don’t tell Rudy no one goes to Eldorath’s house except Papa. I don’t tell her that my heart is beating superfast and my legs feel wobbly at the thought of going there.
PAPA NEVER TALKS ABOUT THE DAY he left the house on the hill. All I know is he left and only went back to visit Eldorath. Now, sometimes he says he’s going to trim the trees because the last time he went, the branches were too long. Other times he says he’s going to tidy the garden because if he doesn’t do it, no one will. Then there are the times he doesn’t say why he’s going. He just goes, and when I ask if I can go with him, the answer is always the same: “Not today.”
I try to put Rudy off going to Eldorath’s house because I don’t want to get in trouble with Papa.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
She lays a gentle hand on my shoulder as we stand in the middle of the banana grove. “Dearest sister,” she says, still pretending to be a rebellious girl from the 1800s, “it is our duty. For Papa, Mama, and for our country.”
I sigh, turning away from the river and looking through the trees toward the hill. I’ve noticed that when Rudy plays a game, she takes it seriously. Luckily, Uncle Albert is nowhere to be seen.
“I wish I had worn my petticoat dress and my bonnet,” she says. “Then I could have looked the part.”
“You really have one of those?”
“Your mom is nice.”
“She is. She works a lot, so I don’t see her very much back home.” She sighs like an adult who has the world on their shoulders. “Maybe we can stay here and then I might see her more.”
She falls silent and I have to turn to make sure she is still with me. “You okay?”
She forces a smile. “Mm-hmm.”
We reach the end of the banana grove and stop. The hill continues upward into thick forest, but we take a break and have a drink of water. Rudy stares at the view in awe. We can see the entire banana grove from here, and in the middle of it all I see Calvin and Gaynah heading our way.
Great. Mama probably told them that we were down here. What do they want, anyway? I really wasn’t in the mood for Calvin and his wannabe sidekick, Gaynah.
I shove the bottle of water in my backpack and nudge Rudy. “Let’s go. My so-called friends are coming.”
“Should we wait?”
“No,” I snap. “Don’t you remember what they did? They laughed at what you were wearing at the river.”
Rudy looks taken back. “They did?”
I bite my lip. “Also, what about last night?”
“But that was the adults,” she says. “And whatever they did to you, Clara, maybe they’ve come to say sorry.”
She’s wrong. “They haven’t come to say sorry.”
“How do you know that?”
Because I know them.
Calvin reaches us out of breath, Gaynah a ways behind him. “Where are you two going?” he says between breaths. He points down the hill. “I thought you were at the river, but…”
“What do you want, Calvin?”
Gaynah has reached us now, and she won’t even look me in the eye. Calvin searches for some story they have concocted together.
“Sorry,” he says, “about last night. My dad, he gets a bit much sometimes. You know that.”
When Life Gives You Mangos Page 5
