When Life Gives You Mangos

by Kereen Getten

  As if to confirm my fears, he marches out the door. “Follow me, all of you.” He marches up the stairs with Rudy, wide-eyed and excited, on his tail. Calvin, Gaynah, and I are a little more hesitant. If there is a way to get out of trouble, we are going to find it.

  Gaynah stops at the bottom of the stairs and nudges me. She nods toward the front door. We could escape now. We’re close enough to make a run for it. Eldorath doesn’t speak to anyone on the hill, so it would be like we were never here.

  The sudden lack of footsteps from Eldorath and Rudy forces us to look upward. Eldorath looks down over the balcony. “Come along.”

  I force one foot in front of the other up the stairs until we reach the landing. Eldorath floats across the floor like a ghost. The second-floor landing has more chairs against the wall, and paintings of black men and women dressed in old-fashioned clothes and weird hats. Eldorath throws open a pair of double doors.

  “Rudy, no!” I shout. But it is too late; she is throwing herself into a room full of costumes. I could escape now, as they both enter the room that looks like a walk-in closet. Gaynah and Calvin would follow me without question, and Eldorath doesn’t speak to Papa anyway. If we leave now, we might get away with it. If we stay, we are more likely to bump into Papa.

  I hesitate at the doorway. Eldorath is distracted by Rudy’s squeals. I look down the stairs to the front door, then back at Rudy.

  The others look to me for the okay, while Rudy disappears into a row of clothes. I can’t leave her here by herself.

  “So.” Eldorath spins around to face us. Our chance is gone. “What era is this adventure, eighteen hundred? Nineteen hundred? The seventies? I have it all.”

  Rudy looks over at me, her eyes so wide, I think they’re about to pop out of her head. I take a deep breath. “Eighteen hundred,” I say, stepping inside the room. “We’ve come to take our land back.”

  EVERY TIME ELDORATH DISAPPEARS INTO A rack of clothes, Gaynah hisses, “He’s going to kill us.” I’ve never believed the rumors that my uncle was dangerous, and I believe it even less now that he stands in front of me. The witch doctor everyone is afraid of is not the same man who’s running around trying to find the perfect dress for Rudy. There are no signs of sacrifices, no ghosts floating in the house, no threats to feed us to the dead.

  It’s strange how differently people view Eldorath and Papa. The hill looks up to Papa as one of their leaders. Whenever we have a storm, which is frequent on the island, he organizes the preparations, gets the wood to cover windows, bottles of water in case the road gets blocked, food to keep us going for a few weeks.

  When his boat was damaged in the last storm, the village gathered to help him repair it, just as he helped them rebuild their houses. That’s who he is. Who we are. Yet somehow, Eldorath didn’t get that same treatment, and no one could tell me why except to repeat rumors of things they had never seen, only heard.

  “Mama says all kinds of bad things happen here,” Gaynah whispers in my ear. “She says you need a Bible and a cross before you enter.” As if I weren’t getting the point, she hisses, “He sacrifices children.”

  When I don’t answer, she huffs, moving away from me and closer to Calvin. “Well, you might want to die here, but I don’t.”

  I wave her away the same way she has done to me so many times.

  She glances out the door, then back at Eldorath as she contemplates which is worse: to go back through the forest alone or to stay here with us. “Calvin will come with me.”

  I turn to Calvin. “Are you leaving?”

  Calvin looks over at me. “Are you?”

  I shake my head. “Not without Rudy.”

  His nose scrunches as he thinks. “All of us or none of us, then, I suppose.”

  Gaynah storms over to a seat under the window and plonks herself on it, pouting.

  * * *

  —

  Eldorath has found costumes for all of us, even Calvin. He says he loved clothes so much, he ordered as many as he could from abroad. It became his full-time hobby, and sewing costumes for the theater in the city is his full-time job. This is enough to send Rudy over the edge. She skips through Eldorath’s garden in a purple ball gown and her rabbit hat and shoots theater questions to him.

  Eldorath puts me in a black high-collared dress and Calvin in a blue tailcoat and top hat. Gaynah refuses to dress up. We all look silly—the clothes don’t fit us; they are too big and too fussy—but as we stroll through the long grass of Eldorath’s garden, we can’t help but fall under the spell.

  Eldorath tells us about the party of the year he will be holding and how we must attend wearing our very best. I think he must be pretending for Rudy’s sake, because this house hasn’t held a party since I was born.

  Rudy forgets about the gold we are supposed to be digging and links arms with him, agreeing that she would not miss it for the world.

  Somehow, they suit each other, Rudy and Eldorath. They have the same imagination, and it’s as if they have been waiting for each other their whole lives.

  I catch up with them and ask why he never comes to the village anymore, or Mama’s parties or church.

  He squints at me. “Why, what is it you have heard?”

  I look behind me at Gaynah shaking her head. I turn back, forcing a smile. “That you like to be by yourself.”

  A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth and he links his arm with mine. “I’m sure you heard more than that, but yes, I do like solitude. One cannot go wrong with his own company. But it was not entirely voluntary, for reasons we shall not talk about.” He winks, placing a finger to his lips.

  We stop under the sycamore tree to get some shade. I want to ask him what he means, and if the rumors are true, but Rudy pulls him away to ask him if there was gold here, where would it be buried?

  Later, Eldorath makes us cheese sandwiches on hard dough bread and fruit punch in large wineglasses. We sit in his dining room around a long dark wood table that still feels empty even with us all around it.

  “Why do people call you the witch doctor?” Rudy blurts out, her mouth full of food. The room tenses and my heart sinks. Sometimes I wish Rudy wouldn’t say everything she thinks.

  Eldorath clasps his hands in front of him. “That’s a very good question,” he says slowly. “This town never did like anything different, so they concoct stories to make people afraid.”

  Calvin and I exchange looks. By “people” he means Pastor Brown. He doesn’t believe in ghosts; he thinks they’re the work of the devil. It’s hard to listen to Pastor Brown on a Sunday morning talking about the witch doctor in our midst. About how seeing ghosts is the work of the devil, and we will suffer the consequences of God if we go near him. It’s hard to hear him talk about my uncle that way. It’s even harder to watch my parents allow it.

  Calvin lowers his sandwich to his plate, suddenly losing his appetite. I know what he is feeling because I am feeling it too. For so long we have been told stories about Eldorath. I’ve never found out if they’re true or not because I was never allowed. Papa simply tells me to not listen to idle gossip, but he’s never answered any of my questions.

  “No one likes me because I’m different,” Rudy says. She lays her hand on his. “But I don’t care. My mom says if we are all the same, how will we stand out?”

  The room explodes with Eldorath’s clapping. “Bravo, Rudy McPhee.” Rudy’s smile is as wide as the table, and she doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the meal.

  When we have finished eating, Eldorath tells us it is time to go home because our parents will be worried. He walks us to the forest.

  “Well, I know what’s different about Rudy,” Eldorath says. “She is vibrant, bubbly, and unique, and she loves to dress up. What about the rest of you?”

  Calvin half turns as he walks ahead. “I play cricket. I might even get on the nationa
l team if I work hard enough. And I surf sometimes.” He glances over at me, but I look away.

  As Rudy and Calvin walk ahead, Eldorath turns to me. “And you, Clara?”

  I shrug, a little embarrassed. Rudy is unique; Calvin plays for the Under 16s; even Gaynah sounds special with her gifts from America. There is nothing special about me.

  “I sometimes say things I shouldn’t say,” I tell him. Out of the corner of my eye, Gaynah nods in agreement. “People don’t like me much for that. Also, I forget things. Not everything, just certain things.” Like things that happened last year.

  We reach the edge of the forest, and Eldorath waves us off, inviting us back whenever we want, as long as our parents give us permission. I trail behind the others, then stop and run back. “Eldorath, I’m—”

  He stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Clara.” He smiles warmly. “Your father was right. You are very special. I’m going to help you realize that. Let’s not leave it so long next time.”

  I walk into the woods, feeling a weird chill down my spine, wondering what my father may have told him.

  When we reach the banana grove, we make a pact to not tell anyone about our secret visit to Eldorath. We agree that no one would understand, that they don’t know Eldorath like we do.

  Calvin and Gaynah say goodbye and continue straight toward the road. I climb the hill to my house with Rudy.

  We reach the yard and walk around the house to the veranda. Rudy’s mom, Mama, and Papa jump to their feet when they see us. “Where have you been?” Mama cries. “And what are you wearing?”

  I look down at the black dress Eldorath let me keep. Oh no. I forgot we were wearing his clothes. I try to think of something believable, but the dress clearly gives me away.

  “We saw Eldorath,” Rudy blurts out.

  I elbow her in the ribs and whisper, “Really? You can’t tell one lie?”

  She slips her hand into mine, pulling me beside her. I glance up at Mama and Papa, who are staring at me with eyebrows raised. I sigh in surrender.

  “Fine. We went to see him, and I know I’m not allowed to, but he’s a really nice man. He has a huge room filled with clothes from the eighteen hundreds and a coat from the seventies. So we think you all owe him an apology.”

  Rudy squeezes my arm. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  Mama’s and Papa’s mouths fall open. Neither of them can find the words to speak.

  * * *

  —

  I am climbing into bed when Mama pulls the curtains to one side and enters my room. She waits until I sit up in the bed before sliding in behind me, her legs on either side of mine. She pulls the comb through my hair, parting it in the middle to make braids for the night.

  “You think your papa and I are wrong to not let you see Eldorath.” It is more a statement than a question, and I’m not sure if she wants me to answer, so I stay silent waiting for the but, the telling-off, the explanation for why I am not allowed up there.

  “Did anything happen?” Her voice is the smallest I’ve ever heard it. Does she believe in the witch-doctor story too?

  “No, Mama,” I tell her, hoping that this means I can now see Eldorath. “The only person who didn’t like being there was Gaynah, but I think that’s because of what her mom says to her. She always says mean things.”

  She stops braiding my hair. “What things?” she asks. “What things did Gaynah say?”

  I shrug, fidgeting with the sheet between my fingers. I don’t want to get Gaynah in any more trouble, even if we aren’t friends. I think I’ve said enough things about her, and I don’t want to become the bad person myself.

  “Clara?”

  But I also want people to stop being mean to Eldorath, because he’s done nothing wrong, and I want to be able to go to his house again.

  “She said her mom told her he worships the devil.”

  “And?” Her voice trembles.

  “And he sacrifices children.”

  “She said this today? At the house?”

  I nod, biting my lip. I can tell by Mama’s tone things are about to kick off. I don’t understand why she’s so mad now. This isn’t news. Juliette has been saying this for years, so why is she mad now?

  As if she has had enough of the conversation, she quickly finishes off my hair and stands, smoothing her skirt.

  “So can I see Eldorath again?” I wait with held breath, begging her to say yes.

  “No.”

  “Even if he wants to see me?”

  She stops by the door and turns, lines edged into her usually smooth skin. “Clara,” she says tiredly, “do as I say and don’t go there anymore.”

  She disappears behind the curtains that separate my room from the living room. I sink into the bed, hands clenched into fists, my mind racing. Eldorath said we could visit again, I know he did, so what is Mama hiding from me?

  MAMA WAKES ME EARLY AND I think something must have happened because I just went to bed. She tells me we are going to the city. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I see she is already dressed. “Hurry,” she says. “We have a long drive.” I am confused but too sleepy to argue.

  I throw on my only pair of jeans and a jacket with some old black sneakers that I have had for years and are pulling open at the sides. I grab the white bunny hat Rudy let me borrow and slip it on my head, even though I know it will make my ears sweat.

  When I step out onto the veranda, Papa is sitting on the wall with his back to me. Mama has her arm around his shoulders.

  “Are you sure?” Mama is asking him. Papa doesn’t say anything for a while. Finally, he rubs his lips. “I don’t know the answer to that, Alysa, but I think it is time.” He turns to her quizzically. “Don’t you?” His face changes when he spots me. He forces a smile.

  “Ready?” Papa asks brightly.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, confused.

  Papa hooks his arm round my neck and leads me down the hill. “We’re going on an adventure. You like adventures, don’t you?”

  I think he must be talking about yesterday. This feels like a trick. “I think so.”

  He chuckles, patting my head. “Of course you do. Come on, time is ticking.”

  Papa says Pastor Brown lent him his car, which is surprising considering they were arguing on Mama’s birthday.

  I don’t know what is going on. One minute Mama is upset with me for going to Eldorath’s house; the next minute they are taking me to the city. I turn to Mama as she joins us. “Why?”

  I catch them exchanging a look. “It’s the summer,” Mama says cheerily. “We thought a trip to the city might be fun.”

  She ushers me into the backseat of the car. She and Papa get in the front, and we move off down the hill.

  The car reaches town, and we take the traffic circle along the sea road. I wind my window down and stick my hand out. Papa turns on the radio and starts singing along to the song that’s playing, even though he doesn’t know all the words. I inhale the fresh air and close my eyes.

  * * *

  —

  You know right away when you’re in the city. The air changes from fresh and clean to thick and heavy. Our car slows down, and someone presses on their horn, waking me. We are stuck in traffic. Papa huffs and puffs just like all the other drivers. Mama tells him to calm down. It’s only been a few minutes since we got here, and he is already losing it.

  Papa hates the city. I don’t know why he brought me here. He says when he thinks of hell, he imagines it’s something like city life. Too many people, polluted air, and congestion.

  “People are not kind in the city,” he says.

  After twenty long minutes in traffic, Papa parks the car outside a white one-story building. It sits next to a line of stores and across from the beach. As soon as Papa parks the car, we throw open the doors
for some much-needed air, except the air outside is just as stifling. I look around me, confused. “Where are we?”

  They don’t answer.

  We walk through the parking lot and through automatic doors. The air-conditioning hits us like a full-blown hair dryer belting out ice-cold air. I collapse on the ground with relief. Mama tells me to get up off the dirty floor.

  “But it’s so cool.”

  She grabs my arm, pulling me to my feet. “Did you not see the shoes that were walking on it? Those shoes just came from outside, and outside is not clean. Now come along.”

  We pass people in white chairs, all with sad faces, quietly staring off into the distance, their eyes vacant, except for a woman chatting nonstop to anyone who will listen and an old man telling the woman behind a desk that he is Jesus. It’s as if they were waiting to be seen by the doctor, but this is no hospital. There were no signs outside or inside on the walls.

  We hurry along white sanitized halls and up some wide tiled stairs where a picture of Jesus is hung on the wall. In it, Jesus is sitting behind a long table with his disciples on either side of him. Where the stairs split, we turn to the right and follow a long corridor. I count the doors as we pass them. Each door has a name on it like Bishop Anderson, Bishop Frankly, Bishop Amos. I forget to count and try to peer through one of the keyholes.

  “Mama, are we at church?”

  We stop outside a door that says BISHOP MASON. Mama knocks on the door.

  “Come in.”

  We enter a large room with wide windows and a fan attached to the ceiling. It makes a whirring noise that sounds like insects flying around your ears.

  I only see Bishop Mason once a year. When we have the friendly parish competitions. Except it’s not friendly; they only call it friendly because it’s between churches. Each village competes to win best in the parish.

  We play games that only the adults enjoy, like cricket or dominoes. There are stalls with food cooked by our best cooks. There is a talent show too, but we never win. The only thing I remember about Bishop Mason is how he moves his mustache side to side with his mouth. He does this when he is thinking and after he has laughed at his own joke. His mustache is very distracting and often makes me forget to listen to him when he is talking.