The passion that ruined my mother.
Margarete, or what I had made of Faust’s Margarete, ruled my nights, she inhabited my dreams. She kept me from surrendering to Mulenga. Then I heard her name in the name of a woman in the flesh.
Now, faced with the reality that I could meet her, I feared I would prove myself indeed my mother’s son. I would willingly seek my doom to be in the arms of my lover. Nothing anyone would say or promise, no matter what the price, would dissuade me. It would take only the first step and I would keep on walking, as my mother had done, never stopping until all breath had left my body.
It was the first step I feared. I would meet Marguerite in the daylight, protected, if not by friends, then by strangers. I would not take that risk of meeting her in the flesh, as I met her in my dreams, alone, and in the night.
7
T his is the letter that gave me the excuse to telephone Marguerite.
Dear Oufoula
,
You left Geneva before I could say good-bye to you properly. If I had not run into your wife by accident in the store, I would not have known you were leaving the next day for America, for Washington
.
I cannot blame you for avoiding me. I know that was what you were doing, so don’t get diplomatic with me. You didn’t want to face me again. What a spectacle I must have made of myself crying all over your clean white shirt, which I bet Nerida had washed and ironed for you. She looks like a woman who would have starched it as well. She is quite beautiful, too, I must say
.
I am writing to you because I need your help. I called you a liar, but I am also a liar. I pretend to be strong when I am not strong. I pretend to be brave when I am desperate. Well, I am not going to pretend with you. You would read through me, in any case. So here it is. I am desperate. John has left me and he has taken Eric with him. I need your help to get John to return Eric to me. You are good with negotiations. John told me once that nobody wants to displease you. You disarm them with your goodness and your kindness. Well, it’s your goodness and kindness I am relying on
.
Eric is four now—three years, eleven months, and thirty days old. Today is his birthday, as you can surmise, but I have not seen him for thirty days, so I think of him not as four but as three years, eleven months, and thirty days old
.
Don’t think I’m losing my mind. My mind is quite solid. I just think of things differently now. I count time in different ways. By how many times the sun dawns. By how many times night comes. There have been thirty dawns and thirty nights since John left with Eric and said he would return the next day
.
I know he is in New York. I have heard he is posted to the Jamaican mission there. I know he has Eric there with him. The blonde you saw hanging on her husband’s arm while she made love to the man I was married to is now playing mother to my son. One of his powerful friends called me to tell me that John wants me to know that Eric is safe. He expects me to be grateful for that information. So I gathered from his friend. He wants to warn me that if I try to reach Eric, he will take him away from me forever
.
You know as well as I do that John has the power to do that. The malice also. His friend told me that John wants me to return to Jamaica and wait for him there. He said he would bring Eric to me in Jamaica. I do not believe him. I do not want to go to Jamaica. I think if I go there, John would find a way to keep me there. He owns the government of Jamaica. They will take away my passport and I will never be able to leave the island to find Eric
.
I do not know what to do. I cannot stay much longer in Geneva. My money is running out. I am afraid to go to New York. I know John does not make threats lightly. I am afraid to return to Jamaica. He’ll make me a prisoner there. So you see, I have no choice but to turn to you. You can negotiate this for me. I know John wants to divorce me and marry his blonde.
Margarete, or what I had made of Faust’s Margarete, ruled my nights, she inhabited my dreams. She kept me from surrendering to Mulenga. Then I heard her name in the name of a woman in the flesh.
Now, faced with the reality that I could meet her, I feared I would prove myself indeed my mother’s son. I would willingly seek my doom to be in the arms of my lover. Nothing anyone would say or promise, no matter what the price, would dissuade me. It would take only the first step and I would keep on walking, as my mother had done, never stopping until all breath had left my body.
It was the first step I feared. I would meet Marguerite in the daylight, protected, if not by friends, then by strangers. I would not take that risk of meeting her in the flesh, as I met her in my dreams, alone, and in the night.
7
T his is the letter that gave me the excuse to telephone Marguerite.
Dear Oufoula
,
You left Geneva before I could say good-bye to you properly. If I had not run into your wife by accident in the store, I would not have known you were leaving the next day for America, for Washington
.
I cannot blame you for avoiding me. I know that was what you were doing, so don’t get diplomatic with me. You didn’t want to face me again. What a spectacle I must have made of myself crying all over your clean white shirt, which I bet Nerida had washed and ironed for you. She looks like a woman who would have starched it as well. She is quite beautiful, too, I must say
.
I am writing to you because I need your help. I called you a liar, but I am also a liar. I pretend to be strong when I am not strong. I pretend to be brave when I am desperate. Well, I am not going to pretend with you. You would read through me, in any case. So here it is. I am desperate. John has left me and he has taken Eric with him. I need your help to get John to return Eric to me. You are good with negotiations. John told me once that nobody wants to displease you. You disarm them with your goodness and your kindness. Well, it’s your goodness and kindness I am relying on
.
Eric is four now—three years, eleven months, and thirty days old. Today is his birthday, as you can surmise, but I have not seen him for thirty days, so I think of him not as four but as three years, eleven months, and thirty days old
.
Don’t think I’m losing my mind. My mind is quite solid. I just think of things differently now. I count time in different ways. By how many times the sun dawns. By how many times night comes. There have been thirty dawns and thirty nights since John left with Eric and said he would return the next day
.
I know he is in New York. I have heard he is posted to the Jamaican mission there. I know he has Eric there with him. The blonde you saw hanging on her husband’s arm while she made love to the man I was married to is now playing mother to my son. One of his powerful friends called me to tell me that John wants me to know that Eric is safe. He expects me to be grateful for that information. So I gathered from his friend. He wants to warn me that if I try to reach Eric, he will take him away from me forever
.
You know as well as I do that John has the power to do that. The malice also. His friend told me that John wants me to return to Jamaica and wait for him there. He said he would bring Eric to me in Jamaica. I do not believe him. I do not want to go to Jamaica. I think if I go there, John would find a way to keep me there. He owns the government of Jamaica. They will take away my passport and I will never be able to leave the island to find Eric
.
I do not know what to do. I cannot stay much longer in Geneva. My money is running out. I am afraid to go to New York. I know John does not make threats lightly. I am afraid to return to Jamaica. He’ll make me a prisoner there. So you see, I have no choice but to turn to you. You can negotiate this for me. I know John wants to divorce me and marry his blonde.
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