Dorcas
Dara Girard
Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC
www.iloripressbooks.com
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
***
Everybody knows that Dorcas Mortag burns everything she touches. If you want your house to still be standing you wouldn't let her set foot in your kitchen. She could burn water if given the chance. But she was never a bright woman—not thick mind you, just not brilliant. I don’t say this to be mean. I say it because it’s true. I found out how true it was when I made a foolish promise to her over forty years ago.
Secrets are hard to keep. I know. I've never been able to keep one, which is why people don't tell me things and I don't want them too. I have plenty of my own business in which to manage and I don't have time for someone else's mess cluttering up my mind. Promises are also hard to keep, but, unfortunately, easier to make. That's what got me into trouble. I’d made a simple promise a long time ago, never thinking much about it until I was asked to honor it.
It was little comfort that I wasn't the only one who'd made this promise. We were three girls of twelve when we made our binding vow. I remember it was a rainy day in Port Antonio. My mother had gone to the shop and I was looking after my little sister when Dorcas, Aletta and Terry stopped by.
Dorcas wasn’t much to look at, although she was best friends with her opposite, Terry, who had looks that had turned heads since the age of five and she had wealthy parents. Terry was cheery, small and kind. Dorcas was big and sweet. On the other hand, our friend, Aletta, had a face that looked like a truck had backed over it several times. People whispered that she’d come into the world crying and had never found a reason to smile. She was usually irritated or miserable, but she was clever and helped us with our homework, which was the main reason why we kept her in our circle.
They came to my house because I had the most space and adults were not usually around. My mother was always working. I didn’t know where my father was--or to be honest who he was--and my uncle, who had a room down the hall, was always leaving some woman’s bed before her husband showed up. That day, aside from the light patter of rain, I remember the smell of fish fritters and sorrel juice I’d made for my sister. Aletta sat and lit a cigarette.
I snatched it from her and stomped it out. “Yuh mad? You can’t smoke here.”
“Mi sorry,” she said not sounding sorry at all.
I didn't let her attitude bother me as long as she didn’t dare try to smoke again. My mother could smell the residue of anything—liquor taken from her cabinet, another woman’s perfume on her boyfriend’s shirt and definitely cigarette smoke in her prized sitting room.
“I want you to do something for me,” Dorcas said. She had a sweet voice like pink candyfloss or an ice lolly. She could make you forget that sometimes what she said made no sense. “I want you to promise to lie for me.”
“Why?” I asked.
Aletta scrunched up her face. “Lying is a sin.”
“Not all lies,” Dorcas said.
“Yes, they are.” Aletta held her hand out. “Get me a bible and I'll prove it.”
“She's right,” I said. “Sometimes you have to lie.”
“You should never lie.”
I folded my arms and glanced at the bag where Aletta hid her cigarettes. “What do you tell your sister when her fags go missing?”
“I don't say anything.”
“That's the same as lying.”
“Why promise to lie for you?” Terry asked Dorcas before Aletta could challenge me.
Dorcas lowered her voice as if she were sharing a secret. “I want you to promise me, just in case I do something bad.”
I laughed. “You’d never do anything bad.” Out of the four of us, she was the least likely to get into any trouble.
“But just in case.”
“I'll do it,” Terry said.
I
Dara Girard
Published by ILORI PRESS BOOKS LLC
www.iloripressbooks.com
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any fashion without the express written consent of the copyright holder.
***
Everybody knows that Dorcas Mortag burns everything she touches. If you want your house to still be standing you wouldn't let her set foot in your kitchen. She could burn water if given the chance. But she was never a bright woman—not thick mind you, just not brilliant. I don’t say this to be mean. I say it because it’s true. I found out how true it was when I made a foolish promise to her over forty years ago.
Secrets are hard to keep. I know. I've never been able to keep one, which is why people don't tell me things and I don't want them too. I have plenty of my own business in which to manage and I don't have time for someone else's mess cluttering up my mind. Promises are also hard to keep, but, unfortunately, easier to make. That's what got me into trouble. I’d made a simple promise a long time ago, never thinking much about it until I was asked to honor it.
It was little comfort that I wasn't the only one who'd made this promise. We were three girls of twelve when we made our binding vow. I remember it was a rainy day in Port Antonio. My mother had gone to the shop and I was looking after my little sister when Dorcas, Aletta and Terry stopped by.
Dorcas wasn’t much to look at, although she was best friends with her opposite, Terry, who had looks that had turned heads since the age of five and she had wealthy parents. Terry was cheery, small and kind. Dorcas was big and sweet. On the other hand, our friend, Aletta, had a face that looked like a truck had backed over it several times. People whispered that she’d come into the world crying and had never found a reason to smile. She was usually irritated or miserable, but she was clever and helped us with our homework, which was the main reason why we kept her in our circle.
They came to my house because I had the most space and adults were not usually around. My mother was always working. I didn’t know where my father was--or to be honest who he was--and my uncle, who had a room down the hall, was always leaving some woman’s bed before her husband showed up. That day, aside from the light patter of rain, I remember the smell of fish fritters and sorrel juice I’d made for my sister. Aletta sat and lit a cigarette.
I snatched it from her and stomped it out. “Yuh mad? You can’t smoke here.”
“Mi sorry,” she said not sounding sorry at all.
I didn't let her attitude bother me as long as she didn’t dare try to smoke again. My mother could smell the residue of anything—liquor taken from her cabinet, another woman’s perfume on her boyfriend’s shirt and definitely cigarette smoke in her prized sitting room.
“I want you to do something for me,” Dorcas said. She had a sweet voice like pink candyfloss or an ice lolly. She could make you forget that sometimes what she said made no sense. “I want you to promise to lie for me.”
“Why?” I asked.
Aletta scrunched up her face. “Lying is a sin.”
“Not all lies,” Dorcas said.
“Yes, they are.” Aletta held her hand out. “Get me a bible and I'll prove it.”
“She's right,” I said. “Sometimes you have to lie.”
“You should never lie.”
I folded my arms and glanced at the bag where Aletta hid her cigarettes. “What do you tell your sister when her fags go missing?”
“I don't say anything.”
“That's the same as lying.”
“Why promise to lie for you?” Terry asked Dorcas before Aletta could challenge me.
Dorcas lowered her voice as if she were sharing a secret. “I want you to promise me, just in case I do something bad.”
I laughed. “You’d never do anything bad.” Out of the four of us, she was the least likely to get into any trouble.
“But just in case.”
“I'll do it,” Terry said.
I
Similar Books
