boyish voice said, “Ah getting married, going back to de country.” Mama didn’t look surprised, but I saw her shoulders sag just a bit. She didn’t congratulate him.
“Myers, yuh never tell me!” I shouted, feeling cheated.
“Molly, it not nuh big thing. It don’t need nuh wholeheap of talking.” He sounded almost apologetic. “And anyway, we have enough flowers fi talk ’bout,” he said, his voice lighter.
“So when is de big day?” Mama asked.
“Not right now, ah have to save some more money, so ah can tek care of mi family.” He paused, poured himself another drink as if for the courage to speak. “It not nuh big wedding, is just to give de children a name.”
I didn’t know what that meant. I filed it away as something that I had to ask Punsie, and if she didn’t know, then Monica would. After all, I had a name, and my mother wasn’t married to my father; in fact, I didn’t even know who he was. That night the air was light and cool. I felt drowsy and wanted to curl up in my blanket.
“Molly, tidy up and go to bed,” Mama said. “Yuh look tired, an’ is a school night.”
It was late when Mama came in. I had been thinking about Petal and how good I felt when she rubbed against me. I was sure that night that Myers came to my grandmother’s bed. I felt the bed moving, heard it creaking. I moved myself to the edge of the bed full with sleep and pulled my blanket tighter over my face.
On my walk home from school the next day, I stopped by Punsie’s yard.
“Ah have something to tell yuh,” I whispered.
She grabbed my hands and we ran toward her mother’s fowl coop. Close by was a dwarf mango tree, crowned in leaves, which we often climbed for privacy.
“Yuh know seh Myers and mi granny doing things?” I said, almost out of breath.
Punsie laughed and laughed, as she often did. Then in an equally excited tone she exclaimed, “How yuh find out? Raatid!”
“Ah was on de bed, ah hear it creaking.”
“Yuh keeping things from mi?” she joked. “Look how much time mi tell yuh ’bout mi mother.” She laughed again, throwing back her head. “So yuh feel de bed a jerk up and down?”
I nodded my head.
“What else?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, dem talk? Dem say anything, like ‘go faster’ or ‘harder’?”
“No,” I said, embarrassed now that I had said anything.
“What yuh going on like dat for, yuh don’t know is a natural thing for a man and woman? Everybody do it,” she boasted. “What you think Freddie and Monica do?”
“Yuh think mi stupid? Of course mi know,” I protested.
“Girl, now yuh know ’bout de birds and de bees,” she said. “Hey, Molly, yuh know Troy like yuh.”
I sucked my teeth but felt nice inside. He was a nice-looking boy who lived on the other side of our street. “Mi not interested,” I lied. “And ah have to go home now.”
We climbed down the tree and I ran home.
When I turned twelve, Uncle Mikey and two of his friends, Helen and Paul, took me to see a performance by the Jamaican National Dance Theatre. After that, we went to see the pantomime at the Ward Theatre. I had never seen liveactors on stage before, and I was awestruck. Mama didn’t come with us. She much preferred films. “If mi want to see live people act, mi only have to sit down on Ruth piazza,” she said.
My mother sent me a beautiful watch for my birthday, with Cinderella inside the glass and a pretty red band. Uncle Peppie sent a card with money. Uncle Freddie sent another postcard, this time of Yonge Street in Toronto. Grand-aunt Ruth gave me a Bible, Cousin Icie and Ivan a piece of coral from Port Maria, and Aunt Joyce gave me a lovely pair of gold sleeper earrings that were the envy of all my friends, but I didn’t get a chance to flaunt them. Mama said that I could wear them only on special occasions: Sunday school and Uncle Mikey’s parties. Myers gave me the best gift of all, two perfect and beautiful orchid plants.
“Dem might not
“Myers, yuh never tell me!” I shouted, feeling cheated.
“Molly, it not nuh big thing. It don’t need nuh wholeheap of talking.” He sounded almost apologetic. “And anyway, we have enough flowers fi talk ’bout,” he said, his voice lighter.
“So when is de big day?” Mama asked.
“Not right now, ah have to save some more money, so ah can tek care of mi family.” He paused, poured himself another drink as if for the courage to speak. “It not nuh big wedding, is just to give de children a name.”
I didn’t know what that meant. I filed it away as something that I had to ask Punsie, and if she didn’t know, then Monica would. After all, I had a name, and my mother wasn’t married to my father; in fact, I didn’t even know who he was. That night the air was light and cool. I felt drowsy and wanted to curl up in my blanket.
“Molly, tidy up and go to bed,” Mama said. “Yuh look tired, an’ is a school night.”
It was late when Mama came in. I had been thinking about Petal and how good I felt when she rubbed against me. I was sure that night that Myers came to my grandmother’s bed. I felt the bed moving, heard it creaking. I moved myself to the edge of the bed full with sleep and pulled my blanket tighter over my face.
On my walk home from school the next day, I stopped by Punsie’s yard.
“Ah have something to tell yuh,” I whispered.
She grabbed my hands and we ran toward her mother’s fowl coop. Close by was a dwarf mango tree, crowned in leaves, which we often climbed for privacy.
“Yuh know seh Myers and mi granny doing things?” I said, almost out of breath.
Punsie laughed and laughed, as she often did. Then in an equally excited tone she exclaimed, “How yuh find out? Raatid!”
“Ah was on de bed, ah hear it creaking.”
“Yuh keeping things from mi?” she joked. “Look how much time mi tell yuh ’bout mi mother.” She laughed again, throwing back her head. “So yuh feel de bed a jerk up and down?”
I nodded my head.
“What else?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Well, dem talk? Dem say anything, like ‘go faster’ or ‘harder’?”
“No,” I said, embarrassed now that I had said anything.
“What yuh going on like dat for, yuh don’t know is a natural thing for a man and woman? Everybody do it,” she boasted. “What you think Freddie and Monica do?”
“Yuh think mi stupid? Of course mi know,” I protested.
“Girl, now yuh know ’bout de birds and de bees,” she said. “Hey, Molly, yuh know Troy like yuh.”
I sucked my teeth but felt nice inside. He was a nice-looking boy who lived on the other side of our street. “Mi not interested,” I lied. “And ah have to go home now.”
We climbed down the tree and I ran home.
When I turned twelve, Uncle Mikey and two of his friends, Helen and Paul, took me to see a performance by the Jamaican National Dance Theatre. After that, we went to see the pantomime at the Ward Theatre. I had never seen liveactors on stage before, and I was awestruck. Mama didn’t come with us. She much preferred films. “If mi want to see live people act, mi only have to sit down on Ruth piazza,” she said.
My mother sent me a beautiful watch for my birthday, with Cinderella inside the glass and a pretty red band. Uncle Peppie sent a card with money. Uncle Freddie sent another postcard, this time of Yonge Street in Toronto. Grand-aunt Ruth gave me a Bible, Cousin Icie and Ivan a piece of coral from Port Maria, and Aunt Joyce gave me a lovely pair of gold sleeper earrings that were the envy of all my friends, but I didn’t get a chance to flaunt them. Mama said that I could wear them only on special occasions: Sunday school and Uncle Mikey’s parties. Myers gave me the best gift of all, two perfect and beautiful orchid plants.
“Dem might not
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