Distant+Whispers

day.”
Petra’s mind flashed back to the Tammi she saw at carnival, her breasts and behind bubbling out
of the skimpy too-too-tight carnival outfit.
“Sure, Tammi. Sure.”
Most of the crowd gathered along the road had dispersed by the time Petra and Tammi returned to
the yard. A few were gathered by a table that Nigel set up by the road perusing pamphlets that offered
tips on basic dental hygiene. They were also lured by the cups of sweet, cherry Kool-Aid that some of
the younger kids were constantly bringing to the table.
Inside the yard, dancers and drummers huddled in scattered groups with their lyrical Trini voices
sing-songing through the air. The sun skimmed the horizon of the bay and the entire body of water had
become a gigantic sparkling mirror. Petra shielded her eyes from the glare, stood on her tip-toes and
searched for her cousin Nigel.
“Petra,” yelled one of the tall female dancers, whose thighs and calves were knotted tight with
muscles, “where yuh been? Yuh mommy lookin’ for yuh.”
“Mommy?” Petra replied. “Looking for me?”
“Uh huh! Ah t’ink she vex ‘bout something.” The dancer replied, gesturing toward the porch.
As Petra and Tammi entered the coolness of the porch she locked eyes with her mother who was
rushing into the house with an empty glass. The older woman frowned at her daughter.
“Petra! Yuh have no shame,” her mother said, her face wrinkled in disgust. “Dis man walk all de
way up de hill from Town. And he from de States! A visitor. Why nobody go collect he? Ah go fix he
some more juice. The man got Yankee skin. De heat ‘bout to kill he.”
“Wha—”
“Yankee,” Tammi cut her off. “Petra! Yuh got a Yankee friend visiting? You didn’t tell me. Is it a
friend from school?”
Petra couldn’t find the words to respond to Tammi. She rushed to the porch which was thick with
dancers, drummers, stacked drums, feathered headdresses stacked upon a utility table and a circle of
mothers in chairs trying to manage their children.
She shaded her eyes against the brilliance of the setting sun and saw the silhouettes of two people
leaning over the porch railing. Petra tried to make her way through a gauntlet of friends and
acquaintances on the porch. It was slow going. This one embraced her, another had to introduce a new
boyfriend or girlfriend, and she had to coochee-coo a new baby or two, all the while searching for
her cousin.
She stopped as she neared the end of the porch, shaded her eyes and made out Nigel’s tall outline
near the porch’s rear railings. He was in animated conversation with another male. The two men were
standing just inches from each other. Nigel would often grab the other man’s shoulder and speak
directly into his ear. They both laughed easily. Petra angled away from the glare of the sun to see what
old friend her cousin Nigel had run into.
The second silhouette became more detailed. Petra caught her breath.
Denmark?
Nooo! That can’t be him. There was an ease about the man talking to Nigel that she had never
seen at the company. She took a step closer. The two of them spoke and laughed like life-long friends.
This person, this other man, had a bright toothy smile and eyes that twinkled. His hands were