Caribbean Beat — March/April 2018 (#150)

His eyebrows raise. “Oho,” he say. “You busy?”
“I going South as soon as I finish cook. My cousin been asking
me to come down by her in Siparia long time now and I decide I
go take the bus and go for the weekend.”
Miriam cousin had really ask her a few times to visit, but is
only when she see Desmond long head at the gate that she decide
to go. She had always wonder what it would be like to travel in
one of them new buses. “Luxury ride.” She had seen those words
somewhere — must be in the papers.
Desmond look down at the bag in his hand and open his
mouth, but he close it again. “Alright, Miriam,” he say. “We go
pick up.”
She gone back in the kitchen after he walk up towards Main
Street, and she rest her hands on the kitchen counter and look
at them.
When John Rawlins show up as usual the next Sunday
morning, Miriam was reading the Express in the
drawing room. She part the curtain and wave at him.
He say “Morning” as he close the gate behind him, and almost in
the same breath, he ask her if she want him to start with the fowl
run or if she need anything special do.
“Why we don’t just sit down for a change and have a cup a
coffee,” she say.
When Nathaniel talk, he’s use his
hands plenty, as if the words not
enough to tell the story. Miriam sit
and listen and watch at the shapes
his hands making
Rawlins eye fly open.
“Dew still on the plants, John. Watch.”
“Sit down?” he say, excited. “But I ain’t come to sit down,
Miriam. I come to give you a hand. I sure something round here
need doing.”
Miriam shake her head. “I not feeling for busyness round me.
Maybe you should stop for a while and just . . . well, just breathe.
Is Sunday, after all, you know.”
John sigh hard. He look round the yard.
“Best I go by my mother. I’s usually go there after I leave by
you. She’s be glad for the pull out,” he say.
The Anglican church bell ring seven o’clock. Rawlins start to
tap his thigh.
Miriam watch him and smile slow. “Alright, John,” she say.
He sigh again and get to his feet then he lift the latch on the
little wooden gallery gate.
She was sitting outside listening to the radio after dinner one
night the next week when Bally call out.
“Miriam,” he say with a sad smile, “Good evening.”
“Bally,” Miriam greet him, “I glad you pass. Come and sit
down a while. I had wanted to ask you something.”
He push the gate, come up the steps, and get in the old rocking
chair.
“I was thinking about Mayaro,” she say.
Bally furrow his brow. “Mayaro?”
“Yes, boy.” She clasp her hands in her lap. “When I was on the
bus coming from South the other day, I realise how good it is for
a body to see something different sometimes. That road to South
ain’t playing it pretty. The rolling hills . . . When last you and your
children went somewhere for a little breeze?”
Bally look at her, puzzled. Then he give a dry kind of laugh
and lean back in the chair. “I ain’t go nowhere with my children
since my wife die.” He frown and look off down the street
towards his house.
“That’s a long time,” Miriam say softly.
“Four years,” Bally say. “We used to drive in the van to
Rampanalgas when some of them was still small. Sita was a
baby, and Krishna wasn’t even born. We used to play cricket on
the beach — take bat and ball and thing.”
“That sounding real nice,” Miriam smile.
Bally nod, and Miriam find like his eyes damp.
“Maybe you could take the van and go one Sunday? Maybe
you could ask Angie to go to help you with the younger ones?”
“Maybe,” Bally murmur. “Angie love the sea.” He look up at
Miriam. “The salt might be good for all of us,” he say.
Saturday evening about fiveish and Miriam watering the
croton she have in a pot in the gallery.
“I had come last week,” she hear a deep voice say.
It startle her, but she look up to find Nathaniel, wearing a
yellow All Stars jersey, standing with his arm on the metal gate.
“But like you had gone out.”
“Yes, yes,” Miriam still watering the croton, “I went South.
You not coming in?” she ask. The water spill over the brim of the
plate under the pot.
“South? Eh eh! Nice, man. You have family there?” He come
up the stairs and lean up in the entryway.
“Yes, yes,” she say, “And long time I promise I would visit. We
had a real nice time catching up. In fact,” she chuckle, “I have
stories to tell you. My cousin tell me plenty things I never knew
about my family.”
“Stories? Nice,” Nathaniel say, then like he remember he carrying
something. He take out a container from the bag.
“I bring some smoke herring,” he tell her. “I season it with
lime, and I put pimento and chive from my garden. Tomato, too,
of course” He pause, then, “I was hoping you might make some
roast bake again.”
Miriam catch her breath. “I will roast the bake to go with the
herring,” she say, gazing at the watering can. “Come in the kitchen,
nuh, and I will tell you one or two of the stories while I prepare.”
She look up now and watch him good, and she find he just
there, like all he doing is waiting to listen. She hold out her
arm and step aside for Nathaniel to pass through the narrow
doorway, but he pause, then bend down, untie his shoes and
leave them on the gallery.
When he raise up again he give a slight bow, and gesture to
her to lead him into the house. n
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