The Other Side of Paradise: A Memoir Page 6

  “Delano, I don’t want her to stop working. I just want her to look at the gold star I get for Story Writing and Comprehension.” My eyes are filled with tears and my hands are shaking as I doodle.

  “Stacey, nuh bother with the crying, man.” He picks up the book and hands it to me. “Just take it and go and show her your gold star. Nobody not stopping you. Just take the book and go show her. Go on.” His voice is strangely gentle.

  Book in hand, I make my way to the back door.

  “Grandma!” I open my book and touch her arm. “Grandma, look. I get a gold star today.”

  She looks down at the page and smoothes my hair. “That is good, man. Is a good ting you have your Aunt June to show you how to do good at the book-learning.”

  I want to tell her how hard it is to get a gold star in Story Writing and Comprehension, but she looks so confused I close the book and pick up the dishwashing cloth. Grandma only lets me help with the dinner knives and the forks. I cannot touch the sharp knives because Grandma does not want me to cut off my fingers and become a nine-finger Jack. I am also supposed to steer clear of the ceramic cups and plates. I tell Grandma that I am big enough now to wash a plate, crockery or no crockery. “No, no! Leave the things them that can break alone! Me don’t have no money to buy back Aunt June expensive cup and plate. Dry the eating knife and fork them. Me will do the rest.”

  After homework and evening chores we watch the evening news. I like stories about people I do not know. The best news reporters are Dennis Hall and Fae Ellington. I don’t like Dennis Hall so much. He looks so old and white. Like he is a duppy. But Fae Ellington looks like a nice lady. She is very pretty. I wonder if my life would be good if Fae Ellington were my mother. I wish I could see her real skin color to see if she is the same as me. But everybody is the same shade of gray on the grainy image of the black-and-white TV.

  As Fae introduces the weatherman, Aunt June bellows, “Staceyann! Staceyann Marshree Chin! Come in here right now!”

  I follow her voice to the dining room. She holds aloft an eating knife. “What is this, young lady?” I hate to be called that.

  “Is a knife, Aunt June, a dinner knife.”

  “You take me for a fool? I know it is a dinner knife. Who washed it?”

  “I washed it, Aunt June. What happen to it?” I am annoyed that I am missing the news.

  “Jesus Savior, pilot me! Give me strength to deal with the audacity of this child! What you mean, what happened to it? And who you think you are talking to in that tone of voice? You think I am your friend and company?”

  Her voice is rising and I am getting a little frightened. “Sorry, Aunt June, you asked me a question and I was just answering you. I never said anything ’bout no friend and company—”

  She grabs my wrist and brings the knife to my face. My bladder contracts, but I take a deep breath and press both legs together before I let the air out again.

  “Stop sighing at me, child! Stop sighing and look at this knife! This looks clean to you? Look at the food marks on it! You think we live like pigs here? If you wash a knife, it should look like you washed it!” She squeezes my hand so tightly I try to twist my arm away.

  “Aunt June, let me go! You are squeezing up me hand!”

  “Let you go? Let you go? You think you are a big woman here? You are a child. I can hold you for as long as I damn well please! You do not tell me what to do in my own house!”

  Again I try to pull away from her, but she tightens her grip and forces my arm out to expose the inside of my elbow. She then wipes the serrated edge back and forth across the soft skin there and slaps my arm with the handle, over and over. I look her square in the face. I do not make a sound.

  Finally, she lets me go and throws the knife at me. “Little girl, you have the Devil himself inside of you! Put this back in the kitchen and find yourself in the bed!”

  I turn toward the kitchen, and my heart drops from my chest to my stomach when I see Grandma standing by the door, wiping away tears. I stare at her, but she cannot look back at me. I make my way around her body, carefully lay the knife on the table with the clean dishes, and walk around her again. In the bathroom, I sob quietly against the sink, wishing I had an address to write a letter to my mother. I know that if she had seen what Aunt June was doing to me she wouldn’t have just stood there and let it happen.

  Later, when Grandma comes to bed, she tries to rub my head. I push her hands away and turn over. The next morning, she is extra gentle combing the tangles out of my hair. I don’t want to be angry, but the kinder she is to me, the angrier I get. I stop washing dishes with her. She never asks me to help again.

  Be of Good Courage

  December arrives and the days shorten and cool. Christmas day, which will be my eighth birthday, is only twelve days away. Samantha says that this Christmas is going to be very special because Aunt June is going to buy a big Christmas tree. And Uncle Harold has hinted to Samantha that he may buy her a special present. She tells me that there may be a present for everybody. Delano and Shane want water guns. Samantha wants a talking dolly. I hope and hope and hope and hope that I will get my own set of Nancy Drew mysteries. Every day all the girls at school sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” at recess.

  On the first day of Christmas,

  my true love sent to me

  a partridge in a pear tree…

  Samantha marks off the days on a calendar. Some days she lets me make the X. I am very careful not to make it too big or too small. Samantha stands behind me and supervises. Delano and Shane say it is a stupid idea, but every morning before we leave for school they stand by the wall and watch us cross out the day.

  On the fourth day of Christmas,

  my true love sent to me

  four calling birds…

  On the seventh day of Christmas…

  On the eighth day of Christmas…

  By the time we get to the tenth day, the excitement has mounted to twenty girls marching around the schoolyard in a line. Each girl holds the waist of the person ahead and sways to the rapid rhythm of our chant. Every girl is sure that she will get what she wants on Christmas morning. It feels good to be a part of such a big loud group. And everybody is extra nice to me because Christmas day is also my special day. All the girls say that having a birthday on Christmas is like having two birthdays together.

  At home the house is busy with the smell of baking. The tables are covered in flour and sugar and butter. Big bowls are atop every surface. Samantha and I park ourselves in the dining room, hoping to taste anything that Aunt June will let us. The sweet fruit preserves are drained and measured and added to the cake mix. Raisins and prunes and dates are from the store and are very expensive, so we only can taste the ones that fall on the floor. Those fruits come all the way from Montego Bay. Aunt June says they really come from a place in America called California.

  All year, Aunt June has been collecting the skin of grapefruits. Diced and sugared and soaked in wine and rum, they make up the mass of the bittersweet fruits that will be in the Christmas cakes. We can eat as many of those as we want. As the mixes are made and poured into baking tins, we lick the empty bowls clean. Then we march through the house screaming the words of our anthem at the top of our lungs.

  Finally it is December twenty-fifth. It is so exciting to wake up and suddenly be eight years old. The first carolers come by bright and early. “Silent Night” filters into the back room from the front yard and I turn over and pull the sheets up to my neck and snuggle in while I listen. Delano groans and covers his head. Grandma is up already. I can smell the sweet hot chocolate she is making. Hot cups will be handed out to everyone when the singing of the carols is done. The Christmas cake is cut up into thin slices and passed around on a silver tray.

  When the carolers are gone, Aunt June tells us to hurry up and get dressed for Christmas service. I bound out of bed and pull the covers off Delano. He kicks me harder than is necessary, but not even the sore spot on my thigh can spo
il my good mood. The ride to the church is quiet. Everybody else is sleepy. But I am silent. I don’t want to get in trouble on my birthday. The service is quick. By seven we are back at home eating ackee and salt-fish and roasted breadfruit. When the plates are piled into the kitchen, Grandma heads out back to wash them.

  We are all excited when Aunt June tells us to come with her into the living room. There is a huge pile of packages on the couch. I am so excited my ears are buzzing. Aunt June announces that she has at least one present for everyone. One by one she calls our names and hands us each a wrapped bundle. Then she calls Samantha and Shane and Garnett and hands them more presents.

  When she is done, Samantha has three boxes and a brown paper package. Shane has two boxes and a bag of things wrapped in different kinds of paper. Garnett has three things on his lap too. Delano, Ann, and I each have one thing wrapped in brown paper, tied up with a red bow. Aunt June smiles at me when I dutifully unwrap a pair of blue canvas sneakers from the Bata shoe store. Delano opens his to find a water gun. Ann unceremoniously unwraps a new church dress. Shane has a new Hardy Boys mystery, a pair of church shoes, a water gun, socks, a belt, and some red pencils. Garnett has a new T-square and a school bag complete with school supplies. But Samantha is the queen of the day. A brand-new dolly with a change of clothes, three new panties, a pair of shoes, one new Bobbsey Twins and two Nancy Drew mysteries lay scattered around her. I have to work very hard to keep from screaming out loud and stomping all over their shiny new things.

  Everybody is saying thank you to Aunt June. My eyes fill with tears as I look again at the gifts that Shane and Samantha have opened. I should be happy for these sneakers. Nobody has ever given me a present before. I should be grateful, but I think I deserve more.

  Aunt June turns to me and clears her throat. I put the shoes back in the brown wrapping paper and look up at her. “Aunt June, thanks for the shoes, but is Christmas, and it is my birthday too. Everybody else get one present on them birthday. And now they get Christmas presents too. I think I should get two things today!”

  Aunt June does not miss a beat. “Well, Stacey, you do have two things there, two things that make a pair. One foot is for your birthday, and the other is for Christmas.”

  I say thank you again and put the sneakers inside the bedroom. I find Grandma praying under the ackee tree. When she asks me what’s wrong with me, I bury my face in her lap and weep. I am tired of being afraid of Aunt June and having to live in her house. I am tired of Samantha always having everything she wants. I don’t want to live with them anymore. I want to go back to Lottery. Grandma strokes my head, but it does not make it any better. I don’t really want Grandma. I want my own mother. I don’t understand why she left us. I cry loud and hard. I smell curry on her hands as she brushes away my tears.

  Grandma tries her best to comfort me. “No, no, Stacey. No mind, man. No mind, whatever it is, God can fix it—”

  “No, Grandma! I don’t want God! I want my mother! And I want my own father! How come is only me one don’t have no father? Even Delano have a father! Where I come from? Me drop from sky?”

  “You have God in heaven as you father. The Bible say him eye is on the sparrow, so I know him watching over you too. Come, man. Stop the crying.”

  “Grandma, I know my mother run away, but what about my father here on earth? Him run away too? Is what happen to me why everybody run away from me?”

  “Stacey, stop that, man. Dry you face. All right, all right. Let me tell you something, nuh!”

  “Grandma, I don’t want to hear ’bout no Heavenly Father. Everybody have that. I want to know who my real father is. Delano have one. Shane and Samantha have one. What wrong with me?”

  “All right! All right! Dry you face!” Grandma finally relents. “As there is a God in heaven, stop with the everlasting crying! You would drive the living Jesus to sin himself! I going tell you, but you have to quiet yourself and listen.”

  She strokes my braids and pats my back until I am quiet. Then she leans over and whispers, “Junior Chin. You mother did tell me that your father name is Junior Chin. Him live in Montego Bay.”

  Surprised, I look up from her lap. I wipe my face as she continues.

  “Him used to come to pick up you mother at the house when Delano was a little, little baby. Miss Cherry say him have a furniture store on Barnett Street, right in front of the Montego Bay Police Station. Him is a married man. With other children. You turn eight year old today. And is Christmas day. And you know already that this is the Lord Jesus Christ birthday?”

  I nod. “Yes, ma’am, I know that.”

  “Well, mark this day, and mark it well.” She slowly shakes her head and pats my shoulder. “Today, Christmas day, nineteen hundred and eighty—I know that both you mother and you father will live to regret that them leave you by the wayside.”

  She pauses, sits me upright, and looks into my eyes. “Them may not want you now, but if you make sure you work hard, that you make something of yourself—one day the two of them will come to your door to beg you for a drink of water! The Bible tell you, The stone that the builder refuse will become the head cornerstone! Matthew twenty-one, verse forty-two. Is right there in the Good Book! You only have to read it!”

  She pulls me to her bosom. “Believe you me, they will beg you to recognize them as father and mother. Just trust in God and he will see you through.”

  “Yes, Grandma.” Something strange sits in my throat, and Grandma’s voice is low and hard, as if she is angry.

  She gets up and straightens her dress. “I don’t tell you these things fi make you feel bitter in your heart. Is just that you getting big now and is full time you know how things really go.”

  I lie on the bed thinking, My father’s name is Junior Chin. He lives in Montego Bay. Just like Delano’s father. Except he does not send groceries from his shop for me. He does not want me.

  Not yet.

  Dominion Over Every Living Thing

  The summer holidays arrive and the long days stretch out endless before us. During the week Aunt June keeps us under close supervision. But on Saturdays she and Uncle Harold leave to buy the week’s groceries. And on the first Saturday of the month Grandma puts on her rainbow tie-head and boards the navy blue van to Montego Bay. She makes the long trip alone to collect food from Delano’s Chinaman father. Grandma is gone by the time I wake up. I open my eyes surprised to find her movements missing from the house. For a moment, I worry that she will never come back.

  As soon as we finish the chores, Ann and Garnett cut across the green flatland of the front yard and disappear. Beyond the front yard is The Road, which is essentially a dirt track with a sliver of asphalt that runs down its center. We are not allowed out on The Road without permission.

  Every day at home without the adults is an adventure. Delano has the best ideas, so he decides what we should do. We all follow him as he slowly circles the house. He uses a stick to poke the hard dusty ground. Then he leads us back to the front. He plops down on the front steps and sighs.

  “So what we going to do, then?” Samantha looks to Delano.

  Shane looks to the hills behind the house. “We could go tease the madman.”

  “No, man.” Samantha shakes her head for emphasis. “I am not going back up there! Remember what happen last time? Me not going back there at all.”

  “Ruff! Ruff!” Delano laughs and charges at Samantha. “The man is so mad, him think him is a dog!”

  “Delano, that is not funny! We had to run off the track and into the bushes to get away from him!” Samantha sucks her teeth and pushes Delano away from her.

  “We should go again, eh, Delano? That was a good joke, eh?” Shane and Delano are laughing so hard they start coughing.

  Flat on the ground and exhausted from coughing and laughing, Shane turns to Delano. “So what we going to do, then?”

  “We could chase rats!” Samantha throws a rock into the dry gully.

  Delano reminds us that the red r
ats living there are no fun to chase in the summertime. The heat makes the furry creatures lazy, so we end up killing too many. Last summer the stink of their rotting bodies stayed in the air for weeks. And plus, it is no fun to run through a hot cane field in the middle of July.

  “All right, Delano, since you knock down everybody’s idea, you tell us what to do!”

  Delano sucks his teeth and walks away from her. We follow him. Even the animals seem bored. Under the noonday sun, the pigs are fast asleep in their mud-caked pens; the dried slush cracks on their pink skin. They don’t even grunt when Delano slaps a whole tin of Nestlé condensed milk in the trough. The goats ignore Shane when he tosses young mangoes at them. The cows only glance in our general direction when we tug at their thick nylon ropes.

  Samantha and I follow them, moving sluggishly around the house. The dogs dig holes in the hard ground. They only move from one tree to the other to dig a new hole.

  The cats do not get up, even when the dogs move. Only the scrawny chickens squawk when Samantha and I creep up on them and scream, “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”

  The boys usually ignore the chickens. They consider themselves above chasing animals that girls chase. Today, however, boredom drives them to join us.

  “Today, we are going to do more than chase them,” Delano informs us. “We are going to corner them and catch them!”

  “Then what?” Samantha asks.

  “Shut your big fat clappers and just do what I tell you to do!” Delano snaps.

  He takes the left side of the house—that side has no fence. Shane covers the back. Samantha and I are to chase the six chickens from the front yard to the left side. Delano will be right there to catch them.

  There are three regular chickens, speckled brown and white, that look like the chickens in our library books. Two of the chickens, senseh fowls, have feathers that make them look surprised. They are bad tempered; they peck first and decide if it is wise later. We all bear scars.