Thelma had a
dream. In her dream the sky was the purest of blues. The only clouds
were the ones that were scattered by her outstretched arms as the wind
folded obediently under them. Below her the sea flew by. Below her the
land grew out of the water. Below her the island circled, and the
village on the island craned its head, and the many hands reached up.
Their finger tips wanted so badly to touch her perfect skin. But if
wanting could make it so, we would never feel that earthly heaviness
that comes with waking from such dreams.
***
"You
have such perfect skin" he whispered. Thelma could see why he would
think that. His skin was rough, like his hands, but not like his voice.
His voice told her sweet things, and did so smoothly. His hands were
made pretty by the glinting metal that choked his swollen fingers. His
skin might have been nice if she ever saw him in any kind of light
aside from the street lamp or the club lights that danced while they
did...something else. It was something to slow to be called dancing,
and a little part of her was jealous of the other girls her age, with
boyfriends their age. She wanted to dance like them, with abandon.
Dance with her entire body. Dance until she was dripping with sweat.
But years from now, those girls would still be here. They would still
be dancing to the same songs while Thelma was in Paris or Japan or New
York. All she had to do was move slow and sexy. It wasn’t really
dancing. The many orange hairs on his arms and chest might look
handsome in the sunlight on a beach somewhere. He could look like"Like
who? Like Brad Pitt. Yes. He could be her Brad Pitt, only with rougher
hands. And a smoother talk, if not a gentler voice.
***
He
has such a gentle voice. Thelma usually heard baby's crying and crying
and they sound like they could shatter glass. The ones she babysat for
would bawl for no reason, just to drive her crazy. Not this one. This
wasn’t what she thought it would be like. He has the gentlest voice a
baby ever had. He was so quiet for a baby. Too quiet, in fact. She’d
thought none of it had worked but what if it had? The bitters, the bad
medicine, what if she’d tied her belly too tight in the final months?
What if she’d tried so hard to make it go away, to keep it all a secret
that now that he was out he was continuing the lie.
She
could hide him when anyone came around. If they didn’t know, they
didn’t have to find out. He was quiet. So quiet for a baby. The
gentlest voice a baby ever had.
***
Come
baby. Walk fu mommy. Ih nuh far. Come, you could walk. You’re a big boy
now. A big boy. Come, come. No, mommy can't back yuh. Mommy too tired.
And you too heavy, baby. You a big boy now. No man…Shhh...nuh cry. Nuh
cry, we soon reach. Just wa lee bit further. But you have to walk.
Mommy can't back you, baby.
Okay man…Ay, mi back. Ay, mi legs. Mommy can't carry you, baby. Nuh fi too long. You too, too, heavy. This baby just too heavy.
***
”Nuh
too long now. Good thing we reach here early though. Ay, yuh see how
much the baby like the plane? Now, when you reach you know how fi get
weh paat yuh gwein? Personally? I nuh see how a man can send for you
but not have the decency to pick you up from the airport. Thelma, he
nuh own wa car? Well ih cyant at least pay for a taxi? I know, I know.
You da your own woman now. Woman by law and nature. That nuh mean your
aunty cyant worry. Now when you reach yuh muss call and mek we know you
alright. And you have fi mek the baby hear yuh voice so he nuh miss yuh
too much. You di listen? First chance you get you start saving up,
hear? Don't depend on no white man for too long, you hear? Take it from
me! Maybe in about six months you can send for the baby? A year? A
child needs his mother. And you must call regular so he know your
voice. You hearing me, Thelma? Well answer me then! I swear, you acting
like you already miles away.