Chapter 4
Zara
11:40pm
November 5, 1993. Kingston, Jamaica.
My mind was a tenament yaad. Thoughts from my cousin’s brother’s girlfriend cock up right above my temple, chewing bubbalicious and braiding Anna-kay’s hair.
Memba to check pon di loan ting
Other thoughts straggled around the edges like family members weh kotch up a people yaad fi just coupledayscouplemonthscoupleyears - couple seconds too long.
Can take the girl out di ghetto but cya take the ghetto out the girl.
Some thoughts reminded me of mommy’s 16th boyfriend. Bouncing around, touching places he shouldn’t touch. Polluting soft, safe spaces.
Today’s thought tasted like bitter, undercooked callaloo.
Your son is all your demons come to life.
I dared a look at Jonathan. The bottom of the van was clunking along the potholes even louder than usual. His beloved MP didn’t fix the road. He was driving too fast. Now was not the time to tell him to slow down.
Tonight, I pray. Turning each corner was a prayer. A prayer that Babylon himself would stop us and smell the blood.
I refused to look at her but I knew what she looked like; huddled in the back seat, clutching at her body, begging it to survive. I knew how she felt; numb; numb but still stitching up what was left of her. Her too silent presence in the back drowned out all the thoughts except one. Each muffled gasp as the van bottom flushed with the unwelcoming malt walked in like a landlord coming to collect overdue rent.
He’s a rapist.
I didn’t hear Jonathan’s words until long after he said them.
“Sweetheart, remember what we spoke about. Think about it very carefully. Janine, it would be best if you didn’t tell anybody about this. You’re a very sweet girl, but if this goes to court, you’d never win and I’m sure you don’t want to put your parents under the pressure of having to pay for lawyers. Just let us handle this, okay?”
I wanted to tell her to scream. To scream at the top of her lungs. I wanted to hold her hand and write his sentence. For 16 year old me. For her. For all the women inside me.
I didn’t.