12 years later
Sean Montgomery was in deep shit. Slumped dejectedly on a three-legged stool in the only rum shop in the small neighborhood nursing his fourth shot of whiskey, he gazed unseeingly at the light brown liquid; pondering his dilemma. He shifted his tall build, trying to get a comfortable position; but the stool creaked in protest. Someone had done a poor job of adding a fourth piece of wood for stability, but it would not hold for long. Sooner rather than later, it would crash under its occupant. He hoped it did not happen tonight. A burst of hearty laughter erupted across the room behind him. The place was crowded tonight. He wondered how much money would roll in. Not much, he thought, these bastards usually order everything on credit.
His gaze roamed across the room. The shop had a warm glow from the kerosene lamps spread evenly at the four corners. With a few tables and benches scattered carelessly across the area, there was no structure or form of organization. Odd sorted colours of tablecloths were draped haphazardly over the worn out tables. The ambience was welcoming. 'This was a man's doing,' he thought to himself. He could not detect a woman's touch anywhere, except on the tablecloths.
At least the room was clean; he wished he could say the same about some of the occupants.
The interior smelt of tobacco smoke, booze, sweat and roasted nuts, and every ten minutes, depending on the direction the wind was blowing, the putrid odor of rotten cabbage; someone had forgotten to place the garbage outside.
Situated at one of the corners of the room there was a special table set for dominoes. Five of the men folk were at it tonight, slamming the dominoes hard on the wooden table and cracking dirty jokes. His gaze slid lazily at the men, one of them had approached him earlier, inviting him to join in the game, but he had declined. No one dared approached him a second time.
This pub was a saviour as well as a reprieve for some. The men who ventured there did so mainly to relax, others to get away from the pressures of home, and the remaining few were there for company–to have someone to speak to because they simply had nowhere else to go. Tonight Sean was not sure which category he fit in; maybe all, maybe none. One thing he knew for sure was that he needed to set his mind straight.
Richard and his sister ran the small run-down tavern. Richard was built like a body builder, towering over six feet, with broad shoulders, and hairy as an ape. The townsfolk referred to him as the 'giant'.
For as long as Sean could remember, this pub had always served people in the area. He recalled Richard's father running the place. When he passed, Richard took up right where he had left off. With his hands still curled around the glass, Sean sat scrutinizing his contemporary. Richard's height had never been intimidating to him, maybe because they had grown up together and were around the same age.
'You look like you need a friend tonight. What bites my friend?'
Sean turned bloodshot eyes towards the voice. Richard was standing directly in front of him with a pitcher of water.
'Nothing man, I just needed to get a drink to clear my mind a bit; that is all. It is nothing to worry about,' Sean responded.
'Uh huh, if you say so. However, from my vantage point it does not look like nothing. This is your fourth glass of whiskey and you are not a drinker. Whatever it is that is eating at you must be a tough one.'
Richard loitered by his side, waiting. A few seconds had elapsed when he patted him on the shoulder and muttered, 'If you need a listening ear buddy, you know where to find me.'
Sean watched silently as Richard shuffled away to attend to one of the men. He heard a commotion and realized that the youngest in the crowd tonight had started misbehaving and had tried to challenge Richard. Standing up to his full height, Richard walked slowly towards the boy who suddenly started to stammer.
Sean chuckled watching the spectacle unfold and slowly die in front of him. Peter was the boy's name, and he was intimidated by nothing more than Richard's height. Richard liked to keep the men in the pub in order and most times the most effective way to settle a score was by demonstrating in particular to the young men that he was the boss of the place.
Sean did not buy into Richard's macho nonsense. The man was soft hearted, anyone could see that. The sister on the other hand was a force to be reckoned with. She was single, with no child or man. He believed the reason for this was what she represented. No man wanted competition at his own home, in particular the men of Larouse. They believed that a woman's place was at home managing the household and raising a family.
Intimidation was something they would not stand for, and she was not womanly material, not in his eyes anyways. He wished her luck in finding a man in the community who would be able to handle her. He pitied whoever this person would be because she would not make it easy. Sean sipped some more liquid from the glass and smiled crookedly to himself. She was a slip of a woman.
Her name was Fautina. She barely weighed one hundred pounds, but she was a spitfire. He had to admire her parents. They must have foreseen her persona as a babe. The name fits her well; to Sean she was the fort behind his pal Richard. Most of the men tried to stay out of her way.
Passing his fingers lazily on the rim of the small glass Sean, understood why Fautina sometimes acted this way. Take him for instance, most of these people saw him as a proud, tough man, bordering on mean, but he did not give a damn.
Being soft had never gotten him anywhere. Look at what happened to his little brother. Sometimes a man just had to be man regardless of the repercussions. This meant taking the bull by the horns.
Sean tensed as he felt a presence behind him. He wriggled his nose against the strong whiff of bay rum which accosted him. This particular odor he knew, as well as its owner. He did not bother facing him but kept his head down and waited.
'You are wasting my time,' his companion snarled. 'You have one more month to deliver. That's it. Do we understand each other?'
Sean slowly raised his head and looked up at the rugged, hard contour of the lined face. Small beady, chilly, brown eyes collided with his. Inwardly Sean shivered; those eyes reminded him of a snake ready to strike. A tight sly grin was split across a wide upturned lip. Inhaling deeply, Sean tried to suppress the anger which threatened to erupt. 'Yea it is, very clear.' Sean sneered at him with unmitigated contempt. Nonchalantly, he turned his back, dismissing his unwanted companion.
'It better be,' the man growled and sauntered away. Slowly, Sean released the death grip on the counter and gulped down the last nip of whiskey. Staggering to his feet, he knocked down the worthless piece of crap of a stool. Looking grumpily at Richard he sourly mumbled. 'Have one of the boys make a few stools for you Richie. This piece of garbage could barely hold the weight of a woman far less a grown man.'
'You know how I hate asking Sean. If I do so these boys would think that I owe them and rightfully so. I am not taking any handouts. I will try to do it when I can. This place is not my home you know; it is just a means to an end,' he responded, a bit frustrated.
Waving his comments aside Sean muttered, 'Yeah, yeah I know, and then it is up to me big boy, isn't it? I would hate to visit again and find my butt flat down on these dirty floors. I am calling it a night. See you tomorrow Richard.'
Saluting a few of his drinking buddies, Sean exited the run-down building, shutting out the boisterous camaraderie within.
The night was black as charcoal and it swallowed him up. Hardly any stars or the moon was visible. Tonight the heavenly bodies did not see it necessary to grace a man with their presence.
'Well, tough shit.' Sean garbled as he wobbled down the street. He could live with that. His footing was uneven due to the many holes and stones in his way. He kicked maliciously at the unseen debris in his path and stumbled on something hard, likely a rock, but he righted himself immediately. With no electricity or street lamps to guide his path, he pulled the information from the recesses of his memory, and smartly crisscrossed his way on the path before him, trying to avoid some of the obstacles he knew were close by. He knew this road like the back of his hand and tonight was no different from any other. Reaching the crossroads, he lingered uncertainly for a few seconds. Scratching his head, he wrestled with his thoughts. Which road should he venture tonight? Glancing at the one on the right, he paused. Then abruptly he turned away. With a sigh, he let his feet guide him to his destination. His heart was not included in his decision.
***
Abigale lay down gingerly on the foam bed in the tiny bedroom she shared with her spouse. As soon as she heard the front door squeak open, she knew that Sean was home. Another night spent out. She had waited for hours last night and he did not come home. She did not feel like facing him this morning. Like a coward, she stayed in the room and hovered under the covers, feigning sleep. She sensed when he entered the room; he stood looking at her for a few seconds then walked towards the head of the bed and plopped down roughly on it, jolting her small frame. Sliding closer towards her side of the bed, he gently shook her shoulders and whispered, 'Come on Abby it is time to get up. The sun is almost out and I have to be out in the fields early.'
She blithely ignored him, and delved further into the quilt. His sigh was audible and Abigale felt the bed dip as he got up from his position and started shuffling around the room.
'Abigale I know that you are awake, but if you want to pretend otherwise, this is fine with me. We will talk about this later. I am off to work.'
Abigale listened to his receding footsteps then the clanging of dishes as he thumped around in the kitchen. At this rate, he would wake up the whole household. Turning on her side, Abigale placed both pillows over her ears trying to drown out the banging. Let him simmer and find his way around the kitchen. The gall of the man. Did he really expect her to get up and serve him breakfast this morning? Well he had something else coming.
Swat! Sean struck the cockroach, which was scurrying across the kitchen floor. He stared at the remnants of the dead insect lodged between three of his fingers. Calmly he turned and walked to the trash can to dispose. He felt sick to his stomach. He felt trapped, like the muck in his hands, squashed and immobile with no way out.
Sean's head was pounding and the pain was slowly becoming intolerable, but he mentally pushed it away like so many other things in his life. Drinking too much liquor on an almost empty stomach came with its consequences, and to top it off Abigale was mad as a hornet at him. He knew she was hurt, but what else could he do? He wished at times that he had never taken on the family mantle.
Being the eldest child had its disadvantages. If he was honest, he did not really have a choice. Some people might disagree with him and say otherwise, but apart from him, who else would have been able to take the lead? It was handed to him. He did not have a say in the matter at the time. After his Pop died, he was next in line.
After disposing of the insect, Sean trudged to the sink which he had built with his own hands. The pipe was made with some old copper, bamboo, plastic, and wires. After opening it, he had to wait for a few seconds for the pipe head to sputter. The water started trickling slowly into the sink. He washed his hands, closed it, then placed an empty bucket under it to collect the drip.
Sighing, Sean straightened and grabbed the only clean kitchen towel on the rack and wiped his hands, silently reminding himself to make some time this weekend to fix the pipe and do some of the much needed repairs around the place.
At thirty-eight Sean was a handsome man with short curly black hair complemented by his rich brown skin; and a tall lanky physique standing at over six feet three. His eyes were honey-dewed in color, which was further accentuated by his high cheek bones. He was a quiet individual who did not say much and kept to himself.
Walking to the front door of the small hut where he lived with his family, he pushed it open for ventilation.
The interior of the house was warm this morning, unlike most days, which were chilly. Maybe the heat generated from his body was due to the amount of alcohol he had consumed last night. Dragging a callused hand across his face, he realized he was perspiring profusely. A few drops of sweat fell across his face and he could feel the t-shirt clinging to his back; his body was trying to get rid of the toxins already. He stooped and placed a piece of wood at the bottom of the door to prevent it from banging as he welcomed the morning breeze. It looked like breakfast was on him this morning since Abigale and the children were still in bed and he had to get to work early. He loved starting his day before the sunrise, just as his Pop used to. A man got so much done before the day really began, he used to say.
Sean loved his home; he was born and raised in the small community of Larouse. Nestled on a hill between two fishing villages, Larouse had a population of sixty people, inclusive of children. Farming was the main way of life, with the men as the main breadwinners. The women were homemakers, but most of them assisted their husbands or partners on the farms. Fresh fruits, vegetables, and ground provisions were in abundance. No one went hungry. They bartered and shared their goods and supplies. Sean saw it as a huge extended family. To the outsider they might seem like an uneducated and humble clan, but this was far from the truth. They were a proud lot, some of them were so set in their ways that they had difficulty embracing change, whilst others were just plain stubborn and did not easily accept help from outsiders unless it was utterly necessary.
More than one quarter of the people in the community was educated. Sean was one of the educated few. He spent a year in the city going to school. His father had made certain of that. Although his Pop was illiterate, he was a wise man and he saw the importance of an education. He had spent a small fortune on him, God bless his heart. After the year was over, Sean had returned to the place he called home. There was no way he could survive in the city. He felt so restricted, unable to be himself or be free. Also, he had to buy everything. If he wanted a bunch of ripe bananas, a mango or breadfruit, he could not go in his backyard or ask a neighbor but had to spend.
Life in the city was a bustle. The people were always on the move, like a non-stop train. They did not have time for their children or each other. He could not see himself settling down and making a life there. He did not regret his decision one bit, no way jose. At times life in the country could dampen a man's spirit, but he had learnt that as one went through life, challenges would always be present.
Pulling himself out of his reverie, Sean placed some water on the coal pot to boil, then went about preparing his dékouché. He quickly tossed the hot roasted dasheen from the searing coals into his enameled flask. The meal was completed with sardines and leftovers from last night's meal. Closing the lid tightly and trapping the warmth within, Sean placed it in his knapsack. He quickly drank a cup of coffee, beat some eggs, gobbled them raw to clear off the hangover, and placed the dirty dishes on the kitchen table. Dressing in his garden wear, which had seen too many washes, along with his work boots, he exited the room. His day had begun.
***
Abigale waited at least ten minutes after she heard the front door close. Rising, she placed her right hand under the bed and pulled out the white porcelain pail that was used for night soil during the night for her small family. Wriggling her nose at the stench of stale urine, she quickly proceeded to the outhouse and disposed of it. She always made it her duty to take care of this part, no matter how unpleasant the task. She knew that Sean would not mind doing it if he had to, but she saw this as part of a woman's duties.
After dumping the waste, she walked to the closest drum, behind the house, poured some water and soap in the pail, and left it to soak. She tarried outside, lifting her face towards the clear blue sky, and took a deep breath of the clean, fresh, country air.
Splashing some cold water on her face, she lifted some to her mouth and gargled. After spitting out the water, she went back to the drum to get some fresh water to prepare breakfast. She stood rooted to the spot staring at her reflection in the water. She was looking at a stranger. Boy, the years had not favored her well, she thought.
She had never been beautiful, but she had some compelling features; which sometimes had passers-by stop to give her a second look. Her once thick, coarse black hair was now thin with a few strands of silver, barely taking a one plait. Her skin was dry, and rough, no doubt from too many days spent in the sun. Her once oval face now was a bit gaunt and a pair of large grey eyes looked up searchingly at her. The only thing going for her was her stature and her hands. She had lovely hands. She has always been slender in shape with just enough womanly curves. Even after bearing two children, she was able to maintain her size.
Pulling herself together, she slowly made her way back into the hut and promised herself to avoid using this particular drum on a morning. There were two extra ones in the shade away from the sunlight. There was simply no need for her to see herself.
When she entered the kitchen, a few minutes later, the smell of burnt bread assaulted her nostrils. Her daughter, Suzie, was bent over the coal-pot trying to make breakfast, whilst Suzie's six-year-old brother, Josh, sat spread-eagled on the kitchen floor with his thumb in his mouth, watching his sister's every move. In his left hand, was his pillow, clutched as if it were a lifeline. Josh never left his bed on a morning without it. As soon as Josh saw Abigale, he wobbled up to her; she picked him up and placed loud kisses on both of his cheeks. Josh was small for his age. Barely over two feet tall and weighing forty pounds, he was the baby of the family.
He had short dark hair; brown skin, and had he had inherited his father's honeydew eyes. Carrying him on her hips, Abigail walked to the coal pot, noting the misshapen slices of bread that Suzie had placed to toast. She walked to the living room, returned Josh to his seat on the floor, and went back to assist Suzie.
'Morning, Ma. Has Papa left for the fields?' Suzie asked.
Placing her hand on Suzie's shoulder, she whispered "Yes he has. He left very early whilst you guys were sleeping."
'I hungry Mama,' Josh's small voice floated over to her, 'I want porridge.'
'What is the password, Josh? Abigale berated him. 'I want some porridge please, Mama,' he corrected himself.
'There will be no cereal this morning, baby. Your sister has prepared some toast we will have it with jam.'
Suzie looked apologetically at her, 'Sorry Ma. I burnt the bread.'
Patting her shoulder, Abigale responded, 'Do not worry about it; burnt bread has never hurt anybody. I have eaten many burnt pieces in my lifetime. A few more will not harm me.'
Abigale saved the last remaining four pieces from the fire, placed them on the large platter, and generously smeared each piece with jam.
Josh came towards them when he saw the jam and picked up the spoon, which had a glob still stuck to it. He started licking the spoon; Abigale looked up at her son and smiled. 'Breakfast is almost ready Josh.'
'Yummy!' He mouthed, swallowing and licking jam from the utensil. In less than five minutes, the Montgomery family were sitting and eating breakfast.