Summer Story

[Bandana]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: LadyZ</div><div class="ubbcode-body">poor murkle mi baxide..

only dutty wickid badminded eediat ppl hole grudge an tek tings out pon pikney sayka feelings dem have up fi dem parents.

Fyah fi Murkle. Shi shoodan go prison fi kill de man </div></div>

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[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

Yes, i said it...and??

[Bandana]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: LadyZ</div><div class="ubbcode-body">Yes, i said it...and?? </div></div>

[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/helpsmilie.gif[/img] you need [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/helpsmilie.gif[/img]


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[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

[img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/grin.gif[/img]

[MsExced]

Re: Summer Story

No man I don't thinks she should have gone to prison because she did not kill him intentionally. I agree don't carry the grudge for so long but she is human after all.

I'm loving the discussion in between installments.

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Chapter XX

The family was huddled many nights, with Mama trying to get to the bottom of it all, or really to get an answer to the burning question: who was the father? Sarah sat in one corner, two worn out to speak, even if she was so inclined. Myrtle sat in the next, dismissive of the furor and adding no guesses. Mary used her charm and pleas to no avail. And Mama wailed and argued and threatened, but got no where.

“You want to kill off dis chile, is dat it?” Mama demanded finally, when Sarah pecked listlessly at the food placed before her. “Dat is a sin yuh know, a wickid wickid ting.”

A glimmer of the old devilment sparked in Sarah’s eyes and she looked up at her mother.

“Sin? A joke yuh a mek, right?”

“Well, we may not have gone to church much-”

“Mama, we’ve never been to church-”

“Dat’s not true,” Mama cried, shying away from the near truth. “Is just been a long time, that’s all. Plus, were going to go for Myr-”

Myrtle’s chair screeching back from the table halted her mother’s tirade. She stood and glanced coldly at her sister.

“Well you finally have what you want. Everyone here is looking at you. Everything now is all about you. You have the stage. You enjoying it? Eh? Seeing your mother in such a state? You enjoy doing this to her and to your sister?” she demanded indicating Mary, who sat, sans husband, next to her mother.

“For years, you’ve been nothing but trouble and everybody’s put up with it cause you’re the baby. Wash belly can do no wrong, right? But you had to take it one step further, didn’t you? Had to go get your own belly. Well. What’re you going to do with it? You keeping it? Or are you going to dash it way? Cause time’s running out you know…”

She bent forward, her clenched fists supporting her on the table. “Want my advise, my dear sister?” she sneered. “Dash it way. Cause then you’re going to have to share the limelight. And you won’t like that, will you? So kill it. Cause with two o’ you running around, it just might be what will finally kill her,” she flicked her head in their mother’s direction.

Sarah stared transfixed at the hate that spewed from her sister’s eyes. She knew then, that there would be no reconciliation, no forgiveness. And she admitted finally to herself that she wasn’t a victim. She’d grown tired of playing the part. She glanced down at the food that had grown cold and was beginning to congeal on her plate. But instead of picking at it as she’d been doing so far, she deliberately picked up her knife and delicately cut a piece of the meat. Raising her eyes to her sister’s, she deliberately placed the bit of meat in her mouth, wrapped her tongue around it indecently and chewed slowly. She watched with a certain detachment, the vein throb at her sister’s temple. Myrtle straightened, gathering her rage about her and turned from the room. Outside it, she paused, sagging against the wall. She heard her mother speak.

“Sarah, don’t worry Myrtle. She still in a lot of pain. She no mean it.”

“It’s alright Mama,” Sarah’s voice came. “But yuh right, I have to take care of myself, if Iwant this baby to be healthy and right. So, do you think it’s going to be a girl or a boy?”

Myrtle staggered off to her room, her despair so thick, she thought she was drowing in it. Pablo’s baby, how could she stand it?

******

It was a difficult pregnancy for Sarah. She resented the child that grew within her and she regretted having allowed the time frame for getting rid of it to pass. The pleasure she’d thought to get from Myrtle’s pain had not materialised for Myrtle had again left the island for Miami. And so Sarah had to endure the trials of nausea, of the heat, of her weight gain and intense discomfort, without a smidgen of joy to compensate. She’d thought to rail against Myrtle’s absence by revealing the paternity of the child to her mother who asked day after day. But something stopped her, maybe it was the memory of the way he’d felt squeezing her neck, calling what they did wicked, maybe it was the force with which he’d given himself to her on his last day, or maybe it was the sight of him broken and bleeding beneath the wheels of the car driven by the woman he’d loved. She could not say for sure and she was not inclined to look too deep for fear of what she would find.

Instead, she endured her mother’s and her sister’s ministrations. She’d laughed quietly and ironically on more than one occasion at the dispassion and unwantedness with which she viewed their assistance. Myrtle had accused of her of doing anything to gain and keep the limelight. Now she wanted to be left alone but could not be. Sometimes the fussing drove her to barricade herself in her room and but the incessant knocking and demands to be let in and made her cover her ears and scream loud in her mind.

Myrtle was right. Things would never be the same again. Sarah would have to share with her child. She was finding as her time grew close, that she was dreading more and more the responsibility of raising a child. Her mother would do it, despite her high blood pressure and the early onset of arthritis to her knees, her mother would gladly take care of her first grandchild. Mary would step in when their mother grew tired, Sarah knew, for Mary had confided her pain of not being able to conceive and had expressed her willingness to have the child if Sarah did not want it.

So many purchases had been made. A new bassinet, a rocker, a stroller, clothes of yellow and white and green and booties and with little hats to match. There were rattles in the appropriate neutral colours and squeeky toys and bouncy things. None of it moved Sarah to tenderness. She grew more annoyed and felt more displaced when they began moving all the baby’s items to her room.

“We have extra room eena de house,” Sarah had cried, clenching her teeth when the baby kicked. “Why we cyaa put de baby eena one nedda room?”

“Stop talk foolishness,” her mother had chided. “The baby have to stay with you while you breastfeed. Who you ever hear have them baby in another room, while dem sleep in a next room?”

“This is not olden days, Mama,” Sarah had cried, her frustration overwhelming her. “I can’t go anywhere without seeing everything bout dis blastid pickney! I wish I did kill it! I wish I did kill it before it come to dis!”

Her mother had gasped. “God gwine strike yuh fi dat! What a wicked ting fi say!”

“Mi no care,” Sarah had sobbed. “It too much, man. Too much.”

Mama wrote to Myrtle and told her about the difficulty she was having in getting Sarah to accept the baby. Mama could not understand how someone could be so removed from the child growing within them. It was unnatural, she’d declared. And it was a great pity that Sarah could not see the gift that she’d been given. For just as Pablo was taken, this baby had been given as his replacement.

Myrtle dropped the letter, scorched by Mama’s words. That baby was no replacement of Pablo. That baby was all Sarah. She would turn out to be just like her mother – self-centered and distructive. Myrtle could not see it being otherwise.

So Myrtle never responded to her mother’s letters. She felt the need to read them, but was incapable of answering back. What could she say? There were no words to describe her despair and her loneliness. And even though her mother described her uncertain health and pleaded with her daughter to come back, Myrtle could not reply.

Sarah knew her mother wrote to her sister often. She knew her sister did not return the courtesy. Sarah did not care if Myrtle ever returned and one day, after her mother said for the millionth time that she wished her eldest were here, Sarah snapped.

[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

nice n long...just how i like em

[applepie]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: LadyZ</div><div class="ubbcode-body">
only dutty wickid badminded eediat ppl hole grudge an tek tings out pon pikney sayka feelings dem have up fi dem parents.

</div></div>

Unfortunately that is what unforgiveness does.

[Bandana]

Re: Summer Story

<div class="ubbcode-block"><div class="ubbcode-header">Originally Posted By: Nunya</div><div class="ubbcode-body"> Sarah did not care if Myrtle ever returned and one day, after her mother said for the millionth time that she wished her eldest were here, Sarah snapped.
</div></div>


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[BlessedLadyOfZion]

Re: Summer Story

So Sarah gonna spill the beans?

[sistactry]

Re: Summer Story

larks man, cha,

publish de book and done so me can juss read to me haat content, caa all disyaa stop and go a gi me bad tumuk! [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/mad2.gif[/img]

[Nylah]

Re: Summer Story

Good Afternoon Ms Nunya:

Please to write the next instalment so I have something to do this after noon.

Tanx

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[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

Yuh memba whe de housekeepa name? [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/helpsmilie.gif[/img]

[Nylah]

Re: Summer Story

Cho!!

I get all excited to see you post, only to find it there is no story - only a question I dont even understand. [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/mad.gif[/img]

[Nunya]

Re: Summer Story

~lol~

Sorry, mi a write as we speak, but there was a part that needed the housekeeper's name, and I couldn't remember it [img]/forums/images/%%GRAEMLIN_URL%%/helpsmilie.gif[/img] And it just sounded silly saying 'housekeeper'...

Ah well...