Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

Take a deep breath, Kim Clarke. Cool runnings. You’re happy.

— Funny thing in the Star today, he says, walking in.

— Honey, you sure you don’t want to change out of your good clothes?

— You’re my mother now?

He smiles.

— Is you scare away the gulls?

— They were bothering you again?

— Not any more than usual. What kind of gulls you have in Arkansas?

— The same gulls I told you about three days ago.

— Oh. My brain is like a sieve. As soon as information go in I strain it right back out.

— Sounds more like a rectum than a sieve.

— But what a way you bright though, eh?

— Love it when you curse me in Jamaican.

— Ha ha. Well, if any of this oil splash on you I going tell you that you get what you was bloodcloth looking for.

— More.

— Pass the onion and skellion.

— Where?

— That basket on the cupboard by the door beside you… watch your step, I just shine the floor… slippery.

— I’m a nimble guy.

— Uh-huh.

— Man, you chop that thing really fast. Does every Jamaican woman know how to cook?

— Yes. Well, all the women who not worthless. So no, no Jamaican woman in Montego Bay can cook.

— You trying to get me to stop going to Mantana’s?

— Ha.

— Hey, babykins, I gotta tell you something.

— Honey, I can’t deal with anything in that newspaper right now. That Star is nothing but shame and scandal and white girl on page three showing her titties. What you steal from work today?

— I didn’t steal. A jar, just a jar, but it’s a green one, like emerald, I guess.

— You should buy me an emerald.

— Kim.

— I mean, I was born in November and that’s actually topaz, but you’re the one that started with emerald and—

— What the fuck, Kim.

— I don’t want to hear no shit about nothing in the r’asscloth Star , Chuck.

— What? I wasn’t talking about the Star . I was talking about Alcorp.

— What about Alcorp?

— We got a memo today. The company is winding down operations at a faster timetable than was originally anticipated — I mean, projected.

— You want to translate that memo?

— We’re flying out next week.

— Oh. Oh shit. Is good thing.

— It’s kinda fucked-up, really.

— No. Is a good thing the garage already cleaned out! So much stuff to do! But what the hell, right, as you would say? What can’t pack just get left, eh?

— We means the company, Kim.

— Of course no ackee in America so you better eat this up when me finish.

— We meaning the staff and crew.

— I better make it extra good since it’s the last supper, haha, sorry Jesus, me borrowing that one.

— I gotta pack.

— Pack, yes, to think, you’re going to think is funny, I was looking at that ugly purple grip just a while ago.

— My stuff, all this shit from the office, I don’t really have a place for any of it.

— I wonder if I should pack jeans. I really was thinking what if I should pack jeans. I mean, I know I’m not going to pack towels and rags because that is just ghetto people behaviour. But jeans? I mean, you know how much I love the Halston, or rather how much you love how I wear the Halston.

— So much stuff to leave behind.

— But to pack a towel, what kinda butu business is that? Is not like we flying to Mocho. It’s like packing a toothbrush. I want to brush my teeth fresh in America. I know that sounds stupid.

— Oh Lord, Kim.

— And toothpaste. You Americans get gel toothpaste, in the big family pack that had a pump cap.

— I didn’t think it would come down to this.

— Will I have time to do my hair? To Rahtid, the deejay playing Andy Gibb again? The song just reach number one or something? You just call in and request it?

— Kim.

— Fine, no hairdo then, well, if I look like a madwoman on the plane is your fault. You better speak up for me.

— Okay, okay, Kim.

— Before customs cart me off.

— Kim.

— Jesus Christ, you sure know how to spring something on a woman. At least nobody going say we eloped.

— What we—

— Bedsheets, pack or leave?

— Huh?

— I swear, man, don’t serve no damn use.

— They’re not going to—

— We leave all the white ones, except the Egyptian cotton. That one we’re taking, you hear me? Come to think of it, you better make me pack your belongings because you men don’t know how to pack either.

— It’s all your Manley’s fault. He’s fucking up everything with this… with this…

— I think you should pack all your gabardine pants, but none of the Kariba suits, don’t want nobody in America thinking their son turn into socialist.

— And now—

— And that blue shirt for when we go dancing. Is there a Studio 54 in Arkansas?

— Not going to Arkansas. Never going back to Arkansas.

— Oh. Okay. Well, wherever then. Ha, I was just about to say, wherever as long as I am with you until I remembered that I heard that same damn line in a movie last week. Or maybe it was on Dallas . You think it was Dallas ? Pamela Barnes would say some shit like that.

— Fucking hell, it’s like a troops pullout. I said to Jackman, it’s Montego Bay, not Saigon, motherfucker.

— Should I tell the jewellery store? You know, I didn’t really resign, I just stopped working.

— They actually chartered a jet.

— Fuck them, no fuck ’em, as you would say. I mean, I didn’t even quit, I just stopped, remember? You thought it was so funny—

— Chartered a fucking jet like it’s going to be an airlift.

— I know, why contact them now? I’ll just have to put up with all those other wives on the plane but fuck ’em, right? I love it when you say fuck ’em.

— Kim—

— So much to do. I can’t believe you just spring this on me. Can’t believe they spring this on you.

— Kim—

— But hey, is so it go. When—

— KIM!

— WHAT?

— Oh baby. Babykins, what we had here was really swell, but…

— What.

— I’ll send you some money, as much as you need, anything you need.

— What.

— You can stay here as long as you like. It’s paid up for the rest of the year.

— What.

— I thought. I mean, surely. I mean, this was swell, baby, it really was, but surely you didn’t think—

— What.

— You knew. I mean, you know I can’t… Baby—

— Fine, do your airlift without me. Leave the ticket so I can come to America through the back door. No that doesn’t piss me off. Much.

— Baby, no—

— Stop the baby and say what you’re saying, damn it.

— I’ve been saying it for the past five minutes.

— Saying what? What Chuck? What?

— You’re not. You’re… you’re not coming with me.

— I’m not coming with you.

— No, you’re not. I mean, you must have known.

— I must have known. I must have known. Right, I must have known. No wait, make me say it like you, I must have knowwwwwnnnn.

— Jesus Christ, Kim, the stove!

— I must have known.

— Kim!

The man shoves past me and turns off the stove. Smoke all around. All I can see is him, back to me, smoke shooting east and shooting west like they coming out of his ears, like a Bugs Bunny cartoon.

— What’s so funny? What’s so funny?

Kim. Kim. Kim, you must have known.

— Stop fucking laughing at me. Jesus Christ, Kim, I didn’t even take the ring off. I just don’t understand why you would think, why you would assume… I mean, you hang out at Mantana’s. Everybody knows about Mantana’s. Everybody. I mean, I never even took my ring off. Oh, man, fuck, now look, dinner, it’s all ruined.