Marlon James - A Brief History of Seven Killings

— Dinner’s ruined.

— It’s okay.

— Dinner’s ruined?

— It’s okay.

The ring, the ring, the fucking ring like a Cracker Jack ring in a box, a free toy inside.

— Baby, you know how fond I am of you.

— What’s her name, your white wife?

— What?

— The white wife, the woman you cheating on to get some black pum-pum ’pon the side.

— She’s not white.

— I need a cigarette.

— You don’t smoke.

— I want a cigarette.

— Babykins—

— I say I want a fucking cigarette, so give me a bombor’asscloth cigarette!

— Okay, okay, babyki—

— Don’t fucking call me that, don’t ever call me that pussycloth name.

— Sorry, here’s you cig—

— You expect me to rub it ’gainst me battyhole to light it?

— This lighter, well, it was my father’s.

— Me look like me want to thief you fucking lighter?

— Kim, I’m so sorry.

— Everybody sorry. Everybody so fucking sorry. You know what? I tired of everybody sorry. I wish you wasn’t sorry. I wish you would say you not sorry, that me is an idiot. That we were playing dolly house because it was cute and now you have to go back to your American white wife now.

— She’s not white.

— I need to lie down.

— Of course, baby, take your time, take your—

— Stop talking like you is my fucking doctor. Poor Chuck, didn’t think this was how it was going to turn out, did you? How many times you rehearse this? Two? Three? On the way over here? I at least deserve four rehearsals.

— Kim—

— Stop calling me that name. How about we shake hands right now and say nice doing business.

— Now look, there’s no call—

— You prefer to write a cheque and leave it on the breakfront?

— I never once called you a prostitute.

— Of course you were so fond of me. Bombocloth white man bullshit.

— This is not about white or black, my wife—

— Oh I’ve grown so fond of you. We’ve grown oh so very fond of you my dear, so very fond—

— She’s blacker than you.

— What is this then, black pussy contest?

— Kim.

— Shut up! You don’t get to tell me what there is no bombocloth cause for in anything.

— What? You’re not making any sense.

— Just take me to foreign.

— What?

— Just take me to foreign.

— What are you saying?

— Just take me to foreign, to r’asscloth. Leave me at the nearest bus stop.

— Kim, you’re not making any sense.

— Look, I just got to go. I just got to fucking go. I’m so ready to go. Chuck, please I’ll do anything. I’m so ready to go. I’m so ready to fucking go I’m so ready to go—

— Go where? I don’t understand what you’re saying, Kim, let go of my shirt, what the fuck? What has gotten over you? Kim, Kim, let go. Kim. Let. Go. Fucking hell!

— Ugh—

— I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m… look what you made me do. Kim, it’s your—

— Just shut up please.

— But you might be bleeding. Let me—

— Don’t fucking touch me. Just give me the damn paper.

— But you never read the Star , you hate the news.

— Stop talking like you know me. You don’t know me, you hear me? You don’t know me. Makes me want to vomit. This half boyfriend, half daddy, paternal fuckmate bullshit. That’s what it does, it makes me want to vomit right here on your fucking floor. I don’t even like ackee. Give me that paper or, or, or I will start screaming.

— Baby—

— Please, please, please, please, please shut up. Just shut up. I’m going to go find my head.

I take his paper and I go into the bedroom and I slam it. Ring on his finger. Like me never see no ring on him finger. I did well and see ring on him finger. No I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it. The fucking son of a bitch.

— You is a fucking son of a bitch.

Calm down, Kim Clarke. Calm down. You couldn’t even shout that out because you know you’ve got no cause. Remember why God lead you to this house. Remember why God lead you to this room and go back out there and love his hair. Tell him you don’t have to be his wife, you can be his whatever you like woman. Is distance him want? You’re a Jamaican woman, you know how to give him distance. Go out there and say, Yes, baby, I understand. You have this world here and that world there, but those two worlds can’t mix, you know that. But look at us, look at us, we make two world work all the time and we don’t even live in a land as big as yours. Mr. Big has a wife in the hills and a woman in the clubs. The wife will never come down, the woman will never step up, so the man stays level. I can show you. And I don’t have to fly back on no Alcorp plane. I don’t have to live in Arkansas. I don’t have to set up no home. .. We don’t have to, oh shut the fuck up woman. ’Bout you can adapt. That doesn’t make you a woman, it makes you a bacteria. The man samfie you. Steal from a thief and God laughs. The man samfie you good. Like you wanted to set up no fucking dolly house in Arkansas. You just want a way. You just want a light. You just wanted a piggyback to jump off and everybody in this room right now know it. Go out there and love his hair. You already have passport and visa. But with him I would have had a… a what? Girl, you need to get the fuck out of this simmering pot before time run out. You think you’re safe, but look underneath your dress and you’ll see concentric circles all leading to one bull’s-eye. You think that your forehead don’t still have the mark? You think they not still looking for you?… No. I will go out there and I will love his hair. Tonight was the night I was supposed to love his hair. But you spoil the ackee. You know how much he loves ackee and you spoiled the ackee. Maybe you should go out dancing, tell him it’s one last time before he goes. We go. You were going to land in God’s land with this man and just suck up the American colour.

You know what—

Shut up

Just shut up

You sound like two black American brats in a TV comedy, “you shut up.”

Shit, I don’t even smoke.

— Kim, you okay in there?

— Don’t come in here.

— Have you put a bandage on your cheek yet?

— Don’t come in here.

I should have known. What the r’asscloth him think this is, that every woman in Mantana’s rehearse this day from the day they set foot in that club? Clearly every woman but me. I can’t remember any other man in the club. I mean, I can remember them but I can’t remember their fingers. Poor Kim Clarke, by the time you got to Mantana’s your purpose already blinded you. Poor Kim Clarke, Mummy and Daddy weren’t there to teach you about the time when woman and man come to the crossroads with cross purposes and if you give a man a free hand he will rub it all over you. Poor Kim Clarke. You knew Alcorp was closing shop and setting to go from before you met Chuck. Alcorp was setting to go and you had set your sights. On somebody. Everybody. Anybody. How do you make a man love you harder? Did every man in Mantana’s have a wedding ring or the mark of one on the fourth finger? Think on your feet, Kim. Think on your feet.

— Kim.

— I am alright. Just don’t come in here.

— Okay.

Stand still. Stand still and know peace. I swear now is when Sunday school turn out to serve some use. No you will not think about God right now. Maybe I will read the newspaper after all, maybe I will read the Star , The People’s Paper. I don’t know why he reads this every day other than to remind himself how stupid Jamaican people can be, is that it? And yet I have heard of what happened in Little Rock. This stupid girl paid attention in history class when they talked about civil rights and Martin Luther King.