Nicole Dennis-Benn - Here Comes the Sun

Charles puts the cup to his face again, completely burying his nose. She watches the rhythm of his throat as he swallows. When he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand he says, “Gone.”

Verdene plays with the rim of her cup. “I’m sorry.”

Charles shrugs. “It is what it is.”

Verdene picks up her cup and holds it to warm her hands.

“I’m still getting over my mother passing. So I can just imagine how you feel.”

“He didn’t die. He left.”

“Oh.”

A slick of blue sky frames his head. Usually when Verdene sits at the table this time of day she sees nothing but the sky. This only makes her want to do everything in her power to keep him there, her first real company besides Margot. “More tea?” she asks, hoping to change the mood. He nods. She pours more tea into his cup and rests the teapot at the center of the table. Charles inspects it. “Dis remind me of something I would see at Buckingham Palace,” he says.

Verdene chuckles. “Have you ever been?”

“No, but dat’s di kinda teapot ah imagine di queen would have in har cupboard.”

“It was a gift my aunt sent my mother when she first moved to London.”

“What is it like ovah dere?”

Verdene pauses. Her time in Brixton is a period she doesn’t talk about.

“It was all right,” she says.

“Jus’ all right?”

“I didn’t exactly move there by choice.”

“Did you evah meet di queen?”

“No. In fact, I didn’t go out much. Just work, home, and church. Every now and again I’d go dancing. My job as an editorial assistant for my uncle’s small press was too demanding anyway.”

Charles’s eyes widen. “Yuh went to church?”

“Why is that surprising?”

“Well. .” His voice trails off.

“I’m not a heathen. I’m just like you.”

“You’re nothing like me.” He says this too quickly. Verdene must have looked hurt, because he corrects himself with, “Ah don’t do church.”

“Do you go to school?” she asks, glad to change the subject. “You seem smart.”

“Don’t do that either. Not since my ole man left. Ah had to take care of my mother.”

“That’s very responsible of you.”

“If ah continued school ah woulda be ah architect. Yuh know, design buildings an’ big hotels like di ones here on di North Coast. Ah woulda mek sure not to move people outta dem homes.”

“It’s not too late, you know.”

Charles shakes his head. “For me it is. People like me can’t afford all dat schooling.”

“There are scholarships. I can help you apply.”

“Wid all due respec’, miss, me is not yuh charity. Me come here fi work. Chop yuh grass an’ wash yuh walkway. I’ve always made my own way wid nobody to help me.”

“Fine. All I’m saying is you can do so much. You’re still very young. You wouldn’t want to wake up one day and realize that you’ve wasted your whole life. It’s not a good feeling, trust me.”

“Yuh t’ink yuh waste yuh life?” he asks, cocking his head to one side.

“There are many things I would’ve done differently.”

“Gimme one t’ing you woulda done different.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten married so young.”

“Yuh married?”

“Yes. For five years.”

“To a man?”

“No. A woman.”

There is movement under his skin as his muscles give, slackening his jaws. That’s when Verdene bursts out laughing and says, “Yes, silly. A man.” He laughs too, but only a little, looking both relieved and confused.

“So is it true?”

“What?”

“What people seh ’bout yuh.”

“They don’t know me.”

She gets up and lifts the teapot. “Let me warm more water. This is getting cold.”

Charles leans back in his chair. He spins his saucer around but doesn’t say anything — as though the questions that Verdene sees brewing in his mind are too much to ask all at once. The tea and small talk are good enough for today. Though Charles has proven himself to be more open-minded than other young men in River Bank, Verdene is unsure of what he can take and what he cannot.

“What made you help me that day?”

Charles shrugs. “’Cause ah know what it’s like to be scorned. To be di talk ah di town. To feel like di whole world turn dem nose up at you ’cause dem t’ink dem bettah than you.”

“Your mother raised a good son,” Verdene says, almost reaching her free hand to touch his, but deciding against it.

SKETCHES OF THE NEW HOTEL ARE SPREAD OUT ON ALPHONSO’S dining table. It will be bigger and grander than Palm Star Resort, with butler service, a Jacuzzi in every room, a spa and wellness center with a range of different massages from hot stone to erotic, a sports bar, a poolside restaurant, and a gigantic ballroom. Margot studies the sketches and realizes that River Bank will be completely taken over. The Y-shaped river will be used for rafting or water sports, and the white sand beach will be transformed into a nude beach. Margot doesn’t say anything in the midst of the excitement around her.

“Not sure what we’ll call it yet, but whatever we call it has to have a good ring to it,” Alphonso says to a group of private investors. “The brand is as important as the features.”

“I agree,” one investor says. He has an oddly shaped mustache.

“We have until August to figure it out. Right now we should be more concerned with the development. We’re losing money with this government contract. NEPA hasn’t given us the go-ahead yet.” Alphonso’s voice booms like thunder. He has been drinking scotch and his face is flushed.

“Why do we even need their approval?” one investor asks. He’s the most serious, only pouring himself water despite all the liquor offered. “We can do it the easy way. Get property owners to sign off on it. If we get their blessings, we’d be good to go.”

“Yes, I hear what you’re saying, Virgil,” Alphonso replies. “But even with property owners giving us permission, it would cost us. Don’t we have to give them something? It’s been hard getting people off the land. We need a government contract to protect us.”

“That’s complicated, waiting on those snails in Parliament to give us their signature,” says Virgil. “While we wait, our materials are wasting away in the elements. That’s a lot of money down the drain. More money than it would cost to give those property owners a small compensation and get the others out by force.”

“Force?” Margot asks, speaking up for the first time since the gathering. “They lived there all their lives. Don’t you think they deserve the decency of a warning?”

The men halt their bickering and look at Alphonso because, of course, only he can explain why she’s there and why her opinions matter to their thirty-plus years of mergers, annihilations, forceful displacements, monopolies, and extortions. There is enough room to back away. But she stays.

“Don’t worry ’bout that.” Alphonso puts one arm around her waist. “You’ll be taken care of.” He kisses her neck.

But Margot stiffens. “What about the others? What about my. .” She pauses to catch her breath. “My family lives there.”

The other men avert their eyes, shaking their heads.

“Don’t worry yourself,” Alphonso repeats. He chuckles with the men in the room. Alphonso still hasn’t made his offer to promote her. Yesterday in the boardroom he only spoke to the administrative staff about working overtime to pick up where Miss Novia Scott-Henry left off until he hires someone new. She should keep her mouth shut if she wants him to choose her to run the new property. She always wanted to leave River Bank anyway. With the new promotion she can send Thandi to sixth form in Kingston and then to university. She can buy that house she has been dreaming about in Lagoons and convince Verdene to come and live with her as a housemate. They can be together without anyone questioning them. She might find a golden-age home for Grandma Merle. And Delores? Delores will just have to fend for herself.