The Other Side of Paradise: A Memoir (18 page)

“Well, me know the Lord was going to provide for you. Is because you never have any faith why you was so worry-worry.”

“Auntie, everybody in the church give money! Even the other children put money towards buying my school things.”

“What you saying to me?”

Auntie is breathing hard and her foot is tapping the floor when I finish telling her everything. “Is really Ella go beg the church people to buy them things fi you? And that is what you so happy ’bout? Jesus Savior, pilot me! Go put everything inside. I don’t want to look at them!” She is so angry she is frothing at the mouth. “And you—you should be shame of yourself! Next thing you will do is beg from strangers on the street corner! Get out of me face!”

I pick up everything and dash inside, happy that she did not make me throw away my things.

School starts in one week. The following day Auntie sends me to go get the missing book for English literature class. I go to the phone booth to call my father.

“Hello.”

“Hello, is this Junior Chin?”

“Yes, it is. How can I be of service?”

“It’s Stacey. Staceyann Chin. I passed my exam and I need help to go to high school.”

Silence.

“Hello, you heard me? It’s Staceyann Chin, the girl who—”

“I know who you are. I heard you.”

“I know that you said I am not your daughter, but I am not asking you to tell anybody that. I just need help to buy books and lunch money and things like that. Can you help me or not?”

He sighs.

“You don’t have to help me, you know. I won’t be upset with you or anything. Is just that I know if I don’t go to high school, I won’t ever make anything of myself. And—”

“It’s okay, young lady. You don’t have to say any more. I will help you. Do you know where my house is?”

“It’s right next door to Upper Deck Hotel on Leader Avenue.”

“Okay, just come here tomorrow and we will sort out the details.”

The next morning, when Auntie and Grace leave for work, I am sitting by the fish tank tossing pebbles into the still, black water. I wait to make sure neither of them has forgotten anything before I head to the bathroom. I put on my prettiest dress. The black top is stitched with white threads. There are no sleeves, no collar, and the skirt flares in a flurry of red, white, and blue stripes. It’s a little small, but I feel beautiful in it.

I take a taxi and get off at the bottom of Leader Avenue. By the time I reach the top of the hill I have convinced myself that the dress is too short, too tight. My hands are sweating and I want to change my dress. I climb the two flights of stairs and ring the doorbell. A small, dark, pretty woman comes to see who it is. I tell her my name is Staceyann Chin and I have come to see Mr. Junior Chin. She looks me up and down and opens the black grille door.

She gestures to the white lounge chair on the veranda. “I am Mrs. Chin. Everybody calls me Miss P. Come inside and sit down. He will be with you in a second.”

I sit on the veranda and wait. The view of the city is beautiful. There is nothing between the eyes and the whole city below. I wish I lived in a house where there was no mango tree and ackee tree and breadfruit tree blocking the view. After a few minutes I begin to wonder if he is not coming out. I get up and look inside. The living room is bigger than any living room I have ever seen. The windows are tall enough for a person to walk through. Twenty minutes later he comes out and tells me to follow him into his office.

“Sit down, young lady.”

He says all his sentences in the same tone. His voice is soft but full of authority, like he is used to people listening to him. I sit across from his desk and wait.

“I was just finishing my workout. Forgive the sweaty clothes. I just didn’t want to keep you waiting too long,” he says.

“It’s okay, sir. It’s no problem waiting for you.”

He sits down and asks if I know what the agreement will be. I tell him no. He says that he is providing a loan for me to go to school.

“You will never have to pay it back. The written contract is just to protect me and my family—in case someone tries to use the fact that I gave you money as proof of paternity.”

I don’t really understand what is going on. But because I don’t want him to get angry with me I say that that is okay with me. I want to die when he tells me to sit with my legs closed. I tug the hem of my dress, but it won’t cover my knees. I feel naked and dirty under his gaze.

“That dress is too short for such a big girl like you,” he says. “How old are you now, eleven or twelve?”

“I’m eleven,” I say. “I won’t be twelve until next Christmas.”

“You are still too big for that dress. If you sit carelessly I can see your underwear. These are things you should pay attention to as a young lady.”

He has no right to be talking to me like that. Especially since he says he is not my father. I want to get up and tell him to go to hell. I want to tell him that what I wear is none of his business, but he is already writing up the agreement, and I know I need the money to go to school. There is a column with the date and another with the amount loaned and yet another for my signature. Every time I come, he will fill in the date and the amount. I will sign in the column next to the date. He hands me the cardboard-covered notebook and asks me to sign my name.

“And make it legible. I want to be able to read it.”

“I know what legible means. You don’t have to define it!”

I write my name as neatly as I can. He closes the book and puts it in a drawer in his desk. He hands me the money. He does not put it in an envelope.

“There should be enough there to take you through to the first of October. I hope you use it wisely.”

I take the money and stand up. My father reaches for my hand. I have just completed my first business transaction.

“Thank you very much for your help.”

“No thanks necessary, young lady,” he says. “Just work hard in school and make something of yourself. That is all the thanks I will need.”

I use the money to go on my first shopping spree. I pick up a dozen wire-ringed notebooks, some sketching paper, an eraser with a drawing of Scooby-Doo on it, and two packs of coloring pencils. When the woman in the store asks me how I am going to pay for all of it, I take
out my stack of bills and ask her to pack everything inside the backpack hanging on the hook behind her. I cut my finger pulling the tag off my new schoolbag. So I head to the pharmacy to buy a box of flesh-colored Band-Aids. At Kentucky Fried Chicken, I stuff myself with a hearty meal of crispy chicken, french fries, and Coca-Cola. Even after all that I still have enough money left to divide into three separate stacks to hide. That way if Shappy steals from me he won’t take everything.

O
n Monday morning I scrub my skin until it is red. I dry myself and slip the white uniform over my head. I wet my hands and carefully smooth my hair into a single ponytail. It takes three attempts before every strand is tucked neatly into the elastic band. I wrap the blue ribbon around the brown band and tie the bow as straight as I can. With my hair pulled back, the pimples don’t look so bad. The blue tie at my neck makes me look important. My new shoes glisten in the morning light.

On my way out the door Auntie gives me lunch money for the whole week. She says I am getting big enough to learn how to manage my money. “Make sure you don’t spend all of it today. Remember you have the whole week to eat lunch.” She also adds that I am getting older and since I am a girl she doesn’t want me lingering in the streets after school. I am expected to come right home. If she catches me walking about and going to other people’s houses, I will be very sorry after she is done with me. She warns that friends can be wolves in sheep’s clothing. It is better to be by myself, she tells me. I nod, but inside I hope I make a hundred million friends on the first day.

My knapsack is pleasantly heavy on my back as I make my way down Blood Lane. At the taxi stand everybody tells me I look nice in my white uniform. Because I am now in high school I have to pay more for my taxi fare, but it does not matter because I have enough in my pocket to pay five taxi fares. All the people without running water in their homes are gathered at the public standing pipe in the square. They whistle and call out to me, “Take me with you, nuh, Stacey! No, stay home with me and me will teach you everything you need fi know!”

I ignore them and flag down a red Lada with one white door. I am in high school, so I can sit in the front. I get off at the Cornwall College gate and take the familiar route in through the gates of Mount Alvernia. Only, today I do not pass through. I join the sea of white uniforms.

I am in grade seven-one. Every grade has classes one through six. Everyone looks happy and a little confused. Our prefect reminds us to keep our hands at our sides while we sing the national anthem. Then we pray. Then the principal, a tiny Chinese nun called Sister Joan Claire Chin Loy, talks to us through a loudspeaker.

I am surprised at how easy it is for me to make friends at Mount Alvernia. The first girl I meet is Sandy. A tiny, light-skinned girl with a black mole on her cheek, she stands behind me in the line at the water cooler, staring at my shoes and smiling. At first I am afraid that she is laughing at me. Then I look at her shoes and see that she is wearing a similar pair.

“You’re wearing my shoes!” I say, smiling.

“No, you are wearing my shoes! When did you buy them? Let’s see who got them first!”

It turns out that Sandy and I are seated side by side in class. We sit behind Andrea Albermire, a very skinny girl with blond hair and blue eyes and the whitest skin in the world. She was born in America, but since her father owns a hospital in Montego Bay, the whole family lives here from September to June. I can’t believe I am sitting right beside someone whose father owns a hospital. She must get anything in the world she wants from her father. She tells us she has just got back from spending the summer in their second home in Florida. When we ask what Miami is like, she tosses her long hair and tells us that she can’t wait till she graduates from high school. She really
must
get back to her real life in America.

Then there is Natalia Grawley.

Natalia has the best figure in the class, hands down. She is exactly one week younger than me and is already wearing a B-cup brassiere. Natalia and I have the same complexion, but her face is free of acne. And her long braids fall neatly down her back, while my hair is an unruly tangle barely contained by a rubber band and blue ribbon at the back of my neck. Natalia’s hair is straightened every six weeks. So when she takes it out it is nice and bone-straight and shiny. I cannot take my hair out, since it has never been straightened. When I ask Auntie for permission to straighten my hair, she says she doesn’t have money to waste on
foolishness. Natalia’s mother, whom everyone calls Auntie Bamsey, is a professional hairdresser. So she keeps her daughter’s hair in very good condition. She offers to do mine for free, but Auntie still says no. She believes that if God wanted me to have straight hair he would have put it on my head at birth.

The Grawleys live in the well-to-do neighborhood of Mango Walk, which is just on the other side of Paradise. I tell everyone I live in Paradise, but I am careful not to say which neighborhood. In the evenings Natalia offers, “Listen, Stacey, Daddy says if you ride with us we can just drop you off on our way home. He told me I just have to find out which part of Paradise you live in.”

I never want Natalia to know that I live behind Blood Lane. “No, Natalia! It is quite okay. If my auntie sees me getting a ride from your father, she will get vex and beat me. Just drop me off at the top of your road and I will walk the rest of the way.”

“Okay, you know whatever is better for you. Oh, and Daddy says that you can just come by my house after school. We can do homework together and you can have dinner with us!”

I want to go home with Natalia, but I have to figure out what to tell Auntie first. “I don’t know if Auntie will let me,” I tell her, “but I will ask.”

Everything about Mount Alvernia is new. There are no boys in the school. And the girls are nice to each other. Nobody teases me at lunch.

After school I walk downtown with Sandy. Her mother, Miss Buchanan, a stylish well-dressed woman, works at Vic Walton Department Store. I like Sandy’s mother. She laughs out loud and says to me, “You look like you is one of my daughter them! You sure them never send you home with the wrong mother? Where is your mother? I want to see her to make sure you are not my long-lost daughter. You look just like Sandy.”

I don’t say anything. My eyes fill with tears. My face gets hot. Miss Buchanan touches my head and walks away. Sandy is looking at me questioningly. I force a little laugh and point to the tiny lace panties on the display. “What you think those are for, Sandy? You should ask you mother to buy one of them for you!”

Sandy looks at me for a second and then says, “Is for when you have a boyfriend—ooh, ooh, look at the lacy panties Stacey buy for her wedding night!”

“Sandy, I tell you I am never getting married! And if I do, I certainly won’t be wearing any floss-pantie up in my bottom!

We laugh and I am grateful that Sandy doesn’t say anything about my tears. I wonder if things would be different if Delano were a girl. Then we could do things together like Sandy and her sister Lisa. Maybe Mummy would not have split us up. When we leave the store, she asks what is going on with my mother. “You never talk about her, and you don’t talk about the people who you live with. Where is she? She in America?”

“No, Sandy. She is not in America. And I don’t talk about her because I don’t want you to get jealous. My mother is very pretty, prettier than yours, and she lives in Canada. She sends things for me all the time. I call her at the phone booths at Church Street and she asks me what I want. Then she sends me a barrel for school every year. You see this knapsack and all my notebooks? Is she sent them for me.”

“Okay.”

Because I don’t want Sandy to suspect that my mother is not sending me anything from Canada, I do things to show her that I have lots of extra money. I buy my pens and pencils by the dozen. I boast to her that my brother is very rich. That his father owns a big supermarket from which I can go and get anything that I want.

Soon enough, I begin to tell more elaborate stories about my mother. “My mother thinks the school system in Jamaica is better than the one in Canada, so I have to finish high school and then she is going to file for us to go to Canada. My brother might not want to go, because he is okay with his father. My father wants me to live with him. He is rich too. He has a big house up on Leader Avenue.”

“So why don’t you live with him, then?”

“Because it would break my mother’s heart. He still takes care of me. I collect money from him every month. Maybe one day I will take you with me. I would visit more, but my mother would not be happy about that. She hates him. And he hates her, but I think they are still in love. That’s why they are so passionate about each other.”

“Okay.”

I can see she doesn’t believe me. I raise my voice and pretend to get angry. “You don’t believe me? Everything I say is true. I have plenty of places to go.” I don’t know why it feels so urgent, but I know I have to
convince her in this moment that what I am saying is true. So I blurt out, “Okay, then. I’m going over to my brother’s house today after school. He likes it when I visit him. You can come with me if you like.”

Sandy looks at me like I am crazy and declines my invitation. I tell her that that is fine, but to prove to her that I am not lying, I climb into the taxi with her and tell the driver to take me to the foot of Mount Salem Hill. I watch the taxi disappear before I begin to look for the house on foot. The walk is long and dusty. I want to just turn back and go to visit April, but I know my father sometimes stops there on Friday evenings. But I don’t think I would have any fun with him there. Plus, when I am with my father I have to remember to act like he is not my father but only a man who is helping me with money for school. And when I am at the store, April is my cousin and Auntie Joan is my aunt and Uncle Desmond still tells people that I am his niece.

Finally, I spot a big blue house with a huge veranda. I hope it is the right house. I walk into the yard and knock on the front door. A woman with a black tie-head answers the door.

“Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon, ma’am. My name is Staceyann Chin. I am Delano’s sister. Is this where he lives?”

“Oh! Of course! Come inside, man. Come inside. Me cooking, so me cannot stay long with you. I am Miss Winsome. Richard mother. I work with Mr. Charles.”

I sit in the living room. The house is very big, but there is almost no furniture in it. And there are all sorts of things that do not belong in a living room. There is a big bag of cement and pipes and some tiles. Under the window, a big church bench leans upright against the wall. There are no curtains on some of the windows. I watch the cars passing.

“You want to watch TV?”

Miss Winsome’s arms are covered in flour.

“No, ma’am.”

“Okay, him soon come home. Him don’t really stay too long after school.”

“Okay.”

Delano pushes the door open and sees me sitting on the couch. He motions that he will soon be back before he disappears into his room. I hear water running. When he comes back he is wearing a pair of Levi’s
jeans that Mummy had brought for him from Canada. I am surprised that he can still fit into clothes that he’d got so many years ago. The things she brought for me are all too short or too tight.

“So how things?” His voice is casual.

“Okay.” I work to make mine casual too.

“Them treating you good up at Miss John house?”

“Yeah, man. How things with you?” I don’t know why I am lying to him. I really want to tell him everything, but he seems so different from the Delano I knew in Westmoreland. He doesn’t look at me when he is talking and he doesn’t seem excited to see me.

“Okay. I’m okay.”

“Your father treat you good?”

He hesitates. Then he nods. “Yeah, man. Everything good. Perfect.”

“Okay. I passed the Common Entrance.”

He laughs. “Me can see that. You wearing a Mount Alvernia uniform.”

I laugh too. “Yeah! And you not blind. And you must have seen my name in the newspaper, right?” I don’t know why, but I laugh again. I am not quite sure what to say to him. He isn’t really interested in anything I say. I ask if I can use the bathroom.

“Yeah, man. It’s just right through there, on the right-hand side.”

The bathroom is as bare as the living room. There are no toothbrushes in sight, no rugs on the floor, no creams or soaps or anything on the side of the sink or bath or on top of the toilet. It looks like a bathroom at school, except there is a bath. When I get back, Delano is sitting on the couch playing with a Rubik’s Cube. He hands it to me and tells me to do the yellow face while he times me. I finish in ten minutes.

“That is not bad. You almost as good as me!”

“How long does it take you?”

“Under six minutes. And that is when the colors are really mixed up.”

“Okay.”

The front door swings open and Delano jumps. A short stocky Chinese man enters. His adjusts his thick glasses as he covers the ground between us.

“Hello! Hello! Everything all right?”

Delano does not answer. I don’t know if I should.

“Eh, man! I ask you if everything all right. And who is this, your girlfriend?”

Delano’s voice is even, resigned. “Yes, Daddy, everything is fine. And this is me sister, Stacey. She live up at Paradise. She just come to check me.”

“Oh, okay. She look like a nice little girl. Everything all right? Is Junior Chin is your father, right? When you reach home, tell him hello for me. You hungry? You want something to eat?” I nod yes.

“Miss Winsome! Miss Winsome!”

The floured hands quietly appear. “Yes, Mr. Charles?”

“This here is Junior Chin daughter. She want something to eat. What you cooking?”

“Corned beef and boiled dumplings.”

“Well, make sure she get some when it done.”

“All right, Mr. Charles.” She leaves as silently as she had come in.

Mr. Charles reaches out and slaps Delano on the back. “How was school today, Delano? You learn a lot of things? School too expensive! Make sure you make use of it!”

Delano nods his head and says nothing. His father then turns to me. “What about you? You do good in school?”

“Yes, Mr. Charles, sir. I just pass my Common Entrance for Mount Alvernia. This is my first year there.”

“What? That is good, man. That means you bright. Here is some money. Take it and buy something for school. And remember to tell your father that me say hello.”