‘You finally went and fished yourself a girl, huh?’
Jaron rubs his chin thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, but she’s a bit of a handful.’
I punch Jaron on the arm, hard.
Jaron pretends to wince and rub his arm and Noel laughs. ‘It’s island love.’
A woman comes to join us and Noel introduces her as his wife. She has the most amazingly beautiful brown skin, the exact color I would have chosen to have if I had been given a choice in the matter, and she is wearing big hoop earrings with beads in them, which I covet. She has an Afro hairstyle. She grins at me and Jaron.
‘I love your hair,’ I tell her. ‘I used to have an Afro when I was in school.’
‘Was it the fashion then?’
‘Nope. I just liked it. I still do. I might yet have one,’ I say and feel Jaron’s eyes on me.
‘A green Afro might be pushing it even for you,’ he says with a chuckle.
‘It’s teal, not green. And I’ll do as I like with my hair,’ I say haughtily.
‘Did you enjoy the chicken?’ asks Gwen quickly.
‘Very much. It was delicious,’ Jaron replies smoothly. ‘But there wasn’t enough for me. Billie ate most of it.’
Noel laughs hard, his eyes twinkling, and I wonder if he knows what really happened to the chicken.
‘I will cook some more for you tomorrow,’ says Gwen.
‘Would you?’ asks Jaron beseechingly. He sounds so different with Gwen that I turn to stare at him. There is no mask, no barriers. Just boyish enthusiasm.
‘Noel will bring it,’ she says, nodding firmly.
‘Thank you,’ both Jaron and I speak in unison. It’s a strange thing to speak in unison with someone. It has never happened to me before. We smile at each other.
‘You two are already drunk on love, but come and have some rum anyway,’ invites Noel with a chuckle. The statement is casual but explosive to me. I dare not look at Jaron to see his expression. I turn toward Noel eagerly.
Rum, I must say, is a drink I enjoy very much and it flows very freely that night. I make friends with everybody. The mainlanders must be the friendliest people on earth. They laugh uproariously at my jokes and teach me all kinds of really cool phrases. Bust up means badly drunk; you can intensify anything by adding the word dead in front: dead cold, dead ugly. To sip, sip is to gossip, Jack means friend, leg short means you have arrived too late for something, to be without money is to be break. I consume more and more rum and it is all great fun. Everything is funny as hell and I am the life of the party.
A man in an open blue shirt carrying a guitar comes and sits opposite us. Jaron introduces him as Terrance. Someone switches off the music. The air fills with the sound of the waves and human voices. Terrance smiles broadly and starts strumming his guitar. Soon the place becomes silent but for his guitar, the crackling of the fire and the incessant waves. It is very peaceful. I turn to look at Jaron. His blond hair shines in the firelight. Terrance starts singing. It is a strange song. I must be very drunk because I am unable to catch all the words but some stick in my head as if they have been nailed in.
Understand the truth of the flowers.
Become the lord of the flowers…people…cattle.
Become the lord of the flowers…people…cattle.
Understand this truth.
Fire is the in-dweller of the water.
Understand the truth.
Understand your in-dweller.
I am too drunk to make any sense of it. I frown up at Jaron. ‘What’s the song about?’
‘It is about us, people. We who live our lives like cattle.’
For a moment I stare at him. Is he serious? ‘What do you mean?’
‘It is a cry of the soul, the fire inside the water, to wake up.’
‘Wake up?’
‘Most of us are sleepwalking through life. He is daring you to explore your inner world.’
‘Yeah,’ I say, looking at Jaron with new eyes. There could be something more to this man than meets the eye. Something deep and profound. Terrance has finished his song and starts singing Bob Marley’s, No Woman No Cry. Now this I can understand. A few songs later, Terrance packs up his guitar and music from the loudspeaker fills the air again.
Time to dance again. I get up and go for it.
When Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot comes up on the loudspeaker, the crowd actually parts for my solo. Fueled on alcohol and Jaron’s hungry eyes I give it all I’ve got.
I am still dancing when Jaron picks me up bodily and says, ‘Time to go home, Dancing Queen.’
‘Awww… Don’t be so dead boring,’ I slur drunkenly and bring my glass of delicious drink—Noel’s famous gin and coconut water cocktail—to my lips. He takes the glass out of my hand so fast I am left staring at the empty space where the glass had been.