Page 15 of Not My Type
“Who cares though? He was going to kill that poor old man and possibly kill us too,” she scoffs at my words. I continue with my point in a whisper yell. “And he just made it clear that he isn’t looking at me that way which is totally fine with me. What I’m not fine with is the fact that he’s calling me. I don’t want to have a conversation with someone like him!”
Sash sighs. “Him only say that cause him a badman and dem nuh like show feelings.” Here she goes again with the nonsense.
I shake my head. “Bwoy,” I face palm myself.
“Yuh bring up other man, yuh nuh think the man a guh try diss yuh too?”
“Mi nuh wah hear nothing more from you,” I turn my back to her on the bed.
“Sash! Mi convinced seh yuh no have not one sense!” Gavin chimes in just in time. Ooop.
“Unuh don’t think! Yuh know say him would a protect her and look how him cute? Yuh lucky him look at you a shoulda me.” she babblesand I glare at her.
“You a hear yourself?” I ask but she turns up the TV— obviously ignoring me. Gavin shakes his head. “A danger that yuh hear, best if you just avoid him.” I nod.
“Come out a mi place wid yuh noise!” Mama shouts from the living room. Without a second thought, I roll off the bed and dart through the door with my cousins on my heels.
“Mi nuh live yer too Sandra?” he slurs. It’s my dad, drunk as usual. He looks at me with a smile. My jaw twitches.
I can’t believe this is my father. A total stranger. At one point, he was so handsome—every woman’s dream man. Now he has given up on life it seems. When last him trim?
“Wah gwaan mi daughter, come give daddy a hug,” he garbles. His shirt smudged. I roll my eyes at him. He has never failed to embarrass me.
“You is a disgrace!” Mama spits bitterly. He stumbles and grip the sofa handle for support. Mama glowers at him, her hands on her side. “Everyday God send, you come in drunk like a bat! Worrying bout Michelle when a you hurt har!” Mama snarls. Right.
My mother has been living in California for as long as I can remember and ever since she has tied the knot, this has been the result. It’s very strange, because he treated her terribly when she lived here in Jamaica.
“Look at you! You can’t even represent your daughter!” she adds. He doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he slumps down in the sofa, picks up the remote and power on the television.
“Mi a go sleep now, good night,” I say as I walk back to my room. Why did I have to get a father like him?
“Sleep tight Bess,” Gavin tells me. He knows exactly what I’m going through.
For the rest of the night, I watched Perfect Guy, but it was more like Perfect Guy was watching me. It was really me against my thoughts,staring at the screen blankly. My mind was all over the place. I moved from Malik’s drama to the shooting incident— then back to the unknown call, followed by my father’s disrepute. The cycle continued.
I stayed up all night. I heard the bathroom door open and close occasionally throughout the wee hours of the night. It was either my cousins or my father. Mama doesn’t close the bathroom door when she uses it at nights. Superstitious beliefs. I heard someone in the kitchen too. Not sure who, but because I was submerged in my thoughts, I couldn’t close my eyes even once. I mentally groan when I hear the roosters outside. I look at the time. 5:50 AM. Mi not even sleep and mi have school today again.
Ah bwoy.
7. QUESTIANS
Zara
Where is the time going? No seriously. It’s already been a week since I’ve been teaching at St. Jago High School and it has been the best week I’ve had in a while. Mrs. Adams is such an amazing soul and an impeccable teacher. I’ve adapted her teaching style, and with her presence around me, I get the right push and motivation I need.
I glance at my watch—it’s now their lunch time and they’re all quiet. Wow. Usually, students remind teachers that it’s lunch time or they get restless. The bell rings on cue and I flash them a smile.
“Okay students, tomorrow we’ll pick up on the next page. Say your Grace.”
As soon as they do, I give them the directive to leave. They stand and amble out. I watch them—amazed. Are they always this obedient? Damn. Mi like this! Mrs. Adams approaches me with a warm smile painting her scarlet lips.
“That was good, and they like you,” she compliments as soon as the last student leaves the room.
“Thank you,” I smile, placing the markers in the case. She nods.
“I’m gonna head to my office. I have some report cards to prepare, you should come with me,” she smiles.
“Okay,” I nod and pick up my handbag, then I step out behind her.
