Page 156 of Not My Type
“Yeah mi know. Is a surprise party?” he asks.
“Yah sup’m like that but mi wah know which country she always wah go. She ever say she wah go Paris or so?” I ask.
“No, not Paris but she ever a talk bout wah place in a Hawaii name Honolulu,” he says and I look at Gutta.
“A weh yah go do fly har deh!?” He asks, shocked.
“Yah just nuh tell har nutt’n,” I tell him again. I keep drilling it in his head.
“Arite.”
48. BRAWL
Zara
After paying for my groceries, the guy takes the bags outside for me. I called a taxi driver to pick me up because I didn’t want to strain myself with the heavy bags.
“Thank you,” I smile at the guy as he puts the last bag in the trunk.
“No problem,” he smiles and I get in the car.
The driver smiles at me. “Ready now?” he inquires.
“Yeah,” I answer.
As he drives off the passengers talk about the shooting that happened in Constant Spring.
“Mi hear say the detective them still cya find no fingerprint or nothing fi the bwoy them,” I shake my head at that.
That mean seh dem did a wear gloves. “And cameras disconnected too enuh. Them terrible bad,” the other woman says, shaking her head in disbelief. She better believe say a this the world gone to. A wah do har?
“Mi did hear say them a go get one a the top detective them fi deal with it since a some cruel killer dem be weh well deep in a this cause it premeditated and thing enuh, them just dweet and get weh. It would a all come in like them do everything right,” the driver tells them.
“A true,” the woman beside me says.
Good, hope them find them.
When I reach my gate, I pay my fare and the driver gets out and bring the bags on my veranda. I thank him and pay him extra before he leaves. Mama and Sash come out helping me with the bags. I feel so tired.And yuh nuh do nothing much?
The sun hot and mi walk up and dung and shop. That’s something.
“So much things yuh buy?” Mama asks as she lifts the bag and walk in.
Sash takes up one of the bags and I bring the last one. As soon as I step in the house the scent of pumpkin soup hits my nose. Jesus peace.
Mi know yuh hate soup you nuh affi sayt.
“Yuh start cook already?” I ask and Sash starts laughing.
“Gyal yuh still hate soup?”
I chuckle, resting the bag on the table.
“Yes,” I smile and Mama gives me a look and I know what she’s about to say. Drink the soup and burn the gas out of yuh system, My subconscious says before my grandma can.
“Anuh wah yuh like, drink some a the soup and burn out the gas out of yuh system,” I smile as she speaks. See? She says it every Saturday. I sigh after a while. I feel a little hungry.
“Okay, mi affi order sup’m thou.”
