Part 2 - Naturalized Flies
More time had passed than she’d realized, because as she neared the house, she didn’t see the goats tied out in their usual area. She didn’t even hear the sound of her brother shooing them into the gates. What she did hear was the sound of her mother’s deep voice calling out to her oldest brother.
“Gerald,” she bellowed. “See if yu see dat worthless gyal down di shop for me!” Ena scurried to the back of the house to enter from the kitchen and change out of her uniform, but she wasn’t to avoid her mother on this day. In her haste, she fell on a gravel-filled area and wailed as she caught sight of the huge gash on her right knee. Rushing from the kitchen with a large wooden spoon in her hand, Madeline stopped right in front of Ena, still sitting on the ground, cupping her wounded knee.
“Yu wretch yu!” Her face was wrought with rage, and a hint of sunlight beamed off of her peanut-colored skin as if to provide her with the energy she needed to grind Ena into powder.
“Why I neva stop you from school yet, is you father’s doin’, so you can thank him for dat ugly knee!” Ena didn’t look up. She didn’t want to look into her mother’s eyes for fear that eye contact would confirm the inevitable. She wished she couldn’t hear as her mother laced the air around them with statements of cursed wombs and ungrateful daughters.
“You don’t hear me talkin’ to you, gyal?” Madeline was enraged by Ena’s lack of participation. Oftentimes, Ena would bargain her way out of a beating from her mother by offering to help with more than her share of chores or by bringing up a comment someone in the district made about her mother. This time, Ena wasn’t fit for battle.
“Yes, Mama,” Ena muttered through clenched teeth. Incensed by Ena’s timid response, Madeline hit her across the back with the wooden cooking spoon.
“Speak up, child!” Madeline commanded as she leaned forward to be eye-to-eye with Ena. She was a statuesque woman, her Taino descent evident in her 6 foot tall, slim frame. She had long silver hair that she braided on either side of her head, and though she was beautiful, the lines on her face spoke volumes about her sour demeanor.
She continued, “Dat’s why God gave you utterance! But you have too much mout an not enough humility! All dat schoolin an you don’t know one strikin’ ting! You know how I shame when people whisperin’ all over di district bout how me have big daughter an still coming home close to dark? I sacrifice fi you too long now, and even dough yu father think you is a Princess, you betta pick up yu gown hem an jump come inna real life!”
As she turned and walked away from Ena, she said in a calm and resolute tone, “School time done.” Somehow Madeline Atkinson had stepped inside Ena’s soul and blew out every kerosene lamp that was lit within her. She felt extinguished and full of fear, her thoughts drowned out by a loud nothingness. It was as though the entire district rang with her anguish. She had no scheme, no plot, no plead left in her. She walked into the house and sat on the floor in her room, torpid, her body numb with pain. Quietly she sat, waiting for her father to come in from the cane fields and use his salve-like words to reignite her insides, if he could. As the sun set and the Sabbath approached, Ena’s family sat as they did at the start of each Sabbath to pray.
Mas Jas, with his uncanny ability to see into his daughter’s heart, began to pray, “Holy Father, as we end our week and begin our rest on this Sabbath, we thank you for di knowing of your light. We thank you for di knowin’ dat even a small doctor bird can escape a mongoose if he can believe in his right to be free. Thank you for freedom, Father God, and thank you for dis Sabbath to rest and worship, Amen.”
Ena opened her eyes, got up from her seat at the table, and ran to hug her father, pressing into him as if she could meld herself into his chest. Her brothers giggled, and her mother stared silently, stewing in a broth of confusion and irritation. Ena couldn’t care less about the responses her action elicited. She knew and he knew at that very moment, that Ena had decided to embrace her right to be free.
The next morning, as the family readied for their walk to Duhaney Fort Seventh Day Adventist Church, Ena sat calmly at the front step waiting to begin her walk. She had awoken much earlier than her family and packed a small bag, which she had stuffed behind a set of bricks that her father had placed outside the house. As she sat, she looked around her to etch it all in to her memory one last time. She was interrupted by a push to the back of her head; it was one of her brothers. She got up, and they all set out for church. When the service ended, Ena told her parents that she wanted to stay for Youth Fellowship, as she sometimes did. Mas Jas looked to Madeline, and she peered at him from the corner of her eye and walked off to greet the pastor. Mas Jas nodded to Ena, and held out his hand, inviting her to hold it.
They held hands and looked into each others’ eyes, then he pulled his hand away as he smiled at his daughter and said, “Doctor bird look pretty when it flyin, Girl.”
Ena walked away, knowing she would probably never see her father again, but that he understood, and that this was not a time of sadness. She stayed for Youth Fellowship, and as she cleared the church grounds, she began to run. She didn’t stop running until she reached Mrs. Playfair’s small cottage. When she got there, the door was ajar and Mrs. Playfair was sitting at her dining table with packed bags at her feet. As Ena looked closer, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Her small bag was there with Mrs. Playfair’s bags.
Mrs. Playfair saw Ena’s expression and said, “your father is a good man, and we are to tell stories of him when we travel. You will have more than enough time to worry about your mother’s anger when you come back. Six months is a long time for her to stew, but you can use di time to learn an grow. Now, how can I keep you quiet until Monday morning?”
Back at the Atkinson house, there was an eerie sense of quiet as the Atkinson boys milled abou their yard in an uncommon quiet. They played marbles and elastic wars as usual, but they didn’t speak much. Mas Jas wiped his hands as he beckoned to his sons to come inside for lunch.
As Madeline sat down to wait for them to come inside. She reached for her bible to read a passage before lunch as they did every Sabbath. “I gwen put a fire pon dat girl backside, yu see! Why she don’t reach home yet?”, Madeline mumbled about Ena as she craned her long neck to see if Ena was rounding the bend outside. When she opened her bible, a sealed envelope fell out. She tore it open to find a note from Ena. It read:
Mama, I have gone. I have found a chance to use my utterance to its best, and I am taking it, for it is my gift. As you have always told me, I do not know many things. But, Mama I do know that the space behind my eyes is full of ideas and colors, but when I am near you, all I can see is gray, and my ideas fall back like the pleats in my uniform skirt. I am a bright star, Mama and I want the space to shine. Maybe my light and yours can’t live together in the house, so you can consider my leaving a blessing, for now your light is free to shine. No, I don’t know many things, but I know Papa will see to it that you remain loved. And I do know that if you decide to keep my memory, and maybe even keep my love, you can find me in Papa’s heart. May God keep you, Papa and my brothers in love and light. –Ena.
The night and the next day whizzed by Ena like a drove of Peenie-Wallies flying on an extra warm night. She immersed herself in Mrs. Playfair’s books and only got up from the living room couch to eat or go to bathroom, which fortunately, Mrs. Playfair’s husband had installed inside the house before he moved away. Mrs. Playfair seemed to be the only person in the house that was worried about Ena being found out, because Ena had already moved on in her mind, and was focused on her opportunity to shine.
The original award to her school had allowed for two students, but none of the other parents in the district would allow their child to be away for six months, a testament to the mindset of the people in the area. Ena felt that God had given her this chance, and she had a responsibility to capitalize on it, whatever that meant.
Part 1
