Part 4 - Naturalized Flies

“Girl, you on dat crack, running down da street like you on somethin’? Who you runnin’ from anyways?” An older woman who seemed to appear out of nowhere walked around Ena as if she were examining a body. 

“Pardon, Miss?”  Ena understood about sixty percent of the woman’s comment, but the southern accent threw her quite a bit. 

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“Where is this, Miss?” Ena was determined not to feel lost in this place she had decided was her new home. 

When Mrs. Playfair told Ena about the study abroad program, she had laid awake at night in her room, on the idea that she had been given a route to a fresh start.  Ena loved her family, even Madeline, her mother, but she had long felt that somehow, God had fallen asleep and dropped her in the wrong place. She always felt different from everyone else, even her best friend Kezia, whom she adored. Kezia was her confidant, and though she felt Ena was absurdly absorbed with a dream that could never be made true, she listened, and even followed her into Dreamland at times, chatting on the way home from school about riding in automobiles and relaxing their hair until it was as straight as Mrs. Playfair’s, whose father was an Irish sailor. 

“Ena,” Kezia would say, “I have plans to you know? Because I have to leave dem mad people here when I get a chance!  I’m going to Kingston to be big time hairdresser, and I going to own two hair salons, one going to name Golden Touch and one going to name Flair.” 

Ena would smile and engage Kezia, imagining herself visiting the island as an accomplished something-or-other, and walking into one of Kezia’s salons to spruce up after her flight.  They would recognize each other instantly, and hug each other for the longest while. 

“Girl, you daft?”  Ena was jolted out of her journey down memory lane as the woman yelled into her ear. “Why you ain’t answer me?” she continued. 

Ena must have shown her efforts to decipher what the woman was saying, because looking quite annoyed, the woman turned around and started to walk away from Ena, mumbling something about crackheads and fiends. 

“Miss, please!”  Ena walked toward the woman, “where is dis?” 

Without turning around, the woman said, “Earth, fool!”

Naturalized Flies is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.