VIVIAN JEAN
The Sacred Silk Cotton Tree, Accompong, Maroon Village, Week Three
Ifeel like a shadow.
Maxi and my father—my father and Maxi. Everything I’ve seen but refused to acknowledge. When they were watching me, judging me, pretending to care while looking after me, was that genuine? Or was I merely an excuse? Someone they could use to conceal themselves?
That was then; this is now.
There are days when I barely catch half of what is said. I drift away for minutes at a time. Thank goodness for the recordings. Otherwise, I would be failing at my purpose. But I feel like I’m in limbo, waiting for a response to the telegram I sent to Maxi Green after Maggotty.
Then the wait is over. Three weeks after we arrive in Accompong, it is finally delivered.
There is only one place where I want to read it, and only one person I want by my side. So, I lead Tully to the sacred silk cotton tree after dinner. It is late enough that the marketplace isn’t crowded, except for a few stragglers and hawkerscovering their goods with thin pieces of cloth and setting up their beds nearby for the night.
Tully has brought a straw mat from Zinzi’s small thatched-roof house for us to sit on. He carefully checks the area for spiders or other bugs. Finding nothing, he arranges the mat. I sit cross-legged on it while Tully faces me with his legs also crossed.
“I got it today,” I tell him. “A letter from Maxi. Yes, a letter, not a telegram. That’s why it took so long.”
I hold the unopened envelope for him to see, flipping it over and back again.
“You don’t want to read it by yourself?” Tully asks.
“Why should I?” I snort. “We are in Jamaica partly because of Maxi and Clifford’s note—and because of what you thought it meant and what I wouldn’t accept it could mean. Neither of us expected her and my father’s secret to be part of this, so I want you here to share this moment.”
My dearest Vivian Jean,
I couldn’t be the first to tell you. Your father had to be the one; he only told you part of it from what he tells me. So, I will fill in the missing pieces. But understand, this isn’t me writing to seek forgiveness. I’m writing to explain how love changed me and made me who I am.
I was very young when I met your father, and falling in love with him came easily. He was handsome and bold in his American ways, and he promised to give me a better life. This was what I longed for, dreamed of, read about in books, and heard of while I swept floors, mopped hallways, and did my chores at the Jamaican hotels where I worked—so many different hotels in Kingston, Montego Bay, and everywhere in between.
He and I were lovers in Jamaica, but despite all my prayers, I never expected him to ask me to come to America. When he finally did, I thought God had givenme a gift. Once I agreed to come, booked my travel, and stepped off the ship in New York City, I had no idea about you or your mother. Yet she was exactly the same person upon my arrival as she is today. Your father’s many infidelities and lies had already taken their toll on her.
But I was young and blindly in love—a fool who refused to give up her gift. Your father hired me as a maid and a nanny in your parents’ home. I thought about returning to Jamaica, but after a few months of caring for you, you became my priority.
I fell in love with you and devoted myself to raising you. I ended my relationship with your father, but it took longer than I thought to finally break the bond between us. I even returned to Jamaica once, but my longing for you drew me back. This doesn’t excuse what we did, though I wish it could.
Now, regarding the note Clifford wrote. It was addressed for your father to read. Clifford discovered our betrayal long after our relationship had ended. He overheard a disagreement between your father and me, and he confronted your father not only about the affair but also concerning his business dealings in Jamaica. Later, I learned from you that this was around the time Clifford arranged for you to oversee your trust fund. He wanted to protect you.
I know there are other reasons you feel you need to seek Clifford’s forgiveness. He loved you deeply, as much as he loved his brother. Clifford will speak to you beneath the silk cotton tree, but my hope is for you and Tully to finally forgive yourselves for falling in love.
Losing Clifford and then his child is a grief you may never fully recover from, but you’ve found the love you deserve. I wish for you and Tully happiness, joy, and peace.
With all my love, Maxi
It takes a moment before I can speak. I fold the letter and carefully reinsert it into the envelope. Then, I shove it into my pocket, take a deep breath, and gaze at the night sky. When I finally open my mouth, I mean exactly what I say. “I can’t forgive her now, but I do know I will never forgive him.”
“She didn’t ask you to,” Tully replies, settling back into a cross-legged position.
“I understand. But why would he continue this for so long? Why inflict so much pain on the women in your life? Why not just be honest?”
“He’s selfish. What he wants outweighs anyone else’s desires.”
“He must hate women.” The thought makes me feel sick. “He has destroyed my relationship with my mother, and now, with Maxi, and I think he tried to wreck us, too. That’s more than selfishness.
“After I lost the baby, I felt like I was drowning. It was as if my heart had shattered. I thought I would always carry a part of Clifford with me. Losing him was hard, but losing his child? The only way I believed I could survive was by pushing both him and the baby away as if they never existed. But you were there and you brought me happiness and smiles. Then the note was found, and it seemed you wanted to destroy us because you thought our love couldn’t be real.”
“I know, Vivian Jean. I know. We almost wrecked ourselves. We can’t blame him for our own choices.” He folds his legs in front of him. “And I’m not sure about your mother either. She may have hardened herself against love long before Maxi came into the picture. Your relationship with Maxi will only be ruined if you allow it to be.”
