Then I think about it for a second and realize why they are experiencing a second shock—it’s the man’s last name.
“Oh, right,” I say, recalling my chat with Robbie. “That’s the name of a sugar plantation that makes rum.”
“This is her friend from Kingston,” says Momma Hazel. “He came by mi house a few days ago.”
“Oh, so that’s where you’ve been, Zinzi,” I say. “Spending time with your friend?”
Robbie clears his throat, signaling me to stay quiet, I guess. I shrug and pick up a piece of sweet potato to nibble on. “With two more mouths to feed, there won’t be any seconds,” he whispers seriously. He loves the food, unlike me—and must fear he’ll lose out on a second helping.
I smile at him while watching Zinzi’s friend, Byron Tynesdale. He reminds me of Chicago—nightclubs, whiskey, and cigarette smoke.
The conversation after the shock lessens becomes jovial, easy, and I think maybe this Byron isn’t so much Chicago as everywhere else in the world. He’s been to so many places, listening to him go on and on, and watching the light in Zinzi’s eyes; well, I haven’t seen this side of her. I like it. They suit each other.
After dinner, we take a walk around Accompong. “Does anyone smoke?” Byron asks.
My hand goes up. “I do, but I’ve run out,” I reply. “Do you have an extra pack you could share?”
He reaches into his knapsack and pulls out a carton. “Here you go.”
“The whole carton?”
“I’ve got plenty at home.”
Zinzi’s eyebrows knit together as she gives him a nod of appreciation. “He’s a generous guy.”
“Thank you. Thank you.” I haven’t smoked a cigarette in so long that I nearly weep.
When Robbie walks me to the yard I share with Katherine, I smoke three cigarettes in quick succession. “I’ll see you inthe morning at dawn,” he says. “Tomorrow, we’ll be hunting for dung beetles and flower beetles.”
I wince. “Do they bite?”
Robbie smiles. “No, they don’t bite.”
He gives me a kiss on the cheek, something he does every evening after dinner since we arrived in Accompong.
Tonight, I kiss him back. “Until tomorrow, Robbie.”
CHAPTER 34
VIVIAN JEAN
Accompong, Maroon Village, Cockpit Country, Week Five
Early in the morning, I leave my hut with my husband by my side to collect oral histories from Accompong’s storytellers. I ask the questions, take the notes, and Tully photographs our subjects or records them with his motion picture machine.
Momma Hazel and her friends, Miss Mary and Teddy, have been incredibly helpful in securing interview subjects from among the Maroon villagers. The only quibble I have is that Mary and Teddy are always armed with a pouch of herbs, some pungent spices, and a few bottles I describe as potions, to help influence those who need a better reason than hospitality to speak with us. But however our good fortune comes to us, I am pleased that we now have many more villagers lined up than we’d hoped for.
On the outside, Tully and I appear to be functioning normally—no quarreling or snappish words directed at one or the other. On the inside, we remain on unsteady ground, mostly because of me. The distress in my heart feels like I’m carrying half the jungle on my back.
I don’t know if the silk cotton tree can fix me, let alone us. My belief in communing with Clifford’s ghost is as much Maxi’s as mine. “It will help rid you of guilt, talking to Clifford,” she said. But I can’t trust Maxi. She and my father cost me my mother’s love. Regina must’ve always known about their affair. I don’t even have to hear her say it. Looking back, it was clear as crystal.
With these thoughts racing through me, I know they are affecting my contribution to Katherine’s expedition. It’s noticeable, and not just to me. I sense Katherine’s frustration—and her concern. Today, she finds me in Tully’s makeshift darkroom, where I like to hide away, and insists—or, I should say, demands—that I join her to learn how to play an authentic African musical instrument.
“It is my goal for the day,” she states.
“I have several interviews arranged.”
“I believe Tully can manage them. I’ll ask Robbie and Othella to help him.”
