Rule of the Bone (29 page)

I didn't think he'd show up in Jamaica tomorrow, or ever. I didn't even think he'd sell his Camaro but I said okay anyhow and told him I'd be hanging out by the clock tower in the main square in downtown Mobay. It was a place I almost never went and now would avoid completely, just in case.

Mobay, huh. That what they call it?

Yeah. Montego Bay.

Cool. You just hang there, man, and if I'm not in Mobay by the clock tower tomorrow night I'll be there the next. And Chappie, he said.

Yeah?

Line us up a couple of buff Jamaican chicks, man. I got a permanent boner these days and it needs some of that black pussy to stroke it.

Yeah. Sure.

All
right
! he said.

I told him 1 had to go then so I said goodbye and hung up, wondering if Russ'd always been such a dickhead only I hadn't noticed on account of I was a dickhead myself. And I was pissed, pissed at Russ for everything he'd said and at myself for being such a wuss and wanting to go back to Au Sable in order to get my shit together like I couldn't do it just as good here or anywhere in the world. I'd been sad and lonely though when I'd called Russ due to everything that had happened and I couldn't blame him for not having the equipment to understand. He was who he was. But if I was sad and lonely when I called him I was even sadder and lonelier now.

I flopped down in this plastic chair next to the phone and was putting Russ's aunt's phone number back into my wallet when this other piece of paper slipped out and fell to the floor and just then a little breeze crossed the lobby and blew the paper across the room like in a dance. I was almost too bummed to do anything about it but I got curious suddenly about what was on the paper so I stood up and chased it across the the floor of the lobby toward the open door and managed to snatch it up just as it got to the door. Then I took a look. It was my own handwriting and said
N. Riley
who I'd never heard of with what looked like a telephone number and area code I didn't know, 414.

I'm not usually superstitious but I guess I was kind of spacey then from not having smoked any herb for two whole days almost and my idiotic conversation with Russ. It's a message, I'm thinking, a secret coded message sent from I-Man imitating my handwriting with instructions about what to do next and as usual he wants me to do some headwork on my own in order to get it. I'm thinking maybe 414 is the area code for Jamaica and I-Man's secret name is N. Riley and like the N. stands for Nonny after the old Maroon female warrior who could catch the British bullets with her pussy and fire them back from her ass, and the letters in Riley are supposed to be rearranged. I studied them for a minute and came up with I-LYRE which made complete sense if it really was a message from I-Man since a lyre is like a harp that angels use. By now I was really psyched.

I went straight to the phone and punched the numbers in, using the AT&T card of my Kentucky friend like before. Man, I'm thinking, this is going to be wicked incredible. I was so stoked to hear I-Man's voice again that when a woman's voice came on and said, Yeah? I just blurted out, Lemme speak to I-Man.

Who?

Then I realized of course I-Man wouldn't be using his own voice anymore so I said, Jeez, I'm sorry, I hope I didn't sound rude. Is this like. . . Nonny?

Yeah. This's Nancy, she says and something about the voice is familiar. It's slurred and a little buzzed like it's coming through a cheap speaker even though it's a clear enough connection.

Ah. . . this isn't Nonny?

It sure ain't, honey. I thought you said Nancy. Sorry ‘bout that. But you can talk to
me
if you want, she said and laughed like a crackhead, a little off. I remembered then.

The area code 414 was for Milwaukee, Wisconsin and I was talking to Nancy Riley. Sister Rose's mother.

Yeah, well. . . I guess I'm calling for Sister Rose actually.
Sister
Rose? You mean my Rosie? Jesus Christ, whaddayou, some kind of church or something? I don't need this—

Wait, don't hang up! I'm like a friend of hers, of Rosie. I'm the one who sent her home to you, I'm the one who got her away from that guy Buster Brown. Remember? I. . . I'm just calling to see if she got there okay and all.

Oh yeah, she says. You're the kid with the money. Yeah, she got here fine. You know, that was Buster's money, I found out, and you stole it off him. If he ever finds you, kid, he'll fucking kill you, believe me.

That's cool, I said. So is Rose there? Can I speak to her?

No.

No I can't speak to her or no she's not there?

There was a long silence. I'm thinking if I ever get back to the States I'm going to find this woman and kill her and then I'm going after Buster. Finally she says, Both.

Both what?

You can't speak to her and she's not here. Rose. .. Rose passed on last September.

I didn't know what to say to that so for a long time we just listened to each other breathe. Then I said, C'mon. Sister Rose didn't die.

She was real sick when she got here. That was one sick little girl you put on the bus, mister.

The fuck
she was! What'd she die of, bitch?

Pneumonia, if you want to know. And you don't have to talk to
me
that way. I've been through hell. I tried to save her but I'm sick myself, you know what I'm saying? Rosie was my little girl but they took her away from me like it was my fault she was sick. It was yours though. You never should've put her on that bus. That's what did it, she said.

I did some deep breathing so I wouldn't lose it on the phone and calmly asked her where was Rose buried. I knew someday I'd be able to go there and put flowers on her grave and I would, but I didn't tell her that.

The woman obviously didn't even know where her own daughter was buried and just said it was none of my business unless I was willing to help pay for the funeral costs. It's expensive, you know, and I'm broke, mister. I don't even have enough money to put a little gravestone up. You could help with that, if you're really her friend like you say. Five hundred bucks'd cover it, I think. You could just put it on your credit card and like wire it to me.

Lady, I said, for what you've done you should burn in hell forever.

Yeah, well, fuck you too, she snarled. I already am burning in hell. And I hope Buster finds you and cuts your balls off, she said and hung up.

For a few minutes I stood there in the hospital lobby with the receiver in my hand looking at it like it was a bug. Then I set it on the hook. I had I-Man's message in my other hand and still thought of it as I-Man's message even though it was about Sister Rose and not him or me so I put it into my mouth and chewed it up and swallowed it.

Later I was back under the bushes on the hospital grounds lying with my head on my backpack and trying to organize my thoughts and keep my feelings out of it at least long enough to decide what to do tomorrow so I could fall asleep tonight. My main man I-Man had flown back to lie beside his ascendants in Africa where I could never go. And all the doors of Accompong were closed to me forever and the ant farm was a busted-apart house of death that I never wanted to see again. Sister Rose was gone to wherever little kids go when they die, and I was too old to go there now and start life over with her—I almost wasn't a kid anymore and knew too much and was too strong and wily now to die without a struggle. And Russ, my homeboy, ol Russ was basically off my screen. Permanent. My moment of weakness had passed over me like a dark cloud and gone and with Grandma dead and Mom and my stepdad moved to Buffalo, even though it would be more peaceful for me in Au Sable there was no more reason for me to go there than anywhere else in America. Au Sable was a town like any other where I'd be just another homeless kid scraping by trying to stay off drugs and not catch AIDS. Forget-tee, I said to myself.

Here in Jamaica though I was a foreigner and an illegal alien and white besides and I couldn't spare-change on the streets of Mobay many more days before the red-stripers busted me for vagrancy, and without a reliable source of ganja anymore I couldn't deal to the tourists for a living and raise enough money to rent a regular room. Things were truly grim. I'd never been so bummed.

I hated doing it but it was time to take the American guy's advice. Time to head for the Mothership.

In the morning when I woke up to the sound and diesel smell of trucks and buses blatting past on Gloucester Avenue next to my head practically I didn't know this would be my next-to-last day in Jamaica, but I wouldn't've done anything different if I had. I would've gone up to the Mothership anyhow same as I did and I would've pretty much done up there what I did irregardless. I told myself I was going because like the American guy said at the ant farm, it was the only place on the island where I was safe now but actually I had some unfinished business with my father, with Doc, with Pa, and that's why I went. I didn't know what the unfinished business was exactly but I was pretty sure it had to do with me betraying I-Man to him the night that I-Man hooked up with Evening Star, the night of my birthday party. That was like a sin which is different from a crime and it still weighed heavily on my mind so to speak and I guess I wanted to somehow undo it if I could, especially now that I-Man was dead and I needed my father, Doc, Pa, for that.

I spare-changed for a while and by mid-morning had a few bucks in my pocket plus a meat patty breakfast under my belt so I cut over to the marketplace where I caught a bus like I-Man and I'd done the first time and rode up out of Mobay on the long winding road to the village of Montpelier and got off by the little grassy lane that led up to the Mothership. It was a real pretty day with a fresh breeze blowing and the sun out but not too hot and the local people as I passed them were friendlier toward me than I remembered from before, I guess on account of my Jah-stick and backpack and the box which maybe made me look like I'd come from a far place like Australia and was returning home. Or probably they just remembered me from my birthday party last summer and were glad to see me back again. I liked the local people, the farmers and suchlike and the women and kids who lived in the little houses and cabins in the bush all around the greathouse on the hill and who it's possible were the descendants of people who'd been the slaves there, and it made me happy that they seemed to remember and like me too, so when they smiled and waved I smiled and waved back like mad and shook my Jah-stick in the air like it was a spear and I was on a sacred mission to deal with the dragon in his cave who'd terrorized the villagers for centuries. That's a fantasy, I know but that's how I think sometimes.

Finally I was over the top of the hill looking down at Mobay and came to the sign STARPORT and turned in at the stone gate and walked up the long driveway past the terraced flower gardens and all the strange white animals with the red eyes and mouths and marched up the wide front steps to the greathouse. It was real quiet and I couldn't see anybody not even the guy who worked in the gardens or the woman, his wife who did the laundry and all but I remembered it was the heat of the day and they never worked then anyhow, but there weren't any cars in the parking area I noticed and no one out at the pool either which was unusual. I'd never seen the place empty before and kind of liked it.

I hollered, Yo, Pa! and Yo, Evening Star! a couple times and finally decided the place was mine for the time being. I took a cold Red Stripe from the fridge and wandered into the livingroom where I'd dropped my stuff and scrounged around till I found some cigarettes, loosies in a silver box. I took a handful and started smoking and because I hadn't had any for a few days got instantly high although not like with skunk of course and it wore off right away. Then I noticed Pa's CD player by his chair and I thought I'm pretty nervous and this'd be a good chance to finally hear those classical CDs I took from the Ridgeways' summerhouse in Keene so I went into my pack and pulled them out.

I was thinking about that place in Keene now anyhow due to the similarities of me being alone there and alone here and with both houses being old and up on a hill with great views and I was noticing how different I was now from how I was then only a little less than a year ago. Naturally in lots of ways I was still the same person but the differences were real and pretty amazing and I hoped permanent because in spite of how things'd turned out I never wanted to go back to being the sad fucked-up kid I was a year ago.

The guys who'd made all the CDs had these mostly unpronounceable names which was definitely not like typical rock or reggae bands except for this one that attracted my attention not only because I could pronounce it, Charles I'ves but because I'ves was in big letters and seemed like an excellent Rasta name and plus some of the songs had names like The Unanswered Question and The See'r and All the Way Around and Back which sounded like they might be Rasta songs or at least spiritual, so I snapped that one in and kicked back in Pa's chair and listened to it. I guess I was like still wishing for a message from I-Man in Africa to tell me what to do next so I listened to this I'ves guy more careful than I would've otherwise and accidentally got really into his songs, most of which didn't have any words but that didn't matter because when they did have words they were sung like in opera and I could barely understand them. But it was the band music I was into, all these trumpets and violins coming at me from different directions at different speeds and loudness but linked together anyhow. No one instrument stood out so I figured Ras I'ves must be the song-writer and probably led the band too although he might've been the piano player. I don't think he did any of the singing.

I sat there for a couple of hours and played the CD over and over and the more I listened the stronger and steadier inside I felt until I was sure that I-Man was using his ol' compadre Ras I'ves to drum me into shape and clarity the same way the Cockpit Rastas late at night used their African drumming out on their groundations sitting around the chillum together to see into the depths and the heights of I. I figured Ras I'ves must be a white guy due to a lot of the songs having white names like Three Places in New England and General William Booth Enters into Heaven but it was obvious listening to him that he was a true heavy Rasta anyhow and I was starting to think that maybe
that
was the message I-Man was sending me, that even though I was a white kid I could still become a true heavy Rasta myself someday but only as long as I didn't ever forget I was a white kid, just like black people could never forget they were black people. He was telling me in a world like ours which is divided into white and black that was how you finally came to know I.

Along about five I heard a car coming up the driveway and it turned out to be the black Buick, Pa's government car. The driver stopped by the steps and let Pa out and then turned and went back the way he'd come. Pa I could instantly see was seriously toasted, swinging and swaying as he came slowly up the steps and grinding his teeth like from speedballs so I decided this might not be the best time to tell him his son had returned to the fold. I grabbed my stuff and ran up the stairs and down the hallway to what used to be my room at the end and didn't remember till I got there that I'd left the Ras I'ves CD playing. It was too late to go back so I just chilled and let him deal with it. I could hear Pa hollering downstairs for Evening Star and yelling, Where the hell
is
everybody, for Christ's sake! and mumbling to himself as he walked from room to room.

Then a little while later I heard another car drive up, Evening Star's Range Rover from the sound of it and here comes a whole bunch of white American female voices including Evening Star's plus one Jamaican guy laughing that when he said, Me gwan fe kill de goat now, I recognized as Jason. A couple of the females said like, Oh-h-h
no-o-oo
! but they were only kidding and laughed and pretty soon there was the sound of splashing and diving from the pool where I guessed everyone'd gone for a swim, except Jason I figured and Pa who I'd never seen swim even once the whole time.

Downstairs then I heard Evening Star in the livingroom saying, What the hell are you listening to? and Pa who was somewhere else, probably in the kitchen says, Beats the shit out of me. I dunno, I think it was on when I came in, he says sounding fairly mellow so I decide this's as good a time as any to make my appearance.

I don't know why but I put my pack on and brought my Jah-stick. I guess I wanted to like make a grand entrance descending the staircase which I did and they both watched me in silence as I came walking slowly down to the livingroom. Then when I got to the bottom step Evening Star came rushing over to me and wrapped me up in her arms smelling like bread and I could see on her shoulder and neck a light sweat and almost licked it but didn't. She said, Oh Bone, thanks and praise! Thanks and praise
to Jah.
Bone! We've been so
worried
about you, darlin'.
Look!
she says to Pa releasing me then and turning me around so he can see me better. He's
back
! she says. Your pick'ny's
back!
and Pa gets this squinty shit-eating grin on his face like he can almost see me through the haze.

My pick'ny, he said and he floated his hand out in the air toward me so I shook it but it was like shaking a cold banana and I let go of it real quick.

Doc's not feeling too good, Evening Star says to me and I go, Yeah, I see. He looked really bad actually, even thinner than before and gray-faced with dark circles under his eyes and he didn't look like he'd had a bath in a long time either.

Hard week, dear? she said slightly sarcastic but Southern so you can't really tell.

Yeah, you could say that, he says and drops down in his chair and notices the Ras I'ves which is still playing and says, What the
fuck
is that? and twitches like it hurts him to hear it. Ol' Ras I'ves is deep into Central Park in the Dark then so that's what I say, Central Park in the Dark, and Pa cringes and turns away.

I
hate
that shit, he says. Turn it the fuck off!

Evening Star reached down to the player and switched it off and said to me, C'mon in the kitchen, dear. Your daddy's in a
foul
temper but I want to hear all about your adventures. I want to find out where you-all've
been
all these months. We were afraid you'd gone back to the
States,
she said. That is, until Jason told us he'd run into you out there at Mount Zion.

He said that?

Yes he surely did, only a few days ago. He said he saw you with I-Man, poor thing, and we were
so
worried about y'all after they found I-Man shot to death. It was drugs, wasn't it? I hope
you
weren't involved. Bone honey, tell me you weren't involved. You've
got
to tell me everything, darlin'.
Everything.
There's
so
many rumors floating around. What
happened
? she asked but immediately turned and headed for the kitchen. I dropped my backpack and Jah-stick and followed her with a few questions of my own but she'd already started rattling in her high excitement mode about tonight's menu, roast goat that Jason's going to barbecue for us and some
exquisite
basmati rice dear sweet Rita's brought us, whatever that was and whoever Rita was although I could guess as I heard squeals and squeaks from the direction of the pool.

Y'll want to take a swim, honey? You look plumb tuckered out. I've got to get supper going but you go ahead and meet Rita and Dickie, they're these
wonderful
lesbians from Boston, she said like I gave a shit they were lesbians. They're both artists and you'll
love
them.

Evening Star was wearing this loose red and white striped smock over a skin-colored bikini bathing suit and I could catch flashes of leg and belly now and then. Her tan was wicked good and probably all over because of the nude sunbathing she was into. She and the others'd spent the day at Doctors Cave, she said and later shopping for souvenirs for Rita and Dickie to take home. She was covered with dried ocean salt and itchy and was going to take a swim in the pool herself as soon as she had the supper under control. So you go ahead, darlin', she said. I'll join y'all in a few minutes.

I said no, I wanted to hear about I-Man and all that so while she cooked and I helped by chopping the veggies and grinding the coconut and suchlike she went on about how she'd heard that I-Man'd tried to rip off some big-time American ganja dealer, she didn't know who and he and one of his posse'd gotten shot for it. I asked her what about Doc, did he know anything about it and she said no, although Doc did know some of the Kingston dealers and various and sundry unsavory types, she called them but this one was a mystery to him too. I asked if Doc was into dealing and she hesitated a second and said, Well, sometimes a little, I reckon, but don't say anything. Just a little ganja, you know. For the tourist trade. Basically, she said, Doc's become a consumer. As you can see.

Yeah, I said. Speedballs.

She sighed and looked at her hands. I'm afraid so, honey, she said. I'm afraid so. It ain't a very nice welcome home, is it, my love? she said and put her hands on my shoulders and looked sadly into my eyes. We were about the same height I noticed which meant I'd grown about four inches since I split with I-Man for Accompong last summer. Then suddenly she let go of me and pushed her dreadlocks back and went to work again. For a few minutes neither of us said anything and I just watched her from behind while she stirred the dreadnuts in a pan at the stove. There was some more squealing from the pool and I smelled woodsmoke from the barbecue pit out on the patio where Jason was getting ready to cook the goat. Doc had put one of his own CDs on, some old Ike and Tina Turner song and when I glanced back into the livingroom I saw he was flopped in his usual place and was smoking a decent-sized J and looking blissed.

There's something I've been wanting to ask you, I said to Evening Star.

She turned and looked at me and smiled. What's that, darlin'?

Well, I was like wondering. . . I was thinking maybe you'd like to fuck me. You know, since I've never actually done it.