black-people hair that sticks up off her head in four even plaits. Their side of the house is much, much bigger than Auntie Ella’s. Their living room has more furniture in it than Auntie Ella’s. Against one wall there is a white lounge chair. Against the opposite wall are a big velvet couch, a dining table with a glass top, and a big wooden whatnot with crystal and wood-carved animals on the shelves and that houses a stereo system with a record player and a tape deck. The giant color TV sits in the middle shelf of the whatnot.
That evening Mrs. Bremmer tells Auntie Ella that she is lucky to have a niece as bright as I am. “She is such a nice little girl. And so pretty! Her hair is so soft and curly! And you know me, Ella, that is the kind of skin I would absolutely die for!” She turns to me. “Listen, Stacey, I am going to America for a few days. Do you want me to bring something back from Miami for you?”
The way she asks makes me hesitate. It’s as if she expects me to say yes. I don’t want her to think that I am begging her for anything. I also don’t want Racquel to think that she is better than me because I beg her mother to bring me something from America. I don’t know what kind of things she would bring, but I want them.
“That would be nice, Mrs. Bremmer. But you don’t have to bring anything for me. Only if you want to.”
“My goodness, she is so sweet! You have to call me Auntie Pam. I will be your auntie too. Ella, be careful I don’t steal her from you.”
The next morning Auntie Ella finds Racquel—nose pressed against the window—asking if Stacey can come out and play. All day long I show her how to play church, and police-and-thief, and act out the love songs we hear on the radio. We pick hard green mangoes long before they are ready for eating. We add salt and pepper and vinegar and eat the pieces until we are sick. I direct Racquel and Chauntelle in an impromptu concert for Delano. I teach them how to make otaheiti apple and sugar concoctions.
Auntie Pam brings me back coloring books, red ribbons for my hair, and white lace panties—each with a little pink satin bow on the front. She also brings me a pair of shoes. They were really intended for Chauntelle, but they are too big for her. The shoes fit me so well that Auntie Pam says they are mine. She tells Auntie Ella that she refuses to charge her a penny. She says everything looks so nice that I must wear them to Racquel’s birthday party later in the summer.
Sunday in Kingston is the best. Everybody gets dressed up from head to toe. Auntie Ella calls a taxi to drive us all the way to church. I love the congregation in Kingston. Everybody smells like perfume. And the ladies hug and kiss each other when they say hello. The preacher doesn’t scream at us about hell and damnation. He just talks about the peace and joy that await us in heaven. And nobody screams or falls to the floor during the service. At the end the old ladies ask if I need to go to the bathroom or if I enjoyed the service today.
On the third Sunday we are in Kingston, I put on my blue dress with the brown sleeves and the pleated gathers at the waist. It used to belong to Samantha, but she got too big for it. The dress does not quite fit me; the neck is very wide, so wide that when I dip my chin I see the waistband of my panties peeking up at me. The brown sleeves are ugly, but the big yellow bow in the back makes me feel like a flower. I check my reflection in the mirror.
I don’t want to crush my dress, so I sit gingerly on the big couch watching TV. The popular American televangelist Oral Roberts is on the screen, charging sinners to give more of their salaries to God. Auntie Ella comes into the living room and takes one look at my dress and breaks out in tongues. She calls out to Annmarie to go get the little red polka-dotdress. Annmarie throws it at me so hard the zipper stings my right ear. She watches as I untie the bow at the back of my dress.
The
That evening Mrs. Bremmer tells Auntie Ella that she is lucky to have a niece as bright as I am. “She is such a nice little girl. And so pretty! Her hair is so soft and curly! And you know me, Ella, that is the kind of skin I would absolutely die for!” She turns to me. “Listen, Stacey, I am going to America for a few days. Do you want me to bring something back from Miami for you?”
The way she asks makes me hesitate. It’s as if she expects me to say yes. I don’t want her to think that I am begging her for anything. I also don’t want Racquel to think that she is better than me because I beg her mother to bring me something from America. I don’t know what kind of things she would bring, but I want them.
“That would be nice, Mrs. Bremmer. But you don’t have to bring anything for me. Only if you want to.”
“My goodness, she is so sweet! You have to call me Auntie Pam. I will be your auntie too. Ella, be careful I don’t steal her from you.”
The next morning Auntie Ella finds Racquel—nose pressed against the window—asking if Stacey can come out and play. All day long I show her how to play church, and police-and-thief, and act out the love songs we hear on the radio. We pick hard green mangoes long before they are ready for eating. We add salt and pepper and vinegar and eat the pieces until we are sick. I direct Racquel and Chauntelle in an impromptu concert for Delano. I teach them how to make otaheiti apple and sugar concoctions.
Auntie Pam brings me back coloring books, red ribbons for my hair, and white lace panties—each with a little pink satin bow on the front. She also brings me a pair of shoes. They were really intended for Chauntelle, but they are too big for her. The shoes fit me so well that Auntie Pam says they are mine. She tells Auntie Ella that she refuses to charge her a penny. She says everything looks so nice that I must wear them to Racquel’s birthday party later in the summer.
Sunday in Kingston is the best. Everybody gets dressed up from head to toe. Auntie Ella calls a taxi to drive us all the way to church. I love the congregation in Kingston. Everybody smells like perfume. And the ladies hug and kiss each other when they say hello. The preacher doesn’t scream at us about hell and damnation. He just talks about the peace and joy that await us in heaven. And nobody screams or falls to the floor during the service. At the end the old ladies ask if I need to go to the bathroom or if I enjoyed the service today.
On the third Sunday we are in Kingston, I put on my blue dress with the brown sleeves and the pleated gathers at the waist. It used to belong to Samantha, but she got too big for it. The dress does not quite fit me; the neck is very wide, so wide that when I dip my chin I see the waistband of my panties peeking up at me. The brown sleeves are ugly, but the big yellow bow in the back makes me feel like a flower. I check my reflection in the mirror.
I don’t want to crush my dress, so I sit gingerly on the big couch watching TV. The popular American televangelist Oral Roberts is on the screen, charging sinners to give more of their salaries to God. Auntie Ella comes into the living room and takes one look at my dress and breaks out in tongues. She calls out to Annmarie to go get the little red polka-dotdress. Annmarie throws it at me so hard the zipper stings my right ear. She watches as I untie the bow at the back of my dress.
The
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