Prologue
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I’ve always been ambivalent about the country. Every year, as a child, I’d be forced to visit my godmother, Sammie, a family friend, in Seaford Town, and every year, I’d feel this strange ambivalence about it. While I missed Kingston, I loved her, and I loved Seaford Town. Mostly because I’d get up to all manner of fuckery over there, and we had this motto:
“What happens in Seaford Town stays in Seaford Town.”
And a lot of things happened in Seaford Town, or, as some Jamaicans call it, German Town. When I was sixteen, I got my first tattoo from one of her neighbours, Liam, who just happened to be a tattoo artist. It is three black hearts above my left heel. He also gave me my second tattoo after I finished upper sixth form at seventeen, which is a black anchor on my left wrist. Last year, when I was eighteen, I lost my virginity over there to a boy two years my senior. I remember how amazingly awful it was; I remember limping back to my godmother’s house with tears in my eyes; I remember her comforting me, hushing me.
“Hush, baby,” she said to me, “some o’ dem bwoy ya nuh know a rass weh dem a do.”
Words of wisdom that I won’t soon forget.
This year, I’ll be getting the best of both worlds. My parents are leaving to go on a cruise for a second honeymoon or some bullshit like that, and Sammie is coming to live with me for a few weeks this summer. I watch them from the living room couch as they move their bags around, preparing to leave.
“And remember, don’t let any strangers into the house,” Mummy says to me. I roll my eyes.
“Mummy, I’m nineteen, not nine.”
“I just want you to be safe,” she says. “When is Pinky coming?” she asks me. I stare absentmindedly at the black anchor tattoo on the inside of my left wrist.
“Probably sometime next week, or the week after that,” I tell her.
“Well, I hope that she and the baby are okay,” Mummy says.
“I’m sure they’re fine,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
“Memba seh Sammie frien’ nephew a come wid ’ar,” she tells me.
“Yeah, Mummy, mi memba.” I’ve never met this guy before. That is the one thing that I am apprehensive about; I hope that he’ll be pleasant to be around.
“Jus’ bih careful, ye’er?”
“Lidia? Come, nuh man,” my father calls from outside. “Yuh a go mek we late. She a big pickney, she know ’ow fi tek care a ’arself,” my dad says, before stepping back into the house.
“Wul on, Markie, yuh nah guh tell yuh pickney bye?” Mummy says to my father.
“Mi tell ’ar already!” my father shouts defensively. “Mi neva tell yuh?” Daddy says to me, looking for a defence.
“Yeah, like, t’ree hundred time, tu,” I say with a chuckle. “Unuh need fi lef’,” I tell them, and after a few more minutes, they’re gone. I sigh deeply. I can’t wait until Sammie comes, but things will be boring until she does.
