Jamaica

I shudder as another wave of sickness rolls through me and swallow it back when the whore of Hades and her forked tongue bastard of a husband show me into the living room, their fake smiles making my teeth clench harder.

Joss is so nervous I can see her hands trembling when she lifts the lighter to stoke up her cigarette, puffing like a dragon before giving a hacking cough that makes my own lungs whine a protest.

Fred just keeps smiling and I’d feel sorry for him the way he’s sweating if I hadn’t seen the way he checked Fran out when we walked in.

Yeah, I finally caved under the pressure cooker that is Aunt Sue and drove out here to see my parents even though this little meeting is gonna make it really hard to keep pretending they died by the hand of a sadistic serial killer.

“So, uh, Izzy, you look real good sweetheart,” Joss says hesitantly, her fingers trembling so badly her ash tips off the end of the glowing cigarette to land on the carpet.

I’d feel sorry for her but the truth is I can’t because this is the same woman who told me everyone wears cut up old t-shirts as a sanitary napkin.

Got my period at twelve okay, I was an early developer! I was clueless. I should have known she’d spin me some bullshit like that because she couldn’t afford to buy me tampons like any respectable mother.

I only found out that wasn’t the case when I walked into gym class with a hump in my pants, so big the girls started laughing and my gym teacher almost passed out.

The teacher got so mad when she realized what mom had done she got the free clinic to deliver tampons and pads to old Faith’s place for me every month.

I had to do it that way, not that I appreciate an old voodoo woman knowing my cycle, she was just creepy about that shit. Mom would try to sell them if it came to our place so every month I’d stay with old Faith for three days and pray to God I went into early menopause, or as old Faith called it ‘God’s good graces’.

“Thanks. What do you want?”

Fran muffles a gasped laugh and I swear I see Fred flinch before that ever familiar look comes into Mom’s eyes before she can school herself.

“Don’t be rude, Izzy! We, uh, just wanted to talk to you and make our peace, girl.”

Oh yeah! Nice try, bitch. I wasn’t born yesterday and even if I was, even a newborn would smell the bullshit and tap out. I wish to God I’d been born with enough brains to do it and maybe I’d have grown up normal and made friends who don’t put stickers on people’s bumpers reading ‘I suck for fun, honk if you like a gummy smile’.

She left one on the old jalopy outside the house and I hope to high heaven it’s Mom’s car just for the hell of knowing she won’t know why people are honking at her.

“Peace? Or to get a piece?” Fran snorts, curling her lip at the state of the windows and the overloaded fly paper fossilizing from its place on the ceiling.

“That’s really not a nice thing to say! We’ve been in a program and we just need some help getting back on our feet now that we’re straight,” Mom says, sounding offended.

Like I care, man.

The last time I had to hear one of these speeches I was just getting out of the academy and I spent my first check on a deposit for a new place for them and some furniture.

They sold it all the next week, took the security deposit and split for boozier pastures. I’m not falling for that again, hence Fran and her glaring eye and wasp tongue.

“Straight? Lady, when’s the last time you were straight enough to know what booze breath doesn’t smell like? Look, we all know you’re just looking for Jamaica to give you all money because you owe a dealer two grand and you’re terrified he’s going to come after you.” Fran sneers, her lip curling when Dad flinches and his concubine turns an ugly shade of red.

“How dare you! How would you even know?”

“Oh, I have this really creepy psychic on retainer and she knows all about you and Freddy Jerkury over there. Hhhmm, let me see now. She said you were sleeping with some idiot who has a name that rhymes with puke. No surprise. You’re riding the dragon and she saw you inside a jack bottle. It’s pretty obvious that you’re doing some dude named, oh what the hell do I care. All I know is that you’re on something, you drank this morning and you owe a pimp two grand.”

My mom’s mouth drops open as if it’s unhinged and I choke on a giggle when Fran rolls her eyes, pulls a sheaf of papers out of her super lawyer bag and tosses them on the table with a pen.

“What is this?” they both ask at the same time, my mom leaning over to peer down at it.

“That is a contract,” she says sweetly, making me blink back at her right before she double whammies them. “It stipulates that you will receive a place to live and a weekly grocery delivery for the rest of your lives. Everything is already taken care of, all you need to do is sign.”

“What? Fran-” I start, confusion clouding my brain.

“Sign it if you want the free place and groceries. If you don’t, we walk out of here right now and nothing you say in the future will get Jamaica here. She has a life, one that doesn’t include the two of you trying to extort her for money whenever you get out of control with your habits. As well as the home and groceries, I’ll throw in a little bonus of a hundred dollars each for your various vices if you really have to be two junkie dick heads.”

She doesn’t bat an eyelash and I’m so shocked all I can do is stare open mouthed while Dad leans over and reads the thing before taking the pen in his trembling hand and signing.

My mom’s not so easy but for once Fred comes through for me and makes her sign.

“Do it!”

“But Fred-”

“This is all we could ask for Joss. We’ll have a home without worryin’, food and if you can’t stay on the wagon you’ll have something for your stash-”

“But the two grand-”

“My client has already made reparations to Mr. Puke on your behalf and he’s been instructed not to ever sell to you unless he wants a very unpleasant group of people to pay him a visit. Now, sign or I leave and it’s all off the table, including the two grand,” she says harshly.

My mother pales and I see her shaking as she signs and hands the contract back before turning to me.

“I really do love you, Izzy.”

“Yeah, yeah. You love her so much you keep spending money and trying to guilt her into paying your debt. We get it.” Fran barks, pushing everything into her bag and rising to her feet.

“Thank you so much for this, we had a wonderful time breathing in your noxious fumes and staring at your unhealthy living environment. Someone will come by and take you to your new premises. If at any time the two of you are both clean for more than a five year stretch, I have been instructed to put the house in your name. If not…you’ll still have a place to stay but it will never be yours. Come on, Jam, let’s bounce. I think I feel a flea trying to crawl into my skin.”

I follow her out without saying a word and it’s only when we’re in her car and speeding back to her office that I finally find a brain cell and turn to look at her.

“Your client?” I ask slowly, hoping to hell she’s not representing me again, without my knowledge.

The last time she did that I ended up suing a sex shop for false advertising. Now look, I won that case just fine - even if I was only aware of it near the end - and I made a lot of money for some very happy people down at the woman’s shelter.

“Fran, what’s going on?” I ask, gasping when she stops in front of her doctor’s office and practically pulls me out of her car over the driver side seat.

“I’m scared that meat breathed pervert gave you a disease. We’re getting you tested!”

Okay, argument one!

“I don’t wanna go to the doctor.”

“Too bad because you’re going. See? We’re already here,” she says cheerfully.

I don’t know how the blonde little fluff puff does it but she tows my six foot frame into the office, passed reception and into a consultation room before I can manage to struggle.

“Now, Jamaica, don’t be difficult. Just let Dr. Moon do some tests and I’ll explain everything else to you.”

I shake, my eye balls stretching wide when a tiny grey haired woman walks into the room and orders me to get on the exam table. Fran lifts me, slams me down and holds me while the doc does everything from listen to my chest to putting her hands in some very awkward places.

“Jesus, is she body searching me for drugs?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Fran laughs. “I told her to check a few things. Okay! Let’s start this party. Piss in the cup and I’ll explain about Billy Bob and Angelina Snorton.”

I don’t even get the dignity of a bathroom, I think, appalled when the doctor just pulls a privacy curtain and Fran stays planted, tapping her foot patiently while I pull down my jeans and very self-consciously push a few drops of pee into the cup.

“Great! I do not understand people who have golden shower fetishes because that was not sexy at all! Anyway, here doc, do your thing while I talk to Rainman over here.”

“Fran-”

She sits me down gently, well for Fran, my ass is sure to bruise, and takes my hands, her blonde hair and blue eyes giving her an angelic look that is soon dispelled when she opens her dumpster of a mouth.

“Look, babe, having you here with me has been a blast. You know I love you, Jamaica, and we’re sisters even if you’re a weird big chick with dark coloring and I’m some perfectly hot spritely gal.”

“Hey-”

“But you gotta go home, Jam. You have a family waiting on you, a whole life ahead of you filled with love and all that sappy shit you’ve been hankering after for years. Santiago called me…okay, that’s a lie. I called Santiago and filled him in about your parents and all the other shit you’ve been talking about and he’s set up this housing and food thing to get them off your back. Uhuhuhh! Listen. The guy is broken to pieces about you leaving, he just wanted to help-”

“Why bother? It’s not like he cares.” I snort, being uncharitable.

I scream when she slaps me, hard. In the face. Grabbing my cheek, I blink and make a note to check her medicine cabinet for steroids. She hits hard. The doc comes back in a moment later and gives Fran a look.

I don’t decipher it quick enough and I’m pinned beneath Fran with something jabbing into my ass a second later, my screams and struggles ignored as she…

I don’t know what she’s doing back there but I’m pretty sure that needle is the size of an elephant’s…trunk.

When that’s done, she hums happily and leaves again and Fran lets me up with a grin.

“Anyway, like I was saying, you need to go home to your family, Jam. Santiago is all torn up about you leaving but he’s promised to stay put and look after Gabby because he knows that is what you’d want. Just go home and talk to the guy. If you’re still not happy after you’ve spoken, come home and we can hang out and man bash to your heart’s content. Although it won’t be quite as much fun since I’m pretty sure you can’t drink for the next few months,” she says drolly making me still.

“What?”

She rolls her eyes and doctor Needles comes back in, giving her a nod and smile.

“Definitely cooking something in there.”

“What the hell…?”

“Great! I love it when Wanda’s right. That bitch is scary accurate, huh?” she asks the doctor, who shudders and mutters something about the bane of her existence and the family Christmas get togethers.

“She’s your family?”

“Dude, she’s my twin sister, so every time Fran calls and you picture Wanda, you can see this beautiful mug. By the way, she says you owe her a grand for services rendered,” she says before leaving again.

I’m in shock as I turn to Fran and growl when she smiles and pats my head like a dog.

“I’m pretty sure that right there can be considered malpractice or something.”

She sucks her teeth and leans in conspiratorially, her shoulders shaking.

“Yeah but no one ever sues her because they’re terrified Wanda will put a curse on them. One lady called her a quack and the next day she broke out in boils. Dee is cool like that and she helped me when I had to take a piss test because my bosses were convinced I was smoking weed.”

“Were you?”

I don’t even know why I ask, I already know the answer.

“Damn straight I was! What’s the use representing a drug lord if you can’t enjoy the perks? Now then. Home,” she says, standing up with a definite air of command.

“I don’t wanna-”

“Jamaica, you have one kid at home waiting for her mama, another one cooking in your womb and a man who’s going nuts because Nona keeps spitting on him whenever he passes her. Honey, you love the man and yeah, he’s a liar and an asshole and no sane woman would fall for his brand of shit. Except you. Because you love him and you are happy with him and blah, blah, blah, all that gross love shit. Look! Do I have to do the disgusting let’s all love each other and forgive speech because yeah, I’m a lawyer and I lie for a living but even I can’t lie that well,” she gripes, making me laugh.

“This is bullshit.”

“Yeah it is but it’s your bullshit. The last time he hurt you, you left without a fight. I say you go back there, beat his ass up and take what you want. He doesn’t love you? Make him! He doesn’t want to share his life with you? Jesus H, Jamaica, since when does he have a choice?” she asks.

“Fran.”

“You know what my mama did when my dad wanted to have an affair with his secretary and she caught him flirting? She told anyone who’d listen that my dad had an ass fetish. Granted, nowadays, most women would be curious but back then it was tantamount to saying the man was a pervert. She kept him in line because she didn’t want to lose him. She knew she was the only woman he could be happy with so she made sure he was never without her.”

“That sounds gross and weird,” I mumble.

“Is it grosser and weirder than losing your family and being unhappy for the rest of your life? Jamaica, the man loves you. He has to love you to put up with your grumpiness and still wanna make sex with you after you get your period. I’ve seen you foam at the mouth at that time of the month,” she says and all I can do is nod because it’s true.

“What if-”

“Don’t what if anything! Just do what you have to do, Jam. This is real life, not some movie you’re watching for the millionth time hoping for a different ending. You write the ending, babe, and I say you make it the sappiest, grossest ending you possibly can. Go home to your family. They need you, and Jam, you need them.”

I still, my eyes narrowing and nod my head because, ya know, she’s right. Since when is it his choice to give me what I want? We’re a taking species, us women! We’re the warriors who shove babies out of holes small enough to be considered the eye of a needle.

Okay, well, comparatively speaking, but you get the point.

I drop my hand to my belly, a whole host of emotions hitting me all at once and smile when it hits me that my fucked up ovaries and womb have come through for me.

Take that forty percent chance! I won.