Chapter Ten

 

Melody took her time closing up the house that night. She had prepared the children for bed. Looking down into Lauren's sleepy features, she had allowed herself to wonder about Sabrina. Had her adoptive mother done the same?

She had tried to avoid thinking about Sabrina and her adoptive family and what she was like as a little girl, but little by little her curiosity was overwhelming her. Had she been as feisty and as independent as Lauren when she was her age? Or had she been a sweet shy child?

Melody sank down in one of the sofas in the dark. She was fighting a losing battle in her head. She allowed herself to once more remember how it was.

 

August-December 1994

 

"Miss Melody, if you sleep on the beach one more time with Greg Riley, I am going to discipline you myself," Babsy said to her sternly. "Because God knows your two parents are not up to the task."

Melody stumbled over a couch and giggled helplessly and saluted Babsy. "Yes Miss."

"You are drunk again," Babsy said in horror, "and you smell like marijuana."

"Everything is good Labsy, Cabsy, Wabsy," Melody slurred, and then she broke out into a fit of laughter.

Babsy opened her mouth to speak but then she heard snoring. Melody was sprawled out on the sofa in an inelegant heap, her head lolling to one side. Her hair was dusted in sand and her t-shirt and shorts were coated with it.

She looked like she had dug a hole and slept in the sand. Babsy went back to the kitchen, a genuine feeling of distress gripping her. She needed to do something, and fast. She had been working with the Blus for the summer, and she had not expected what total bedlam it would be. She had seen them on television and they had been her favorite comedic pair.

She had thought that working for them would like living with an extension of their television personalities, but how wrong she was. Mr. Blu constantly tried to pinch her on her buttocks and Mrs. Blu lounged around in her nightgown everyday and spoke loudly on the phone to some friend or the other, or had somebody important visiting. When she was not doing that, she would ask Perkins to rub her feet because they hurt.

Babsy didn't see Mrs. Blu walk anywhere, so it was a mystery why her feet needed so much rubbing. And then there was the little girl. She was fourteen but acted like she was forty. She drank and smoked and used cuss words that made Babsy cringe just thinking about them.

Babsy had lifted her up in prayer at her church so many times. She even had her prayer group praying earnestly for the child, but it seemed as if since she had hooked up with the boy next door she had gotten worse.

There was a time when prayer was good and well, but God wanted action and Babsy was psyching herself up to speak to Mrs. Blu about Melody. She needed to pay some attention to the girl and be her parent, not her friend. Children needed discipline and boundaries, and Melody had none.

She wiped her hands on the cloth and headed for the Blus’ master bedroom. They usually slept until midday, and in the evenings went visiting friends. They had no idea what Melody got up to. She needed Mrs. Blu to see for herself that her daughter was filthy and smelled like drugs and alcohol.

She knocked on the door and waited for a while. When she didn't hear any movement she opened the door tentatively. The bedroom was so vast that her entire house could fit into it.

They were both sleeping in their king-sized bed with a canopy on the top. Mr. Blu was snoring, and Mrs. Blu had in ear plugs and something over her eyes.

They wouldn't hear her even if she brought a live band in the room. Babsy didn't know what to do now; all her bravado had fled. She needed this job; her two children were finishing up high school this year.

The Blus were generous beyond her wildest dreams. They paid her three times as much as her sister got in three months working in a bank. They were the most relaxed employers ever. She had never had a job like this. She would keep her concerns about Melody to herself and do what she could do in her limited capacity as their helper.

 

*****

 

Melody woke up with a slight hangover. It was a condition she was very used to, as she woke up feeling like this most every day. She went for a shower in her bathroom. She stood under the beating water, feeling vaguely depressed, restless, and disconnected. She usually felt this way everyday. Her days were blurring into each other.

She usually came in after a night of drinking and smoking with Greg Riley down on the beach. Sometimes they would go out on fisherman Pete's boat. One time she had gone for nearly two days, just her, Pete and Greg. Pete had given her several pounds of fish after that catch. Only Babsy had missed her.

She stepped out of the shower and toweled off. They were running out of fun things to do, her and Greg.

She pulled on a summer dress and headed for the kitchen.

"Finally!" Babsy said loudly. "You, miss lady, are running wild. By the time you are seventeen you'll look like an old hag. By that time your lungs will be black like the outside of well done beef and your liver, tired of processing the poisonous alcohol you feed it, will swell up and burst."

Melody snorted. "No, stop it! Greg is sixteen; nothing is wrong with him! His father drinks; his mother drinks. Nothing is wrong with them."

"But something will happen," Babsy's tone was ominous and filled with doom. She turned down the stereo she was listening to. Melody could hear a preacher's voice. It was one of Babsy's favorite pastimes, to listen to sermons and to give them, usually with the same vigor and intensity as the pastors on the radio. She could see on Babsy's face now that she was setting up for a lecture.

"You are going down the wrong path, Melodious Blu. You are injuring your health and your future. In God's name, stop!"

"Shut up!" Melody said rudely. "What did you cook?"

Babsy put her hand at her sides. "You will respectfully address me or I'll not speak to you again."

Melody cringed at the fiery wrath she saw coming out of Babsy's eyes. She was well aware that Babsy cared for her and if she didn't speak to her again, she would have no one to care about her.

Her parents were only here because her grandma had married a diplomat who was going to be stationed in another country and needed to offload her so she could go live with him. She heard her grandma saying that her childrearing days were done; she needed space.

That piece of eavesdropping had made her feel lonely indeed.

"Sorry," she said stiffly to Babsy, who was still staring at her as if she wanted to slap her.

"I wish I lived here," Babsy said, acknowledging her apology with a nod, "because as soon as I step out of this house in the evenings you disappear, don't you?"

Melody hung her head meekly and kept quiet while Babsy mumbled, "You need a firm guiding hand. You need the Lord Jesus in your life. A child can't grow up without values. And that Riley boy is the worst sort of role model, but then again, his parents are just as bad as yours.

"They are not monitoring the two of you. I tell you," she placed the plate in front of Melody, "I think if you are rich and can afford the time with your children, why not spend it with them. They are God’s best gifts to us. They have to be cherished and not left up to their own devices. I know exactly where my two are now, and they are older than you. I don't envy your parents one bit."

Melody nodded dutifully.

"They pay me generously," Babsy said, sitting before Melody, "and I appreciate it. Jobs like this are tough to come by in the hills, but let me tell you, I highly disapprove of your upbringing. It's not right."

Melody scarfed down the boiled bananas and ackee and salt fish in her plate, hardly hearing what Babsy had to say.

"One year," Babsy was saying when Melody tuned in. "If they just give me one year with you I would straighten you out so well they would be surprised at the new you. First I would send you to Mother Greta and she would detox you for three weeks, then I would send you to the Christian school my children go to: St. Ann Christian Academy, where they still have worship before classes…God knows you need it.

"Which reminds me—the high school called. Orientation for you is tomorrow. I am going to have to be here early and take you."

Melody resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Greg went to school there. He said the students there were lame.

She did not want to go to school. She was quite fine without school. She didn't say that to Babsy, though.

She suffered through Babsy's counsel and was more than relieved when she got up to do some housework.

She caught her mother between phone calls and they had their regular morning chat, where her mother reminisced about some theatre production or the other, that was interrupted by a visit from a friend who was dropping by who just happened to be visiting the resort area.

That meant she was free to slip out unnoticed and head over to Greg's. The properties were connected by a fence, which was broken down in some areas. Greg's parents, Barbara and Ferdinand, were destination wedding photographers who were in high demand. They had spent all summer in some far-flung places, taking photographs. They had left Greg behind with the helper, who had quit at the top of the summer because of some stunt Greg had pulled. His parents had arranged for another person to stay with him at the house, but they had also left. His parents didn't know that. They thought he was well-supervised and attending summer school.

She walked up to the house; she knew she would find Greg at the poolside. He liked to tan himself in the late evening sun. He was smoking and had a dopey look in his eye.

"Hi Melody," he said gruffly. "You took your time getting here."

"Hi," Melody said, putting down a container of food beside him. "Babsy was in fine form today. I couldn't get away to bring you breakfast; she went on and on about God and the Bible and life and how she would reform me."

"No prob." Greg looked at her, bleary eyed. He was a wiry guy with very pale brown eyes, which matched his brownish hair. His skin was looking more nut brown since he had decided to sunbathe every day. She thought he was extremely cute. It had taken her the better part of June to not look at him and blush.

"You know, you are very pretty," Greg said, opening the dish and squinting at Melody.

Melody flushed. It was not the first time Greg was telling her that. He had been complimenting her since last week. It was as if he was realizing for the first time since the beginning of summer that she was a girl. It made her feel maddeningly happy that he was finally noticing her as a girl and not just a buddy who followed him on all of his jaunts around the town.

"Thanks," she said shyly.

"You should wear a dress more often," Greg said, stubbing his cigarette on the top of the table. He fell on the food like a starving person.

He never did any shopping and she realized that if she didn't carry food for him, he would be just as content to smoke marijuana and drink through his parent’s vast wine collection. He was that melancholy and discontented. Bringing food for him was the least she could do. She felt partly responsible for him, and needed; she liked that.

Later that evening, while lounging around the pool, Greg told her a story about when he was living in Japan with his parents and the antics he had gotten up to, and how he had taken on a whole gang of teenagers who wanted to beat him up and how he had overpowered them with just a few moves.

She rolled her eyes in the dark. He was retelling the Karate Kid movie and putting himself in the story. Next thing he would be telling her that he was trained by Mr. Myogi. She listened attentively though, hearing the loneliness in his voice and feeling it call out to her. They were both miserable.

Life was just a total waste for her. She wished she had something to do. If she was with her grandma, she would be enrolled in some boring class or the other but at least it would be better than this kind of nothingness. Unfortunately, her grandma had gone off to live her life, and on a certain level Melody realized that she was right: she needed her freedom, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt to be handed over to her parents.

"Come here," Greg said after he had told his story.

He took a swig from a bottle of alcohol and patted the seat beside him. Melody went over and sat beside him. He threw his arm over her shoulder. "You know what I realized, Melodious?" He slurred the words slightly. "You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I think I am in love."

Melody giggled. She took a swig from the bottle and settled further into his arms. He smelled slightly like chlorine and sweat, with a hint of whisky.

He kissed her sloppily and then cupped her breast through her thin sundress. They laughed together for no reason. All their inhibitions were down. He kissed her lips then trailed his lips down her neck.

"Greg," Melody said half-heartedly, "do you think we should be doing this?"

"Yes," Greg said. "This is right. So right."

 

*****

 

It was Babsy, with eagle-eyed intensity, who pointed out to the Blus on one rare morning when they were all up at the same time and eating at the breakfast table that Melody was sick every morning for the past two weeks.

It was a week before Christmas. School was out and her parents had been planning a trip to Kingston to their house there.

"What are you saying?" Rita asked. "You've been sick, baby and didn't tell Mommy? What's wrong?"

"Pregnant," Babsy said stoutly. "I knew it would happen one day. I warned her, I told her to stop sleeping over at Greg Riley's. I knew she was having sex with him, though she denied it."

"Stop the madness, Babsy," Rita said, laughing. "Melodious is just thirteen. I haven't even run through the birds and the bees with her yet."

"She is fourteen," Babsy said in a huff, completely forgetting her promise to stay out of their business, "and both you and your husband are crazy if you think Melody doesn't have personal experience of the birds and the bees or whatever you want to call it. I have been saying for a long time that somebody needs to get this girl off drugs and alcohol and keep her from the boy next door."

Melody hung her head, staring at her plate fixedly as the adults sparred about her.

"Drugs, alcohol, pregnant?" her father recited slowly as if he were dazed. It was the first morning in a while that he had not woken up with a hangover.

Rita got up. "This is madness. Melodious, tell Babsy that she should stop hallucinating."

Melody was quiet. Babsy had told her where babies came from, but she hadn't really heeded what she said about condoms and all of that until last month. It wasn't as if she and Greg did it all the time anyway. Sometimes they were so drunk she couldn't even remember if they did it."

"Melodious!" Rita had a panicked look on her face. "Tell Babsy that she is lying!"

Babsy had her hands folded and was tapping her foot. "She can't tell you that because she knows I am right. She has flunked all her classes and she hardly goes to school. Your daughter is an accident waiting to happen and both of you are right here and… ob-ob-ob, that big word," Babsy finished heatedly.

"Oblivious." Rita sank into the chair that she had just got up from and started to howl. Her mascara ran in rivulets down her face.

Alfred was silent; he had the same hangdog expression on his face as Melody.

Babsy winced, staring at the three of them as if they were errant children that she was reluctantly in charge of.

"You know what you must do next," Babsy said to Alfred over Rita's wailing. "Go over to the Rileys’; they are finally back home. You both need to work this out as a family. After all, it's their problem too."

Rita dried her eyes on a napkin. "No. We are not going to involve them. We are just going to get an abortion. Then we will put this behind us and we’ll all pretend that this never happened."

Babsy folded her arms again. "No, sorry, I disagree. You can't just bury things like that. I say no abortion."

"Excuse me," Rita said hoarsely, "this is my daughter; this is my family."

"I am glad you finally realize that," Babsy said, a militant gleam in her eye, "but there is not going to be any abortion. You are going to get her sober at one of those fancy rich people’s clinics. You can suggest that the Rileys can do the same for their son. They can afford to gallivant around the world; they should be able to afford rehab.

"Then you are going to let Melody have the baby and give it up for adoption because none of you on either side can take care of your actual children much less a grandchild. After that you," she pointed at Rita sternly, "are going to give her some attention. You are going to be proper parents and spend some meaningful time with the girl."

Rita opened her mouth to argue but thought better of it and said weakly, "I am the boss here, Babsy."

Babsy raised her eyebrows, "And I know how you operate. You are not going to sweep this problem under a rug and pretend it didn't happen. You are not going to traumatize that girl further. You can't take back abortion. You can't undo it."

Melody listened as Babsy told them all how it was going to go. She felt nauseous and she excused herself from the table. Nobody acknowledged that she had even left. They were all listening to Babsy raptly as she laid down the law.

The word pregnant was churning in her mind. It was that easy to be pregnant? She thought wonderingly. Sex hadn't even been fun. She did it because it made Greg happy and now she was pregnant. She had a baby growing inside her belly, like an adult. The thought of it scared her.

She needed a drink or a smoke to forget this. She felt queasy and she barely made it to the bathroom as she heaved what little she had for breakfast. She was sweating slightly and had a clammy feeling. She hated this pregnancy business; she just wanted it to end so that she could move on with her life.

 

*****

 

"Foolish," Melody whispered in the dark as she thought about her younger self. She had been such a foolish girl, and misguided too. The only adult who had been thinking straight at that time was Babsy, with her no-nonsense approach.

When her parents had moved to Kingston, for them to await the birth of her child, Babsy had moved with them. She was the one who insisted that Melody go to church with her.

Rita and Alfred had left the island soon after that for some lucrative television deal, and Babsy really got her one year with Melody after she returned from rehab.

It had been the year that saved her life. She reinvented herself; she found out what all the fuss about being a Christian was. It was really peaceful being a Christian, leaving everything up to God and trusting him. That aching, empty feeling that she had from when she was a young girl gradually disappeared.

She gave birth to a healthy baby girl in May, three months after rehab.

Melody had not wanted to get attached to her, so she hadn't named her or anything. Her parents had found parents for the baby and her mother had insisted that it was best if Melody not know who they were.

She had liked the idea of a closed adoption to close that chapter of her life forever. She had looked into the baby's eyes; they were light brown like Greg's, and she had held her little head in her hands and said goodbye.

Life would be better for the baby apart from her, a teenage girl who hadn't even found her own self yet. She hadn't regretted the decision to give the baby away. Through the years she had felt a twinge of regret whenever she saw a pair of light brown eyes but that had quickly dissipated. She had genuinely moved on, but here was Sabrina in her life. What on earth was she going to do about that?

She thought of calling Babsy. She was a geriatric nurse now, almost retired; she lived in St Ann's Bay and ran a nursing home. They had never lost touch. Babsy had been there for the birth of the twins. She was at every major event in her life; she was the only person that Melody could think of to call whenever she was in panic mode. The only person from then who would understand.

Logan honestly thought that Babsy was Melody's relative, and she had never cleared up that misperception. To clear it up would have been to explain where she met Babsy.

"Melody, it's two o'clock in the morning," Logan said behind her quietly.

Melody spun around, blinking at the light that was shining behind him. "It is?"

"Come to bed," Logan said sleepily. "Want us to pray about whatever it is that is bothering you?"

"No, I am good," Melody said. What she had to say would be between said to God alone.

Logan waited for her to get up; he hugged her around her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. "I hate to see you in turmoil, but if it means anything, just remember that I love you."