“Chambers! Chambers is a next one! Duncey Chambers.”
“You ain’ see how smart Gypsy sing dat? He say ‘Chambers don’ see’—duncey, yuh check it?”
“Gypsy didn’—”
“But allyou mixing up de order’a them. Wait nuh, I ain’ finish with Williams. Robinson, now, was training under Williams but Robinson want to take over de place and he plan to do dat soon as Williams step on a plane. He go and see Williams off at de airport, not knowing he own wife, Patricia, deceased Patricia Robinson, was there. She had decide that her husband plan would bring trouble — so she wait till Robinson leave the airport, then she run quick and tell Williams. Some people say she was having affairs with Williams, me ain’ know but anyway, is she that tell the man. So my boy Robinson, A.N.R. Robinson, Arthur Napoleon Raymond Robinson…”
“Napoleon?”
“Yes! Watch nuh, is so we used to laugh when we hear the name Napoleon, eh. Anyway, Robinson sit down in Williams office, well cock-up on de man desk, planning what he go do, now he can take over. When he look up, he see this bald-head man with dark glasses in the doorway — he almost faint!”
Big slamming and laughing, even though the ole boys know the story already.
“Williams say, ‘All right, you want to run t’ings — go Tobago!’ And he banish him to Tobago.”
“That’s right.”
* * *
Sammy glad for the ole-talk core of this place. The way how people love talking things they know over and over — is a surety for Sam. It might sound the same but each time you learn something different. That you can count on. Everybody should have they ole boys and ole talk to turn to. That is what he wish. And he mind turn to Fraser. That man’ kind’a company and they ole talk is a hard one to understand. Sammy tell himself he must go and check Fraser soon but he not in a rush to hear the sympathies and niceties and questions.
* * *
SC sits next to her old friend Fraser, realizing that she had never gotten anywhere near as close to him as Ata had, in all the long years she’d known him. Ata made her feel like she was strange, for not dropping everything to be there for him. That’s only because her friend could now afford to do so herself, now that she’s ensconced in the cushy life with Frenchie. Then she’s going around behaving like she didn’t ask for that life anyway. Idle bedside days biding strength has become the focus of Ata’s time. She sits here, telling stories, listening, or “obeying the silence.” Letting her mind go wandering in all directions, aimless as the minutes ticking by, searching under every philodendron leaf, like a lizard. She had grown distant, SC thought, preoccupied with Fraser and rapidly losing her sense of humor.
“Anyways, we have our differences and between you and me, I don’t know when we grew apart so much, but it’s not because of you, or anything to do with your sickness, sorry, illness.”
Fraser looks at her. Perfectly matched brown leather heels and a tan skirt, swishy top and leather handbag — all melded with her smooth skin and plum lipstick. She even set off the horrid dusky-pink carpet. He smiles at her and she grimaces, absentmindedly playing with her four rings. He doesn’t have the energy yet, to tease her out of her darkish mood, and wonders if he ever will again.
“It’s a shame, we were so close at one point.” She keeps twisting her rings.
“Yes. A shame,” he agrees.
“There’s so much shit going on here — I don’ mean you — distractions, people all up in yuh business, dramas. You could have a ton’a friends and none at the same time, really. Everybody so into theyself and all the stupidness, you could end up lonely and depress’ wondering what is all about. Oh Laus, now I depressing you? Sorry, I…”
They hear the car arrive, door shut, and Ata steps in.
“You’re back early.”
Neither bother to feign surprise or ask why. The Donkey business had already spread across the land by hot-mouth wireless and Maco Daily.
Steups.
“And steups again, girl. You go be steupsing the whole way through Carnival this year.” SC crosses a leg and stretches her neck. She never takes part in the messy, crowdy jump up and had already split up her holiday so she could take off, up the North Coast, when that time comes. Carnival had already come between the two of them. She could never understand how Ata could watch flabby, sweating, big-belly men and worse, women, with flesh hanging out everywhere, packing up on each other — and turn and say it’s beautiful. “Real people,” she called them and an “amazing range of bodies.”
Ata watches her precious friend thinking about the stupidness again. She explains what little she knows of the Amen concept and Fraser takes an instant liking to it, ignoring her frustration.
“Yes, you would like it. ‘How timely’ is right. But don’t even think you going anywhere near mas and play yuh-self!” SC is onto him and as soon as she says it, Ata can see Fraser’s intentions walking across his sleepy face.
“No, no, no.” He tries to pull his smirk in and get back to Ata’s work. “But you have to make your decision, dahling. How long you been with him? Eight years off and on? In the four years I know you, you saying the same thing. The man’s work is brilliant but he ain’ go change.”
They all know that the best of Trini’s young visual artists have tried to work with God of Design. And not one of them has stayed on.
“The man is impossible!”
SC steupses.
“That’s not even the sad part. It’s the opportunity that is lost for other artists to carry this incredible thing on when he can’t anymore.” Ata wonders, though, if it really is an opportunity lost. Hasn’t he contributed enough to the Carnival arts already? Imitations were already starting to pop up and his name had become “esqued” in style too. “Slingeresque.”
“Well, thank God dat is not my worry. And is not yours neither, Ata, I don’ know why you fighting-up with all dat.”
“I’m not the only one. What about the Chinese guy who’s dying and is working his last days away in the camp and just wasted them on costumes that would never be worn?” Ata knows SC’s tightened lips are saying, “Well, who tell he to go and waste time in the first place,” but she turns to Fraser, expecting some sympathy. He knows the guy too.
Fraser smiles. He’s beginning to fade but can see Amen clearly. How fitting at this time in his life, his work with the church and Father McBarnette — this might be his “last Carnival.” He’d be very happy to join thousands of people in plain white T-shirts with black print. “Hallelujah,” he murmurs softly.
“Look you…” SC notices he’s falling asleep and whispers to Ata that she has to go do some errands — this is her errands and “town” vacation week, before her escape holiday.
How could someone have an “errands vacation” and be so predictable? Ata doesn’t object, even though she thought they were going to spend some time together today. She doesn’t ask when they might have lunch either. Ata watches her town-friend look back at Fraser’s sleeping face, then prance off purposefully to her sleek car.