Ata was still bleeding, every day, it hadn’t stopped. She told no one but the hills know. Watching.
* * *
The damp valley clouds them up in Fraser’s living room. All the kitchen full of overcast friends and family. Almost as full as the last great party but hushed as a hurricane shelter. They argue over how people do disappear, just so, ’specially on the coast. No they can’t — it must have been a crime. Whether she’s in any state to go up there again, how much of a loner she is, how odd.
“I find since she start with this writing thing, she behaving more strange. I can’t understand what she want to write for, anyway—”
“Exactly. Is not like it have any great war or famine, or any kind’a superfamous story here to write about,” Marriette’s brother cuts off SC.
Fraser is almost buried under Helen, lawyer-friend, smallee-Indi, and her husband around him on the settee. His eyes, a sharp knee, a fragile hand poke out.
“Youall squeezing him!” Mrs. Goodman tweets and starts tugging at his blanket.
They ease away slightly, then settle again.
“I can’t comprehend what Ata must be going through, what happened.” Lioness Goddess rubs Fraser’s foot on her lap. “I don’t understand any of this.”
“I undershtand,” Fraser slurs.
“Of course, we know why she want to keep going up there — that’s where she feel closest to him, to any hope,” SC says. “But by herself? I don’ think she ready for that.”
Gray clouds into green for a moment as Fraser struggles to understand why it is taking this long. How long was it now? In the clear patches there is too much to think about, and say. “Ready,” he manages and sees them staring aghast at him.
Alan’s smoke seeps in from the veranda and they all turn to look at Fraser’s mother. The brother sucks his teeth. Sammy, Vernon, and Thomas getting heated out there.
“Had to be fall, he must’e fall and knock he head or something,” Sammy bounces.
“Or he was swimming and a cramp take him,” Thomas returns.
Sam springy on his rabbit legs. “Eh heh, them currents strong up there. Dat’s why I don’ take chances sea bathing meself.”
Vernon steups long and low like thunder.
“Is not just currents, it have some evil people … and t’ings out there too. Yuh just never know.”
“Wha’ de hell yuh really saying, small man,” Vernon snarls.
“It have t’ings that does go on in the countryside you mightn’ know about.”
Ata arrives with her older sister and Sammy stops. Vernon watches Sam’s agitated little self and thinks this man likes to run his mouth too much.
* * *
Ata walks in and numbly receives the hugs from her friends.
“Make some room for the woman to take his pulse,” Marriette shouts as Nurse Perfect hovers, waiting for the greeting hubble to end.
Ata’s bruised eyes draw away from Fraser’s clutch and the brother shifts uncomfortably, asks SC to get him a refill.
In the veranda chair, Mr. Goodman doesn’t even try anymore — to keep up any pretenses, to be strong for his wife. Slack and deboned he watches, like the hills, as Sammy hops about.
If small man keep running he mouth, he go say something he sorry for. Vernon half-listens, stiffening. He glances in towards Fraser. What it is he talking about now, so bold-face? How you could look at it like some people lucky?
They have time with they love ones before they go. Sammy prattling, “They have time prepare theyself even if is hard, even though they time come before it should.”
“And wha’ if they choose they time,” Vernon growls.
“What you saying?” Sam squeals louder.
“Hush yuh mouth, boy.” Vernon raises his head and side-steps away from him.
“What he saying?” Sam turns to Thomas. “Fraser taking—”
“Ah say shut up!” Vernon spring right up to him in a flash and Thomas grip Sammy arm.
“How come nobody ain’ tell me? Since when allyou know he taking he own—” Bupp, Vernon throw him down on the tiles hard with one cuff but Sammy ain’t taking it so. He scrambling round, kicking and popping fists on Vernon’s chest, trying to reach his face.
“Aye, aye, aye!” Everybody rushes out an pins back the fight. Brother, Alan, and two others holding down Vernon, he foaming and hollering “Loose me!” eyes glaring past them at the door. Thomas and Mrs. Goodman holding Sammy, who staring at the killer Vernon.
“Loose me!” Vernon screams and bursts away. Same time Ata and Nurse see Fraser seizing. Lawyer-friend there and grabs his limbs but Vernon pitches her aside as he crashes onto Fraser.
The vicious beast in Fraser thrashes and snaps its teeth but Vernon straps him in his arms and lifts. He flinches as claws scratch his face and a bite breaks his skin, but straightens and strides toward the bedroom. Vernon’s tears fall into Fraser’s rolling eyes and open mouth.
* * *
Ata waits, shaken fresh out of her skin. She sits on the veranda even though they told her go home. Home is worse now. He couldn’t be gone, this couldn’t be her.
Vernon sits at the end of the veranda on the floor. His bent knees push him back against the wall but his head hangs forward, arms slack.
SC’s hand rests on her friend’s shoulder bones and the warm weight of it feels like a ton and a magnet at the same time. They wait, and a few others are inside waiting too, for Fraser’s next waking moment.
Only his fingers move in response.
* * *
Alan says Fraser is lucid, in the morning, his word backed by Nurse Perfect. And the morning is as sore as the tortured night and her skeleton. Ata says she’s okay to drive herself but Sam and Sis won’t let her. “It’ll be all right,” she reassures them.
She feels them watching her when they get to the cottage. The yellow distance grief brings between even blood sisters moves with her and the hills never stop staring now. This must be what it’s like to be off.
They keep an eye on her movements on the deck, especially when she nears the top of the treacherous steps. Sis and Sam sit discreetly in the small rock garden, when she picks up her notebook and settles.
* * *
No spirit verse or touch. Ata waits but hears no words. He is gone. Pierre is gone. Only guilt remains.
“She writing,” Sam whispers. He doesn’t know this sister, owing to the fact that she only fly in when this thing happen. They all look alike, though, and this one sprawl off in the sun like she tanning too, ready to stay for a while. He could imagine how bad Ata must be feeling, considering all what she had tell him. And this sister have no idea. Guilty — it must be ’cause she feel like she had meet someone and cheat on Pierre, right here. Sam watch her writing and a kind’a ease on her face and how she slouch. It must be madness ’cause is all in she head. Maybe it wasn’t even no jumbie. They say writers does be off. Too much reading and time in they own head. But with all that happen now, on top of that — he really can’t imagine this kind’a loss. Is different to his. Sudden like his but different. And how come she never tell him that Fraser killing heself? Sam watch her writing.
From the time Ata came to visit this place as a shy child she told herself — this is a place for adults. From the time them lovely Maracas waves first chewed her up … she promised herself she would come back to this prancy, peacock island. But she never trusted the perfumed strutting …
* * *
Fraser’s tongue and lips are dry, so cracked, hot tar inside. Cachot brulant, hot prison cells, used as torture. Sir Walter Raleigh’s men, shot by poisoned arrows, were “‘marvellously provoked’ by thirst; but drink made their condition worse,”* he wants to say, to Alan … so unsavory, no man can endure to cure, or attend to, “please.”