Jazzie 8 (Epilogue)

A Crab Never Forgets His Hole

The table under the canopy is heavy with dry goods and wilted produce. John’s eyes shift across it, but he barely breaks his step as he comes down off the sidewalk to avoid the obstacle. The woman is a stranger, and John plans to shop at Perry Bay Supermarket as he skirts Grays Green.

Trini’s business is just something the boys need to juggle in their busy lives. Henry is only nine. The boy asked John why the fourteen-year-old Trini seemed so eager to sex with men. Sex at all, the younger boy really asks. Sexing is a teenage-adult thing, Henry understands that. Making money, Henry sees the point in that, and being on the inside of important business is exciting for the young boy. Doing things with body parts, Henry thinks that is gross.

John is eleven, going on twelve. He has the whispers now. He is not an impulsive boy. Nothing is particularly urgent in his life. Pudgee Funk liked John’s sharp eyes and ears on the street. It was Tayo who recognized Jazzie thinks things out. John has whispers; sometimes a body goes zombie for the taste of brain, no thought required — just some insatiable hunger needing to be fed until your head gets blown off. John’s mother with her boyfriend, Jeremy with Theo, feeding the grownup hunger. Trini, smiling at some private catharsis as John collects the money, because like some zombie, Trini would give it all to Tayo. John’s father, shattering his family with his drive for sex. Don’t need that stuff, Henry tells John. John thinks it out; time comes, a boy is going to need that stuff. He has felt the whispers crawling through his gut.

St John’s is a city where a boy can cross the intersection, glance at a pretty girl his age sitting in a Toyota, step his joy down an entire block, and make the next intersection before the jam of cars has moved a yard. John crosses New Street without a thought to the VC Bird monument at the fork. Another time, John will walk through the Public Market with the ecstasy of spendable money in his pocket. He passes the alley at the end of Prince Klass Street.

“Hey, there’s me yut!”

John misses this. It is late afternoon and All Saints Road is the usual carnival of distraction for an eleven-year-old boy with business on his mind. The school bag bounces on his shoulder. He tries to finish his schoolwork on the bus ride home, but his pen skips across the paper leaving scribbles. Today, there was time to finish homework on the steps while Trini did his business. Now, the results of Trini’s business are in his school bag and John needs to get it to the bank.

“John Carter.”

This time, John hears the voice. He swings around. “Hello dad,” John sketches a wave. Thomas Carter is with a new woman. She is fine in her black tights and loose blouse. Not all of his father’s companions look this young. She could be closer to John’s tween than Thomas’ forty.

“Ah way you a do up ya de so?” Thomas captures the woman’s arm, “This me son, John.” There is pride in Thomas’ voice, “He is a Secondary School Boy.”

“Seventh Year,” John corrects.

“You’re good looking, like your dad,” the woman flirts.

“Ah wah you a do up town?” Thomas repeats the awkward question.

“Nothing,” John shrugs no-see-um, “Going home now.”

“Me walk with you,” Thomas Carter decides.

John hides his consternation. He has everyone’s money in his school bag and the Credit Union is still two long blocks away. He cannot go there with his father. This would be a good moment for the zombie urge to take his father away with the woman on his arm.

Thomas kisses his woman of the day with the unbridled affection he shows John’s mother. John loves the man. The boy in John admires the way Thomas wears life like a comfortable, unaccountable garment. Jazzie tries to swagger like Tayo Joseph, and slip around responsibility like Thomas Carter; but something Susan Carter in the boy takes charge. John-Jazzie thinks things out, and men like Tayo and teens like Trini trust him hold the money. When you are eleven, you can love someone without understanding them. You can fall into someone’s footsteps without consciously trying; anyone’s footsteps.

John turns away from All Saints Road and his Credit Union. Thomas walks beside him. They cut through the Public Market doing questions and answers about John’s days at school. Thomas has his certificates, so his interest is honest. Thomas prefers to ignore the consequences of his HIV, but he knows. John’s mentioning new school friends in Cobbs Cross eases his mind. “Me miss you around the house this week.”

“You know I boatsit for an American some nights; save the travel time.”

“The big commute!”

“Yes”

“You on one of those big yachts,? Thomas shakes his head at the privilege. John has become adolescent-independent. There is no regret about this circumstance. Thomas’ children are casual companions to exchange affections. The heavy lifting is a woman’s work you sometimes help with. Once the Carter-chicks find their way about the neighborhood, Thomas treats them as free spirits, like himself.

“His boat is very small. You wouldn’t notice it in the harbor.” John has been back to St John’s twice this week. Once he stayed the night in Tayo’s room, the other afternoon he caught the bus right back to English Harbour. Jeremy’s construction work is done by the time he makes it back. John likes the way Theo bullies Jeremy and him to do their homework together. “Have you found a job?” John asks his father.

“They come and go, God will provide.”

Susan Carter wants Chloe back in school. As long as Thomas has no work, she needs to trust the man to look after the little ones. This suits Thomas, who passes the hands on job to six-year-old Eve while he supervises. John’s father looks for work when Chloe comes home, but life is distracting.

“There is construction all over Falmouth and English Harbours,” John points out reluctantly. It is just possible that Jeremy could find his father work at Fourteen Gates. The apartment complex is becoming very busy.

“There is more work right here in St John’s,” Thomas counters. As father and son walk through the bus station parking lot, Thomas describes the casual work he has found. Talk of work bores Thomas, “I think you have a girlfriend in Cobbs Cross.” John shrugs like Jazzie. His privates are still private night time experiments. Thomas stops abruptly and looks up at the supermarket sign, “What are you doing here?”

“Maybe we’re going to look at the checkout girls,” John grins. He has promised himself this treat. He has been looking forward to taking a shopping cart and slowly pushing it up and down each aisle, pausing to consider items he could purchase for his brother and sisters. Now his father’s presence adds something malicious to the shopping trip.

Not much is selected. It is enough to place a few carefully considered items in the cart. He will not ask his father to pay at the till. John Carter is the one helping Chloe and his mother. He takes one plastic wrapped package of beef, knowing his father will never taste it. John is carefully doing sums as his cart glides across the gleaming floor. Money is never to be wasted, and what he holds is not all his.

At the till, John has a last temptation to ask his father to help with the total. Dad, do you have any money? Most of this food is for the Carter family, after all. The next part is awkward. The money from the boy’s business is in his school bag. Fortunately, the cashier is pretty, definitely worth a look, and this is what John’s father is doing. John fishes out two large bills while Thomas is distracted.

The young woman takes the money from John, and as Thomas flirts, returns the change to his father’s outstretched palm. John’s teeth grind as his hard-earned money goes into his father’s bottomless pocket.

The steak and other special items go into John’s school bag for tonight on Gravity. Thomas is still trying to convince the seventeen-year-old girl to walk away with him. John takes the bags for the Carter family and leaves Perry Bay Supermarket with an acid burn in his belly.

As they walk home, Thomas takes two bags from John. “Where did you get those big bills?” He asks.

“I watch the boat, remember?” This does not seem adequate, so John adds, “Mum gave me money to stop in on my way home from school.” He hopes if this is questioned, his mother will agree. He has not yet earned her trust, so his lie could come back on him.

John can honestly tell her that he does not steal. The older boys from Pudgee Funk’s house never flash the Black Hoods' signal his way, now. He has been dismissed: another rejection from Gray’s Farm. John tries not to care that the street gang goes on without him. He has his Jazzie-business with Trini and Henry. He supposes he still has business with Tayo too. John Carter’s business is in Cobbs Cross and English Harbour, with new schoolmates and his young American; no reason to be a criminal anymore.

Thomas takes the remaining bags from John before they reach the yard, and gets all the credit for the groceries. This just feeds the burn in John’s belly. While Chloe and his mother take the bags to the kitchen, Thomas basks in the little one’s enthusiasm.

John gets a hug from his mother. “Mum, Jeremy is taking me sailing tomorrow, so I’m going back tonight. He says we have to leave very early.”

Susan Carter sighs, More and more, John comes to be like his dad. This interest in the friendly American in English Harbour apparently keeps her son in school and away from the older neighborhood boys. “I never see my boy these days,” Susan regrets the growing independence of her eldest.

“A crab never forget he hole,” John assures her. “I’ll be back Sunday afternoon.”

“I work Sunday,” Susan smiles regretfully. “You telling me true? Things are going well in that school?”

“Me yah, a true, mum. You’re a grinder mum. I see that, respect.” John fists his chest. Susan kisses her son’s cornrows where they braid back from his temples. They watch Thomas wrestling with the little ones, just another child to contend with. Chloe comes in from the kitchen. John looks at his solemn sister. It is not a hard decision to make. “Mum, Chloe’s coming sailing with me.”

Swim With Me

Beating against the wind is a loud, bumpy, and sharply angled endeavor. Gravity heels over, its starboard bow smashing into the long Atlantic swells that sweep by the Pillars of Hercules guarding English Harbour. The wind tugs at John and Theo’s loose hair. The boy is having an adventure. Tethered to a safety line, John has taken station at the bow where each rise threatens to lift him off his feet. He is soaked with spray, transported out of himself. Chloe and Theo are less enthused. John’s little sister sits seasick in the cockpit close to Theo at the tiller.

“Zig-zaggy, back and forth,” Jeremy explains to his passengers. He is sheltered by the dodger shielding the companionway and instrument display; ready at the winches. With Gravity’s bow perfectly in the wind, and both mainsail and foresail (rolled out to genoa) off to port, Jeremy’s small boat sails right.

“It is so fast,” Chloe shouts over to Jeremy. He nods. It is an illusion of the wind in the girl’s face. The comment suggests Chloe is feeling a little better. She is wary of Jeremy, but warmed to Theo from the start.

“John,” Jeremy calls out, “Time to sit down and hold on tight!” It’s time to jibe. The boy nods his head and drops to the deck. Jeremy can do this by himself, but that is not his way. “Chloe, do you think you can take the tiller from Theo?” The little girl looks shocked at the suggestion, but Theo gives her no time to hesitate. He stands and pushes her little bottom closer to the tiller. He takes one hand and puts it firmly on the bar. Chloe quickly latches on with her other hand. The teenagers grin at each other.

With Theo at the other winch, Jeremy yells forward to John, “Tacking!” The boy looks back and nods. “You have to repeat it, John!”

“Tacking!”

“Watch your head there,” Jeremy warns. He should have the boy come back to the cockpit, but John is having too much fun.

There is a reef in the mainsail and the boom is over the port cockpit locker. There is nothing dramatic in this. Close-hauled on the starboard, Gravity’s bow needs to swing through 60 degrees onto a port tack. Jeremy steps quickly back to Chloe and the tiller, and then in a practiced evolution, the partners shift the sail plan and the sturdy sailboat settles on the port tack.

John watches the foresail fly in and then roll out again to his right. The luffing canvas stiffens as Theo winches away. The sailboat seemed noisy in English Harbour. Now that it is under sail, John is assaulted by a confusion of creaks, slaps, drumming, and vibrations. Jeremy's boat sings in a discord with the wind. He glances back at Jeremy, and waits for a reassuring wave, then he crawls to the bow pulpit, hoping that the dolphins are still racing at the bow.

Jeremy decided Green Island, at the mouth of Nonsuch Bay on the island’s east shore, would be the best place to take his young guests. It is a nine-mile beat that ends when Jeremy eases the sheets for a fast reach across York Bank. This is a familiar passage; by far the most popular charter destination Jeremy offers.

Atlantic swells crest and explode at the outer edges of the barrier reef protecting the anchorage. John comes back to the cockpit, chattering excitedly to anyone who will listen. Chloe is bouncing back, now that the island shadows the wind. Off the bow, the low forest of flowering and fragrant, the coral and sand, belong to them. Jeremy knows the first boats from the yacht club will arrive before too long. There might be other children for his guests to play with, older visitors for the teenagers to meet. Too many moments when hot grease splatters on his arms, or the construction dust clogs his mask, Jeremy yearns to do this full time.

There is no room for these contingencies on Gravity. When John Carter presented Chloe at the apartment door the night before, Jeremy scrambled down to his Five-Star neighbor to borrow children’s snorkeling gear. “There, that should keep you safe,” he tugs a little at the PFD. Chloe is still shy with him. Jeremy leaves it to Theo to help the little girl with her mask and fins. It makes Jeremy wonder if he will always be a stranger to the little girl in Chillicothe, Ohio.

“I can swim,” John glares.

“Yeah, I’ve seen you swim.”

Jeremy does not argue. The PFD is going on the boy. It is a bad fit on the young body, but it should not hamper John’s movements too much.

Theo wears his Copperton-yellow Speedo, an invitation for some dog to pants him on the beach. He and Chloe step off the platform at the stern. She is content to float on the surface, examining the ripples on the sandy floor and watching Theo chase fish around the coral.

“Please, let me swim without this thing!” John persists.

Jeremy hesitates between caution and sympathy. There is the matter of currents, John’s unknown experience with the mask and snorkel; but the Antiguan boy is strong. “Okay, lets see how you do.” It feels good to watch the boy swell at being treated like a man. His battle won, John listens respectfully to all of Jeremy’s advice.

They go in together. At first, Jeremy stays close; then he curls away from John, and glides up to his partner. John sees the palm running up Theo’s bare back in greeting. They twine like squid, masks hampering closerness. The filtered sunlight dapples their skin, muting their sensuous shades. The moment is fleeting-greeting. It is a blend of John and Henry pushing playfully on the street and giggling whispers under the sheets across a dark room.

John turns away to explore. He trails a school of zebrafish, and then ducks deeper to study a starfish. Coming up for air, he ascends to Chloe. She smiles behind her mask and waves both hands in happy greeting. With fresh air, John descends again to retrieve the starfish. She gives him two thumbs up and takes it.

The Carters swim together. John more free and Chloe tied to the surface. The ocean is in the boy’s ears, and each time his sister’s arms or legs breach the surface, the water froths with glittering Christmas ornaments. The two teenagers swim their way, and then drift into a private dance. When Jeremy is close, John dives and twists into barrel rolls so his young American can see how well he swims.

After that, brother and sister explore the clean sweep of sand while Theo watches from the swim deck. Jeremy attaches his Hibachi to the stern guardrail. Wadadli Cats has joined them in the cove. This is the familiar yellow-hulled powerboat come over from the local resort. The small crowd on the powerboat’s deck is welcome. They herald the beginning of the 2019-2020 tourist season.

Wadadli Cat’s laughter and heavy rhythms are too tempting. After feeding Chloe and John, the teenage partners accept a shout-out from some young people. They leave John to entertain his sister with a movie on the V-berth. If the children were not with them, the partners would consider lingering at Green Island through the night.

Jeremy misses the freedom of being liveaboard. Sure, your boat is constant worry-work, and you need to keep a weather eye, but you are gypsy free: stay while things are interesting, and when your interest fades, sail on.

Jeremy’s modest website is already generating inquiries for the new season. The interest spills over into temporarily disheveled Fourteen Gates’ still limited BnB bookings. Gravity and Jeremy’s engaging face (and body) are undeservedly prominent on ManAboutWorld, Connections Magazine, and several other influential publications. Interested parties in Seattle, Washington see to this. Unaware of his friend’s advertising efforts, Jeremy treats his visit to Wadadli Cat’s as an opportunity to pimp his cruises. Just like Heroes Sports Bar, he mixes pleasure with business with the optimism of youth.

“Yes, I do teach sailing … An overnight to Montserrat is possible ….” These mingling people are committed to their ten-day schedules. Still, Jeremy spreads tangerine while Theo decorates the cruise boat with unlocal color. They accept a drink (or two), each mindful of the young people back on Gravity.

John is sitting on the swim deck when Jeremy swims back. Chloe has dropped off to sleep, and John wants to snorkel more. For a time, he explored the bottom by himself, recognizing the predation implicit in the schooling fish. They stop and dart as they go about their business. None of them have each other’s back. The incessant shifting is a search for safety within the group. Rising for fresh air, he paused to watch the adults mingle like the fish on the large powerboat.

“Have a good swim?” Jeremy asks when he pulls himself up beside the boy. John nods and smiles at the teenager.

“Is Theo coming back?”

“Pretty soon,” Jeremy judges, “It’s not late, but we should be getting back. I work tomorrow at the restaurant.”

John’s feet paddle the water. This would be the perfect time to talk with his young American about his business dilemma. He looks askance at Jeremy, “How did you meet Tayo?”

“We met at a party.”

“Is he your friend?” John needs to understand.

“Not really; what makes you think of him?”

Tayo is still in Jazzie’s business. Trini and Tayo’s harpi mother make it so. “Can I go swimming?”

“Sure, I’ll just clean up on the boat.”

“Would you swim with me?”

God Damn!

Chloe wakes while John and Jeremy snorkel together. She is content to sit at the bow and watch their distorted shapes move together in the pristine water. Chloe has forgotten what it is like to be carefree. Like her mother, she has been resigned to watching Thomas and her brother come and go. It’s nice to just be, she decides. Chloe is still watching the adults on the powerboat, some of the strangers are exploring the beach. She watches and lets the wind blow across her face until her big brother returns.

John sits at the table and pulls his school bag closer. Jeremy is straightening up his galley. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“Sure, kid.”

John draw’s Tayo’s automatic from the bag, brandishes its heaviness with morbid fascination, then places it on the table. Jeremy is drawn to John’s movement. He freezes with the tea towel in his hand. “You brought a gun onto my boat?”

John is staring enigmatically at the illicit weapon. God damn! Jeremy curses. This is what he fears about the Antiguan boy. You never know where this kid is, or what will happen next! Long ago, in the cold desert, Jeremy befriended a boy very much like John Carter. A boy who knew guns, knew the tragedy of guns, yet thrust one at Jeremy, fully expecting the Ohio boy to use it.

Jeremy draws a long breath to steady his nerves. He has met men of all sorts. He found even the worst of them could trick him. They all had their stories they thought should justify their callous harm. One story remained in his heart, and another prompted him to lie for this Antiguan boy, who could wave a gun in his sailboat cabin with casual ease. Stone cold killers come from boys. A gun like this, recalls dodging bullets and the men who shoot them.

He knows so little of John Carter; just a boy on the beach. Jeremy has been a poor judge of character. Before anything, they were just boys. Looking at John, Jeremy is guided by the hard-earned knowledge that this now has a before he needs to understand, and the way he meets this moment with John Carter will matter after.

John is looking at Tayo’s gun. The gun whispers, You need me. The gun is the insolent hand that cups your manhood while you’re tough with your brothers. It is better than a broken table leg. It is a way an eleven-year-old boy can gain respect when he needs to watch a friend’s back or maybe shut an ex-friend’s mouth.

Jeremy looks from the boy to the gun. He does not want to touch the thing. The chill is on him when he wakes to the memory of the harsh bark of a Beretta Nano in his fist. The memory recalls the taste of bile, and the hellish odor of his fatal rage in San Diego. Jeremy counts to ten. “If this was found on my boat, they would take Gravity away from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.” Jeremy moves closer to the table. “Why do you need a gun, John? We made a deal.”

“I took it from a friend.” John looks at Jeremy with a reassuring innocence. He tries to voice his puzzlement. He cannot take this weapon to his mother and father. It’s revelation would out his business. It is all so demanding on him. First Tayo brings him in, then Trini grips on tight — both older than Jazzie, both expecting Jazzie to step up and be someone tougher than John Carter thinks he can be. “It is Tayo’s.”

John looks at his young American. The dangerous gun has been hidden in Papa Jack’s Civic. It is valuable and useful. It scares John. That moment when Trini pointed the gun at the rude man; Trini looked so willing to pull the trigger. That lingers in John’s mind. He has thought of walking into the bush to fire the gun — just once — to learn what it would feel like as it bucked in his fist. He has thought of what would happen if Trini pulled the trigger. There are limits to what an eleven-year-old can think through on his own. He needs Jeremy.

Jeremy picks up the gun. The simplest part of disassembling a handgun is removing the ammunition. Jeremy points the gun toward the V-berth, keeping his fingers away from the trigger. He presses the magazine release and removes the clip. He is conscious of John’s eyes on him. “You let this near your sister?”

“No!”

Jeremy checks the slide for any remaining ammunition. A round flips out. My god! The kid has been walking around with a charged weapon!  He checks a few more times irrationally, just to convince himself that there’s no ammunition in the chamber. Even empty, the gun feels malignant in his hand.

“I borrowed a boat once,” Jeremy tells John. This is a minor confession to hide the greater sins this weapon resurrects.

“Why did you do that?”

“I wanted to impress a friend. Is that why you have this gun, to impress someone?”

“I took it from someone. Tayo left it when he was arrested. It just seemed better if I had it.” John tries to explain.

"It's going to be okay," Jeremy found himself saying.

Jeremy pulls the slide all the way back to release the stop hinge. He compresses the trigger to release the striker. John watches. The easy way his young American manipulates the gun vindicates his trust. He is not sure why Jeremy is examining the gun. It is just a relief to pass this great responsibility on to someone older.

How many times did I play with the Beretta Nano? Strip it down, and reassemble it? Jeremy holds the gun firmly with one hand and the handle with the other hand. It is a different weapon, but when he pulls back the slide about one-tenth of an inch and pushes the slide to the open position, it comes off the frame.

“Tayo ever use this gun? Is this something the police need to have?” Jeremy pauses to look at the boy.

John considers this for a moment. Jeremy gets Jazzie’s grin, “I don’t think so. Tayo, I think Tayo just thought it looked bad jammed into his pants. I don’t think his business was anything like that.” The apologetic shrug that follows is John’s. That criminal business made his young American angry. John would rather not remind Jeremy of the police station.

Jeremy gives John a jaundiced look. The boy meets it with a what can I tell you? shrug in reply. That’s all before, this is now. Jeremy nods. With the slide removed, Jeremy pushes the spring away from the barrel of the gun. His fingers find the indentations on the barrel and with another push, dislodges it.

“There,” Jeremy sighs, “Not so scary now.”

They weigh anchor. A moderate swell and light wind help Gravity through the serpentine channel as the afternoon sun pinpoints the scattered reefs. Breakers froth on left and right, as Jeremy stands with a foot guiding his tiller. Theo and Chloe are at the bow. John sits more subdued in the cockpit. The bag containing Tayo’s disassembled gun is in his lap.

Free of the shore, Jeremy judges the wind. Goose winging is good as long as the wind is 13 knots and above. It’s the spinnaker today, his two absent mentors whisper in his ear. “Theo, I’m going to use the spinnaker.”

Theo nods and brings Chloe back to the cockpit so he can watch the tiller while Jeremy hooks the tack up. It takes a minute to raise the ballooning sail. Without a sock to deploy it smoothly, his spinnaker luffs and makes a scary noise.

“It’s nice out there,” Jeremy tells John when he returns to the cockpit. “It just floats out there, and Gravity goes nicely. Just rolling along here, no flogging. Are you ready? I think we are far enough out.”

John nods silently. He opens the bag and starts throwing pieces of Tayo’s gun into the water. A scattering of bright shells flash in the sunlight and then vanish. John takes the last piece, and hurls it as far as he can. Boats move across the water in four dimensions. It takes experience to know which muscles need to flex, when a hand needs to grab for security. John loses his balance on the shifting deck. Jeremy’s hand drops down on John’s bare shoulder.

“It won’t hurt anyone now. There are some storms on the horizon, so there will be some wet weather.” Jeremy’s voice is quiet, reassuring. “We might motor for a bit, put the mainsail up a bit for better balance. Things are always changing, John.”

The end

I don’t like writing that. This is the end of the beginning for John (Jazzie) Carter’s and Jeremy (Fourteen) Gates’ friendship. Like all my stories, there is more to develop, and unresolved developments to pique a writer’s interest. Thanks for following the story and if you have not read Fourteen, I encourage you to read it.