Sammy awoke when a soft, slimy thing fell
on his face. With a swift stroke he
slapped it
away not
knowing what the wet thing was. A draft
enveloped him. Alma forgot to shut the
windows, he thought as he shivered on a rock-hard bed
in a damp room. Reaching for the bed
sheet,
he discovered there was none. He sat up and opened his eyes. It was pitch-black
except
for lights that shimmered through the not-too-distant trees. The unfamiliar
room was
immense,
without walls. He barely made out the gray furniture that loomed in the
blackness
around
him. Turning onto his side he reached
for Alma. The empty stone-cold bed stared
back at
him. Sammy squeezed his eyes shut and
thought of Alma Negron. Her face, square
and
plump, smiled at him from the bar stool at Aqui Me Quedo.
The night club sat on the highway which
stretched to Red Hook dock on the eastern end of
the
island of St. Thomas. Everyone knew each other at Aqui Me Quedo. At weekends and at
Sunday
cock fights, customers raised hell until late.
Their boisterous companions were
mostly
Latin women who occupied the bar stools, drank and flirted with men before
dragging
them off
to tiny rooms upstairs. Alma Negron did not appear often, and when she picked
up a
man, she
took him elsewhere.
Sammy Smalls, a dark, stocky, dreadlocked
mechanic and Rock Steady, his taller,
muscular
work mate, were addicted to the smell, the flashing lights, and the twirling
rush of
bodies at Acqui M Quedo. Sammy’s felt
warm all over the first time he saw Alma.
He was
seated at the back of the bar stirring his rum when Rock Steady, elbowed him.
“Sammy, look! A wonder of de universe.”
“Sweet thing, eh. Is me lucky night, Steady.”
Alma sat facing them. The rum punch in her
glass shook mildly as she swayed on a stool
to a
salsa tune on the jukebox. Her tight
fitted jeans displayed plump, solid thighs and a small
waist.
Sammy’s eyes ran down her curving hips and up again. Huge breasts protruded from a
green
halter top. He wanted to rest his head between her cleavages.
“Steady, I feel I going win the lottery.”
“You think you could catch her?”
“Steady, she not a fish.”
“You know what I mean, Sammy. Rope her in
with small talk.
“Well, I not roping anybody. She not a cow. That’s not me style.”
“You got style, Sammy?”
“No.
I going be meself.”
“Sammy, you want her?”
“Of course, I want her.” His light brown
shirt was damp under the armpits. He pulled out
a
handkerchief and wiped his sweaty face.
“Well, come up with something good.”
“Stop needling me,” Steady.
Sammy wiped his face again and stuffed his
handkerchief in his back pocket. “O.K. I
going.” He walked unsteadily to the front of the bar,
looking back once at Steady. He
straightened
his slumping shoulders, then smiled.
Alma Negron sat before him.
“Me name’s Sammy Smalls.” He extended wet hands. Alma’s plump, light fingers
grasped
his. He pulled his hands back, surprised
at the weightlessness of the handshake.
“Alma Negron,” she whispered.
The deep-set grey eyes on her caramel colored
face, hypnotized Sammy.
“Let’s dance. It’s carnival time, you know. No, no, no don’t stop de carnival. No, no, no,
don’t stop de Bacchanal.”Alma broke out in song as she
grabbed him and spun him onto the
dance
floor cluttered with gyrating bodies.
Dancing with Alma was dancing with air. She rushed, held him, twirled him around,
leaving him
dizzy, his mind in a whirl-wind. As they danced, her grey eyes glowed like a
cat’s in
the dark.
“El
Gato.” The name popped into his head
as her long nails clutched and clawed him.
“You
like me?” she purred into his ear. Long nails walked down his back.
Sammy trembled. Alma held up his limp body during the next
number-a slow cha-cha-
cha. He
woke from his trance alone on the floor.
A couple clung to each other in the
spotlight. A slow, oldie competed with drunken chatter
in the room. It was just past midnight
at Aqui
Me Quedo.
Alma always left him like that every time
they danced-- he unaware of his surroundings,
transported
to another world. Steady said she
usually escaped before twelve. Sammy
suspected
that she was married to a man who worked a late shift. A security guard, who
wasn’t
stocky, and didn’t have rough, chiselled cheek bones like him. He imagined the
husband
was possessive of his tall, caramel-colored Venus. Sammy named Alma’s
husband
“The Bull Dog.” He hated this man who
abducted Alma from Aqui Me Quedo
around midnight.
He wanted unattainable Alma.
Sammy proposed to her each time they met.
He brooded when Alma didn’t show up. She
popped
in mostly on moonlit nights. He waited for her outside the bar under a mango
tree.
Moonlight streamed through its branches. He watched her extend firm legs out the dark,
blue
taxi’s door . Then it would speed off, its inhabitants protected by gray tinted
windows
and
black indistinguishable numbers on a red plate.
He was convinced that Bull Dog dropped
her off
at Aqui Me Quedo on his way to work.
“So you come.” Sammy hugged her.
“Yes,
I here. You think I wasn’t coming? I
know you don’t trust me.”
“Yes I trust you.” He held her soft, light hands and led her
inside the bar. “Is your friend I
I don’t
trust. By the way, what he do?”
“Business.” She smiled.
Her cheeks swelled.
“What kind of business?”
“His hand in everything.”
“Wish I could mash them.”
“You too jealous!”
Sammy ordered her a banana daiquiri
and she settled down on the bar stool.
He
sprinted
across the room to the jukebox, watched
his coins danced down its slot. A
calypso
blared
from the machine. “Bend down, touch your toes, draw back and let
your bumsy
roll.”
Everyone dashed to the dance floor. Alma’s
shoulders swung from side to side as she
waited
for Sammy to plough through the crowd and sweep her off her feet onto the dance
floor.
On the dance floor Alma took control. The
flashing lights, reflecting on her grey eyes,
dazzled
him. She spun him round. He clung to
her, his head stuck between large, breasts.
“You going marry me, Alma!”
“Who tell you that?”
“Me heart tell me.” He attempted to hold her still but she kept
on dancing.
“Alma,” he shouted above the music. “I beg you, leave Bull Dog and marry me.”
“Who?”
“Sorry dumpling, I mean, you friend.”
She smiled enigmatically. “You can come
home with me tonight.”
“What you say, Alma?” He thought the gin
and tonics had impaired his hearing
“Tonight’s the night,” Alma whispered.
“Come!”She pulled him outside and shoved him
into the
waiting tinted-windowed taxi.
He remembered Alma kissing him, her
tongue reaching down to touch his soul.
She
chatted
incessantly during the 20 minutes ride over Raphune Hill and across the town. They
exited
the taxi near the Jewish burial ground. An old plantation house loomed ahead of
them.
The
colonial structure, partly hidden by trees, stood behind the Jewish burial
ground. The
silhouette
of a large veranda, which occupied the entire front of house, danced between
the
trees. Alma led the way. Pulling a key from her purse, she opened a
large door and flowed
mirage-like
into the front room. The ceiling was a high dome. The open windows sucked the
wind in.
Sammy shivered. Dark, velvet drapes
covered the open windows. Light from a
nearby
street lamp penetrated threadbare curtains.
White candles rested on long rectangular
tables
placed around the meagrely fitted room.
Sammy, befuddled by gin and the smell of
Alma’s
scented breast, stood, rooted. She
glided silently into another room.
Tired of
standing,
Sammy climbed onto a nearby table, removed the candles, stretched out and
waited.
Sleep
seduced him.
Sometime later, he felt a thin bed sheet
settle upon him. Alma slid under it and
cuddled
him. Her
body was cold. But with sleep serenading
him, Alma next to him and gin within
him, he
did not give a damn. Death could take
him.
A thunderclap followed by a downpour woke
him again. Wet leaves swirled
onto him
as gongolos dropped and crawled over his chest.
He hollered at the sight of the
large,
black worms. Creeping daylight revealed
his bed--a moss-covered grave. He closed
his
eyes, shook his head and wiped his face with the back of his hands. Opening one eye at a
time, a
cemetery emerged around him. Sammy fell down on his knees besides a headstone,
shrieking.
The screams, rushing from his mouth, reverberated in the trees. Terrified birds
fled.
Grave diggers found his rigid body later
that morning, his mouth wide open.
(c)
Copyrighted Althea
Romeo-Mark
2013 Summer edition, St Somewhere Journal
http://www.stsomewherejournal.com/
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