Peeling Back the Top Layer 🇯🇲

1| Beautiful nightmare

However, my interest in dating was smoldered by the repugnant approach from men who feign interest in a relationship with their sights set squarely on what lies between my legs. None of the pursuits have amounted to a relationship of substance, each tapering off and dying a natural death when conversations about sex are pulled from the table.

As a single woman who just turned 30, nearly everyone in my circle thinks I'm skydiving to midlife without a parachute or some form of safety net to break my fall. They expect some urgency in settling down and starting a family. Being an only child makes it even worse. My mother doesn't miss a beat in reminding me that she expects grandchildren.

My last relationship officially ended about 18 months ago due to the absence of the level of connection needed to move further. Things had already reached a standstill when our final attempt at sex several months prior felt more like a chore than intimacy. However, it wasn't until the constant disagreements that we agreed to go our separate ways.

We were no longer spending time with each other and along the way, respect had fled through the open door. Most people looking on saw a perfect couple working towards a beautiful life together. But in those final few months, I was quietly living through a nightmare.

******

At work, the office assistant, who I've grown fond of over the years, is making her rounds, replacing stationery, and putting additional paper into the printers. Marion James, or Miss Jay as we affectionately call her, will be celebrating her 50th birthday soon but you could never tell.

Though some gray strands recently popped up in her thick curly hair, her curvy figure could rival that of any 20 year old and she embodies the statement "black don't crack". Her smile is so bright when she sees me that her little eyes narrow into slits and crinkle at the corners.

"Good morning Miss Jay! How yuh so happy today?" I ask the 5-foot-8-inch, dark-complexioned woman.

"Mi glad yuh come in early. Mi have sumn fi tell yuh," she says, grabbing the seat at the front of my desk as I sit, eager to hear what she has to share. She is the only friend I have at work, always trading experiences and seeking out each other's opinions. We are kindred spirits, I'd say. I consider my other colleagues as mere acquaintances. Our interactions are surface deep.

"Mi a go lef an go US. This month ago be mi last," she tells me with a half-smile.

"When this happen? Yuh really a go weh lef me?". Although her daughter lives in the United States, Miss Jay has never expressed an interest in going, always opting to visit and return to her common-law husband, Robert.

Her face saddens. "Mi know mi nuh young again but mi need a fresh start. Mi affi get a break from Jamaica. Mi daughta pregnant suh mi going up fi help har wid mi first grandbaby."

"Yuh never too old fi start over," I tell her, squeezing her hand gently in comfort. "Why yuh choosing to go now?"

"Mi like eediat nuh follow man bout him no waa lef Jamaica. But since me an him lef now not a thing nah stop mi from go."

Miss Jay had told me before that she was suspicious of Robert's infidelity but she was never able to confirm it. "Di world no as big as we tink," she sighs as she segues into the details of the demise of her lifelong relationship with Robert.

It turns out that one of her cousins, Michelle, is an administrative assistant at the same company where her husband's mistress, Charmaine, works. About six weeks ago, Michelle and a few other coworkers were invited to take their children along to a party venue to celebrate the seventh birthday for Charmaine's son.

"When Michelle deh deh she a look pon di bwoy and a seh him look like somebody weh she know but she couldn't put har finger pon it. A when she see Robert show up a dat time it click. Di two other pickney dem fava him to. Dem have di same sink inna dem chin like him.

"Michelle say him nuh stay long but she mek sure tek picha a di pickney dem and when she a drop home one di coworker dem she get a picha wid Robert and di likkle bwoy," says Miss Jay, show me the photos on her phone.

"When Michelle tell mi bout di woman and three pickney mi get a instant headache," Miss Jay tells me.

"Mi cry di whole afternoon! Worse when him call and seh him gone a dead yard wid fren so him naw come home. Mi feel like mi life tun one big nightmare."

Miss Jay says she used the remainder of the night to figure out how to handle the situation and an idea came to her. Being a part-time dressmaker, she had scraps of material in numerous colors and patterns which she pieced together to make a costume of sorts. She used spray paint to color a pair of Robert's boots red and pulled out an old red Afro wig that she had from her younger days.

The look was completed with items she could find around the house and at the break of dawn, she made her way to Charmaine's home, which happened to be in the very same community.

Author's note:
Hello dear reader, I'm happy you found my story and decided to read it. Thank you! 😊🙏🙏🙏

I've been sitting on this piece for a while now because I was scared to publish it. Being an amateur, I was worried about the kind of reception it would get but I guess I'll never know until I get someone else opinion.

So, I am asking kindly for your constructive feedback.