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A resilient university student unexpectedly meets a passionate journalist as they both strive to fulfill their dreams amid a chilling climate of gang vio...
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"Ayez pitié mon bon berger. M anvi viv nan peyi mwen."*
Emeline Michel_Haitian singer
Norabel
When I get into the car the first thing I notice about the woman in the driver's seat is her disheveled hair before I glance down her crumpled clothes. She must be around the same age as my mother but the tired expression on her face makes her look older. For some reason when my mother had told me she would send a friend to get me, I assumed it would be someone from work.
"It's Norabel right?" She asks as she pulls away from the curb to engage the main road of Tabarre. I don't have the time to reply before she speaks again. "I'm Jasmine. Put on your seatbelt please."
I do as she says because she sounds like the kind of person who doesn't like to repeat themselves. I can't think of anything to say to her so I go for something polite given the situation.
"Thank you for driving me home ma'am."
"It's okay you can call me Jasmine. I already get too much "ma'am" at the office."
There's humor in her voice. I appreciate this attempt at breaking the ice.
"You're a colleague of my mother?"
"For fifteen years now. Has she ever talked about me?"
I've never heard Mom mention a Jasmine before so I keep a straight face as I lie to her. "She did mention you a few times."
Jasmine bursts out laughing before she turns to look at me with an apologetic smile. "I only started working with Katherine last month."
"Oh."
She saw right through my lie. Thankfully she doesn't seem to hold it against me.
"We went to secondary school together but lost contact over the years. It was a real pleasure for me to find a familiar face at a new workplace."
I don't know much about that period of my mother's life except for the fact that secondary school is where she met my dad. I want to ask Jasmine what kind of couple they were but I don't want to give her the impression that I'm fishing for details about my mother's past. I opt for another approach.
"Was my mother always this overly ambitious woman back then?"
My question seems to amuse her, "Absolutely not! At least she wasn't until she met Richard."
Bingo. I didn't even have to dig far before my dad's name came up. Instead of reacting I decide to remain silent and let Jasmine carry the conversation.
