Pum Pum Rock

10. Simple Simon

Still asleep, on the patio of her Echo Park Lake apartment, Nate's eyelids began to flutter as she slipped further into REM. Supported by a folding chair and the soothing scent of Nag Champa in the chill night air, Nate's mind continued to wander.

Nate replayed the evening that she and Jocelyn had confessed their true feelings for each other. That first kiss with Jocelyn shared deep within the confines of Auntie Earlene's sugar cane field could not have been any sweeter. And although their autonomy was short-lived, up until that moment, this admission was the most liberating event that either of the young girls had ever experienced.

Later that evening, as the reality of Jamaica's conservative culture set in Nate awoke in a panic. Unable to sleep, she quietly crept to the top of Auntie Earlene's staircase and listened in as the one woman who always had her back sparred with her father.

"They running up and down the state-building like fouls with their heads cut clear off!" The Minister tried hard to whisper, but Nate heard every word. "What the people 'dem gonna say when Jamaica's Minister of Youth and Culture's own daughter don't know how to act? Bad enough she's a tomboy," he complained.

Visibly unsettled, Nate caught a glance of her self in a nearby mirror. Football shorts, white tank top, scraped knees. A natural athlete, Nate was the poster child for sporty, and although her mother was notorious for harassing Nate about her affinity for activewear until now Nate's father had never called out her looks.

"Let Natty be!" Nate's overprotective Auntie Earlene slammed a plate of curry goat, rice and peas down in front of her younger brother.

"Said the woman who's never raised a child. Matter fact, when's the last time you had a man around here? It's been what, seven years since Roosevelt passed," Barrington paused for a beat out of respect for the dead. "People are starting to chat."

"Let them!" Auntie Earlene sucked her teeth with the pizzazz of a truly pissed off island woman. Effortlessly using it to punctuate her thoughts, while tearing into her baby brother. "Not like I'm the only one around here with a secret." She sniffed. The lingering bouquet of marijuana was light, but still apparent on Barrington's clothing.

"Your voice," Barrington lowered his tone and motioned hush to his big sister, but she refused to be muted. Instead, Auntie Earlene kicked it up a notch, and Nate took the opportunity to get closer to the action.

"I was talking about your marriage," Auntie Earlene laughed. "Not weed, little brother."

"Our marriage is our business," Barrington clapped back.

"It's a business alright," Earlene mumbled as Barrington rose to answer the doorbell, which had momentarily put their familial rift on pause. On the opposite end stood Ms. Ruth, dressed in overalls and a floppy sun hat with a smile that was just as wide.

"Evening, Minister," Ms. Ruth extended her hand toward Barrington, but he bypassed the gesture completely. In fact, if she hadn't wedged her foot in the screen door, it would've shut right in her face.

"If you insist on late night visits with Ms. Ruth, please have her enter through the back." Barrington fumed, reclaiming his seat at the table. "We don't need the attention."

"Earlene, are you there?" Picking up on Barrington's off-putting vibe the soft-spoken woman refused to budge.

"Be right out," Auntie Earlene yelled from the kitchen. In a matter of seconds, her tone had gone from sugar cane sweet to strangely scientific. "You know Ms. Ruth was just telling me that she read about what she called, cross-cultural evidence for the genetics of homosexuality."

"Genetics?" Nate's father leaned in, visibly unnerved.

"Farmers, right? So analytical," Auntie Earlene continued as she used a knife from the butcher block to cut off several small slices of guava tart. "They say it happens to one out of every four family members, but I believe that's an underestimate." Next, she placed the dessert, along with two glasses of sorrel onto a tray and walked toward the front door.