Steven snickers nervously. One hand covers his mouth in astonishment. "Jus did waa fi try sumn new," he mumbles when he manages to stifle his laugh long enough to form words.
"Yuh couldn't ask mi first?! Yuh mad?!"
Furious doesn't adequately describe how I feel. I scurry about the room gathering my clothes and other belongings at lightning speed.
"Weh yuh a gwaan so fa? Jus calm down nuh babes," he pleads.
"No! Nuh tell mi fi calm dung! Mi waa go home...Now!"
Neither of us looks directly at the other during the drive to my house. Tension is at an all-time high and the silence is so thick you could cut it with a knife. It gives me room to carefully examine the situation.
Now I'm questioning how well I know this man.
He doesn't utter a word when I get out of the car and storm off. He just sits in the car and waits until I'm inside the house before driving off.
"What next Father God?" I ask openly in the safe haven of my home.
******
A week later and I'm still contemplating an appropriate response to his attempt at anal play. Every day my mind weighs my options.
We haven't spoken much since the encounter. He texts and calls frequently to check in and keeps reminding me that he's open to discussion. But I'm too hung up on the violation to try having a conversation with him. My responses have been limited to one or two words at a time — yes, no, okay, and, not now.
He even sent three gifts with cards, one saying "Forgive me", the other telling me he misses me, and a third begging me to talk to him. Truth be told, I'm not sure how to proceed. I'm not averse to trying new things but I'd appreciate a little warning or some sort of prompt before deep diving into uncharted territory.
Maybe I would have been open to trying after some preparation. How him woulda feel if mi push my finger up inna fi him battyole outta di blue? No warning or nutten.
Mi not even did know seh him interested inna anal sex. This is the same man who doesn't like when people fart around him. His disgust with that part of the body is partly why he's homophobic.
I release a heavy sigh, focusing my attention on the makeup I'm applying for Miss Jay's party. Since the guest of honor will be the only person I know at this event, I asked Marsha to tag along, to which she gladly agreed. She's driving since my community is on her way to the venue.
"No sah! We a twin?!" she asks when I get into the car. Our choice of outfit is a black floral romper. The main difference is that the top of mine is backless while her's isn't. But we're both showing off cleavage with the deep V plunge in the neckline of both outfits.
"Yeah, soul sista!" I cheer. "Great minds think alike."
We arrive at the indoor party venue in time for the final setup for Miss Jay's grand surprise. She believes she's coming here to have dinner with her two children. More than 100 guests huddle together in the dark facing the entrance for her arrival. As soon as the door swings open, the lights come on and we sing happy birthday.
Miss Jay is both shocked and overjoyed. She jumps in fright at first. Then it registers that this is her birthday celebration and she covers her mouth in amazement. By the end of the song, she's grinning so widely that her face must hurt. I've never seen her this happy.
During dinner, people take turns at the microphone, offering her their best wishes. This portion of the event is somewhat formal, reminding me of a wedding reception. And you know what comes after food and formalities at a wedding...
Time to hit the dancefloor!
The two glasses of wine in my system loosen me up enough to join the other guests in the open space when the DJ starts selecting dancehall music. Of course di one Marsha out deh a hype me up an a record.
But she and Miss Jay find it hard to keep their bodies from moving when Go Down Deh with Spice, Sean Paul, and Shaggy plays, and the females in the crowd really start raving. The three of us move to the rhythm, momentarily becoming the center of attention.
Miss Jay shocks me, and I'm sure a few other people too, with her agility and flexibility. We wine in tandem down to the floor and back up and she doesn't miss a beat in following through. The crowd egging us on is more fuel to push through any inhibitions we might have.
At the end of our mini-show, I set off alone in search of a bottle of water, or maybe two, to moisten my parched throat.
"Mumma, beg yah minute nuh," a youngster, no older than about 25, calls out to me on my way to the bar. He emerges from the shadows of a corner, grinding weed in the palm of his hand and sifting out seeds.
"Excuse me?" I scan the bleached skin young man quickly from head to toe.
"Mi waa gi yuh a likkle chat," he replies, inching closer with his skin-tight denim pants threatening to fall further beneath his ass. Mi waa know why dem youth yah feel like it look good fi wear dem pants dung a dem knee.
"Chat bout wah?" I ask, repulsed by his approach.
"Yuh waa know seh mi a pree yuh a dance while ago an mi like how yuh move stillz. Mi cyaa get yuh number?"
"Ohhh," I feign surprise. "Mi no give out mi numba stillz," I add, deliberately dragging out the hiss in my pronunciation of the last word to ridicule him.
"Tek my own then nuh. A me a di man fi yuh enuh," he entreats, grabbing hold of my hand.
"Mi nuh think so," I pull away just in time to see Chaunard approaching us.
Fuck! He's hot! I swallow hard in an attempt to compose myself.
He wedges himself between me and my 'admirer'. "Mi likkle cousin a bother yuh?" he asks, scowling at his relative.
The confidence and boldness I had when I spoke to his cousin disappear from my voice, which comes out with a purr when I tell him "Not anymore." One whiff of his cologne and I'm in a daze, my mind entirely focused on him.
"Good," he says, turning to look at his cousin disapprovingly. "Mummy want yuh meet mi sister."
He waits until I collect two bottles of water and, without another word, guides me to the balcony where Marsha, his mother, and sister are sitting. I wonder if he's taken. If he has a woman, she's definitely not here tonight.
"See har here," Miss Jay says, turning her attention to me.
"Dis is Kelsie" she tells Cheyenne, reaching for my hand. "Di two of oonu remind me so much of each other. Kelsie, meet mi baby Cheyenne."
We both laugh at her reference to the married, pregnant woman as her baby, especially since we're both the same age. "Nice to meet you Kelsie," she says, shaking my hand.
"Same. Enjoying your time here?"
"Always! If things were different I'd move back home," she smiles.
The five of us engage in conversation as a group but my attention is mostly on Chaunard. I barely contribute to the exchange, instead, I seize every opportunity to sneak a peek at him.
"Gonna call it a night Miss Jay," I announce when the night's festivities wind down. People have been trickling out of the venue in small groups, leaving only a handful of us behind. "Happy birthday again."
"Thanks, Kelsie. I'm happy that you both came," she says, hugging me and Marsha.
******
"What a way Chaunard nice?!" Marsha says as soon as we get back to the car. "Him nuh kinda look like Trey Songz to yuh?"
"Now that yuh mention it...yeah. He does."
"Mi tink Chaunard better looking though." She pauses a few beats before her next statement. "And mi feel like him like yuh."
"Why yuh seh dat?" My head snaps up quickly. She has my full attention.
"Because when yuh out deh a gwaan wid yuhself him did a eyes yuh."
Her observation makes me blush but I downplay it with a chuckle although I can't ignore the flutters it brings about. There is something about him that beckons to a sort of fettered emotion within me. I haven't quite put my finger on it yet, but the feeling is a good kind of strange.
What am I thinking?! Mi have a man!
Wanting an end to my wayward thoughts, I bring up the disagreement with Steven. It's about time I have a conversation with him and Marsha's opinion could be useful. She listens keenly as I skim over the details of the anal ambush but laughs hysterically at the mention of the fart.
I'm sure she'd keel over if she was standing.
"Weh yuh jus she to mi Kelz?! Mi cyaa manage!"
I'm gonna regret this.