Fiction: I Am No Mountain, Part 1

–Page 2–

I scrolled through my mobile phone for Serita’s number, hoping I would get her but then praying I wouldn’t. It was after 9pm. She and Mum were probably seasoning up meat for the next day. Roy, Serita’s husband, was probably waiting with them to help draw down the restaurant’s shutters. And Dad was most likely babysitting my thirteen-year-old niece and nephew.

Jake had desperately wanted children. With the divorce concluded, the guilt of deceiving him pinned my spirit to the ground.

The phone buzzed.



“Yuh dial mi by accident? I see a missed call.”

“Ahh, girl . . . Jake and I divorced.” I wiped my eyes.

“Lawks, sis, hush. Mi shocked, but mi not shocked. Oonu was fighting like puss an’ dog. Plus, don’t is dat yuh say yuh want? Divorce.”

I couldn’t answer.

“Come cool out with us for a while. What yuh doing Easter weekend?”

“I don’t know. Hanging with the girls, getting in shape for carnival, I guess.”

“Oh.” Serita sounded disappointed. “Yuh prefer them to we?”

“Cho, Ree-Ree man!” Honestly, I wanted to run like mad—away from the circle of divas.

“Just checking. Because is long time we don’t see you. Not since Heroes weekend two years ago—after the big quarrel.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Yuh dragging Jake along?”


“So mi nuh mus’ ask. Suppose you get back together by then.”

“Ree-Ree man.”

“Awright! Just pulling yuh leg.”

“Mind you pop it off.”

“Sorry. Anyway, you can stay by me and Roy. And you can stay by Mummy. But stay by Mummy first. You know you can’t come Port Antonio and reach other people yard before you reach hers.”

I laughed. “Okay, I’ll think about it and tell you tomorrow.”

“Okay, sis. And for the record, we love you. And we sorry ‘bout the divorce thing.”

“Thanks, Ree-Ree.”

I moved our wedding picture from my lap before the tears dripped off my chin. Spreading out the low points of my marriage on the table for the divas to pick apart had been a mistake. Imbibing on their sarcasm had left me sour. Empty threats to divorce him had spiraled into a hurricane I’d quickly lost control of.

cont… (click below)


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