Glass House

THIRTY-FOUR

Jamaica was everything I imagined it to be: hot, sunny, amazing food, friendly locals and a crystal blue waters.

I hadn't been here 24 hours and already felt fulfilled. Nas flew us into Montego Bay on a private plane that I didn't know he owned and I ate some of the best airplane food in my life. Times like this is when his lifestyle leads me to believe that money can buy happiness.

We spent our first few hours with the group checking-in to our accommodation, which Nas promptly informed me he and I would not be staying at, going over our itinerary, expectations for the trip and our homework which was pertinent for graduation.

By the last day, we have to write an exit essay about how being in Jamaica changed our perception of how we deal with grief, trauma, or loss. I was unsure how I would come to that realization in 6 days, 5 nights but I would try. I wasn't a quitter.

Since Nas wasn't technically in our group anymore and Quin knew about our relationship, I got a sort of 'special privilege' to see the island alone with him. Though, I had a few activities throughout the trip that I'd have to do with my group mates. I saw the excitement in all of their faces as I sat in proud silence in the middle of the littest club in Montego Bay. We had all come so far. I was so proud of them all.

Quin was the type of tourist that wore the country's flag on every item of clothing. She sported a green and yellow flag hat, a matching graphic tee, flag print shorts and huge wooden hoops in the shape of the island. Her shades had JAM-AICA stickered over each lens. My classmates and I watched her as she slammed her 5th rum punch and danced in the middle of the floor to Spice.

"SKIN OUT MI PUM PUM!" Quin sang loudly in a horrible Jamaican accent. We snickered at her as we babied our own drinks. I scanned the club for Nas who said he'd 'be right back'. When we got to the club, he recognized a few people right away and went to speak. I admittedly got a little nervous when I still couldn't spot him after 15 minutes, but he can hold his own.

Instead, I quickly chugged the rest of my drink down and went with Kiara to the bar to order another.

The bartender cleaned his workspace quickly and efficiently before throwing the towel over his shoulder, "Wha unnu waan fi drink?"

"Uh, what?" Kiara asked him.

He sucked his teeth in aggravation and spoke slower, "Wha mi can get fi unnu?"

"Umm..." she looked at me for help as I doubled over in laughter.

"Amaretto sour for me," I told him through my giggling, "Girl, what you drinking?"

"Oh, that's what he asked?! Girl, I woulda fucked around and accidentally gave him my social security number! Imma just do a Bahama mama!" Kiara started fishing in her purse, I assumed to pay for the drink she just ordered.

"It's okay, boo!" I tried to speak over the bumping speakers, "Nas is covering our tab."

"Ooh, I love a big spender! Shit, add three shots of Don!" she announced with her eyes closed. I couldn't help but to laugh at her, but I knew what she meant. I still wasn't used to Nas' money, even after a year. The private plane, private villa, the black 2027 Cadillacs that picked us up and dropped us off at the airport, a private tarmac, it was all uncharted territory for me, but he navigated it like a normal Tuesday. I wasn't complaining though, and never would. I loved the idea of my future and my kids' future being financially secure in a way mine wasn't.

The bartended moved swiftly. So swiftly it felt as though the drinks appeared before our eyes like magic. We thanked him, took the shots quickly and danced to the floor with our drinks in hand.