Roaring River

52 Lyssons Road

"Mark Anthony Wilson! If I have to call you one more time you're going to school with a sore back!"

No alarm clock could ever be as effective as the wake-up call of my mom. At times I wondered if she was serious but I was never brave enough to actually find out. I crawled out of bed with the usual wounds of battle, still aching.

Sharing a bed with a sibling that sleeps as wildly as you do is very dangerous. Every night was mortal combat and I usually lost. Our home was a humble one. My father would often lament that it was only temporary and painted a vision of what "our house' would look like. At the moment I crawled out of the bed to retrieve my towel and underpants to hit the bathroom. The narrow passage way between my room and the kitchen which lead to the bathroom always reminds me of a jail cell; dark and lonely. The dull green paint clung to the wall for dear life; it was a futile attempt. Somehow though, beyond the creaky doors and old discolored cabinets in the kitchen, it was filled with love and a quiet respect between everyone. The piercing rays of the rising sun streaking through the bathroom window, was my morning meditation.

I would marvel at the stillness and natural beauty of the cherry and mango trees in the back yard adorned with the fresh dew of the morning. It was normally then that purposeful footsteps of my father would resonate down the side of the house. It was rare that the sun would be up without my father greeting it on his way to his farm. In my eyes he was the definition of hard work and dedication. I often suspected he was superman underneath his dirt spotted khaki pants, Hawaiian shirt and water boots; a real man. It was a constant source of discord in the house how long my showers took.

"Mommy, Mark is living in the bathroom again!" alarmed my provoking older brother Jerome.

"Excuse me sir.. Are you in the bathroom counting water drops when you have school ?!" mommy questioned with a sternness in her voice that would cause a mountain to shift. "Get out now!"

Nothing was faster than me when a whooping was waiting in the wings, the belts in my house seemed to be made of barbed wire and pain. As much as I desired to avoid losing the skin off my back, I respected them far more than I was afraid of punishment.

I was never the most popular guy at school. I was the stereotypical intelligent, shy and reserved type. I was quite often teased and messed with by the more charismatic and well known boys, which, to my
genuine displeasure, included my own brother. They laughed and teased and belittled. I wouldn't really care; I would gladly take the abuse. Why? With the abuse came the opportunity to see Sherika Fletcher. I would have faced a herd of stampeding bulls just to see her smile every day. It was worth any price. Snap back to reality and I had just purchased my regular bread and cheese and sat by myself, which is customary, under a cool mango tree which was at the end of the games field. It was always quiet and calm out there.

"Hi there, mind if I join you?"

Not in my wildest dreams could I ever imagined that it would be the beautiful Sherika speaking to me, not to mention wanting to be in my presence. My brain sent words to my lips but somehow my eyes thought staring blankly and talking was the same thing. All I could do was to the space beside me on the lazy bench. I might have looked calm outside but inside it was a nuclear meltdown. Eventually the first couple words forced their way out and can you believe it, she smiled. I went home that day on cloud 9000. All was right with the world and Sherika was a part of mine. For the rest of the week we had lunch at "our spot" and talked about all sorts of things, we actually had a few things in common.

Each day I found myself wanting to spend more and more time with her. I dared to think she might actually like me. Older persons would say "trouble nuh set like rain". You never see the despair coming, you never anticipate it. School was suddenly way more exciting, it was a countdown till lunch to have those special moments with her. I could feel that feelings were there but I wouldn't dare ask about them, no way. On my way from my normal rendezvous with my precious there was my punk brother and his delinquent crew.

"You and Sherika been spending a lot of time together... You guys together ?" he investigated

"That's not your concern" I responded with confidence.

As I walked off I could hear his crew laughing to stitches. It was the first time in my short high school career that I had actually stood up to my brother. I had my first victory and not even he would spoil my day. But as I looked back I saw the searing hate in his eyes, I wondered what he would do in retaliation. If I knew anything about Jerome, I knew he would find a way to avenge this blasphemy.

My courage was growing. I was finally becoming someone worthy of the apple of my eye.

Thursday was a rainy day. The rain drops were heavy and merciless again the windows and walls of the grade nine block. It showered and showered . So when I didn't see Sherika I just assumed she had stayed home. I would see her tomorrow and I would be complete again. Something in the back of neck twinged; where was Jerome? He might have been my blood but since the "violation" he wasn't a fan.

Coming to my gate I noticed the door to the house was open. Never thought much of it but something was a bit off.

"Hey punk, you home ? Jerome?" I called out without success.

Put down my bag and took off my shirt and thought to head back out to the gate to relax. Jerome's bag was on the bed but no clothes. I guess he had gone to Ms Will's shop to buy his regular chicken and chips. My brother was many things but let me tell you he could save a $100 when he only got $10 per day for school.

"Mark, you reach home son?" greeted Daddy with mommy in tow.

"Yes Dad" I confirmed.

He went into their room and this was the beginning of the end. An eruption of biblical proportions blasted through their bedroom door that sounded like my name. I tentatively approached the sound. If that had come out of any of my parents' lips especially my father it meant death. My eyes swelled to the size of a tire as mommy held in her hand the silver wrapping of what appeared to be a condom they had found on their bed. I started to pray because it was certain that Jerome was about to meet his maker some years early. A creak from the bathroom door announced the presence of a third party. No not my brother, or my cat Bentley, no it was SHERIKA! I felt what was supposed to be my heart forcing up my throat. She was half naked and looking me in the dead puddles of my eyes.

"Evening mum" Jerome interrupted from outside.

Everyone was frozen, me in fear but my parents in rage.

"Jesus Christ! Who are you ? What the hell are you doing in my house ?!!" demanded mummy

"Mark is my boyfriend" the small frame whispered.

Everything inside me instantly broke, all but my brain. The pieces fell into place instantly: Jerome missing from school and so was she. This wasn't some nightmare that I could wake up from. My brother had taken the one thing that I had. The one thing I believed was mine alone, not like my clothes and my shoes that he would take without asking; no Sherika would be just for me alone. They say your life flashes in front of your eyes when you're about to die. The only thing that flashed in my eyes was my father's time hardened cinder block of a hand just before everything went black.

I woke up on the verandah having no idea how I got there; street lights in full glory and still in my khaki pants and merino. The shattering pain in my jaw reminded me of the events which took place earlier. It was no nightmare, it actually happened. Jerome was sitting beside me with a strange look of compassion on his face. It wasn't a look I had seen before. We both hung our heads down looking at the ground.

"It was you and Sherika that used the condom ?" I asked him my voice breaking with each word.

I asked the question but in my mind the answer was obvious. He nodded slowly and deliberately. My head exploded into an ocean of thoughts and images. My hands shaking, I reached into my pocket for a small piece of paper with "Sherika" in bold letters at the top. I wrote it at school and planned to give her the following day it read: "You are beautiful and wonderful. Will you be my girlfriend?" Jerome looked down and saw the words and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry bro" he whispered in his quiet but rough voice and put his hand on my head.

No words were spoken for some minutes. The only sound was the pitter patter of my tear drops against the paper as I held it in from of me. The silence was a mutual sorrow. He understood and so did I. I wanted to hate Jerome just then I really did. But all I had room for in me was sadness.