Caribbean Dialect Included.

Erica

The hard rubber handle of my suitcase was cutting into my skin as I tightened the hold on it. I've been to this airport many times but not to this terminal. Currently, I was standing near the display of our country's culture while waiting for my family to exit the arrivals terminal from Tobago. Arriving in Trinidad used to be an exciting feeling for me, visiting my best friends or looking forward to the getaway weekend with my friends.

But now.

Now I was scared, angry, and sad, all mixed up in one large knot in my chest. I didn't want to do this but I had no say in what happened over the past three months.
Three months and I've packed my whole life in four large suitcases, one backpack, and a messenger bag.

Releasing a nervous sigh, I checked my ticket once more, the flight to New York will be boarding in three hours then I'll be heading to North Carolina while my parents and older sister heads off to Ohio. My anger surfaced thinking back on the night they told me of this 'move'. I've never hated anyone in my life but I think I'm getting close to hating my family.

I didn't want to leave my small island. My whole world was formed here, my friends, the quiet, the familiar faces, and the laid-back environment, that's me in a nutshell. Tobago is basically a vacation island, what's better than wearing shorts and flip-flops every day and having the beach at your doorstep. I now have to put that all behind me now. A new life to live at sixteen by myself while my parents follow my older sister to the college of her dreams.

Taking a deep breath I tried to keep the tears at bay.

"Yuh get everything?"

The loud and stern voice of my mother had me tense. "Yes, mammy," I replied softly. My stepfather and older sister were behind her, checking their bags then patiently waiting on her. My mother, Charlene Ellis-Moore was the epitome of a Caribbean mother. Tough with discipline, loud, not afraid to speak her mind, voluptuous, and strictly old school. Overall, she was the head of the family, whatever she says goes, and that meant uprooting my life and shipping me off to a man I only communicated with once or twice a month. (That's how often she allowed. Let's not tell her about the secret emails.)
She turned around to her husband and her other daughter and began a conversation amongst themselves. As usual, I'm left out, it always hurt when they do that, even more so when I won't be going with them to Ohio. My phone rang, distracting me from my messed-up thoughts. Checking the caller ID, a wide grin graced my face. "I'm going for somethin' to eat by Royal Castle," I said to them.

"Doh Leh me come lookin' fuh yuh. Just hurry up," my mother shouted after me. I quickly answered the call and walked into the fast-food restaurant which always has a comfortable vibe in the busy Piarco International airport. Finding a seat, I laughed at the returning greeting from my best friend.

"I'm in Royal Castle," I said to him, tucking my luggage under the table before joining the line.

"Okay. I see yuh. Dah boy jus' parkin' d car."

Before I had time to end the call, I felt his arms around my waist only to be spun around way too quickly.

"Dude. Stop," I screamed aloud. When he did, I saw my other best friend came running in. My face heated at the position Christopher had me in. I sort of have a crush on Jamal but that's all it has to be now. No use telling him now when I'm leaving the country for good.

"You want somethin' darlin'?" I heard the cashier ask. Back on my feet, I ordered three chicken sandwich combos and extra fries for all of us. Just smelling the scent of their perfectly seasoned chicken and the soca music playing in the background had me homesick already. Christopher had my hand in his while Jamal had his arm around my shoulders. The tension between the three of us was the same I felt with my girls back in Tobago three months ago. Words were lost, moods very low and the unknown staring at us, waiting for us to simply walk forward. After a quick ten-minute wait, we went to the table I secured and silently ate. For me, this meal gave me the opportunity to put this moment in memory. Christopher with his smooth brown skin, tall stature, and long black braided hair. His ears were pierced and with his naturally hooded dark eyes and plump lips he was considered a hottie. He's a wild one, at eighteen he's one to know where all the good parties are and always knew how to get a car borrowed to do whatever he wants. Besides that, he's a good listener and protector, he made himself my bodyguard whenever I travel to Trinidad or when he visits me in Tobago.

I stopped eating for a second then looked at Jamal. Dark-skinned tone, dark eyes with perfectly shaped eyebrows which women envy, average height, and a bit muscular from his boxing training, my best friend was indeed favored dark chocolate. He's a quiet guy, slow to anger, and incredibly smart. At seventeen, fresh out of secondary school he can go to any university in the Caribbean but he didn't want to leave his mother and little sisters. We understood his reasoning that's why we pushed him to do classes in a university on the island and get a job on his off days. His mom is the breadwinner, working three jobs, traveling so far between each one which made him the man of the family, protection-wise. I witnessed his daily routine and that made me respect him even more.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," I blurted out.

"Same here. Yuh sure yuh don't have any other family down here?" Jamal asked taking a sip of his drink.

I didn't dare tell these guys what my mother actually said, they knew of the friction between the two of us but didn't know the main reason why we didn't have a close relationship.

"Nah. Don't worry. I'll be fine," I muttered. To be honest, the nervous part of me was due to the fact of meeting my father for the first time ever. Skype calls, emails and phone calls weren't enough to say I knew the man.

"But why you not going to live wid dem. Dey basically dumping you with someone you barely know while dey is ah happy family with Giselle," Christopher argued.

"You know what else? I have to go back to school. God, like five years in Bishop's, wasn't enough," I argued. In Trinidad & Tobago, our education system follows British law due to the fact we were once governed by them before we gained our independence in 1962. Typically we finish our secondary or high school education by sixteen or seventeen. After that, it's our choice to either go into the workforce or go to a university. I basically graduated secondary school but as my mother says, I had to go back for a year according to the law in the US or something like that. I'll ask my father more about that subject.

"Yuh lie!!" Jamal shouted.

"I know right and they have no uniforms so it's like wearing 'going out' clothes every day," I continued.

"Won't you look stale when yuh actually go out?" Christopher asked. ('Stale' - looking the same and unforgettable way, or worn out)

"Makeup? New clothes? I don't know, I have to learn a new culture now."

"At least yuh Tobago accent ain't that bad," Jamal said with a grin. I rolled my eyes at his silliness. In the Caribbean, we have many dialects from each island, dialect is a play on the Queen's English and the mixture of different ethnicities that migrated to the island or was brought here as slaves. Words are shortened, letters rearranged and replaced, verbs aren't said, we created our own English.

"Yeah, I guess they will understand me when I talk, that's one thing settled," I replied. Over the years, I've been asked if I was born in the states or had an education there because of how 'proper' I sounded when I speak. I've had girls around my age teasing me about it, they always claim that I wanted to be white because my skin was too dark, that's why I spoke this way. In truth, I loved to read and learned a lot from American television, books and sitcoms influenced my language and the way I act.

"Doh forget to keep us informed till you reach yuh father," Jamal reminded me.

"I got ah new phone that's unlocked. Daddy told me to get a new sim as soon as I touch down in New York."

"Yuh mammy kno' how often you two does talk?" Christopher asked, gathering all our garbage as we settled into our conversation.

I shook my head, 'no' and gave them a small smile. Though they were my best friends, I didn't open up much. The only time I did was this, my migration to the US.

"Yet she sends you to him," Jamal said genuinely confused. 'Join the club,' I thought to myself. I didn't voice my real thoughts and simply smiled at them.

We talked for another hour and a half before saying our final words of goodbyes. They walked me to the international departures after I checked in my large suitcases. We all stood watching other passengers queued to go through security checks and customs, lost in our own thoughts.

"It's just two flights away. Lots of hours though," I whispered.

"Yeah."

After long hugs and a few tears, I joined the line that will take me to my new life.

This was all new to me, I've never traveled beyond Trinidad and now I must do so to go meet my father. Following the directions, I found myself upstairs in the waiting area. Looking around the lobby, I browsed over the tourists heading back home and a few workers who decided to take a little bit of an A/C break. I didn't spot my family till the sixth time looking around. They didn't call out to me nor stuck a hand up to signal me where they were. Silently I found a seat in the row ahead of them, next to two young guys talking rapidly in German.
My family said nothing and I brushed aside the fact that they didn't save me a seat. Checking the overhead screen above the podium, I kept track of the flights waiting to board before getting out my phone to play a little Fortnite to kill some time.

"You play?" The deep accented voice startled me, turning my head, I blushed when my eyes met light brown ones slightly covered with blonde hair.

"Somewhat. Now getting ah handle on it," I answered. He tapped his friend and pointed at my open phone that displayed the lobby of the game. His friend's eyes lit up when he saw it, his grin got wider when he spotted me fully.

"Add us. You have PS4? You can play better there. Come, let me put my name and my brother's," he said excitedly reaching for my phone. I watched in amusement as he accepted the friend request he sent to himself, then as his brother did the same. They both showed me a few tricks for playing Solo and Team Rumble. They checked out the two islands I created in Creative Mode and got lost in the obstacle course. The next hour was filled with me getting to know my new friends and possibly international connections before my flight was called. Unexpectedly they gave me huge hugs and made me promise to contact them when I reach New York, it felt good to meet new friends.

Inline to board, my mother was muttering low admonishments to me about talking to the guys. My happy mood disappeared when she compared me to a slut and how low her expectations were, of me. I knew I wasn't really loved by her but sometimes I wish she saw me in the same light as Giselle. I did extremely well on my CXC exams, high marks in all eight subjects, and still not even a well done from her. CXC is another British system we kept. Whereas the Americans have GPA's at the end of high school, we did exams on each subject we have studied for the past five years of high school. It's graded between 1 and 5, Grade1 or 2 are considered the highest. It's even greater if you are awarded a distinction to show how well you did in that particular subject. I gained five and yet my mother wasn't pleased. My father, on the other hand, couldn't stop calling me his 'bright little girl'. It felt good to have one parent's joy but something about a mother's love always makes things better.

"If yuh feel yuh goin' an open your legs for dem boys up dey, doh call me when yuh pregnant. Yuh will paddle yuh own canoe. Doh embarrass me, inno," she spat out. ('Paddle yuh own canoe' means you have to fend for yourself, no help from anyone.)

"Yes, mammy," I answered meekly. The boarding was so slow, not because of the other patrons but of my mother's definition of talking. Everything she said, felt demeaning and disgusting to me. She assumes I will become a sex-crazed teenager who will get knocked up the moment I set foot at JFK airport. What can I say, she sees me as a failure while she saw Giselle as the golden child. I've learned to live with it. Living in her shadow, trying to get a little light on me. The best part of this move was gaining the chance to be my own person. I don't know who that is as yet but I'll find her.

On the plane, I found my seat rather quickly, got my laptop and headphones, possibly a book for the next five hours. With the mood I'm in, I know my concentration was gone. One more person took a seat in my row, leaving one free seat. The woman gave me a small smile and got herself situated.
I wondered where my family was, curious, I stood up and looked around and spotted them two rows behind me, sitting altogether. My eyes met my older sister's, she simply looked at me with a bored expression. We were never close and I knew why, I've tried to act upon that sisterly bond we were supposed to have but it failed terribly. No one will think or piece together that we are sisters. She took familiar features from our mother and her father while I simply inherited our mother's womanly curves. I was my father's child alright. From the shape of my eyes to the color of my brown skin. An outcast, Giselle once called me and I've accepted that. When it should have made me bitter, I tried to let them see I'm part of their brood too, no matter my last name and features.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I returned to my seat and prepared for the final goodbye to them once this plane touches American soil.

The five hours were long and irritable. My nerves and sad thoughts may help with that but it was the longest I've sat through a flight.
"Welcome to JFK Airport New York, on behalf of my staff and I, thank you for flying with us and enjoy your stay in the Big Apple."

The Captain's voice over the intercom was too cheerful for my liking. I peeked out the little oval window to get my first glimpse of this country. A small smile bloomed on my face when I saw the numerous planes and the people who made everything run smoothly hustle all over the tarmac. They all walked and moved with a purpose, even the flight attendants on the plane whole demeanor changed to serious yet polite as they helped with overhead luggage.

Disembarking the plane, I followed the other patrons from the plane, detecting who was heading to baggage claim, and acted as I traveled to JFK frequently. Though I had an unbothered look on my face, I was freaking out inside. I'm in the states and minutes away from saying goodbye to my family who are probably happy to get rid of me.

I'm not stupid. I may be quiet and hate confrontations but I'm not stupid. Being in control of your emotions leads you to dissect each conversation you ever have and interpret body language.
Now at this moment, at this time in life, my mother was happy to get rid of me.

Getting my large suitcases and gaining the help of an airport attendant I made the first move of our awkward goodbyes. They were a few feet down, busy with their own bags, oblivious to me coming towards them.
"Mammy, " I called out. She raised her head, pinning me with an annoyed look. I shifted uncomfortably on my feet, waiting for her to say something. Our relationship contained aloofness, distance, and arguments for years. What the hell did I expect?

Tears?

Hugs with a whispered I love you or I'm going to miss you?

Yes.

Yes, I did expect that. Stupid of me to do so but she was practically my mother. She should have some sort of love for me right? I was in her womb for nine months, she raised me for crying out loud.

Don't cry, Erica. Don't cry.

"Doh leh yuh fadda be callin' me complain' 'bout yuh. He barely help mind yuh, he betta do so now. Yuh old enough to get a wuk, my ass done broke wid gettin' yuh sister up here. Is ah good ting she gets ah scholarship. Just go an' find yuh way to the next terminal, " she said not even stepping forward to me.

My so-called sister simply rolled her eyes at me and turned away to meet her father. My mother grabbed her remaining bags and followed them without a glance over her shoulder at me. I knew I was the odd man out in the family but I didn't know it was this bad. She dumped me in my father's hands with her continuous lies about him and her coldness towards me.

As the saying goes, "Yuh can't change a 1cent.' In other words, my mother will never change her ways and feeling towards me and my father.

"Miss? Are you ready?" The voice of the older gentleman who offered his help brought me out of sad thoughts. Clearing my throat from the sob that threatened to come out, I turned back to where he parked and sat beside him on his little golf cart.
"Where to?"

Pulling out my itinerary from my backpack, I told him the terminal I need to get to and asked him about the best network to join. We both had a great conversation between the drive to the phone dealership and terminal. I learned about his time in the military and the people he met along the way, I told him about my small island. A smile bloomed on my face seeing how his eyes lit up when I told him of our beaches and yearly multi-cultural festival called Carnival, even told him about the food our island was famous for, curry crab and dumplings.

I grew relaxed by the time, my bags were checked in and had my boarding pass was in my hand.

"Now, you be careful now. Message your father when you're about to board and call him when you land. Welcome to the United States, island girl," he said patting me on the shoulder before leaving me to the last leg of my journey.

Checking the time, I quickly made my way to the bathroom to change out of my clothes and into fresh ones. Looking into the mirror, I used my hand to brush back the loose strands of my straightened hair. Taking a closer look, I noticed the roots forming back to their natural wavy state.
Back home I was considered a mixed breed or dougla. My father was both East Indian and Spanish while my mother was a pure African. With three different genetics, my hair was long to the center of my back and naturally wild. To tame it, I usually straighten it with a hot comb. No chemicals just natural oils and grease.

"Okay. I can do this. Three more hours till I meet daddy. New house. New life," I said to myself in the mirror. Reaching for my phone in my pocket, I looked for the photos daddy sent me of himself over the years. I smiled at the side-by-side picture I created of both of us. I was proud of my background all because of him. He now sported close-cropped curly hair with a sprinkling of grey at the sides. His skin tone can be considered a toffee complexion, his build was a bit muscular with his tall stature, his eyes were dark like mine framed with long lashes. In the photo, he was smiling and as usual, a connection was felt when I again notice how we both had the same cheeky smile.

No DNA test was needed.

Julius Hollis was indeed my father.

Taking one last look at his photo, I ventured out of the bathroom and into the waiting area. On the last leg of my trip, I messaged my friends over social media, giving them my new number, and called my father before I boarded the plane. I had the stupidest grin on my face when he excitedly told me he was already on his way to the airport and couldn't wait to see me. Talking over the phone was easy, with no awkwardness, a bit of teasing and sarcastic humor and everything was right in my world. Overhead, my flight number called while daddy was telling me of the places he wanted to show me and things I will love.

"My flight is ready. See you soon," I breathed out nervously.

"See you soon, my bright girl." His deep voice still held his Tobagonian accent. Hearing it mixed with a tinge of American made me wonder if mine will change also. Boarding the plane, I took note of how few people were on the flight but that didn't stop me from having an obnoxiously loud brunette with too much makeup and tight clothing. She looked to be around my age but with the way the world is today she can be in her late 20's and still look like a teen. Wanting to drown out her conversation about her vacation hookups, I turned the volume up to the highest on my phone and scrolled through my IG feed.

My heart rate picked up when I saw @TwoSidesOfAJohnson posted a new photo. It wasn't anything special but because it was HIM, the photo of his pets playing garnered up to 200 plus likes already. The two Bengal cats were tumbling around while two large huskies were simply relaxing in the sun. Looking closer, my eyes widened his older twin brothers were at the back lounging shirtless on beach chairs. I double-tapped on the picture right away.

Shirtless hot as hell twins. Of course, I will double-tap that. I've been following IG star Elijah Johnson for over two years and I may have developed a somewhat crush on him just by looking at his pictures and videos. A girl can only dream of being kissed by someone so famous and sexy. You can go through the comments on his photos and see that I'm not the only one fawning over him. He has shirtless photos, workout videos, and him hanging out with his family but it's his eyes that always draw my attention. Those light brown eyes always had happiness in them. To me he was perfect.

"I know him. Isn't he hot? I go to school with him."

The volume she spoke was higher than my headphones how can that be? The arrogance and vanity didn't need to be seen because I totally heard it in my seatmate's voice.

"Okay, that's cool," I commented softly not knowing if to converse with her about my unhealthy obsession with him or keep it to myself.

"His older sister and brothers went to my school too. All three of them were in a relationship, disgusting if you ask me but they got away with it because they are filthy rich. Total snobs but hot. My friend was Elijah's girlfriend but he cheated on her with someone in his class. It's all pretend that they are nice or whatever. Everyone goes on about how great they are and shit, take it from me don't waste your time on him, he ain't worth it," she blabbered on in a gossipy tone that prompt you to ask more.

For some reason, I wanted to defend Elijah but I don't the guy nor do I know this girl but the island girl in me was annoyed as hell by her rude behavior.

"Ah didn't ask yuh opinion bout the people I like on Instagram. Yuh over boldface fuh lookin' in mih phone, like ya have no broughtopsy. Yuh muddah neva teach yuh manners. Why yuh doh mind yuh business, if dey wanna be snobs dey can." Rolling my eyes, I turned away from her shocked expression and continued on surfing through my social media.

Like I will meet Elijah Johnson in real life. That my friend is a one in a million chance.