🌸ڿڰۣ-P̠O̠V̠ P̠a̠t̠r̠i̠c̠e̠

If tired as fuck was a person then you're looking at her. It's 4:30 p.m. and I have been sitting in this taxi for close to an hour. I hiss my teeth for what I know to be the tenth time and was going on my eleventh when I saw the taxi driver rushing up with two more passengers.

"Dem yah taxi man naah duh road if fi dem car nuh pack lakka sardine," I mumbled to myself.

I shifted closer to the door and watched as the approaching passengers stare in the car as if assessing if there was any rival in the hot and stifling Voxy to whom they were averse to traveling.

Hungry, tired, hot, and very much impatient I stared at them before I hiss my teeth and mumbled. "Coo paah unuh to, damn hype an affi a tek public transportation."

I heard a chuckle behind me but I didn't turn to acknowledge it or the person who clearly heard what I said.

"Clarkey com nuh man!" I called through my partially cracked window which from my earlier trying to wined down caused me to discover it would not budge beyond the slight crack it offered. "Look fra wen yuh seh yuh ready!"

My twelfth hiss teeth followed as I glared at him rushing to the driver's door and yanking it open. He sat, turn the key and set the car raging to life giving me a sense of relief.

Yes, finally mi can go home.

"Chro Patrice man how waah likkle young smaddi like yuh miserable suh," he said slamming the door and staring at me through the rearview mirror he adjusted to acknowledge my impatience.

I hiss my teeth again bundle my handbag and the shopping bag I had on the seat in my lap and turn to the two women who were not yet in the car.

A wah dem a wait pan? To god deh tink a fi dem vehicle mi inna?

It seem like an eternity before the two finally got in and when they did I was on another level of irritation. To see that I had avoided going to the back because I never want to squeeze only to now be pressed into the door because our two current VIPs with them falseness buck were no Miss Jamaica, but full-blown fluffy pressing my slim body and not too little hips into what seems a sudden tight space.

Sorry, mi neva gallang wid Blacka mi wudda did av di front seat to mi sef, but to how mi feel mi jus couldn't tek him a chat shit inna mi ears. Mi tyaad fi di ole fawt a tell ebry body a fra High School him want mi. Another ting Blacka lyrics a nuhting but nyam pussy argument an mi cyaah entertain dat to how my constitution crawb up.

But now here I was being pressed to a pulp on my hungry stomach and tired self. I should have let the schoolboy come here and go around the back but that chance already passed too.

I reach for my phone as best as I could when I remember it was in the pocket of the jean spangie I had on and pull it free. I sure as hell not letting Miss Heavy-duty wreck my lifeline. My phone was my other baby.

"Are you ok luv?" I heard her ask and I look up when I realize the heavily accented voice was referring to me.

Suh yuh a farinah! I said to myself and relax as best as I could before I gave her a nod.

When Clarkey drove out of the park and the stifling hot air gave way to cool breeze as he sped out of the bustling town of Mandeville I found my curiosity pushing my earlier frustration took the back burner.

A wondah a fi who farinah dem dis? Mi nuh ere nobody a talk about nobody com. Anyways it's summer so relatives will be out visiting for the break.

My mind kept wondering as it ciphers all the yards in my district where potential foreigners often came.

Two dead yawd deh uppa Buck Hill, Fenty Roll Out is this Friday and a big dance dat it pull people not only from overseas but from out a parish too. Lankie British Link Up is around the corner, dis Sunday a fi it prements and fi it attraction is on another level.

As my mind occupied itself with who these two are or to whom they were visiting my ears listened to their mumbled dialogue. Their accents were very deep even though you could see they were very much Jamaican. Yawdie a yawdie.

My mind raced on with its sleuthing and not even the delicious scents wafting in on the breeze from Captain Bakery as Clarkey made his way through the heavy traffic did not waver my curiosity.

I wish Clarkey was like Blacka. Blacka would have talked them out and before I reach Maxwell Penn I would have been up to date. I giggled and shake my head.

The action caused my relaxed hair which was caught in a sleek high-top ponytail to go bouncing against my nape as it had earlier partially come undone from the now loose pins I had used to hold it in place. I reached for it and twist it into an untidy bun. The sticking bits of hair to my sweaty nape was rather annoying.

I wondah how dem two yah feel undah dem fish tail eyelash, lace wig to dem big ass and baked on makeup?

I was bearly wearing any makeup and right now I regret putting on the golden brown eye shadow that matches the brown in my leopard print chiffon top. If I was scared to wipe my sweat away in fear of messing up my make up imagine them.

Mi need fi mind mi own business and lowe people.

But when I heard the Heavy Duty farthest from me said to Clarkey to remember they were going to Rella's my curiosity was appeased.

These two were no doubt Rella's daughters that had migrated to England to be with their mother a few months shy of us all leaving primary school.

Mi rass a Melanie and Myopah dis. No sah, weh di two likkle skinny pickney deh weh mi did know a Primary? Dem change off big time an e good fi know dem no longer renk a piss.

I look at them again this time openly. My eyes traveled from their black shiny blunt-cut lace wigs to their glistening white Adidas and the realisation hit me. They were twinning in effortless style. Both had on mid-thigh tights, an oversized crop top over a spaghetti strap racerback camisole.

Their taste in jewelry was the only difference as one had on a gold chain set while the other sported a variety of intricately designed beaded wristbands. They had the tattoos and the piercings incompatible forms. Even in their late twenties they still twinning it.

I chuckle again and turn to my phone. I swipe a finger over the blank black lock screen and then punch in my lock code, after a few seconds I bury my thoughts in a game of Hungry Shark Evolution and very much ignore the fact that my WhatsApp notification icon remains green and dormant.

Mi WhatsApp resembles the drylands mi swear all tumbleweeds a blow pass.

I push this aside as my shark starts to die from starvation and my inability to avoid the jellyfish. I hiss my teeth and log out of the game and by some unforeseen power my brown eyes lock with dark eyes----as black as unsweetened coffee----I will never forget in Clarkey's rearview mirror.

I did not need one of the twins turning slightly to face the back seat and say, "OD did you pick up the box from Aunty Steff love?" to confirm it was him.

My body became motionless like it was under a stickup and when he nodded his eyes didn't leave mine.

So this was who they were looking for when they were approaching the car. Rass he must have heard what I said about them!

My fair complexion did nothing to hide my burning cheeks.

"Patrice?"

Smadie a call mi name?

"Patrice! a nuh your stop dis?"

If I had wings I just discovered them because I flew from the car and pushed the $500 to Clarkey and sped away not even waiting on the change left over from my fare.

The gate that was way overdue to be oiled by my uncle so the creaky, rusting hinges could give way easily was no match against me as I shoved it open and Shelly-Ann Fraser it to the front door. You would have thought Clarkey had not driven away with the ghost of my past.

✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰✰
Please👇

Nuff love 🇯🇲