Lime Tree Can't Bear Orange Read online

  “But where is he?” I said. “No one knows where this patient lives. You could drive all over Diego Martin and never find him.”

  • • •

  WE HEARD THE first car pull up just before three. It was Mrs. Robinson and her son, Damien. I went out to greet them. She was standing next to her yellow car with the engine running. She was a large blond woman with a deep, raspy voice.

  “How is Mrs. Rodriguez? Is she better?”

  I might have asked her to come inside, but I didn’t like the way Mrs. Robinson looked at me. So I said that madam was getting ready, and she was feeling much brighter, thank you. When she asked what time she should collect Damien, I said 5:00 p.m. was fine. She jingled her car keys. “I might come a little earlier, I would like to see her.” Then Mrs. Robinson kissed her son on his forehead, said goodbye, and left.

  Joe ran outside and took Damien into the yard and they started to play on the wooden swing that hung from the tree. Then Emily arrived with her father. Nelson Scott, from our road, came with Dinah, his maid. No one brought a gift; it wasn’t a birthday party. Mark and Kitty Aleong, who were twins and both a little younger than Joe, arrived as a rain shower began to fall. Soon it started coming down heavy, and everyone ran inside. Including Joe, I counted seven children.

  I asked everyone to sit at the table. Marva made sure they each had a napkin and a glass for their lime juice, which I poured. Marva had just brought out the sandwiches when we heard Helen Rodriguez coming down the stairs. She was singing an old-time song. It went, “Oh the girls are so pretty, Waiting at the docks for the boys to come in. Oh the girls are so pretty …” All the children turned and looked at her. Marva put her hand up to her mouth.

  She wore a long silver dress, with a silky train. The neck was square and elegant. Her hair was pinned in a bun and she was wearing makeup; the same makeup she’d bought at the beauty salon. Only it didn’t look the same. Her eyes were two dark holes and her lipstick was thick and uneven. When she picked up her dress, I saw her feet were bare and filthy.

  “Hello, children,” she said, and found a seat at the table.

  Emily started giggling, but Helen didn’t seem to notice. I was relieved when Marva said, “Come on, everyone, let’s eat.”

  Helen Rodriguez helped herself to a little pile of sandwiches. She must have been hungry; I hadn’t seen her eat all day. Then, to Nelson Scott, as if he was an adult, she said, “And how are things with you, Nelson?” Her voice was strained.

  “I’m very well, thank you, Auntie Helen.”

  And she went around all the children, taking turns to ask them how they were, as if they were her friends or acquaintances and it was a grown-up dinner party. Mark, who thought she was playing some sort of game, answered in the same way. Kitty must have kicked him under the table because he then started shifting around in his seat, and before we knew what was going on, there was a lot of moving about in seats. Then Emily said something and laughed.

  In a high voice, Helen Rodriguez said, “Share the joke. Come on, it’s not fair to keep it to yourselves.” Everyone was silent and I wondered what they were thinking. Then Nelson spoke. “It’s just that Emily said you were like someone out of a book.”

  “Who is that someone, Emily?”

  “I don’t remember her name,” said Emily, looking puzzled.

  I BROUGHT IN the cakes, and Marva cut up slices and I cut up slices. And the whole time, I prayed that Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez would come. He had been gone for more than four hours. And I wished, too, that William was there. Marva rolled her eyes and I knew that she was worried. Trying to keep things light, I said, “Come on, everyone, there’s plenty of cake!” Helen Rodriguez was watching the children, carefully. When most of them had finished eating she got up.

  “Now,” she said, “we’ll play piñata. Plenty of time for cake later.”

  The children looked at one another, and then everyone got up and rushed noisily into the living room. Helen Rodriguez sat in the nearby armchair and drew up her legs so her dirty feet were on the seat. The children stared at the big blue shape hanging from the ceiling.

  She said, “Give out the stick, Celia.”

  From the corner, I took up the long wooden pole.

  “Whoever puts up their hand first can have a go.”

  Emily’s arm shot up.

  I tied the cloth around Emily’s eyes. Then everyone gathered around the little girl, and they started to turn her. Her two plaits twirled as they spun her in a circle. I had to say, “Not too rough, be careful,” and adjust the rope so the fish came lower and almost within her reach. I took hold of her shoulders and she raised the stick and I guided her a little. Everyone shouted out: Up, Up, To the left, and then Up to the right, Forward, and all the while the stick was hitting the air and then coming down on the floor. When she finally hit the piñata it wasn’t hard enough, nothing fell out. She took off the blindfold and sat down.

  Next it was Mark’s turn. He was a small child, with fair curly hair. He was stronger than Emily, and when he hit with the stick, he hit it hard and with his whole body, so much so that he fell forward and onto the floor and I had to help him up. He said he didn’t want to do it anymore.

  Damien put up his hand. “Let me have a chance.”

  We spun the skinny boy round and round, and he, too, lashed hard with the stick, cracking it down on the floor. He hit the piñata in the middle and it looked as if it might break and everybody cheered, but then it didn’t break, and the boy lost his patience and pulled off the blindfold. Joe was going to go next, but his mother stood up.

  “Let me try,” Helen Rodriguez said, in a way that no one would argue with.

  Marva tied the blindfold, and like before, the children gathered around. It was difficult to spin her at first, because she was so much taller than them, but then they got the hang of it and she went easily with their pushing. Light was coming through the shutters now, and her dress was sparkling. She lifted up the stick and thrashed it in front of her, whacking it hard, smashing the top of the piñata. Everyone cheered. “Do it again,” said Mark. But then she stumbled a little on the train of her dress, and when the stick came down, she hit the floor. She kept moving off to the right; the children yelled, Left. Left, Left, Left. But she wasn’t listening. Next thing, she smashed the stick down on the shelf and a vase fell and broke. Someone (it might have been Nelson) said, Mrs. Rodriguez! We all thought it was an accident, but then she brought the stick down again, and little ornaments and picture frames flew off. Emily screamed and then Kitty screamed too. It must have alarmed Helen Rodriguez because she took off the blindfold, went to the cabinet, opened the doors, and dragged the stick over the shelves, throwing down glasses, dinner plates, serving dishes. By now all the children were crying out and I could see they were afraid. Finally, she went to the piñata and hit it so hard that it came down like a bomb on the floor and all the sweets fell out and scattered and the children didn’t know whether to grab them or to run away. Some of them did run toward the door.

  Mrs. Robinson and Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez must have arrived at the same time; when I looked up I saw both of them at once: their shocked white faces like two masks. Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez ran to his wife, wrapped his arms around her like a straitjacket, forcing her to drop the stick, and lowered her onto the floor. She said No, No, No, over and over. Then, Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Her voice sounded more like her own. Marva and Mrs. Robinson had already taken the children out of the room, but Joe was still standing in the doorway. His eyes were big and frightened. I said, Joe, go with Marva. Go with Marva. But he didn’t move. So I took his hand and pulled him away from his mother, who was now staring at the floor as if it was alive with snakes.

  THAT NIGHT DR. Emmanuel Rodriguez stayed by his wife’s bedside. I brought him soup and bread. He had given her a sleeping tablet but thought she might wake up when it had worn off. Together we carried a single bed into their room and he lay on it. Then he told me to leave; if she woke and saw me there
she might be angry.

  Downstairs, Marva was sweeping the floor. “I never see anything like this,” she said, wiping her forehead. “Something happen today, something bad happen. Like somebody flick a switch in her mind.”

  “I saw it this morning, in the kitchen.”

  “Yes. Well, Mrs. Robinson say something going on with the two of you.” She stopped sweeping and looked at me.

  My heart was beating fast. “Going on with what?”

  Marva’s eyes turned dark and narrow. “Dr. Rodriguez. She say you have something with him.”

  “I was at the cinema yesterday. I swear to God. I swear on my father’s life.”

  “I never said anything about yesterday.”

  THAT NIGHT, THE house had a strange feeling, as if someone had died.

  I stayed awake for a long while, wondering what would happen tomorrow. It was like a nightmare, the whole thing. Through my dreams, I heard Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez knock three times and then come into the room. I shifted onto the other side of the bed, to make space for him. He usually took a few moments to undress. I was glad that he had come to me now. I hadn’t expected him. So when I felt him sit on the side of the bed, and then lift up the sheet and climb inside next to me, I said, “I’m so glad you came,” and I moved back into him. I needed him to hold me in his arms, to say it was going to be all right. Cool fingers ran from my shoulder to my wrist. I said, “I was afraid of her today.” But he didn’t say anything so I moved farther into him. Then I half turned—to look at him, to find his mouth. It was difficult to see in the dark, and at first I thought I was dreaming but even in the dark there was no mistaking Mrs. Rodriguez’s silhouette.

  I jumped up from the bed, and ran to the light. She had no expression; if anything she looked like herself when she was calm, and yet her eyes were not calm, they were two screws holding me in place. Slowly, she got up and started to walk toward me. Her white dressing gown gaped open so that I could see her small breasts, with their tiny dark nipples. I could see the brown hair between her legs. For the first time, I was frightened of her. “I never meant to hurt you, Mrs. Rodriguez.”

  When the door opened and I saw Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez, I cried out with relief.

  TWENTY-TWO

  WE NEVER SPOKE BEFORE SHE LEFT. I WATCHED HER KISS the children goodbye, as if they belonged to somebody else. Joe tried to hold on to her hand but she let go of him and went to the mirror to adjust her hat and her immaculate hair. That morning, Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez had taken her to the beauty salon to have her hair fixed. He waited there in case anything happened. He had chosen her traveling outfit: a stylish skirt and jacket in pale pink gabardine. At first she didn’t want to wear it. In the softest voice, I heard him say, “Darling, you have to wear smart clothes in first class.” Even though her eyes were tired and vacant, she actually looked pretty. William carried the trunk outside and put it in the boot of the car. Then he opened the gate. From the upstairs landing, I watched the car drive away. Mrs. Rodriguez didn’t look back.

  I HAD HARDLY seen Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez in the last week. His wife was too sick to be left alone, he had said. The drugs were strong and made her sleep. There was no danger as long as she took them. All day and night he stayed with her, either in their bedroom or in the living room where she sat and stared at nothing and he read his medical journals. He had hired a nurse to travel with her to England.

  Now, he would relax a little. Once Marva and William left and he was home from surgery, apart from the children, there was nothing to stop us from being together. And after Joe had gone to bed, it was easier again. He could come to my room whenever he pleased, or I could sleep in his bedroom and we’d lock the door. Perhaps, what we needed more than anything was a weekend down the islands at Avalon. No one would think anything of it. Places to go ran through my mind: the Botanical Gardens, the beach, the cinema, church. We could go as a family. As long as we weren’t too friendly, it would be okay. People would say, “Oh his wife was taken ill, and his maid is very helpful.” By then the rumors would have died down.

  This is how I thought it would be. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  WHEN HE CAME home that morning, Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez disappeared into his office, asking not to be disturbed under any circumstances, unless it was “something to do with Helen.” I was disappointed, and thought he would come looking for me later. He didn’t. In fact, I didn’t see him again until the following morning.

  Usually at breakfast, he would ask about the post or say something nice about the fruit juice, or the fresh bread Marva had brought from that “terrific bakery in St. James,” but that morning, it was as if he couldn’t see me. I came and went, carrying this and that, and he never once said a word to me or looked my way. He talked to Joe a little about school, homework, plans for the weekend. But that was all. He left the house early to get to Mass before surgery. I had never known him to go to church in the week. The next day was the same. And the day after. When I tried to ask him what was going on, he didn’t seem to want to talk and I eventually realized that he was avoiding me. Then he stopped coming home for lunch and instead bought something at the hotel restaurant next door to his office. I heard him telling Marva, “Nothing against your cooking. I have a lot to catch up on.”

  But more than this: he stopped coming to my room in the night, except to tell me that he was going out and I was to listen for the children. And even then, he didn’t come inside, he spoke through the window like I was a servant. I don’t know where he went on those evenings. He left around eight and got back after midnight. When I asked him to come to my room, or if I touched him in any way—like one time when we were in the kitchen and no one else was there and I put my face close to his—he pushed me away. “Not now, Celia. Please, not now.” He said I would have to wait for a while. It was too soon.

  I said, “Too soon for what?”

  THEN JOE TOOK to sleeping in his father’s bed. At first he lay next to him and listened to a story. But then he stopped wanting to go to his own bed when the story was over. When I told Joe that it was important to give his daddy some time to be alone and to rest, Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez said, “It’s fine for Joe to sleep with me. It’s hard enough with his mother away. Isn’t that right, Joe?”

  WHEN WILLIAM ASKED if we could go out that weekend, I made an excuse that since Helen Rodriguez had gone, it didn’t seem right to leave the children. We were sitting outside on the bench. The sky was darkening as if rain was coming, but here and there were streaks the color of flames. He had brought me a piece of pineapple from the yard; a sign, I hoped, that he hadn’t turned against me. By now, William seemed like my only true friend.

  “Thank you,” I said. “You’re good to me, you know.”

  “Mrs. Rodriguez liked pineapple. It was the only fruit she really like. I wonder if she can buy it up in England.”

  “I’m sure you can get everything in England.”

  “But what she really want she can’t get there.”

  It was warm and there was a sweet smell and I wondered if it was the Lady of the Night. It made me think of Aunt Sula.

  “William,” I said, “I know that Marva thinks her going away might have something to do with me. But it’s not true. Mrs. Rodriguez was like this long before I came to live here. Remember how you used to tell me things when I was in Laventille? About Consuella getting her head caught in the bars of the cot? Remember when something happened with Brigid. I don’t know what that was. But she was always strange, wasn’t she?”

  He stretched out his long legs in front of him.

  I said, “Mrs. Rodriguez hates Trinidad. It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does, she will always hate Trinidad. You should marry someone from your own town, and if you can’t, then marry someone from the same country or at least from the same part of the world.”

  He was looking ahead through the trees.

  “Mrs. Rodriguez wasn’t well,” I said. “That’s the truth.”

  William cleared
his throat. “I told Marva, I don’t believe what everybody say about you. You fit in here like they your own family, and just because you and the doctor get along good, it doesn’t mean you are carrying on with him. People always ready to throw stones. They should look in their own backyards first. Marva not so perfect herself.”

  “Exactly,” I said, relieved.

  HELEN RODRIGUEZ HAD been gone three weeks when Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez received a telephone call from her sister, Isobel, in Warwickshire. It was the second telephone call since she had left. The first was to let Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez know that his wife had arrived safely and that she would be in contact again soon. Their conversation was brief. But now Isobel had a lot more to say. I heard him telling Marva: Helen was doing well. She had been to the nearby hospital, and the doctor had given her some medication that was definitely working. But it seemed to her (Isobel) that the countryside was the best medicine her sister could want. Every day they were walking in the nearby woods. Isobel hadn’t got to the bottom of what had happened yet; when the time was right she would ask. But for now, he mustn’t worry. Helen Rodriguez was thriving. She was taking good care of his wife! She sent her love to him and to the children.

  After this news, Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez’s mood was noticeably brighter. The next day, he took Joe for a drive to Macqueripe, and they swam for most of the afternoon. When they came back with sweet buns and coffee cake, I made tea and they sat on the veranda and Joe asked me to join them, and I did. I really thought it was going to be okay.

  But that night Dr. Emmanuel Rodriguez came to where I was washing clothes in the outside sink, and in a calm voice, he told me that he had some decisions to make, and it might be better for me if I didn’t expect anything from him right now.

  “I need time to think. Why don’t you go and visit your aunt in Tamana? Or you could go to Tobago? I will manage with the children. Marva has offered to help out.”