Free Brown Girl In the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson Page B

wind.
    “It’s been a long time since I’ve been alone with you, Ti-Jeanne. You been avoiding me.”
    “Just go and cut the crutches, Tony.”
    Instead he walked back up the path to where a wild rosebush was making its last windblown stand against the cold. Its branches were covered in fat rosehips, but there was one blossom left. Tony wadded up one of his gloves and used it to pick the prickly rose. Seriously he presented it to Ti-Jeanne, glove and all. Blushing, she took it from him. She dared not put her nose to it; like everything that Tony had ever given her, this gift had thorns.
    Tony made as if to reach for her free hand. Ti-Jeanne felt herself leaning closer to him. But he lowered his hand and said, “Why’d you leave me?”
    There it was. She’d finally given him the opportunity to ask the question. “What else I was to do, Tony?” She was about to tell him all the fears that had plagued her, all her worries about whether Tony would have been able to help her provide for the child. He interrupted her:
    “I would have let you keep the baby, no matter whose it is. I love you, Ti-Jeanne.”
    Ti-Jeanne blinked in shock. He would have “let” her keep the baby? The moment had passed. She gave Tony the glare that always threw him off balance. “Don’t talk foolishness. You going to cut the damned crutch, or you want me to do it for you?”
    “Ti-Jeanne…” He sighed. “Is that where you want me to go? Into the bush there?”
    The “bush” was nothing more than a straggly clump of trees. Ti-Jeanne sucked her teeth in mock disgust at him. He smiled. “You going to show me the way?”
    “Come.” She beckoned.
    He reached for the beckoning hand, held it in his. She made to pull her hand away but knew she couldn’t do it if her life depended on it. They entered the clump of trees. Trying to act casual, she pulled him toward a sapling that seemed a likely one. “Chop that one.”
    Still holding her hand, he pulled his arm in against his chest, compelling her to come closer to him.
    “Tony, let me go.”
    “What, dry-dry so?” he asked, a laugh in his voice. “A man going off into the bush to do dangerous work with a machète, and you can’t even give he a kiss for good luck?”
    Ti-Jeanne couldn’t help herself. She giggled. She looked up into Tony’s eyes and saw the pleading there that his merry tone masked. She put her hand on his shoulder, stood on tiptoe, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
    He let the machète fall behind him, took her face in his hands. “You call that a kiss?”
    The taste of his lips and tongue against her was sweet, sweet as she’d remembered. She relaxed into the kiss, put her arms around him. A sound came to her, blown on a stray breeze. Was that Baby she heard crying? Ti-Jeanne pushed Tony away.
    He frowned. “Now what?”
    “Just leave me alone, all right? Cut two crutches out from the blasted tree, and leave me to go about my business.” Not waiting to see what he would do, Ti-Jeanne quickly climbed the hill back up to the house. Mami was waiting for her on the porch. She scowled as she saw the rose. Ti-Jeanne thrust her chin out defiantly. She held on to the flower, ignoring the bite of its thorns.
    “Go and see to your child,” Mami said. “He hungry.”
    • • • •
    Gal, hug and kiss your partner, tra-la-la-la-la,
For you look like a sugar and a plum (plum, plum).
    —Ring game
    It felt like a lifetime before night finally fell. As soon as little Susie was awake from the anaesthetic, Josée had herded her brood away, even though Mami had said they were welcome to stay overnight in the old Meeting House.
    “Naw, lady,” Josée had said. “You make them nervous already, eh? Some of ’em still think you’re a witch. Come nighttime, they’ll go squirrelly on me. Kids.” And they’d trooped off through the dusk, groggy Susie manoeuvring shakily on her handmade crutches.
    Ti-Jeanne felt as though she’d been doing a dance all day, swerving one way