A Mural of Hands Read online

  A MURAL OF HANDS

  by Jenelle Jack Pierre

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  Copyrighted © 2012 by Jenelle Jack Pierre

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  Cover photos:

  Corazón de manos © Topanga

  Licensed by Fotolia;

  Old wall © Iwona Rajszczak-Borkowska

  Licensed by Depositphotos

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing by the Author.

  Table of Contents

  A Mural of Hands

  About the Author

  A Mural of Hands

  I was crouched down in front of the Camry, putting on a new fender, when I heard tires crunching over the gravel road behind me. The fender securely in place, I stood up and turned to see a silver Lexus a few feet away. Sunlight glared across the driver’s windshield, and I raised my hand as an impromptu visor as I tried to make out who was inside. Plump white clouds sat behind a beaming sun.

  The door opened on the driver’s side and a lovely pair of long legs stepped out in strappy sandals. A young woman appeared, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if it was her appearance, or if it was the combination of an empty stomach and the intense heat that suddenly made me lightheaded. I grabbed the red handkerchief from the back pocket of my overalls and wiped away the sweat beading my forehead.

  “Good morning,” she said, walking toward me. Her accent was American.

  I stared, taking her in, light brown skin, long black hair like coal, almond eyes, and a small and curvy body that made her floral top cling to her. I caught myself. “Morning,” I replied. “Can I help you?”

  “Something’s wrong with my car.” She motioned to the Lexus. “I heard Dilman’s was the best auto shop.”

  “Yeah, this is the best shop outside Port of Spain.” She wasn’t from here. The car told me. It was a rare thing for a man in Trinidad, much less a woman, to have had that kind of ride, even one that was used. My stomach growled, and I glanced toward the trees further off the side of the road. The fruit on the orange tree was still green, not yet ready for picking. The calabash mangos, though, were perfectly yellow.

  A couple had already fallen to the ground. Two or three of those would go down smoothly after I ate the corned beef sandwich I’d brought for lunch. “What’s the problem?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

  “Let me take a look.”

  “Where’s Dilman?”

  “Do you know Dilman?” I lowered my eyebrows. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

  “No, my dad referred me to him.” She crossed her arms. There was something about her that I liked, though I couldn’t put my finger on it. She unfolded her arms, and then rested her left hand on her hip. “So, where is he? I thought this was his garage.”

  I ran my hand back and forth over my closely shaven head. Even though I was more interested in getting a date with this woman than fixing her car, I wasn’t about to take any attitude. I’d heard from a pal who traveled to New York City every summer that American women could be snobby.

  “Dilman told us yesterday that he had to run errands before starting work for the day. I think he’s also visiting his folks. His family lives in San Fernando.” I pulled out the handkerchief and wiped my face again. “Only one other mechanic and I are here right now.” I inched nearer to her.

  She looked at the dirt and grease on my hands, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, okay,” she mumbled. “Are you ready to take a look at the car?”

  I stopped staring. She was a bit of a smarty, my type. I grinned.

  She dropped her arm and sighed. “This sun, man, it’s getting to me.”

  I stretched out my right hand. “I’m Antonio, by the way, nice to meet you.”

  She hesitated, and I wiped my hands off on the handkerchief to make them cleaner. “Natalie.” She smiled then, extending her hand.

  The softness of her warm skin caused me to grip it. Her shoulders jolted forward slightly. So slightly, that if I wasn’t into her, I might’ve missed her reaction. For a quick second, her warm eyes appeared more curious about me than what might be wrong with the car.

  I released her hand, encouraged. Women had told me that I was dark and handsome—my momma, my sister, and my numerous girlfriends. They’d told me that they liked how my body was strong and lean, and my skin smooth. There had been many meaningless flings, but I’d buckled down when I’d finished trade school, and started working at Dilman’s five months ago. And at twenty-two, I didn’t want to spend my time chasing women, like some of my friends. Every month, I saved up half of one paycheck to buy some property. And whenever the shop got busy, I would put in longer hours, knowing it would get me to my goal quicker. In about four years, I planned to buy some land then study about building a house on it.

  I tinkered with Natalie’s car while she waited around on the grassy field. Dilman had built his garage on his own two-acre property, behind his house. It was a fairly good size and could fit up to four cars inside the garage when it rained, plus there was a tin roof extending out from the garage that could shade two more.

  Eventually, I wanted to own my own garage. My dream was to be the number one choice for customers needing auto work.

  After checking out the Lexus, I drove it to Ms. Jill’s Roti Shop and back. “The transmission needs to be fixed,” I told Natalie as I stepped out of the vehicle. I used the moment as an opportunity to show her that I knew what I was doing by explaining what caused transmission problems.

  “How long will it take to fix?”

  “Well, not long.” I pointed at a Mazda. “But, I’ve got another car to work on today. So perhaps, a day or two.”

  Natalie pouted, clearly unhappy with this piece of news. I was turned on by the way her lower lip appeared fuller. “Fine.”

  I spun the keychain around my finger. “You need a ride home or anything?”

  Natalie shrugged. She seemed uncertain.

  “I insist,” I said. “I don’t want those pretty manicured toes to get all dirty while you’re walking on this dirt road.”

  She stuck her hands into the snug pockets of her short jean skirt as if she were thinking. “Okay, sure.”

  I parked the Lexus in the garage before we got into my Nissan, the kind of vehicle you saw everywhere on the street. I was embarrassed by the dusty dashboard, sure that if I traced my pointer finger on its surface, there would be a visible line left. “Excuse the mess.”

  Natalie took a glimpse of the back, where there were ripped seats, a few random, small car parts, and an oily t-shirt thrown onto the floor. She yawned and shrugged. “It’s not that bad.”

  I smiled and started the engine. “Where to?” I shifted gears and turned the steering wheel. I placed my hand at the back of Natalie’s headrest while I reversed before turning the car around to face the road. She smelled delicious, kind of like a grapefruit.

  “Home. Just a few minutes from here.”

  I pressed a bit harder on the gas, taking a quick glance at her. “You live here?”

  “Yeah, on Lennox Road.”

  “How come I’ve never seen you then? There’s no way I would miss your face in a crowd.”

  Natalie dipped her chin, blushed. “I go to UWI. I lived on campus my first year, but decided to move back home this year. Too much roommate drama.”

  Huh, so she wasn’t too much of a foreigner. I exhaled loudly. I didn’t understand the roommate thing since I had nev
er had any, and had lived on my own since I was twenty, when my parents and younger sister moved to St. Vincent after my dad’s job transferred him. It was only my brother and I; he slept most days, working nights as a security guard at Piarco Airport.

  “So you’re going to the University of the West Indies. How come?”

  “My dad’s originally from here. We lived in Rhode Island until my junior year of high school. Dad had been thinking of setting up his own business, leaving the corporate rat-race. Then when my grandmother got sick, he decided to pack up everything so he could make sure she was receiving good care down here. He started Sweet Thang,” she added, as an afterthought.

  “What! You mean your father is the man behind that brand?” I chuckled. “The lemon-lime punch and passion fruit are my favorite flavors, girl.”

  Natalie laughed too, gazing outside the passenger window.

  We reached the corner of Lennox, a neighborhood filled with impressive, well-tended brick houses behind gates, and Brumfield Road, a neighborhood filled with people who almost had enough wealth to isolate themselves behind gates. I turned left onto Lennox Road. Natalie pointed out her house, and I pulled up in front of it. The bay windows glistened within their faded redbrick structure. From the outside, I could guess that the inside had many rooms filled with nice furniture.

  “Well, thanks.” Natalie pulled on the door handle.

  “Wait.” I shifted in my seat so that I could look at her directly. “I can’t let you go before asking you out. There’s a spot that I’d like to take you to.”

  Natalie looked out the window, into the guarded house.

  “Come on. It’ll be fun.” I didn’t want to beg, but once other fellas discovered a fine woman like Natalie, and realized she was a permanent fixture around here, I knew it’d become more difficult to go out with her.

  “I’ll think about it.” Natalie turned and our eyes met.

  Though I wanted a yes, I also wanted her to feel comfortable around me. “No problem. Your car will be ready by Wednesday.” She got out, slamming the door behind her, then pressed a few buttons on the panel attached to the wall next to the gate, and, in a few seconds was out of my reach.

  When I returned to Dilman’s, I ignored the engine work on a Mazda I was supposed to repair. Wednesday seemed too far away.

  I called Natalie on Tuesday, around noon, and told her that the Lexus would be ready that evening. She thanked me, asking me what time the garage closed. I told her five-thirty. She arrived by Maxi Taxi promptly at five.

  Natalie looked even better than the first time I’d seen her. She wore a sleeveless orange shirt, exposing well toned arms, and jeans. Her hair was pulled away from her face in one French braid, exposing feline features. Those almond eyes seemed bigger and were darkened with black eyeliner. I gave her the car keys.

  “It’ll be nine hundred dollars.”

  She paid in cash, nonchalantly counting out some money from her wallet.

  “It’s running fine?” It took me days to make that much money. Natalie glanced up at me, and I looked away, not wanting her to get the wrong idea.

  “Like new,” I replied. I wondered if she’d enjoy a date with me and where to take her. In the past, I’d taken women to the coral reefs tour close to town. I decided that if Natalie agreed to go out with me, I would take her to the coral reefs in the country. It was a longer drive, but I’d heard that the water quality in the country was better.

  Natalie handed me the money, but didn’t move. Taking it as a sign, I told her I’d been thinking about her. Then I asked her out again.

  “Yes.”

  I rocked forward on my toes, feeling somewhat giddy. I didn’t want to take any chances on this date though. Maybe she might not want to do the water thing.

  “Is there anyplace in particular you want to go?”

  Natalie shook her head and moved toward her car. “Not really. I haven’t been to many places here to begin with.”

  “Okay, let’s plan for this weekend. I’ll give you a call,” I said as I opened her car door for her.

  On Sunday afternoon, I took Natalie to Shoreline’s Coral Reef, hoping she’d enjoy the glass bottom boat tour. The Rasta guide led some of the single ladies into the water to the boat, taking them by the hand, warning those wearing dresses to hold up the ends so that they wouldn’t get wet from the rising tide. I wore a new pair of green plaid shorts, along with a white polo. I wanted to make a better impression on Natalie since she’d only seen me in my greasy, work overalls. The guide moved toward us as Natalie took off her flip flops, then reached out for her and smiled.

  I shot him a look. “I’ve got it,” I said, wondering if he really hadn’t seen that she was with me.

  “It’s just routine,” he replied as he moved nearer to another woman.

  Natalie bit her lip, and I took her outstretched hand. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

  “I wasn’t being rude.”

  “You should’ve heard your voice. So you’re the jealous type?”

  My big toe dug into the sand as we got closer to the boat’s ladder. “No.” I grew concerned. “Please don’t get the wrong idea.” Natalie climbed up the ladder first, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips as I watched her butt. “I was just letting him know that you’ve got someone here to take you to the boat.”

  Once everyone was on board, the boat sailed away from the shore. Natalie and I looked through the solid, clear Plexiglas floor with the ocean rocking beneath our feet. “Wow,” Natalie said, staring down into the mass of bluish-green water.

  At first, we only saw soft-shell crabs and the arms of rich green plants waving around, their roots attached to massive underwater rocks. The guide took the boat further and further out. Fist-sized, transparent jelly-fish floated through the water, their bodies bobbing down then lifting up like released umbrellas. We could hear the droning of the engine and the splashing of the water as the boat slowly glided forward. The ocean seemed to surround us with new life. Schools of silver fish darted back and forth, either looking for food or following an indecisive leader. Fleshy king fish and red snapper glided peacefully about their business, taking no notice of the hovering boat and gawking people above them.

  “There’s an octopus.” Natalie grabbed onto my arm to show me where the huge grayish creature swam.

  I spotted a sea turtle and pointed to it, glad that I’d decided to come to the reef in the country for the first time. This reef seemed almost untouched.

  Natalie smiled at me and it was more amazing than the underwater world we’d been observing over the past hour. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

  “Sure.” I turned back to the sea. “There is nothing better than nature. Ocean life is so untainted.”

  Natalie squinted her eyes and her eyebrows crinkled. “I love animals. I’m studying to become a veterinarian.”

  “Really?”

  Natalie nodded her head and stroked the necklace that hung from her neck. “I think that animals and nature teach us how to appreciate the simpler things in life.”

  I stuffed my hands into my pants pockets, even happier I’d chosen this as a date. “That’s a nice necklace.”

  Natalie held it up in front of her, the pendant of a gold fish dangling. “Thanks, it’s from my dad.” She moved around me, from the right to my left. “I’ve been planning on going on one of these tours for months, but I traveled with a friend on the ship to Tobago once and the sea-sickness got to me. When we arrived at the port, we took a Maxi Taxi to the guest house, and I laid in bed until the next evening.” She scratched her cheek. “I was kind of scared the same thing might happen today, but wanted to give it a chance.”

  I was impressed. “Well, I’m glad you’re doing okay.” I stroked her arm. “Don’t vomit all over me, though, before this date’s over.” I pulled at my sleeve. “This is a new shirt.”

  Natalie suddenly clutched her stomach, her shoulders jerking forward. I stepped back, afraid I’d spoken too soon. Natalie dr
opped her arms and laughed. She inhaled the salty air.

  “Ah, you got me for a moment.” I smiled.

  “Only for a moment?” Natalie tilted her head.

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  “Yes.”

  I took Natalie’s hand and was relieved that she didn’t let go or show any signs of awkwardness as the boat sailed back toward the shore. Though she’d told me that she lived at home, somehow being with her felt like one of those two-week summer romances, where someone had to leave at the end.

  I tried to get the anxiety out of my system with the thought that maybe it was just because I wanted to know more about her. We continued to watch the ocean life and when the tour ended, I decided to ask Natalie out again. I stood there, waiting nervously, until she agreed.

  Back near the water’s edge, tourists chatted in thick British, German, and American accents. Digital cameras hung from their necks while they talked about how great the experience was, vowing they’d tell all their friends about Trinidad when they flew back. The guide signaled to his buddy on the shore to come help the women, then thanked us, and told us to come again. A couple feet away, another group of eager patrons lined the sand, waiting for their sightseeing excursion. The distant horn of a conch shell being blown was faintly heard; fishermen had pulled in their day’s catch.

  Natalie walked a couple steps ahead of me and swung the pink Keds in her hand, her Capri pants dry. The water and sand felt cool beneath my feet, and I was happy to be out in the sun with this woman. I walked up onto the hot sand, before bending down to wipe some of it off each foot.

  “NAT-a-lee,” called a voice. I glanced up at Natalie, who was making an attempt to get the sandy grains out from in between her toes. She looked up then to see who’d called her.

  “Margorie.”

  “Hey, girl.” Margorie left the line of people who were waiting to go on the next glass bottom tour and strolled over to Natalie. “You’re actually out today, not stuck in the house.” Something about her resembled Natalie. I examined her features closely.