Chapter 14
OTHELLA
I’m stacking up new friends like poker chips.
The night before, between the fried catfish and my second beer, I decided to tell Vivian Jean and Katherine Dunham the truth about me once we board the cruise ship.
After I settle into my cabin, I’ll meet them on the Promenade Deck, where Katherine asked everyone to gather, and there, I’ll confess.
Not everything. The stuff about Perry, I’ll keep that to myself just in case I did kill him, even accidentally.
That might be too much for ladies like them to stomach.
I’ll just share how chaotic my life has been and how I plan to fix it. Katherine and Vivian Jean will be impressed and love me even more.
“The Dunham Expedition is like a dance group,” Katherine said at Smalls Paradise the night before, “We work side by side and sway to the same rhythms. From the moment we sail out of Bush Terminal Harbor for Jamaica, we are a family, but I’m the mother hen. The woman in charge. Understand?”
She said this after her second glass of wine, but her eyes were bright and her words sounded genuine.
I was so thrilled I could hear my heart pounding in my chest. And she didn’t stop there.
What she said next changed everything. “I won’t hear any more Miss This, Miss That, or Miss Ma’am from you, Othella Montgomery.
From now on, it’s Katherine and Vivian Jean. ”
That made me so happy.
If I can call them by their first names, I should be able to confess the parts of my past that don’t sound that bad. It will seal the deal on the shift in our relationship. And from then on, these women will treat me as an equal, as a friend.
I pause to think about that for a moment.
Perhaps the only story I should tell is about my mother.
That evening Ella Montgomery left our kitchenette to buy a pint of whiskey and never returned.
No note. No goodbye. She simply vanished.
I searched for her every day for a week, alongside the cop who came to our kitchenette to tell me she was gone.
That was when I first met Officer Richie.
He delivered the sad news to my ten-year-old self.
The police suspected that one of my mother’s tricks, whom she called boyfriends, had dumped her in the Chicago River.
Officer Richie promised to find the man who killed her, but after a while, he either gave up or forgot.
Luggage handlers follow Robbie and me as we ascend the steep ramp of the gangway to board the steamship. Lost in thought, I reflect on a past I’m ready to leave behind. This is my fresh start, the next chapter of my life. I glance up at the enormous hull of the SS Talamanca.
“Come on, Othella. Don’t look so down,” Robbie says. “This is just as I told you it would be. We’re not here as tourists.”
“What do you mean?”
“You look worried.”
“I’m not worried,” I say. “Why do you keep staring at me?”
“I’m responsible for you.”
I ignore whatever he means by that. “How much do we have to do before we meet the Hartfields and Miss Katherine on the Promenade Deck?” I ask. “I haven’t been introduced to Mr. Hartfield, and I told you what she said. She wanted us to be—”
“Together,” Robbie interrupts. “I know, I know, but first, I need to make sure these porters deliver everything to the right places.”
Robbie has spent the morning directing the handlers on what to do with this box, that crate, and this streamer trunk as if he were a general in an army. My rambling, bumbling friend has turned into a bossy son of a gun. Equally annoying, he has also become an expert seafaring man.
“Welcome aboard the SS Talamanca,” Robbie announces a bit too loudly as we walk the gangway.
“Did you know it’s one of six sister ships in the United Fruit Company’s Great White Fleet?
They were the fastest steamships ever built,” he continues.
“Oh, and this terminal is one of the few piers in New York where Negroes can board.”
Uninterested in these details, I shrug. My mind still grapples with whether I should share my truths with Katherine and Vivian Jean.
Robbie and I walk through the winding corridor and ascend a flight of stairs to reach the Saloon Deck.
Each stateroom contains one upper and one lower berth, along with a couch.
The rooms are small, and when I bounce on my cot, I discover the mattress is paper-thin.
The women’s and men’s bathrooms are located across the hallway.
Our staterooms are next door to each other but not directly connected.
I struggle to mask my disappointment that my stateroom isn’t larger or more glamorous. At least there’s a small porthole to gaze out at the sea, but the room’s size starkly contrasts with my expectations.
Thirty minutes later, I finish stowing my belongings and meet Robbie at the bottom of another flight of stairs. “Can we go to the Promenade Deck now?”
“You’ve been talking all morning about this meeting on the Promenade Deck. Why are you so anxious?”
“I haven’t met Mr. Hartfield yet.” I climb the stairs.
“And after last night, Katherine, Vivian Jean, and I have become friends. We shopped at Ray’s Department Store and had dinner with one of Katherine’s dancer friends, and I was just one of the girls.
Not an assistant or servant or anything like that. ”
“So, that’s where you sneaked off to last night.” Robbie pauses, his hand resting on the railing. “If you’re such close friends, does she know your secret? Does she know mine?” There was a hitch in his voice.
“I wasn’t sneaking,” I say defensively. “And why do you sound jealous?”
He walks ahead of me on the stairs. “Because I am. Do you know what I did last night? I read a three-hundred-page book: Tropical Forestry in the Caribbean.”
“That’s not true. You went to meet the New York Black Yankees with Mr. Hartfield.”
“Oh.” He laughs. “You found out about that?”
“I told you I’ve made friends with Katherine and Vivian Jean. They told me everything.”
“But I’m not lying. Remember our agreement.
I simply left out the part about the Black Yankees.
I did read that book as well. I want to be prepared for our arrival in Accompong.
Major Thomas covers our expenses so I can write a paper on plants and help his daughter and her friend Katherine have a fruitful expedition. ”
“It sounds like an exciting book,” I say mockingly.
“It was,” he replies. “What excuse did you give to convince her to take you shopping?”
“I blamed you and the major for being stingy with personal items, like my clothes for the Katherine Dunham Anthropology and African Dance Expedition.”
“The what?”
“That’s our name.”
“We’ll have to include that on the papers we write. We’ll need to put the title on every page.”
“We write?” I ask incredulously.
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you more in Jamaica.”
We pause for a moment to catch our breath when we reach the Cabin Deck. “One more flight to go,” Robbie says.
On the Promenade Deck, I immediately start searching for the Hartfields and Katherine. I quickly spot them: two elegantly dressed women and a tall, handsome man standing slightly apart. Leaning against the railing, he seems more interested in the sea than in the women beside him.
I hurry ahead of Robbie, rushing toward the Hartfields and Katherine, waving and calling, “Vivian Jean. Katherine.” I stop in front of them, grinning widely. They greet me with bright, shining smiles. Even Mr. Hartfield looks cheerful, but that isn’t easy to judge because this is our first meeting.
“Tully, this is the young lady I mentioned. Thanks to the major, she’ll be part of the expedition, but let me introduce you properly,” Vivian Jean says, stepping aside to give me and her husband the spotlight. “Tully, I’d like you to meet Othella Montgomery.”
I suppress the urge to curtsy, an unnecessary and inappropriate gesture, but these three seem as regal as any count or countess I’ve ever seen.
“And dear, you’ve already met Robbie Barnes,” Vivian Jean says. “He joined you last night with the Black Yankees.”
“Sir,” Robbie replies. “Thank you for that invitation. I had a grand time.”
“You’re welcome.”
A casual conversation starts about the staterooms—the Hartfields’ and Katherine’s are nicer than mine or Robbie’s—and the activities the group could enjoy over the next four or five days.
From shuffleboard to Mah-Jongg and writing letters to playing chess—Robbie and Tully find out they both enjoy that game—it all sounds terribly dull to me.
I expected a jazz quartet, dancing every night, and a bar with gin and tonics.
Everything that everyone else is so excited about just sounds tedious to me.
Standing on the deck of the ship, I am mesmerized by my surroundings.
The water. The sky. The wind in my face.
I think about where I was just a few days before—in a bed next to a man who I might have hurt so badly that he died.
Sadness and guilt stir in my chest, and I close my eyes, wishing for the nightmare to end.
When I open them, something at the stern of the ship catches my attention.
A large crowd of passengers has gathered, and although the searing midday sun beats down, one figure stands out above the rest. What I see is unthinkable, unbelievable.
I nearly chuckle at the absurdity of my imagination, but my laughter is fleeting.
As I gain a clearer view, my heart pounds against my chest like a hammer.
It can’t be. It mustn’t be.
My joy has turned into despair, and the fear threatens to choke me. My fresh start has leapt overboard and flails in the sea, choking on salty water.
A desperate sound escapes my throat. Robbie quickly comes to my side, whispering, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I reply. “I’m just seeing things. Or maybe I’m seasick.” I grip the railing but continue staring toward the stern, and my knees weaken.
“You look distressed, Othella,” Katherine says. “Is something wrong? Are you okay?”
I wrestle with fear, especially because I don’t trust what I see. The thrill of escaping my past has dwindled to the size of a crumb from stale bread. Jerry Merriweather stands above the crowd. How did he get on board?
“He’s here. The man who attacked me at the Abbotts’ mansion.”
“I don’t think so, Othella. How could he be?” Vivian Jean squints in the direction I’m pointing.
“He followed us. I’m sure it’s him.”
Robbie leans forward. “I think I see who you mean, the big guy.”
Tears well up in my eyes. “You really see him?”
Robbie nods and turns to the others. “It’s been a tough morning. I believe she’s worn out.” He gently squeezes my arm.
“Don’t worry,” Vivian Jean says. “Tully will talk to the captain to find out about any last-minute passenger reservations besides the four of us.”
“I hate to make a fuss,” I say.
“It’s no trouble,” Tully replies. “I’ll talk to the captain and ask him to check the manifest to set your minds at ease.”