Don't let this life drive you crazy

Welcome to the Turks & Caicos Islands!", the taxi cab driver exclaimed while placing my suitcase in the van.

His estatic attitude made the corner of my lip turn up a bit. I boosted myself into the front of his cab and placed my seatbelt on, as he did the same.

Inhaling deeply, I absorbed what it felt like to finally be back home...and alone.

I ended up in the same place I was trying to run away from. Six hours ago I was in JFK trying to determine where I would go, I could buy a ticket to anywhere in the world or wait at the gate for my father and go to London with them. But I found myself on a plane to Miami and then a connecting flight to Providenciales.

"Alright ma'am which hotel we goin' to?" the cab driver asked.

Damn I hadn't thought this through.

Everything was rushed and on a whim. I hadn't figured out where I would stay or how long I'd stay here.

"No hotel but you can take me to St. Monica Anglican Church please." I asked politely.

He looked at me weirdly. "You stayin' at a church?"

"No but I have to visit someone there. Do you mind stopping at a florist or supermarket on the way? You can keep the meter running."

"Yes ma'am. Thats no problem at all!" He said excitedly. He knew my fare for this ride would be more than he made in a day.

"This your first time here? I can show you some nice tourist spots on the way there."

I knew that he was only doing his job, trying to entertain his passenger, but I wasn't in the mood.

I took a gulp of the water I bought earlier in the airport. "No, I've been here before. Actually I was born and raised here.

"Ohhh youse a island gyal. I love seeing young people come back after getting they education. That's where you been right...off to school?"

I simply nodded my head with a smile. He was one of those older people that could talk forever and ever, despite who was listening.

I stared out the window at the moving sites, beach coastlines for miles, white sand blown in the road and coconut trees lining the highway.

With the bright sun reflecting on me, I tuned out everything that was being said. I rolled down the window and laid my head on it, just to feel the air on my skin.

Mr. Rolle, as I learned was his name, made his stops in record time with his horrible driving and parked the cab right outside the church.

I sat up in the seat, flowers in my hand, gazing ahead of me at the gated entrance to the graveyard.

"Well ain't you goin' in?" He got out to open my door and took my hand so that he could help me out.

I chewed on my bottom lip, I don't know why I was so hesitant but with one final nudge, I got my feet to work and moved forward.

"I'll only be a few minutes."

"Don't worry 'bout it darling...take your time 'cause my meter running."

Like a machine, I opened the gate and with almost automatic movements, I took a left, a right, then another left until I reached the grey headstone with its pretty cursive writing.

"In Loving Memory of Analilo Simone Daniels

A Beautiful Soul, Beloved Mother & Daughter"

Her grave wasn't terribly overgrown with grass and weeds like the others, my grandmother tried her best to make sure of that. But the pink peonies in the vase connected to it were withered and dried.

I kneeled carefully onto it and ended up in a seated position. I had so much to tell her, but no way of starting. So, in the meantime I pulled some stray weeds and unwrapped the purple lilies to place there.

"Hi mommy. Long time, no see.", I giggled at my own corniness. I twisted my mouth as tears finally dropped from my eyes. "Damn this all I did today. Cry. I don't even know what to say to you but I'm home now. Thank you for your gift. I'm going to make sure that I do something with it to make you proud. I've got a gift too but...I'm really going to need you to help me because I don't know what the hell I'm doing anymore." I got up and wiped my leggings with my hands. The sun was starting set since it was almost 7:00 pm. I put my black sunglasses on my face and walked back to the cab.

Mr. Rolle opened my door for me, "Good visit?"

"Mhmm" I said with a small smile.

"Where to next? Hotel? Or you hungry?"

"No, but you can take me to this address" I handed him the map location on my phone. "If it's difficult to find, I can give you better directions when we get closer."

He dug in his shirt pocket and unfolded his thin wire frame glasses on his face.

"Alrighty I know exactly where this is. We should be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you." I answered, as he pulled out the parking lot hastily.

"No problem! Is that an...air...whatcha call it? Air BnB's?" he sucked his teeth. "Dem damn tings all ova the place. All the rich white people own them...they own everything. And lemme tell ya none of them is do anything for the community..."

He went on about his hatred for the white washed tourism industry while I just watched all of the homes we passed. There were some kids playing soccer in the street and a little old lady selling cups and salty on the side of the road.

I use to love those things. Everyday after class, I bought one from the woman by my school. My mother would be upset when I came home with red juice stains all over my uniform.

He turned a corner into a touristy suburban area, I assumed that he was a taking a shortcut because he could've used the main road instead.

We were right next to my childhood home, he drove passed the high walled estate with lots of bushes and through the vine covered gate, you could see my house sitting there with the beach behind it. Along with a few pieces of heavy machinery and cranes.

"I hear they building something big in the back there. Ine know what it is yet... but white people own that for sure. It's always them." I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

"Oh yeah?" I egged him on, just to pick his mouth to see what he knew.

He spilled all of his theories until he pulled up to the light turquoise house with its a wrap around porch and huge yard.

"This is Pam's place...she's my wife's friend. How you know her?" he asked about to get out of the cab to grab my bags.

"She's my grandmother and you know what...just pop the trunk, I can grab those bags myself." I told him. I handed him two hundred dollar bills. "This should be enough for fare and tip. Thank you." I closed the door and grabbed my luggage before he could utter another word.

I walked onto the creaky porch and knocked on the wood which lined the screen door. Someone cleared their throat and I turned to see my grandmother sitting in one of the rocking chairs with a book in her hand.

She cocked her head to the side and smiled widely at me.

"Hi Grammy", I whispered.

She stood up and placed the book down, before walking over to me and hugging me tightly.

"Hi stranger!" she grinned. I closed my eyes tightly and recalled the last time I was in her arms. The scent of her perfume, the Elizabeth Taylor one that old people loved to wear, brought back nostalgic memories. She rocked me from side to side and rubbed my back.

"Look at my Laya baby. So grown now" she slid her hands up and down my arms. "Pretty just like ya mommy" she examined my face. "And ya put in lil bit ah weight."

I laughed at her. "And you look the same. Maybe even a bit younger."

"Chall I am young. Fifty nine and damn fine!" she teased flipping her long black hair. "Come inside here. Put your bags down and tell me what did I do to deserve a visit from you."

I was the only female grandchild of Pamela Pinder Daniels, my maternal grandmother. She was originally from a small town in Eleuthera an island in The Bahamas, where she ran a meager hotel, but my mother and her sisters moved her here when my papa died. She was the only one left in the world, who I knew would still have my back no matter what.

I followed behind her into the well kept home. The smell of food on the stove made my stomach churn with how hungry I was.

Everything was still the same, every picture, every piece of furniture, she even kept the canvas I painted in art class in high school. Proudly hung by her front door for everyone to see.

"Where's Auntie Karen and the boys?" I asked referring to my mother's sister and my cousins.

"Chall they moved to Nassau with Karen new boyfriend. I tell them don't come back, I tired of dealing with all of them. It ain't good for my stress.", I laughed at her sassiness .

"Then I better not stay long because I came with a whole lotta' stress" I joked...well kind of.

"No suh! My Laya baby will stay right here with me.", she pinched my cheeks and leaned over to peck my forehead. I was pretty sure that I had a red kiss mark there from her lipstick.

"You saw the work they been doing at the house?" She asked.

"No, not yet."

"I been there the other day. Ryan and his team are doing a wonderful job. I'll take you down there tomorrow."

"Ok." I mumbled. Truthfully, I wanted to stay in a dark room all day and just catch up on sleep. I couldn't imagine socializing with people right now. I certainly didn't want to see the investment that I wasn't sure I'd be able to finish.

She went ahead of me into her kitchen while I stared at all of the photos on the wall. My high school diploma, and awards I got for outstanding test results.

Wow, I use to be so focused, studied my ass off for that shit.

"Laya!"

"Yes ma'am?" I called out and she gave no answer in return.

I had no other choice but to leave my bags by the stairs and go to her. She was standing up by the stove stirring something that smelt delicious in the large silver pot.

"You hungry Laya?"

I peeked over the counter to see what was and shook my head to decline, when I saw that it was fish.

"No ma'am." I looked away but my eyes were set on the plate of pineapple tarts in her cake dish. While she was preoccupied, I slowly lifted the lid to sneak one out but she caught me and slapped my hand.

"Ow! Grammy please..."

"Nope eat ya food first. Hmph you think you too old for cut hip." she reprimanded me.

"But I'm not hungry." I whined.

"Then why you eating my tarts?" The woman always played unfair. She was the best baker I knew and now I was craving pineapple.

"This have to heat up" she put the lid on and turned the stove down to low before coming over to me.

She grabbed hand and pulled me to go with her. This little fold lady was so bossy. Her black Chinese slippers flapping behind her as she opened the back door to her garden.

"Come look at my trees.", she stood in the middle of the yard with her hands raised. It was my childhood heaven. Tropical fruit trees of every kind, flowers and a little vegetable garden at the back. But I didn't see my swing.

"Where's my swing?" My father put it up for me on the large mango tree that grew in the back here. Whenever I came over, I never missed a chance to use it.

"Baby we had to cut that down last year. With that big hurricane we had, it wasn't safe to leave it up." I frowned at her. "But... I have a nice little one by my vegetables."

I trudged through the manicured green grass and sat beside her. I pushed my foot off the ground, making it move back and forth while we sat silently.

Oh God, how do I tell her that I failed her? That she won't be proud of me anymore. That I ruined everything and I allowed lies to consume me. That I'm out of love and have nothing.

"Girl, you are rich even with nothing. And you know tenderness comes from pain." I hadn't realized that I said that aloud or that I was crying until she wiped my face.

"Tell me how..." but my lips were sealed tightly. I just needed to finish crying first.

"Well since you ain't wanna talk to me. I'll talk." I chuckled lightly at her frustration and laid my head on her shoulder. "Lemme tell you 'bout this dream I had last night."

Her hand, that was rested in my lap, made its way to my stomach and she rubbed it in soft circles.

"Last night I dreamt about fish...plenty plenty fish..."

(If you know, you know)

Surprise!? Lol. Part II will be uploaded in two weeks after I edit Part I. It'll be about twenty chapters (or less) and it won't be a new book, I will be updating it under here.

In the meantime, I'll upload a preview.

Thank you so much for reading and rocking with my inconsistency. Y'all are honestly the best and I hope you're still enjoying

If You Let Me.