ᴘᴏᴠ ᴏᴅᴇᴀɴ ✾

Aunty Annie always seh, "If yuh cut mi yuh wudn't find an ounce a blood inna mi."

That saying now stood to be the perfect representation of my feelings.

I stormed into the empty house and head straight for the kitchen and yanked open the adjoining door that lead into the carport. I pulled my shirt off and threw it on top of the bonnet of the Range Rover parked there before making my way to the makeshift punching bag that hang in the far corner.

I ignored the boxing gloves that were placed on a crate with a few dumbbells and started to punch the immobile sandbag with all my pent-up emotions and anger.

With each connection of my bare fist on the worn leather, I imagine the wannabe Pretty Boy Floyd's face being pummeled by my raging punches.

"Who the fuck e tink e b up pan ar like dat? Pat a my ooman!"

My angry voice and the wretched sounds my now burning knuckles made in the quiet confines of the carport echoed into the early morning and mocked me.

I punched some more causing the bag to swing violently on the chain from which it was hanging. As rationality tries to break free from the confines of my mind I ignore it by punching harder causing my knuckles to scream for mercy.

"In all honesty big man yuh nuh ab no claim to d catty enuh"

I purposely ignore the voice in my head and with a final punch step from the swinging punching bag my body drenched in sweat.

Life made it clear that Patrice would always be my woman. Years away in England never once put a lid on my feelings and seeing as to how upset I was about her and her dance companion it was not going to change anytime soon.

I walk to the Ranger Rover and took my shirt up to dry my sweat-drenched face and wince as my bruise knuckles sting from the action.

I waited so long to be with her. I have spent countless hours fantasising about scenarios that would portray our reunion. Never thought it would be like this; her in another man's arm and seeming a little too contented in being there.

I place my shirt about my neck and leave the carport a little less angry but very much filled with my need to have Patricia back in my life. I did not care who the man she was with was or what they have going on.

The unfortunate circumstances that had befallen them in the past have solicited her enough time to fool around and take lovers but now that I am back in the picture I was hell-bent on taking my place in both her and my daughter's life.

The past was the past and I could not change that even though on numerous occasions I have tried.

The thoughts of those futile attempts cause my anger to boil and my hatred for my grandmother to surface. I took a few calming breaths but they were just ragged intakes of air that seems to want to choke me.

Since I have been back not once have I made the effort to see her. She was just a stone's throw away from where I stayed with DD. I just often look from the window of the room which I occupied at the house in which she lay coop up waiting for death.

Why had she been so heartless to my feelings and my need to be with Patrice? I had once asked her this when I finally thought myself in control to talk to her. However, that had turned out to be the last time we had ever spoken. I had gotten nothing from her, no reason nor understanding.

I strip the remainder of my clothes off and walk into the shower, as the cool water sprays itself upon my hot flesh I close my eyes and immediately the image of Patrice fills my mind's eye.

To call her simply beautiful was an understatement. She was now a woman of momentous allure and charisma. I had thought that I would have been there to see her blossom into this version of herself but it had taken only one decision of a bitter woman to deprive me of it.

Well, no more would that one decision cripple my desires. I would not be sitting miles away pining for the only love of my life. I had not fought to win the affection of Patricia to have it constantly held at bay from me.

After a quick lather and wash, I was out of the shower, after drying my body I wrapped the towel around my waist. I walked to the bathroom mirror and look at my reflection.

A rather appealing dark skin nigga stared back at me and a look of confidence my masked face. I had nothing to worry about.

The only competition you have is the person you see when you look in the mirror.

I remove the towel and walk naked to the bed and lay down. As I lay there my wondering mind drifted to what she was now doing and the spiteful images of her with the too handsome wasteman in various sexual positions flood my thoughts.

"Bomboclaat mi nuh inna dis wid yuh e nuh!" I snap at my subconscious.

However, the damage was done and I was once again a raging bunch of nerves. I got up and went to retrieve my phone from my pants pocket. I needed to see her. I was not going to waste another day.

When I got my phone and look at the screen I was surprised to see that daylight was only a few minutes away. Where had the time gone? Anyway, I was happy the hours had sped away giving me my chance to make my move.

Yes, mek deh know yuh nuh come fi play. Yuh come fi get what's rightfully yours OD. So a waste bwoy affi guh move up.

My subconscious was a big bait but I was going to see it as my motivator.

That and the fact that Patrice's reaction to seeing me and knowing am around proved that I was pretty much under her skin was showing me things could very much play in my favour and we had unfinished business that would lead to her being in my bed on a much more permanent level.

I've waited years for this.

I walk over to the window and look out at the rays of morning dancing on the house where my grandmother lay. I look away to stare down at my phone at the lock screen which had a picture of Patricia and I young, dumb and in love staring at the camera looking on with wide-eyed excitement.

I wanted more of these. I wanted to create more memories than just the stolen make-out sessions in the overgrown garden filled with coffee, plantains and banana trees at the back of her old house.

I want more of that one special evening when the rain had trapped us around the back of her grandmother's shop after her grandmother had sent her to retrieve Ms Amy's partner money she had forgotten to take up with her when she had close up the shop.

If I needed that though I needed to bridge the gap between Patrice and me. With one quick swipe, and a quick punch in of my lock code I was on WhatsApp in seconds I had a new chat open. In seconds I had typed a message and had sent it.

Mi need fi c u.

It was a few seconds before a reply came but it seem like hours. When it came though I was floating on cloud nine.

Ok, meet me at Mama's shop 10 o'clock.

My fingers type a single reply but if it was up to me and not my will power I would have typed an epistle.

Kl.

When I went and lay back in bed I doubt if you could find a happier man than I. As my eyes drifted close my lips spread in a sweet smile as I anticipate my meeting with Patrice.

Such man jus get lef!

My smile broadens.

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Please👇

Nuff love 🇯🇲