This fictional series contain the names of characters, places, events and a storyline that exists only in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, persons alive or not is a coincidence.
This publication is intended for readers who are twenty one years of age or older and was created only for entertainment.
All Rights Reserved. Reproduction, duplication or copying of any part of this publication in any form or by whatever means is strictly prohibited unless consent is given by the author.
Individuals pictured are models and are used for illustrative purposes.
I’m Deisel, this young Jamaican woman who hails from Manchester. I’m about to take you on a journey. Things do happen to the best of us, eh ehm, Let me clear my throat – and to the worst of us. Well, let me start at the beginning. First, you’ll ask how comes a Jamaican pickney gal would end up with ‘Deisel’ being her first name. Let’s get this straight – I was born on the soil of the land of wood and water, no puns here. I look like what the greater number of Jamaicans look like – African descent. I’m not totally dark-skinned – more to the clearer side. Not…exactly a browning. I have dark-brown hair that stops an inch or two above my shoulders. I didn’t get much of that big bum from birth like them other Jamaican girls (yes, I know we can now buy big backside) but I had broad enough hips and thighs that protrude in a tight dress, turning enough heads of men who drive by in the pretty cars. I would pay them no mind though because I loved only one man – Elan.
Ok, the beginning; let me start from there. So how did I get the name Deisel? Well, it’s like this – I was named by my godmother, Hanna. My mammy worked as a helper for her in this big house she had built in St. Elizabeth after returning from Germany, where she had worked in the cold as a matron, about twenty-two years ago.
‘Nice Mädchen girl you have there, Nora,’ mammy said Hanna would say. Mädchen meant little girl or something like that in German, I got to understand.
‘Thanks, Hanna. But I never did plan for her.’
‘Mädchen didn’t just pop out of nowhere and born like that. Wo ist der Vati?’
Hanna was actually asking my mammy where was my pappy. She had spent so much time between Southern Germany and Austria, I supposed.
‘Long story, Hanna. Long, long story.’
‘Baby pretty. Remind me of this princess I saw in the film in Austria a long time ago. Her name was…Deiselle. I’m going to call her that. And I’ll help you take care of her until she turns Frau.’ Frau was the German for woman.
So, mammy went ahead and did my birth paper thingy but she obviously wasn’t the best speller (she didn’t go to school after common entrance, you see) so my birth paper said Deisel. However, from that day, everyone pronounced my name as Dei-selle, and that, I’m so now used to. But the love of my life would sometimes cut it short and say ‘Deis.’ He only did that when he needed honey or if I was really mad with him about something. And of course, I loved the way he sounded when called me ‘Deis’. It did sound romantic and he did look romantic. Speaking of which…
Hills of Porus, Manchester, JAMAICA, 2015
“Where is he?” I took another glance at my watch while standing at the fruit stall of bright tangerines in the cool green shades of Porus about a mile away from where I live with Mammy. “Come on, Elan, you said you would have been here by 10:00 and the sun is coming out. You’re more than a hour late. Huh! If I didn’t love you like this then…”
My heart pounded at the sight of each and every probox and wish taxi cab that would just zoops by but none of them would stop by my feet.
Goodness gracious, why do these drivers race like that when they have passengers in their car? Don’t they respect lives? If any of them ever cause anything to happen to Elan then it won’t go down like that. I promise.
Elan had come to the high school I was attending two years before where he joined me in sixth form. He had moved from Kingston to live with his aunt because his mom and dad had migrated to foreign. The entire school loved the sad pretty boy who was so missing his mammy and pappy. I made him happy though, because I was there for him when he needed comfort, psychologically. And then we got into a serious relationship on the night of our graduation from 6th form. We had both turned twenty. He was my first. I was his first too. It was so obvious even though he wouldn’t openly admit it. But I knew it was his first. And I even thought him how to make a woman happy.
I sucked air between my teeth as I took another glance at my timepiece. I had my hair freshly done up and I had on this knee-length jeans dress and gladiator sandals, which I had recently bought from Sammy.
And why is sore-legs Karlene looking at me? Why she don’t pay attention to her mother’s breadfruit stall. I hate ‘bad-mind’ Porus people. Why don’t they mind their own business? I’ve got to move out, I said in my mind. She and I were schoolmates in Mandeville.
Too much other things on her head apart from school work.
She had only passed one GCE. I had left high school with 8 GCE and 2 A-levels. I could have gotten more but I was too taken up with an extra subject – Elan. Anyways, sore-legs Karlene and I were are both unemployed. Well, at least I had started nursing school in Mandeville. But I missed classes that day because Elan was coming home from The University in Kingston, where he was pursuing a bachelors in Economics.
Even through my moment of anxiety where I could have felt my body screaming at me, I could have heard the harmony of the river water, which flowed carelessly below the green lands behind me, probably looking for some sea to make its destiny. And maybe I was hearing the crickets or mullets. I could write a romance novel about Elan and me by that river. The unknown paradise of my home town – Porus.
Alright, alright, take deep breaths, Deisel, I had to be now reminding myself because I felt as if my chest would burst, the way my heart was pounding it so strongly. My heart would only beat so miserable when my soulmate was in close proximity. It was as if there was this internal sensor plugged inside of me that would trigger anxiety when he was near. I saw the flashing amber light of the white probox checkered taxi cab. It slowed down and then pulled in. Why that cab driver have Marley blasting like that through his car radio? The door opened up. Elan stepped outside and then he paid the driver. I could have paid his fare for him. I don’t know, but every time I saw Elan, he looked more handsome. That guy’s skin glows. He straightened his dark designer jacket over his white tee-shirt. His blue jeans trousers had a smudge. It must have been that taxi cab because my guy is always clean. I made sure of that. And of course, his tummy was still flat. I liked that.
And why’s that young girl in the taxi cab looking at Elan as if she wants to give him her phone number? I started ranting in the back of my head. Only a passenger, Deisel; only a passenger, I heard me telling myself.
“Alright, boss,” the dreadlocks driver said before driving off. He kind of looked like Snoop.
“Why you have big woman waiting on you all morning, Elan?”
“You know, public transportation over here happens to be a real hassle, Pumpkin.”
“And who are you calling Pumpkin?” I tried not to grin. I covered my mouth with my hand. “Elan… why you pinching me like that?” I tried not to laugh out. I tried pretending I wasn’t darn well enjoying all of this.
“So, what you have cooked for me? It’s been a long journey from Kingston and the bus traveled through Spanish Town…” he yawned. “…And May Pen’s so hot… and…”
“Let me help you with your bag, Elan. I saw that girl in the taxi cab, the one you were sitting beside, looking at you.”
He smirked. “Come on. You know you’re the only woman I care about, Deis.”
Everything inside of me moved, in a good sort of way, even if he was telling me a dry-eyed lie.
We crossed the busy Porus roadway after this lorry stopped and allowed us to.
It was some dude in this shiny black X5 that drove by. I ignored him or else I would have told him to go to hell or better yet, send him up somewhere to his momma. Doesn’t he see me walking with my boyfriend? I love my walk-foot man. Not frightened for no big jeep. And I don’t even know you.
“All the pretty car guys love my girlfriend,” Elan grinned.
“Well, only the cars are pretty; not the men.”
“You have a sharp mouth.”
“And you have lovely lips, Elan.”
Now he gently rested the palm of his hand on my face. And now I wasn’t really breathing properly.
Now we were in the lane. He was walking me home.
“Why’s this bag so heavy? You’re in the army?”
“Nah, Deisel. Got some stuff from foreign.”
I dropped his bag. “Lucky you.” Now I had my arms folded.
“Ma sent something for you too.”
“You too lie.”
“Not telling a lie, Deisel.”
I kissed my teeth and I did give him that cut-eye, making him know I didn’t believe whatever lie he was telling me, or maybe I was merely blushing like how pink roses do. “Can I see them?”
“Course, you can see them. They’re yours. You cute like.” He zipped the bag open.
Oh, my. I like the rich scent of foreign things. “…And they look lovely, Elan. Awesome material. Your Ma must have paid a fortune for them.”
He gave me a hug. “And I have more good news.”
“More good news?”
He had some tears of excitement lining the corners of his lovely pair of dark eyes. Gosh. His lips – so much more alluring and tempting than the flavored sorbets at DevonHouse on a Sunday night.
From his bag, he took this envelope out, which had some government papers inside of it. “The filing came through.”
My legs immediately became weak and this sharp pain perturbed my head, in a sudden sort of way.
“Remember my mom had been filing for me so that I could join her abroad?”
And you call that good news? I mumbled in the back of my head.
“So, aren’t you happy?”
“Sure,” I lied. I wiped my eyelids. “Yes, Elan, congrats.” I knew this heartless man could have seen the way my face fell. “So, you’ll be leaving soon, I guess.”
“In a week’s time, Deisel.”
The End of Episode One
Deisel The Complete Series 2019 © All rights reserved.
AN EDWARDS PRODUCTION