The rich ripe smell of avocados in Portland market made me remember the sunny Sunday when I chased a butterfly. I took it on my middle finger, then let it fly away. Blue skies. A gentle breeze. The smell of over-ripe mangos. Cashews and avocados rotting on the ground. The strong smell of lilies and roses.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I tripped over my Daddy as he lay in the long grass. His khaki shorts around his knees. His penis was pink at the top.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
His voice was coaxing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Come give Daddy\u2019s teapot a kiss.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Aunty Mavis will leave, if you don\u2019t.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I began to cry as he reached for my hand. \u2018No. Daddy. No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Time to say goodbye,\u2019 Aunty Mavis called from the veranda.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I stumbled into the house. Aunty Mavis handed me a set of clay kitchen toys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Give back those toys,\u2019 my father hissed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I felt pee run down my legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Get a rag and wipe up that pee,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I got a rag. Wiped the wet tiled floor.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took the rag into the back garden. Washed it under the tap. Hung it on the line to dry. I took off my wet panty. Washed it under the tap. Hung it on the line to dry next to the rag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I know what you are doing to this child Baz. I can\u2019t prove a thing but I know she\u2019s scared to death of leaving you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Aunty Mavis was my father\u2019s girlfriend. Now she was leaving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I want to go with you. Don\u2019t leave me with Daddy.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The door bell rang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Answer it,\u2019 my father barked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was Sidney. He was a friend of Aunty Mavis and the reason she was leaving. He smiled a wide smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Hello pet,\u2019 he said. \u2018Like your gifts? I made them especially for you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Thanks Uncle Sidney.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Baz won\u2019t allow her to keep them,\u2019 said Aunty Mavis.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Be a sport Baz,\u2019 said Sidney.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You are taking my woman. Stay away from my child.\u2019 My father looked at Sidney with ice in his eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018She can keep the toys,\u2019 he said. \u2018But not as long as she is under my roof.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I went into the back garden. I took my panty off the line. I put it on. I took the rag from the line. I went back into the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I looked my father in the eye. \u2018I\u2019m leaving Daddy.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018If you do, never let me see you in this house again. Remember that.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I gathered up my gifts. I put them in a carrier bag. Aunty Mavis held out her hand. But, before I took her hand, I walked over to my father and dropped the rag at his feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The rich ripe smell of avocados in Portland market made me remember the sunny Sunday when I chased a butterfly. I took it on my middle finger, then let it fly away. Blue skies. A gentle breeze. The smell of over-ripe mangos. Cashews and avocados rotting on the ground. The strong smell of lilies and … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3110","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pa867U-Oa","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3110","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3110"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3110\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3154,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3110\/revisions\/3154"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3110"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3110"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underwoodpress.com\/ruescribe\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3110"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
Veronica Robinson is Jamaican\/British. She started writing in Jamaica for the evening newspaper, producing stories, articles and an advice column. She also contributed in two short films and a flash fiction story to City Lit magazine ‘Between The Line’. For the past 10 years, Veronica has been attending a writers’ group focusing on writing short stories and flash fiction.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"