Urban Folktales Flash Fiction Friday.- Cue: Flip an existing stereotype.

Maria Conchita Paloma Juana Garcia-Benjamin-Lutchman-Benjamin-Gill-Valentine was the most beautiful woman I did ever see in mih whole, entire seven years of life. She was prettier than my own mother. And yuh know at that age it ain’t have nobody bigger, better, brighter, stronger, smarter or prettier than yuh own mother. Well she, Maria, was prettier than my own mother. My mother didn’t wear fancy clothes like her or comb up her hair and wear lipstick and eyelash and all of those things. My mother sure would never be caught with her breasts pushed up high under her chin and be wearing stockings with seams down the back and toeless, high-heeled shoes with gold buckles at the ankles either. My mother wouldn’t be caught dead outside the house with her hair flying all around her head in so many curls and coils look like she alone had hair for about five people. My mother surely didn’t have bright red, long nails to match her lips. My mother…well you get the picture. She was the most beautiful woman that I had ever see and I tell my mother as much when we reach home.

As we crack the corner by our house and I rest my hand on the gate I say,
"Mummy I could tell you something?"  I had to wait until we reach home because my mother say that when in public, little children should be seen and not heard.  I tell her I is not a little children anymore since I turn seven last week but she still say that I must do as she say. So as we hit the gate I tell her, I say
“Mummy I could tell you something? I find Miss Maria real pretty and I want to look just so when I grow up”. Well I don’t know what was wrong with what I say but is two tap I get in the back of my head, pushing me toward the back step. Whenever I talk about Miss Maria it seem that mummy used to get vex. Not only mummy either; mih granny, mih aunts, as well as Miss Pearlie from next door.“Go eenside, go eenside with all that foolishness!”Is a good thing I have plenty hair or else all now so I done crying already.“Mummy you don’t find she pretty?”“Look, go and take off dem clothes and come help me put away these things please! Asking me shit about that…that Maria woman!”Daddy look up at me from what he was doing, eyes wide but mouth decidedly shut.

After the market put away, supper had and pot turn down, we were on the back step shelling peas that mih grandmother bring.
“Mummy I could ask you something?
“Sigh”
“Mummy you think you could get me one of those stockings like what Miss Maria does wear?”
“Look just shut up with all that talk before I get vex yuh hear?”
“But mummy!”
Well I see the hand on the hip, the head tilt and the chin thrust forward and I know to hush.
“Yes mummy.”
Two hours later my eyes start to get heavy.
“Mummy my hand tired from all this peas.”
“Put yuh cup next to the stove, go bathe and get ready for bed.”
Washed and powdered and slight drunk on the huge cup of Chocolate tea I couldn’t help mihself.
“Mummy you think granny will get them for me? The stockings?”
You ever get a cut ass before bed?
Steups. I in the bed too vex to cry. I don’t even know what I get lix for.
Daddy…well you know the rest.

By the time I was twelve or thirteen I was old enough to understand. I’d heard the rumours and whispered with my friends about the parade of men in and out of Miss Maria back door. Miss Maria Conchita Paloma Juana Garcia-Benjamin-Lutchman-Benjamin-Gill-Valentine-now-Gerard was what my grandmother called a ‘loose woman’. My aunts and dem say that she was a slut. Well as you could imagine the older I get, I learn never to talk about Miss Maria in front of my female family members. Especially as I’d seen both my aunt’s husbands at that very back door on more than one occasion. Ha!
Keisha St.Bernard, or dog-face Keisha depend on who yuh talk to, say that if you want to know what going on all you have to do is cross the road and walk directly in front the house on an afternoon and you could hear Miss Maria and dem dirty men, huffing and puffing, callin for Jesus! Oh geed! I didn’t even want to think about what was going on behind those doors. That is until one day I see my father walking toward Miss Maria back gate lookin nervous, nervous.

Of course it didn’t help that day before walking from school is when we hear Lionel uncle by the bar saying
“Maria did make me stand up with that gift she have in she mouth.” He with he sickly hop and drop, broko- foot self. You ent see he should be shame to be letting people know he was even over there? What he doing by the bar anyway? He should be home resting he old foot and trying to be on the mend. Stink self!
Anyway, I walk straight home, drop my bookbag and head out toward the little track behind Miss Pearlie house that lead me onto the next street where Miss Maria house was. The coast was clear and I let myself in and walk straight to the back door. Just like Keisha say is only a setta “Oh God” and “Yes Jesus” I hearing throw between my father and Miss Maria. Hear nah I never know my stomach could churn so much. Not my good, good daddy. And dis Maria woman – is how much man one woman want? Some yuh could throw back man! My mind tell me to run out the yard but mih foot say “No, Onward ever! We have to see for we-self.” Somewhere in the excitement, it seems that I am now in partnership with mih foot. So me and foot walk along the back wall on the far side of the house, fighting Miss Maria flowers and vines, to where we hearing the noise comin from, until we reach a window. What I see in that window change my life forever.

“Daddy!”
It jump out mih mouth before I could think. My eye open wide wide and same speed daddy look up and see me, seeing him with Miss Maria.
There is my father, down on his knees, Miss Maria in front of him with a hand on his head. Well my two knee lock-up and is me and me alone because Foot is clearly off the clock - partnership done. I couldn’t even move, much less to run. I could only try to figure out what I seeing play out in front of me. There is Miss Maria standing in front of my daddy, one hand on his head and the other hand… holding a Bible? Wait wait, wait a footing minute! Is pray the two of them praying? All the Jesus and  Jesus is level prayers Miss Maria putting down, my father on his knees hands up in the air with tears in his eyes, agreeing with Miss Maria for healing. I look around the room and it start to sink in that it's a small chapel. Miss Maria have pictures of Jesus, Mary, Joseph, all the Angels and saints, even a picture of the last supper with Mary Magdalene clearly portrayed (a nod to the divine feminine I would later learn). I now, understand what good good, healthy body, strong back, strong foot Lionel uncle was saying by the bar yesterday. Dat is man! I did always like him.

Turns out ole ting, Miss Maria was something of a faith healer and when she move to the village she just stick with the men because well considering her looks and her name the village women were, well, being village women. Just like dog-face Keisha. In the end even my mother come around and would send me with a little pone for Miss Maria for helping daddy with his bad back. This Christmas guess what I still want? Yes dat self. Seam down the very back and everything!

Life - It ain't easy but it sweet!