Dear Steele: This place is flooded with memories of you. Everywhere I turn memories float to the top and settle on the surface. Yesterday the police stopped Jahlani in a routine spot check. I remembered how your diplomacy skills always came into effect when we were pulled over by the police. You taught me a few tricks about slipping and sliding certain gifts in desperate times, but you always told me I wasn’t allowed to practice those tricks myself. And now you’ve finally escaped having to pay off those speeding tickets for good.
I remember this police officer stopped you over the Christmas for speeding. It happened to be at a time when we were selling tickets for Sting and Jazz and Blues. You told the police officer you had Jazz tickets, instead of Sting tickets (for which you instructed me to purchase from one of the outlets). I was rowing you about offering the more expensive ticket, and the fact that either ticket would have been sufficient. All you were talking about was what you gleaned from the officer that he has more of a Jazz and Blues kind of guy than a Sting kind of guy; how typically altruistic of you.
We also stopped at your favourite Chinese restaurant, Lucky. I hated there because they always took long with their food, but you loved the sweet and sour pork. The trick was to ask them not to bread the pork. I would always forget to ask them and feel bad afterward for forgetting. I remember the one time we ate at my favourite, for Mala chicken at least, Chinese restaurant: the one on South Avenue. They make their Mala chicken so spicy, it’s delicious. This particular time, we also had some pork and a few other things, and boy did that food send you into a week of ‘running belly’. When you were in hospital, you thought maybe that was the trigger that set off this chain reaction, but the doctor’s said highly unlikely. I hope not, because I still eat from that place.
In Treasure Beach, we stopped at this restaurant and there were these guys playing pool. I asked them to give me a game. I was dreadfully rusty It always surprised me that you could play pool. You never seamed like the kind of guy that lives in a bar practicing his pool. But our first ‘date’ was to play pool at the Students’ Union on campus with Soccer. I think Soccer reminded me that you watched for most of the night, while I beat up on him, but that could just be my imagination. I would beg you to carry me to Chelsea’s Pool Hall, and you most times resisted, because you couldn’t be bothered with the crowd, but we did go a few times back when Smirnoff Ice was the in drink.
I finally found a beach in Jamaica that lives up to my standards. It is in Treasure Beach, near a beautiful afro-centric guest house called Taino Village. The beach actually reminded me of that little beach we went to in Bimini: a little semi-private cove, not heavily trafficked, clean, shallow waters, no rocks and seaweed and condom wrappers. I think you would like it there.
*Article title taken from “Angel” lyrics.