The Ordinary Life of Doodoo Doon

The old saying: "Life's a circle; the older you get, the closer the past seems," reverberates in his tormented mind. Ensnared by gloomy feelings rooted in his distant past, he pulls deeply on the cigarette, exhales, and presses the butt in the ashtray on the nightstand. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.    

           "Thirty-five years later?" he admonishes himself. "There's no reason for me to remember Doodoo Doon! She's six of one, half a dozen of the other! Why after thirty-five years memories of the world-weary look in eyes and a deep longing in her soft voice would gnaw at me?" He contemplates: Is it guilt? Did he ignore her cry for help? Over the decades, she did sporadically cross his mind but he was not besieged by her as he is now. He squints, "That's odd," he mutters in his mind. "Why did I ask the age of her car?" The answer to that random question he had asked so long ago would now connect a key dot in Doodoo Doon's obscure life. He retrieves the half-lighted butt and takes a last pull. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.        

           He lights another cigarette and looks up at the dark ceiling as his mind drifts back to that fateful day he had met the woman who decades later would torment his mind: The back of Doodoo Doon's tightly coiffed, purple hair, drew his attention as he stepped inside the village rum shop in Mayaro. With a fleeting, flirtatious smile, Doodoo turned to face him and his coworker as they struggled with the strings of beads at the door. In retrospect, to the naïve youth he was, Doodoo's calculated actions appeared spontaneous, but her black tights and white midriff stretched precariously across perky bosom was all too deliberate. His face morphs into a sad-sweet grin. Why am I feeling so depressed over a stranger I met years ago? He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.

           With her small feet tucked inside purple slippers, she flitted about the smoky room pausing briefly at each table to hobnob with the regulars while stealthily scoping out new and infrequent visitors. Silently mouthing instructions with her thin purple lips and gesturing with manicured fingers, she ordered two waitresses to bring drinks to the tables. Esurient male eyes fixated on her fleshy buttocks, followed her as she sauntered by. He gets up and turns on the light and turns it off again. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.

           "New here?" she asked as they sat down, prompting his coworker to get up and pull out a chair for her.

          "Notice how the owner looking at you?" he tactlessly said. "Them old, fresh men."

           "Nah. He 'ent have nothing to offer. This place belongs to his wife and he have plenty children."

           My coworker got up and came back with a beer and placed it in front of her.

           She left and went to the bar and returned with a soft drink.

           "I thought—"

           "Nah, they're home boys. I took a sip to make them feel good," she interjected. 

           As he engaged her in small talk, she bummed a cigarette, took two puffs and discarded it in the coconut-shell ashtray.

           Thinking back, not unlike his coworker, he too couldn't help but gawk at her wide feline face, trying to guess her age. But the evidence was too deeply masked behind a cake of makeup. If she were older than thirty-five, ten years his senior, she looked damn good, he thought. Smooth brown complexion, high cheekbone, and a youthful gleam in her small eyes set beneath purple eyelids and thin arched brows. Perhaps conscious that he was staring at her, she licked the corner of her lips. Thoughts of her propels him to lick his own lips and exhale loudly. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.

           "He's not telling you he's getting married next month and that he's in Mayaro to drop off an invitation for his great uncle," he broke the momentary awkwardness.

           "Oh," she exclaimed. I wondered what you all doing so far away from home. Bet it's a bank girl or some businessman's daughter."

           The exchange triggered an uncomfortable silence. She got up to settle the bill for a quiet bunch of oil workers in the far corner.

           "Why the hell you had to tell her that!"

           "Tell her what?" he conceitedly asked his coworker.

           "That I getting married. I had her that close."

            "Don't be fooled by her lowly life and friendly nature. She's not stupid. She'd play you for a fool and win."

           Visibly miffed, the coworker went to the urinal.

           Doodoo's indifference to his coworker's news was curious. He only now realizes that it was one of disappointment and envy. Not toward his coworker, but at the notion of marriage and perhaps true love which had eluded her. But why should that haunt him after all this time? He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.        

           As he gropes around for the cigarettes, he hears the pack fall to the floor. He leaves it there and returns to Doodoo. When his coworker returned, someone at another table called out to him and he left the table. He recalls that he didn't have to sit alone for very long. Doodoo came up from behind and placed a beer in front of him and hurried back to the bar. "I'm not sure why," he reflects, but she would periodically return to sit with him over the course of the night and guardedly regaled her life in bit and pieces. An hour and a half later, the owner announced that the bar was about to close and they were literally thrown out in the yard. A loud noise on the roof disrupts his reminiscence. But just as well. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.

           He listens for a while, but the noise did not recur. He forces his mind into thinking about something else, but Doodoo Doon won't let go."Why were you trying to protect that..." his coworker griped as they drove off.

           "Not at all. She doesn't need protecting. I was protecting you."

           "What you mean by that?"

           "Don't be fooled by her naivety. It's an act. Doodoo Doon is smarter than both of us put together."

           "I like her fancy ride. She must have done her job well to pay for that," he giggled.

           "How old is the car?" he asked.

           "'Em, 'bout three years. Why you ask?"

           "No reason. Wish I could afford one I guess."

           His coworker pushed the seat way back and slept all the way home.

                                                                       ***    

He gets up and with his hand searches the floor for the cigarettes, lights one in the dark, takes a deep pull and tries falling asleep. But Doodoo Doon won't let him. She almost never mentioned her mother who, after her father's suicide when she was eight—following a land deal in which he was scammed by his brother—her mother was forced to work on the coconut estate. Though she did not say it directly, he figured that her mother took out her frustration on her. Her grandmother, on the other hand, was her idol. She snickered as she regaled Mama's advice, '"I was a looker like you, you know. But I had no control over that. They bring a country-bookie and tell me I have to marry him. I catch my ass with that drunken man. Child, make sure and use that weapon you have to get what you want. Doh let no man use you and leave you hungry.'" The memory ignites a shallow smile. He lies in bed staring up at the dark ceiling contemplating his lonely existence while piecing together Doodoo's disjointed narrative. In a strange way, he feels oddly comforted as though they are kindred spirits. Tortured souls comforting each other. Amid his troubled mind, his inner voice scolds him. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.  

           She was in her second year at secretarial school when her mother suffered a stroke and unable to pay her tuition. The owner of the school—well known in the neighboring town as a womanizer—appeared in front of her home two weeks after her abrupt absence. Her grandmother begged her to accept the man's offer and return to school in order to write the upcoming exams. At first, his advances were subtle, but Doodoo, cognizant of her 'weapon' cleverly played along. She accepted his invitations to lunch and drives to the beach and when he became 'fresh' she would insist she had to go home to help her sickly grandmother take care of her mother. Visibly incensed, he'd take her home and she'd kiss him seductively on the nose before he reluctantly opened the car door. After exams, he took her out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate. She had intentionally suggested a neighborhood restaurant and as she had expected, he protested, "You know I can't be seen with you. Not yet. People are already talking about..."

           She smiled.

           He kept insisting she had another glass of wine.

           She demanded that he called for the bill.

           "You know I paid your exam fees and..." he said reproachfully.

           She removed her shoe and caressed his ankle. "I owe you a lot. You're a sexy man, you know."

           She heard his breath race. "You'll get all you want but right now, things bad at home. I like decent men like you who don't take advantage of..." As soon as I get my life back on stream...But please take me home. I'm worried 'bout my mother."

           He scoffed and called for the bill. When they got in the car, he turned to her and hesitantly revealed there was an opening for a secretary but... According to Doodoo, she didn't want to hear about the 'but' so she pretended not to care about the job offer. He reaches over and flicks the cigarette ash in the ashtray and took a deep pull before returning to Doodoo. "I made him believe he'd get what he wanted if...Anyway, the job was a dream come true. The boss was an old English man. The idea of a sexy Trini 'oman fascinated him, but...Well he had no stamina if you know what I mean," she grinned and stared at him.

           He giggled.

           "You know the old calypso, Sixty million French men?"

           "Yea." It's a rude calypso about what those dead old men do in bed."

           "Well, that was all he could do," she laughed.

           What happened to the owner of the school?"

           She left and went to the bar.

           He eagerly awaited her return to hear her answer.

           "I dropped him like a fly. Men think they smart but..."

           "How did he take it?"

           "He kept calling and coming to the office but couldn't force me... I wasn't stupid. His wife was the real owner of the school and they have children... I threatened him." After the company closed, Doodoo accepted a job in a posh exurb in the south of the island as a housekeeper for a childless couple—a university lecturer and his wife. "I needed to get away. The school owner didn’t stop harassing me. And too, there was a family battle for the house after my mother and grandmother died." She left and later returned with a beer and a lighted cigarette and he observed that she had freshened her makeup. He turns his head sideway on the pillow and forces himself to sleep. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes. 

           "It was a good job," her haunting voice won't let him sleep. "He and his wife weren't on good terms and most of the time she was out."

           "Why'd you leave?"

           She took a pull and smiled. "That's an episode in itself. Sure you want to hear it?"

           "Of course. You're an interesting person."

           She smiled sadly and took a long pull, "I wasn't getting younger," she exhaled, "and needed to put my life in order. A woman loses her appeal faster than a man you know."

           "You haven't lost an inch of appeal."

           She snickered. "You just saying that."

           "No."

           "Anyway things happen. I got pregnant..." She took a deep pull and discarded the purple smudged cigarette in the ashtray.

             "I had to use my head. This was my last chance. He couldn't let his wife know but I think she suspected when I told her I had to leave the job. Can't remember the excuse I gave."

           "Must have been hard."

           "He offered to rent a posh apartment for me in the west but I told him no way. This was his only child and I had the trump card and couldn't be foolish."

           "The west is prestigious!"

           "Yea. That would have fooled a stupid girl but I smarter than that. After the child born what would happen to me? What if he and his wife wanted the child?"

           "True."

           "Anyway, there was a house for sale not too far from here. It needed a 'lil fixing-up but I insisted he buy it for me and his only child."

           "Did he?"

           "He eventually did? His back was against a wall."

           "You're smart."

           "At first he was hopping mad but I was cool. I know with his lecturer job and advisor to the government and his wife of course...he didn't want a scandal."           

            "So things worked out?"

           "The child looked everything like him. Spanish/Negro with nice curly hair. She could be a queen."

           "So is she at home?"

           A distant look emerged in her eyes. She left and returned with a cigarette and another beer. "He was a good father," she added with a sentimental lilt, "he visited often. I think his wife went back to Jamaica and he had to pay her a lot of money." He didn't ask about the child but she eventually disclosed that three years ago he took her to Florida and that she's doing well in school over there. She left and didn't return. He speculated that the child, now thirteen, must have been around ten years at the time and the car and other inducements must have been a part of the deal. And too, the photograph she carried in her wallet was taken when the child was ten. Nobody wins at life, he deduces. Absolutely no one. Doodoo outsmarted men to get what she wanted, but in the end, she paid a huge price. The pain of not having her only child around gnawed at her. He wipes his eyes and presses the cigarette in the ashtray. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.          

                                                                                   ***     

A week later, he didn't know why he decided to drive to Mayaro after all these years. Perhaps he felt guilty. Looking back, she needed a shoulder. She could have spilled her guts to a lot of guys in the bar, but she chose him.         In pounding rains, he ends up in Mayaro. The rum shop is no longer there and he stops off at a grocery store close by and asks a man there if he knows someone named Doodoo Doon. A nice looking, purple hair woman who worked at a bar on the main road, he added. The man calls out to an employee in the back room, who, after a prolonged contemplation, says, "Yea, yea, yea. Old man Doon niece," and turns to his boss, "You cah remember she?"

           "I think so," his boss says. "I believe she died. But if you drive 'till you reach the big bridge, on the left side is a purple house with a blue roof. By the way, who are you? Family?

           "No. No. Just a simple public servant who visited the bar a long, long time ago."

           With perplexed expressions, they both look at each other before watching him get into his car. He drives slowly along the seaside road occasionally staring at the rough seas through the copious stretch of coconut trees. Then suddenly, he impulsively stops in the middle of the road, turns the car around and heads home. As tempted as he was, he didn't go to the house. As strange as it seems, he feels that Doodoo can help him overcome his fears in a spiritual way. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.      

           With his face pressed firmly on the pillow brooding over the fleeting and cruel years, he admits to himself why he turned back. It was the thought of his own mortality that he didn't want Doodoo to die. If he went to her home, he'd let her die. He didn't want to debunk the buoyant notion that the carefree and street-wise Doodoo Doons of the world somehow manage to cheat fate and linger on forever. When they do, the happy-go-lucky world he once occupied and cherished would remain unspoiled—frozen in time for him to retreat to if only in his mind. To a realist, this may seem silly. But if the years of living have taught him anything about life—it is that silly idealistic notions provide much needed escapism from the maddening grind of everyday life. "Long live Doodoo Doon," he whispers as he hears the door open and the nurse’s muffled voice say, “The priest is here.” After the priest leaves, he closes his eyes and smiles sweetly at a smiling Doodoo in a purple dress with outstretched arms. A gripping chill runs down his spine. It’s an omen. He must let go of these depressing feelings, he agonizes.