When I told them my plans, my parents were not thrilled to hear I was going to Haiti.
“I feel a slight bit better knowing you’ll be with Hopeton,” my mother said. “But I’d rather you stay away from there for now. It’s bad enough that you’re in Panama,” she added, laying on the guilt, extra thick.
“Manman,” I replied, “mwen gen trente-sis an. M’ap byen, m’promèt!”
My father was slightly less alarmist, especially after I told him about my lead on the UN-funded rebuild project.
“My time in Panama is pretty close to wrapping up,” I explained. “I don’t think I’m ready to come back to Brooklyn just yet. I still have things I want to do, and I really feel like it’s all going to happen for me in Haiti.”
He told me he could understand how I’d feel that way and said he’d try to get my mother to understand my logic, or lack thereof.
I laughed. My father was a really funny guy, if you just listened between the silences.
Mistou, on the other hand, grudgingly admitted she understood what was compelling me towards Haiti.
“It’s not for me,” she said, “but I get it. And I’m happy that you’re making time to see me whenever your travel plans intersect, geographically.”
“We have a week together,” I replied. “In your city. And I’m gonna sit Mundo down this weekend and tell him he only has me for a few more months.”
“Seriously? You’re ready to pull the plug, without really knowing what’s coming next?” she asked.
“Yep,” I said. “I have to be out of there by December at the latest. It’s going to be either Haiti or New York.” And before she could cut in, I quickly added, “And you and I will figure it all out together. Even if it’s Haiti.”
“I’ll let you know when I believe you,” she replied.
And that pretty much killed the conversation.
After those calls were out of the way, I sent Mr. Henriques an email and told him I needed to take three weeks off to go deal with some family issues in Port au Prince. He replied immediately:
Of course. I hope everything is okay with your family. Please let me know if there’s anything I can do to help out in any way.
Last up on my list was Mundo. I invited myself over for lunch that Saturday. Figured I could kill two birds with one stone- spend some time with my namesake and prepare Mundo for the initial stage of my soft bail-out.
I arrived at Mundo’s starter mansion around brunch time, my arms barely clasped around a huge powder blue stuffed elephant. A servant answered the door, relieved me of the elephant and escorted me to the back patio, where I found the happy family sitting around a table piled with platters of food and pitchers of gin and grapefruit juice. Teófilo Pierre Gianfranco was nestled in a bassinet resting on a loveseat next to Gianina. We spent a really lovely and peaceful two hours, sitting on the patio, which was shaded by a striped canvas awning. We sipped cocktails and chatted about inconsequential things, Gianina picking the baby up to nurse every so often. She was glowing.
At around three o’clock, she told us, “I’m going to take Teó inside. It’s getting too hot out here for him.”
Doe signaled to me to take a little walk with him. He pulled a couple of cigars out of his shirt pocket and handed me one. We walked to the far side of the massive yard, and sat down on a stone bench shaded by a huge Guanacaste tree.
“It’s good to have a few minutes of quiet with you, bredda,” Doe said, then he held a match up to my cigar.
“Yeah, pops- of course!” I replied. “How’s it going with everything? Teó is so big already.”
“It’s good,” he said. “No complaints. Gianina wants to start trying for another baby in August.”
“That’s two months from now,” I noted. “Isn’t that kinda soon after the first one?”
“She wants to have two kids back to back and then be done,” he explained. “That way the kids will be a year apart and she won’t feel like a totally old mom.”
“And Teó won’t be an only child,” I noted.
“Gianina said there’s no way she’d only have one kid,” he replied. “’Look at how jodido youturned out.’
“Smart lady,” I remarked.
Olmando tilted his head back and blew out a huge puff of smoke. Then he looked at me and asked, “What’s going on with you these days, ‘Brón? I haven’t been around much lately.”
I rolled my shoulders and twisted my head from the right to the left. For some reason, I felt a wave of tension roll over my body.
“Not much, really. I’ve got all of the projects under control. You’re actually going to be able to schedule all of your grand openings for first week in December.”
“Word? You serious?” Doe asked.
“Dead-ass, bro,” I said, reverting back to 90s speak for some reason. “Wilkie and I have been busting our asses trying to make sure we can close it all out before Christmas.”
“That means I need to get with my father and find the next stuff to put you on,” Doe replied.
“Well, not necessarily,” I cautioned. “I’m heading to Haiti for a few weeks in September. I want to see what’s going on down there. And I have a lead on a UN construction project that is going to need a bunch of project managers. I need to be down there, Mundo.”
“Wait, so you’re bailing on me?” Olmando looked legitimately upset. Like I’d betrayed him.
“Doe,” I reasoned, “it’s June. I’m going to Haiti for three weeks in September. I’m using some of my vacation days. I’m going to finish out your projects by December and then my work here will be done.”
“Does my father know about this?” he asked. I knew it pained him to ask me if I’d run to Daddy first, but I was glad he did.
“I put in for my vacation time, yes,” I said. “But I wanted to talk to you face to face first, before I make any moves to officially wrap up my time in Panama.”
“Well, I’m telling you right now, Pierre, I’m not letting you go in December.” Mundo sounded gravely serious.
“Look bro, I don’t want this to turn into anything ugly, but remember when you took me to Madiba to tell me you were moving down here?”
Doe was not pleased that I was dragging out ancient history. Facts that he knew made him look bad.
“And remember the five fucking years I did behind the Brownsville guns garage?”
He nodded.
“Then there’s no way you can say I owe it to you to stay here, up under you,” I told him. “Especially if you don’t have anything for me to do here. Like a real role, Olmando. Not some made-up babysitting shit.”
I stood up, threw my cigar down and ground it with the heel of my sneaker.
“We can talk about this later, but I gotta head out. Lemme go say good-bye to Gianina.”
Mundo stood up and we walked towards the house.
“Anyway,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “you got me for another six months, so just chill the fuck out, homie.”
Mundo elbowed me in the ribs. He knew he was being ridiculous.
