Last night, I was so exhausted, I just mumbled "M'kay," then went to sleep.

Now, though, I'm thinning about it, and I remember Xavier saying that David would always come to get flowers for his mother from him. I doubt that we'd all just happen to be visiting Westmorland at the same time, so I'm assuming that Xavier lives and works in Westmorland.

Therefore, David's mother would live here, too.

I would have never expected that David was from Westmorland.

"That's why you have a house in Westmorland," I say to David as we prepare to spend the afternoon at his parents's house, fixing my hair into a natural looking afro, and pick up a headband to neaten it up.

"Don't," he says, as I'm about to put on the headband.

"What?"

"You look better without it."



I look in the mirror, assessing my jeans, my tank top and my hair, my face, and I feel my face heat up.

"Thank you," I whisper, looking down at my fingers.

"That's part of the reason," he states,

"but remember what I said about my farmer living in Westmorland?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, you'll meet him soon. It's convenient to have a place near to my source."

I roll my eyes.

"So when are we going to meet him?"

"I have to pick up a package on my way to my parents," he answers.

"On your way to? Not from?" I ask surprised.

"Yep. Now hurry up, he can get really miserable; he doesn't like to wait."

Doing a 360 and looking at my ass one last time, I let out a nervous breath and follow him out of the house.

***

We are driving in the direction of his parents's house. He just picked up a large package, about two pounds heavy, from a man who calls himself "Snappa" for whatever reason. It's wrapped to look like a birthday present. I can't smell it.

"Why do you wrap it to look like a birthday present?" I ask David.

"Multiple reasons," he says. "Firstly, the last thing you'd expect to be in an unscented birthday package is weed. Secondly, if I get caught by the police, I have a story."

I raise my eyebrow.

"Which is?" I question.

"I found the present on my doorstep when I was leaving my house and brought it in my car, but didn't get around to opening it. I had no idea what was in it. How strange."

I snort.

"Do you really believe that anyone will believe that?" I ask him.

"I can be very convincing."

We continue driving in silence, until I ask a question that's been pestering me for a while.

"Did you bring me here just to meet your parents?"

"No," he answers immediately, and then pausing before continuing with his thoughts.

"I brought you here because I thought you needed a break from all of the bullshit," he states, "but I thought about how lonely you are, and about how little you socialise, which is why I invited my friends over. Then, I realised just how much I wanted joy in my life, and I also miss my parents; I haven't visited in a while, so I decided, "fuck it, she can meet them; they'll love her".

I smile to myself despite my nervousness.

"Don't worry," he murmurs. "Everything will be fine."

After that, we drive in silence; a silence that remains all the way to his parents's house.

Their house is more inland, and is a one story house which looks big enough to comfortably house at least five people.

It's off-white with the typical red tiles, and a man and woman who appear to be in their fifties are waiting in the doorway.

"David! Look how yuh dash me weh!" the woman says, embracing him in a hug.

"Mummy, I call you almost every day," he replies with a smile.

"David, always good to see you," his father stated, embracing him in a hug.

And then they turn to me.

"This must be Leah," she says to me, grasping my hand in both of hers and giving me a genuine smile.

"Good afternoon," I say, since David has said nothing about his parents; he didn't even tell me if they're married.

"I'm Angela, and this is my husband, Trevor," she states, waving towards the man beside her, who stretches out a hand and shakes mine.

"Glad to finally meet you dear," he says.

We are then led into the house; I'm barely over the threshold before David's mother attacks him.

Or rather, his hair.

"David, why yuh don't canerow* yuh hair?" she asks.

"I can't see into the back of my head, mummy," he answers.

"Yuh couldn't go hairdresser?"

"Couldn't bother."

They stare each other off in the living room for a few seconds, David's hair caught in a messy bun at the base of his neck, looking like he couldn't give a fuck less.

"Well, I could do it now—"

"No," he cuts her off.

"I want to see you in canerows," I say to him, partially because I don't want them arguing, but also because I don't want to see this.

He gives me a dirty look, and then goes to get his hair done with his mother.

"Sorry about them," David's father says.

"What?"

"They're always at each other's throats," he says nonchalantly, waving his hand as if it's no problem at all. "It's just their way of showing each other love."

"Oh," I mumble. It just seems so odd.

"Don't overthink it," he says to me. "Do you play chess?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Want to play a game?"

I turn and look down the passage that David and his mother disappeared one last time, before facing his father again.

"Sure."

***

David's father kicked my ass. Three times. But it's okay, because I love playing chess even if I don't win.

Trevor has been asking me a plethora of questions — about my job, what I like to do, what I don't like to do, any place in the world that I wish that I could go.

He has asked me nothing about my family, or friends, or boyfriends from the past, or desire to have children in the future. Nothing about my personal childhood.

These are things that most people's boyfriend's parents would bring up.

David told them.

David told them about me; he told them what not to say, so that I wouldn't get triggered. The thought of him personally listening out to his parents "what not to say to my girlfriend" for some reason makes me feel warm inside; it makes my heart ache with how much I love him.

"You okay?" Trevor asks.

"Yeah," I say, "I was just thinking about something weird."

As soon as those words leave my lips, I turn and see David walking into the room with a full head of canerows, and I instantly become wet.

I had no idea that they would look so good, so fucking sexy on him. 



(In Jamaica we often times say "canerow" instead of "cornrow" (the verb)/ "canerows"instead of "cornrows" (the noun).)

Jesus H. Christ, bitch! Control yourself! It's just a fucking hairstyle!

Except... it's not just a hairstyle. It's so much more.

It brings out the widow's peak that I didn't really notice before; it makes his cheekbones seem sharper. 

It just makes him ten times sexier, and makes me feel like I just went into heat.

"What do you guys want to do now?" David's mother asks. "We could play dominoes."

"Or we could watch a football match," David quickly replies.

When Jamaicans play dominoes... let's just say, that we tend to be a little bit overzealous with it. I've seen people accidentally break tables when they win from banging on it so hard. 

From the look on David's face, his parents are obviously some of those overzealous players, and he's not up to that shit right now.

"Okay, we'll watch a game," she says with a smile as she turns on the television and flips through the channels.

***

David's mother is a nurse and his father is a mechanic. They've been married for over thirty years, and we're never in any major relationships before their marriage.

I found this out within the space of two hours, yet David's mother was just like his father; avoided certain topics.

"Thank you," I whisper, hugging him as we lay in bed together, drifting off to sleep after at least an hour of passionate lovemaking.

"For sex?" he asks.

"For telling them."

"You picked it up," he says, after a few seconds of silence.

"Yes. It was very considerate of you. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I cuddle into him, ready to fall asleep when he says my name.

"Leah?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

My heart is twisting so hard right now.

"I love you too."

He goes silent again, only to break it.

"I saw the way you looked at me when you saw my hair."

"And?" I'm not even embarrassed.

"I'm glad I got cainrows," he says in a sexual voice.

"Me, too," I say while smiling to myself like an idiot. I don't think he knows just how much I mean that.

***