Since Trevor had returned from Jamaica, Brian began reconsidering his mind’s locked rooms. Obviously, Trevor’s fantasy world gave him inexhaustible confidence, which Brian definitely lacked.
Brian’s long adherence to one reality had only hobbled him. Carla reported that Trevor’s reggae act drew crowds, but perhaps not the best crowds for the restaurant. Scantily dressed young women formed a circle around Trevor as he sang, and ordered expensive cocktails but little food.
[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]
“Profitable,” Carla said. But probably better for a music venue than a vegetarian restaurant.
To Trevor’s credit, a week after singing at The Eden Garden Café, he paid a $50 installment toward the $720 he owed his brother. “More’s coming. You no fear, tis correctible and true?”
“Rasta talk or just you? ”
“It’s all me, Brian. I-sire, that is, I de-sire a sweet and ready new guitar. I’ll wait if you’re hurting, but I can give you $50 again this week and pay the full debt on the full moon.”
“We’re not hurting, Trev. Just promise you won’t deal drugs at the café.”
Trevor put his hand near his heart. “Kill me dead if I ever. I mean, yes, promise, mon.”
All told, Brian enjoyed Trevor’s presence. His younger brother fixed them healthy meals whenever Brian and Carla were especially tired. And at his request, Trevor no longer smoked spliffs but used a little pipe he kept in his pocket. Not the least benefit was how his sex life with Carla had soared to new heights.
Why even suppose Trevor played a factor? Half the while, he slept elsewhere and some young woman dropped him off at the café before noon. But tacitly Carla and Brian both recognized how his spirit had imbued their life together with a touch of his noble jauntiness. So Brian only worried about Trevor mixing with their landlady, Nancy.
One, her marijuana crop was already thicker with golden buds thanks to Trevor’s advice. And two, Trevor was stepping in to make peace between Nancy and her moody partner Polly—this more dangerous Brian thought than potential drug arrests.
Polly was strange. But Trevor had bedazzled Nancy, the white-haired, lifelong Black Mountain woman. The first thing he did was award her a new name. Nancy, Trevor told her, suggested nothing of her spiritual depth or celestial aura. Henceforth, Trevor declared, Nancy should be called Angelina. That’s how beautiful she was inside.
Telling Brian, he said, “Talk to Nancy for two minutes and you’ll see how resplendent she is.”
Brian stifled any impulse to smirk. Because, who was he to say? Still, he needed to ask. “And you’re sure that Nancy doesn’t think Angelina’s a bit much?”
“Hardly,” Trevor said. “More like, I’m the first to see her real glory. I have true vision, mon.”
Brian smiled, doubting he could ever pull off such fabulous flattery, if it even occurred to him.
“And what about Polly?”
“Polly is picky picky—hard ears lady.”
“Polly doesn’t like you, Trevor? That’s unusual but not surprising. Nan—I mean, Angelina—if Angelina keeps her busy, and she feels important, everything’s okay. But sometimes Polly gets angry and stomps off to mutter and fuss alone for weeks, even months in a separate cabin.”
“Angelina said she’s shy and worrisome.”
Brian said, “She is. But she also sews and cooks and acts nice with girls.” “She’s against me now,” Trevor said. “But later she might feel nicer ’bout me.”
(Click here to read the next episode.)
