Ch 22: Picnic With Five Purple Cards

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Author's Note: Before we even get into the chapter, uno try comment eno😭.

Author's Note: Before we even get into the chapter, uno try comment eno😭

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Rèmi's POV
Tuesday, 8 p.m.
October 24th

I folded the purple cartridge paper again and cut it neatly with the scissors. I've been at this for over an hour, trying to make sure all of the cards were the right sizes. Rolling my shoulders for the umpteenth time, I leaned over the little bin in the bedroom to make sure the paper strips fell inside.

When I was finished cutting out the cards, I started writing on them with the black marker, making sure the words were neat. Five cards out of the pack will be in my possession until the end of the card game. No one was more impatient than me, waiting for the sun to come up. I just miss her, so much.

Today, I ignored her just so I could piss her off. I don't know why I found it so funny, especially since she threatened to turn her phone off the entire day tomorrow and give me a taste of my own medicine. I'm not saying she can't do it.

Rosalia know who fi ramp wid, and mi nuh inna it wid har. Call it unfair, but she know seh tomorrow a the only day we are both free before Saturday.

"Rèmi, can I come in?" Nathalia asked, standing at my door that was left ajar.

"Yeah," I said to her. She pushed the door open and walked in before pushing it back up.

"Your Mom just called and they told me that they'll be here for Christmas, but not next month. I don't know why but she said your Dad is going to call you and she sounded like she was crying," She told me. I looked at her, briefly.

"She tell yuh seh dem nawh come?" I asked, ignoring the disappointment I felt.

"Yes, she said that something came up and they'll be busy." She looked around my room.

"Oh," I muttered, turning the cards face down after I wrote a single word from each sentence on them.

They're distractions from what those five cards have written on them...

My phone started ringing and I looked over to see my father's name flashing across the screen. I lowly hissed my teeth before closing the marker and then picked up my phone, answering it.

"Hello." I kept it short, becoming irritated already.

Jamaicans really take the saying 'a promise is a comfort to a fool' very seriously because I feel like an idiot for believing that they'd start to visit often. The only thing that was promised and actually fulfilled were the daily phone calls. Nothing else.

"Nathalia deh 'round yuh?" My father asked.

"Yes, why?" I asked him.

"Move likkle bit. Me nuh wah she overhear the conversation," He told me. I stood up and left my bedroom, warning Nathalia not to touch anything.

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