Dip and Roll

by Celeste Rita Baker

On de largest beach of de smallest island in de Tania archipelago in de Caribbean Sea five shoreside metamorphic beachrocks sit chatting, as dey have done for de last hundred and sixty-odd years.

“Hey, allyou. I leaving soon. You hear me? Dis place ain’t gon’ be de same,” Craggy Dan, de boulder of de bunch, announce, as he has done every sunrise for de last four days.

“CraggyDan, don’t start wid dat again, mehson,” Cuber say, always quick to want to fight. “You been here, most of we, been here, since we get push up from de self–same sea in front of we right now. You ain’t going nowhere.”

“Huh? Somebody callin me?” Shayla, all de way in de front, can’t see anyting but de bay in front of she. She forever telling everyone ‘bout de color of de water, de shape of de waves, de fish she see jumping and when Hundred Year HardBack coming to crawl ‘pon dem for a sunning and a catch up. She had de best shape and position for vigilant surveillance, nestle as she was in front of CraggyDan, but she don’t hear dat good, what wid de waves always running down she cracks, so she always yelling. De only ting dat does shut she up is snails. Shayla say she have to sit quiet when de snails telling dey silvery secrets else she can’t make out what dey saying. She say de snails mostly does complain dat she allow she dribbles and drool to run over dem while dey trying to make dere way up she front side. Shayla say she tired explain to dem dat even doh she big and hard she ain’t got no control of de sea or de waves and don’t even start wid she about de rain neither.

“Nobody ain’t call you, Shayla.” Cuber voice rough and loud. Every generation of flies and mosquitos learn to veer ‘round de jagged stone lest de erratic vibration of he speech alter dere flight. “I just saying,” Cuber scratchy voice go on, “I tired hear CraggyDan talk. You know how he been lately, Shayla, running on and on ‘bout he leaving. Someting dat never gon’ happen.”

“You don’t know dat, Cuber,” Shayla creak, trying to turn. She can’t, though. She a rock. Alla dem is rockstones, doh sometimes dey does forget.

Shayla continue, “Who woulda tink dat coconut tree woulda get blow over and die in de really bad hurricane when it had look so strong and healthy? And who woulda tink de other one, de other tree, on de far side, woulda get push down so low but continue to grow, even doh it now have to grow sideways? As if it reaching for de horizon instead of de sky? We been here long long time, see a lot a different tings. So when you say “never” it mean to me dat you just ain’t see dat yet.” Shayla usually take up for CraggyDan, dey been snuggled so close for so long.

“Eh-eh, it sunrise already?” Eshitt try highlight he glint one more time, aiming de song of he glow directly at he loved one. He under de impression he having nightly, poetic conversations wid de beautiful blue-bitch stone house across de bay. He glinting and sparkling, only dimming down when de clouds cover de moon. He say he know in de nit of he grit dat de unusually formed edifice listen to him carefully ‘cause of de steady glow of de lights ‘round she all night. And when Eshitt start to talk about de way de mortar does cleave ‘round she rocks? Well, lemme just tell you dat Shayla, who loud already, does outblast even Cuber when she yelling at Eshitt ‘bout he rudeness.

“I could tell is almost sunrise ‘cause dat’s when me lovelight over dere does go to sleep,” Eshitt sigh. Two sighs. De first in satisfaction. De second in resignation. “And,” Eshitt harden he tone, “also when you start up dat mess again, CraggyDan. Every morning.”

“I wouldn’t bring up de subject of mess if I was you, Eshitt,” Cuber tell he.

Eshitt grunt and creak. He hate when Cuber tease him. He can’t help it if he land among dem out an egret’s ass.

“I just reminding allyou,” Eshitt say, “dat CraggyDan is all talk and no action. I don’t know why allyou pay him so much mind. Not once, not once since I been here, has he even broken off a chip.”

CraggyDan use to he companions berating him. But he know all tings change in time and he feel in he core dat a big change coming now. He believe alla dem have de knowing too, but dey don’t like to know what dey know, so dey don’t pay no attention to it. Some a dem ‘fraid to be ‘fraid, some a dem feel dey can’t do nothing ‘bout it noways, and some a dem so harden dey wouldn’t let a new thought in ‘lest it shatter dey old beliefs.

“Funny ting is,” Craggy raise he voice to be heard over de bouncing tide, “dis time I going for true.” Whether I like it or not, he tink, but ain’t say dat part out loud.

“And when will dat be?” Cuber want to know.

“Tonight, I leaving tonight,” Craggy answer.

“If only I could turn me back on you and you foolishness,” Cuber say.

Cuber have a streak of meanness in he. It run straight from he skyward pointing sharpness to he flat–bottom base. A sun–bleach whiteness against he moonless night colors.

“What you say about me back?” Shayla ask, confused again. “You don’t like looking at me backside anymore, CraggyDan?” She feel de water run fast through she crevices. “Dey told me that boulders was fickle, but me ain’t want to believe it. I hurt, Craggy. I really hurt.”

“Shayla, you lucky. If you could see CraggyDan from de front you really would be hurting. How you tink he get he name? But I, for one, gon’ be relieve to see de back of him,” Smoothe Wiley say. He address CraggyDan next. “When you say you leaving? Answer me, no? Craggy? Sunrise? Any minute now?” Smoothe Wiley specialty is misunderstanding. He does do misinformed, misleading, and misaligned too. And when dey does shout him down for he foolishness he say he being misinterpreted and mistreated.

“I got news for you, Smoothe Wiley,” CraggyDan say. “You coming wid me. We all going. Allyou don’t feel it? Allyou ain’t seeing de signs?”

Nobody ain’t answer him. Silence better dan trying to answer dat question. Instead dey all watching ole Honorable Give It To Me Guana bellying he way through de sand, dragging a sack of frozen French fries.

“I lie, or what? Gimme Guana?” CraggyDan yell down to de only one almost as ole as Hundred Year HardBack, de turtle, and deyselves, of course.

De ole iguana put he sack down and wet he lipless lips wid a long fuchsia tongue, unnaturally bright. He have a penchant for strawberry daiquiris and French fries, which he does charm from de people in de restaurant further up on de sand.

“How many times I tell you don’t be calling me dat. Get me name right.”

“Oh, jeez, mehson. I sorry. I sorry, I ain’ mean to offend you. You know dat.”

“All right, man, but I tired forgiving you. Now what you asking me? I in a hurry.”

CraggyDan lower he voice and try sound contrite. “Yes, Honorable Give It To Me Guana, I see you moving even more quickly dan usual. And you have a heavy load dere. What’s dat you lugging? And ain’t dat More Please and No, De Other One coming up behind you? Where allyou going?”

Smoothe Wiley start to sweat, de last drenching from de waves rolling off he front in slow drips. “Honorable? Honorable Give It To Me Guana? Please, kindly and respectfully request dat No, De Other One come up on me leeward side. Please? Tell she as much as I love to feel she scaly belly rub ‘cross me smooth rockness, she claws does tickle me bad bad over dere on dat side and I mighten be able to maintain me dignity.”

“I’ll ask her, Smoothe, but we gon’ be making several trips and I ain’ gon’ try to tell she what to do more dan once. You know how she is.” Honorable Give It To Me Guana flick he tail.

“How I is, is in a hurry, Smoothe Wiley,” No, De Other One say, she words coming out in breathy spurts, “and I could hear you just fine. You gon’ just have to put up wid whatever come your way today.”

No, De Other One does usually spend more time flirting wid Smoothe Wiley but dis morning she panic evident in she curt words and in de high way she carry sheself, up on she toes like she dancing to de music dat blare all day and half de night from de people place.

“What goin’ on? Allyou making a party?” Smoothe Wiley say, he moisture giving off a heavy crab–and–salt smell. He hope it wafting over by No, De Other One. “Cuber, you see how dey leaving us out of de fete? What dey celebrating? Hurricane season over already? Hey, Eshitt, Shayla, you hear de news? No more hurricanes again. Ever. Is party time.”

CraggyDan creak at he beachmates. None a dem ain’t feel de tension in de breeze? Ain’t been feeling de bush and tree roots burrowing faster and deeper around dere underground parts? Ain’t see de iguanas dem ain’t in no playing mood?

Shayla dribble, silently watching More Please struggling to get a grip on Shayla’s deepest front cleft while balancing a bunch of ripe genips on she head. Dey dangle down de side of she face like a collection of moldy eyeballs, swinging wild wid every failing scrabble.

“I got to get to higher ground,” More Please pant, “I got to climb a hard, firm tree.” She stop to breathe and reposition she footing. “Find a branch. Secure me snacks. I want a stable seat wid a good view.”

“Hey, you, up dere. Shut up, would you? You tryin to call de fish up from de sea, or what?” Cuber bawl up to de bird flying high above de waves; den he turn to Eshitt. “Ain’t dat your egret? De one dat drop you here? Tell she to quit de noise, no?”

“Who you mean? Gilda? She ain’t exactly, specifically, unilaterally, unequivocally my egret. Just ‘cause we had an intimate relationship for eight days and seven nights doesn’t mean she belong to me, you know.”

“Hear me. Hear me. I am de crier.” Gilda’s normally croaky call now sound like a high–pitched screech. It sail out over land and sea. “I cry for you before. I cry for you after. Scatter you ass if you can, hunch down if you can’t.”

“What mess she saying, Eshitt? You could understand she?”

“Sure, man. Sure. She say she crying to us now, a warning and she gon’ cry for us after, a lamentation. She say run if you can, hold tight if you can’t. She mubbe see someting bad coming.”

“Bad? What bad? Bad like what?” Shayla ask. As usual, she only catch some a de words.

“Is a hurricane. Am I right? Or am I right? A hurricane, one of de new kind.” Cuber watching a trail of ants marching up de hill. “De big, strong, really mash up everyting hurricanes used to come ‘bout every hundred years or so, right? Remember? Dis new kind, dey is constant trouble, like a stalking pack of hungry lions instead of a single rabid hippopotamus.”

Everyone sat silent.

“What? What?” Cuber blast out, angry again. “I know what going on . . . in places . . . in de world. I does have smart friends, you know. I does listen to dem. I ain’t schupid, you know. I ain’t schupid just ‘cause I square. Squarish.”

“No, is a blasting,” Smoothe Wiley say, letting dat sail past him on de winds of surprise. “You ain’t hear de people dem talk ‘bout blasting? Dem man dem gon’ try blow up de hill behind us. Break up de mountain boulders to make gravel. De murderers.” Smoothe Wiley try dig heself deeper into de sand. “I ain’t worried, doh. I does go deep.”

“Hear me. Hear me.” Gilda, de egret, fly over again. “All wid feet run, all wid wings fly, all who don’t, prepare to die.”

“What about me?” Eshitt yell up to Gilda, de water dripping fast from he frontside in fear and hope. “I thought we had someting special.”

De procession gon’ on all day. All manner of de creator’s playtings make dere way up de hilltop. Enemies ignore each other in front of de nameless danger threatening dem all. De shoreside rocks huddle together in silence. No time to spare for bickering as dey try sink dey bases deeper into sand and soil.

“Craggy? CraggyDan, man?” Cuber voice small as mosquito whine now. “I sorry, man. You all right, you know.”

“Okay, thanks,” Craggy say, not in de mood to be patronized.

“Shayla? Shayla, you sleep?” Cuber looking for someone to take up he cause.

“No, I just resting,” she say.

“You good too. I want tell you dat I like de way you does look out for alla we. You know, letting we know when a big wave coming and if a crab coming up on we flank.”

“I know. Is what I does do. Is why I in front.” She ain’t say it to boast. Is just a fact she know to be true ‘bout sheself.

“Cuber, what wrong wid you, mehson?” Smoothe Wiley ask. “You ‘fraid you gon’ die or someting? Dat’s for de mushy types, man. Whatever it is, de most we could get is a little crack up. Like gravel, you know? Ain’t nothing wrong wid being gravel. One of me cousins is gravel,” he put spin and sneer in he words, “and he live better dan Eshitt’s blue-bitch stone ‘supposed’ lady-love house.”

Alla dem shudder, bracing deyselves for de talkback fight from Eshitt.

“So dat’s what I had want talk to allyou ‘bout dis morning,” CraggyDan say quickly, trying to cut de argument off at de sediment. He ain’t feel de usual disdain from he friends so he say de ting on he mind. “When time come, leh we jump. Leh we all jump together.”

“Jump? How you mean, jump? Is frog you tink I is now?” Cuber quick to temper, is his way, no matter how he had just attempt to make peace.

“Jump? Jump? Craggy, what inside a you, eh? You fulla mud? But lemme say dis, if is jump we talking, first jump I jumping is right on top Smoothe Wiley. Block up he disrespectful mouth.” Eshitt small, but when he get hot he does radiate just as much heat as de rest of dem.

CraggyDan shift heself in de sand and go on, “I know you tink change ain’t possible for we. But someting big gon’ happen. Real soon. Ain’t gon’ be a blast from de humans. De sea ain’t right for hurricane. What ‘tis is — de earth gon’ shake.”

He couldn’t look ‘round at dem but he could feel dere attention. None a dem had experience a really bad earthquake since de one dat had raise dem up from de sea. So long ago dat dey had make friends wid clouds dat been ‘round de world and back again. So long ago de whales bring dem tales from distant seas. So long ago de sun know dem, know how to warm dere crevices just right.

“De ground gon’ crack,” CraggyDan continue, “de sea gon’ jump up and twist and de land gon’ change she shape.” A big wave come up and splash him, splash alla dem. When most of de water had drain back to de sea CraggyDan start again. “What I saying is, sometimes de most important ting any, all, and each a we could do, is survive.”

He wait, expecting to hear dem chide he into silence, but none a dem say nothing so he plunge in again, “And sometimes, some a dem dat does survive, must have to do someting altogether, completely different from anyting dey had ever do, know about, or imagine before.”

CraggyDan take a deep breath and whisper, embarrassed, “So, what I saying is, when de ting happen, leh we try not to scatter, while we surviving de new ting, but instead leh we try to roll in de same direction. Survive under de water. Together.”

“Oh, jeez, Craggy, dere you go again. Is jump you want me jump, for true?” Cuber complain.

Nobody ain’t say nothing. De whole beach gon’ quiet. Only de waves singing dere steady song. De wind stop blow. De leaves and all hush. All who could get, had gon’. Dem dat remain, waiting.

When de full moon had stroll to she zenith, alone in de cloudless night sky, it happen. De ground beneath dem start a slow rumble, but it quickly gon’ from sound to motion, like hearing de thunder and den feeling de vibration of it, but de blows coming from below instead of above. De land beneath de rocks groan and tremble. Shake and separate. Lizards, ants, and crabs fall into de deep sudden holes. Whelks, snails, and barnacles lose dere grip and tumble down into de newborn dirt. De trees dem screaming as dey topple, roots ripping and shredding, exposing de homesteads of dem not use to moonlight or sunshine. CraggyDan, Shayla, Smoothe Wiley, Eshitt, and Cuber bear witness mournfully to friends and neighbors as dey disappear. Dey, both set a dem, de suffering and dem who ain’t suffering yet, add piercing wails of distress and sorrow to de earth’s grinding moans.

De sea dat Shayla, CraggyDan, and dem feel dey know so well fracturing, swirling, and backjumping, reversing direction as if in sudden confusion. No, De Other One and More Please get flung from dere high branches and fly through de air, snapping and snorting in fear. De Honorable Give It To Me Guana cling to a tree bough, being tossed ‘round on de frothing waves.

Gilda, de egret, pacing de sky, crying.

De beachside rocks, one by one, topple down into de sea, CraggyDan pushing Shayla ahead of him.

“Dip and roll, allyou! Roll!” he call out to he friends, nudging Shayla along. “Everyting a change now, but we could still try stay together.”

And CraggyDan sink under de water, wondering how dey gon’ be situate when de land stop rearranging she frock, knowing he gon’ grieve for he friends now gone. Knowing he gon’ miss de feel of de sun, de lashing of de waves, but knowing also, is always more tings to know and at least some a dem gon’ be good.