Instead, he’d put a smile on and hug her tight. It would hurt even more than his annoyance to do anything as feisty as talk back, even at his age-especially at this age. He would feel a stabbing pain in his chest as his annoyance rose but he could not bring himself to argue too much with her. What me get to choose? he’d think and never once say out loud. “I don’t know why you ha’ fi go bout so much, is all. “I have to live me life, mama! I can’t stay in the house like some rat. “Why you cyaan stay as you yard, Auncil? Why you love to gallivant so?” she’d press. And, his father might add, “Make the boy go have some fun, Dorcas.” But they knew it came down to getting past her and it would take some doing. “Why you have to carry on so?” he’d sigh. He did not need to hear her sighs and grumbles, her saying, “I don’t know why you have to live so. On the front page of the Gleaner he’d appeared in his striped bicycle shorts and shirt and matching cap, his legs still on the pedals as if he was in mid-cycle.Īuncil hated this new obstacle to the world outside his home and hated even more the accompanying lectures about the dangers of life. Every time she noticed he was dressed for sport, she’d head for the door. She tried preventing him from riding his beloved bike, even if just with friends. The second time Auncil’s picture appeared in the Gleaner, his mother blocked his path with her big body. ”Every time she noticed he was dressed for sport, she’d head for the door.” In this short story, a young Jamaican man weighs his responsibility to his family against his love of biking.
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