Petionville, Palace Pizzaria
Kevin sees Kat and Dirk at a few black-out, eat-drink-be merry, end-of-days parties in Port, but hasn’t been able to catch up with them privately to hear how Jocelyn and Ti Mon are doing. What’s left of civil and social life is fragmented between rumors of violence, blackouts, and violence. So many friends and trusted colleagues are being disappeared or evacuated, it’s impossible to keep up. Standard custom is to leave one empty chair and glass for anyone who should be with them, but cannot be.
It’s late one night, after the blackouts are over for downtown Port-au-Prince. The party has migrated from a mutual friend’s apartment into one of the local clubs that never really close. The rest of the blan have paired up into the combos that will ride out the time until dawn and the crowing roosters. Kat and Kevin are each finishing a Haitian fruit punch which sounds innocent enough, but is really just rum, rum, rum, and a splash of grenadine juice. A Long Island Ice Tea, if tea was code for 150 proof rum. They’ve settled into a sort of half-hearted exchange of the usual topics that keep them occupied when there’s nothing more urgent to talk about. But the mundane topics seem to be a distraction from what Kat really wants to say.
After the waitress clears their glasses and leaves a fresh ashtray, Kevin asks, “Sak pase? You seem somewhere else. Trouble back home?” No answer from Kat so he asks, “Whatever happened with Jocelyn? You never told me the rest of that story.” He lights a cigarette and leans back in his chair as if, “I’m all yours.”. Kat smiles wanly and seems to have trouble meeting Kevin’s eyes. He leans in a bit closer and touches her hand briefly, before resting his elbows on the table and looking directly into Kat’s face. After he says nothing else, she lifts her eyes from the table and meets his. When Kat seems ready to continue Kevin says softly, “OK. Lay it out for me. What happened with Jocelyn?”
Kat takes a deep breath, and then it all comes out in a jumble. She had taken Jocelyn along to a meeting in Petionville with some vaguely evangelical church officials for new churches being planted for “outreach to the upper classes”. Ordinarily, Kat wouldn’t go near anything like that, but her NGO’s donors have been insisting that they work more closely with the missionary community. She continues, “There was this very charismatic preacher who brought his son along to be co-pastor for the first church. After their introduction, his son started a conversation with Jocelyn and by the end of the meeting, made her an offer to join their church planting team as a project manager. He explained the position would have a salary and room/board would be provided by the parish. He also mentioned the possibility of a US green card, so it seemed like an opportunity of a lifetime…”
Kevin’s nodding along and adds, “It always sounds like a good idea…” Kat sighs and her shoulders slumped. “I know, but at some point you have to believe God gets involved otherwise…” Kat’s face falls and she continues, “All I could offer was a school teacher position and that’s not exactly a promotion.” Kat takes a deep breath and continues, “So of course we supported Jocelyn’s decision to leave Education NGO and work for this new church.” She thinks while Kevin waits patiently. “I guess it was about six months ago. Right after that crazy coup-rumor night in Miragoane. We moved Jocelyn into the new pastor’s house, and then attended one of their services. They’d already asked her to lead the opening worship songs, so it seemed like a real good fit. I checked in with her when I was in the area. The pastors don’t have a house phone yet, so I missed her as often as I found her when stopping by.” Kat drifts away for a bit, but returns with a small shake of her head. “But Jocelyn always seemed happy, so I decided to give her some space to find her own way.”
Kat begins to sob, “Then last week, I stopped by to say hello. The younger pastor answered the door, and I almost didn’t recognize him because he’s gained so much weight. He said Jocelyn she was too busy preparing for Sunday services. I asked if I could just poke my head in and say hello. Then, the pastor leaned in close and said something like, “I don’t want to see you here again, and neither does Jocelyn. You need to let her move on!” Then he slammed the door in my face!”
Kevin sits upright, eyes wide as he takes a long swallow from his glass. Kat continues, “So I went back to the truck and was starting it up, when Jocelyn stepped out onto the back porch and waved to me. I saw that one side of her face was bruised and covered in bandages. I think the pastor must have told her to come inside but before she did, I’m pretty sure she gave me the HELP signal! We hadn’t practiced it in so long, but I think that’s what she was doing before she disappeared again.” Kat’s sobbing now, her face on her hands, tears flowing onto the dirty, barroom table. Kevin stands suddenly with his fists clenched, and Kat starts. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his fists, walks around the table, and gives her a hug. After a moment, he pats her on the back and asks, “When do they have services at that church?” Kat replies absently, “Every Wednesday night and Sunday. Why do you ask?” Kevin pauses long enough that Kat finally looks up and meets his eyes, “You’ll just have to trust me.”
Then Kat drives him back to the Education NGO guest house, where his Lada is waiting. “Give me a couple days and stay near that telephone, OK?” As Kat locks empties the LandCruiser’s glove box into her purse Kevin adds, “I have an idea, but it’s pretty flimsy. But less risky for Jocelyn than doing nothing. If it works out, you’ll get a call from a friend who will tell you where to drop Jocelyn off ‘for music practice’. Just pick Jocelyn up after the next church service and get her to that location.” Kevin looks over his shoulder to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “Kompran?” he asks her. “Dako”, Kat replies.