She left too soon

Born Mercedes Concepcion Herrera or Marcy as she called herself and forced everyone else to by not

answering to any other name, was a descendent of the aristocratic Herreras from Spain, who came in

the late1500’s to this then sleepy backwater of Trinidad and formed the ruling class or Cabildo as

owners of plantations and its slaves. Her great grandfather, Enrique Pepito was the youngest son who

had to find his own fortune as all the family’s wealth now belonged to his elder brother who was not

sharing. The only largesse he received from him was a one way trip to the West Indies. He was one of 

the first to grow and export cocoa from his plantation in Siparia. Now in the 1950’s the family had

amassed a great deal of wealth because cocoa had become one of the more lucrative crops to produce.

Marcy had inherited all her great grandfather’s aristocratic upbringing. She also went to the best schools

in Europe and her father insisted she learn Castilian Spanish, which kept her in Spain for three years. She

had dark brown eyes and could look black when she was angry though she didn’t say a word. She

prefaced all her interventions with, “Don’t you think…,” with a tone that carried the distinct intimation

that you were definitely below her. She went to church every Sunday because her mother made her and

she didn’t have to meet anybody as they had their own box in the loft along with the DeVertuiles of 

French extraction and the Hobsons; thoroughly English, snob nose and all.

Generally she was not allowed to go out alone but she wanted to go to the Siparia fete. The morning

was the feast of La Divina Pastora where with her head covered with a mantilla, followed the

procession along with her mother, who told her it would help pay for her to get out of purgatory sooner.

She snuck out that night and was having a grand time when her eyes fell on cinnamon skin and hazel

brown eyes that were looking right at her. The next thing she knew she was dancing a slow waltz held by

strong hands that delicately moved her, this way and that without much effort. At last it was time to go

home but she didn’t want to and they sat talking on a low wall near to the hall. Eventually she had to

leave but not before agreeing to meet again. This they did for some time until she decided it was time

they got married. One night, leaving a note for her parents walked out their home and went to his. Her

parents tried to talk some sense into her but it was to no avail. They eventually got married and moved

to Point Fortin where he found a job in the oil fields. But things weren’t all wine and roses and one day

she left, went back to her parents who sent her to America where she went back to university.

“Hey, Marcy, are you signing up to go to Ghana with Dr. Gibbs?” 

“I’m thinking about it.” 

“Well you’d better think fast, today is the last day.”

“Are you going?” 

“Why don’t you come with me for company?” 

“Well I haven’t got any plans for the next six months, might as well.”

Marcy went with her friend Jane, an energetic, young, down to earth friend. She remained for seven

years living in a house they built themselves. There were a few young men in their team who did the

 

heavy work, while the ladies did the painting and sprucing up. They had gone to the villages and built

schools to help the people, teaching them how to find water and build septic tanks. They also taught at

the schools and instituted a nutritious feeding programme and were responsible for the day care centre.

This was the part she loved best, playing with the little ones and learning so much from their mothers.

There was so much to do and so much to learn but she stuck with it till she could do most things as

though she were born to it.

Now seven years later this was her life.

This is all my fault. What have I done, maybe I should have stayed for the children. Now candy is dead

and jimmy is in jail, and no one knows where Petey is.

Marcy held her head in her hands as she sat next to her dead daughter’s bed. How long ago was it since

she last saw them? Candy was still a baby, just two years old when she left. She could not take it then.

All the shame of dressing her children in hand me downs, wearing clothes that were a hundred years old

or at least that’s how they felt. It was only the shame of going to her parents for hand outs and letting

them know the squalor in which she lived that kept her from going to them years ago. That was not how

she was brought up. They gave her everything she wanted but this proud man she married wanted

nothing from his in-laws, so she had to make do.

She turned her head to look at her husband who was still talking to the doctor. Will he believe I have

changed? I miss my children so much. Will he lift the ban on me seeing them? When I left he said I could

go but the children remain. I was young then and the daily chores of looking after children and home

were too much for me. I grew up never having to lift a finger for myself. How was I expected to look

after children? Now they are strangers to me and I to them. How can I make this work?

He turned to her and said, “I still love you.” 

She said, “Me too. Let’s find Petey.”  

 

COLLEGE OF SCIENCE TECHNOLOGY AND APPLIED ARTS

OF TRINIDAD AND TOBAGO

Department of Languages, Literature and Communication

Studies

Creative Writing [Engl. 270] CRN12108

Assignment #2

Lecturer: Rhoda Bharath

Student: Margaret Richardson # 00028629