All things aside, you must know the important role Marie-Louise Coidavid and Marie-Madeleine Lachenais played in our very existence. I understand that finding information on them might have been difficult because they are relatively unknown in the larger scope of Haitian history, but as descendants of Marie-Louise Coidavid, we have access to letters that if included in your assignment would have elevated the quality of your paper. Instead, you wrote about these women as if they were simply the wives of powerful men. How inaccurate! They changed the course of my country and ensured this family’s survival. Were it not for an agreement between these two women, you wouldn’t even be around to string together those four weak sentences about them.
You have a lot to learn.
With that said, you are indeed coming to Haiti. Your flight leaves tomorrow. This is not a request, nor is it a vacation. It is a dose of reality. Your father says that you have already packed your bags for a lengthy stay. Thanks to his tireless efforts (and your parents’ donations) you will not be expelled. Instead, you will spend two months in what the school is calling a Spring Volunteer Immersion Project working under the watchful eye of both myself and your mother on all things PATRON PAL. And your other teachers have been gracious enough to allow you to finish up your coursework online. You will also be working closely with Jason, the intern that I mentioned to you a while back. He is responsible and should be a positive influence on you. I have been quite busy with some behind-the-scenes happenings and trust me when I say that I don’t need any more headaches than I’ve already got. Even if it’s coming from my very imaginative niece. You’ve been warned.
Tati Estelle
P.S. I’ll have roasted labapin waiting for you when you arrive if you promise not to get into any more trouble in the next 48 hours. If you do, I will have ble. The decision is in your hands. You have a lot to think about.
Thursday, January 21
The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant
My initial reaction after seeing my aunt’s email: okay. Did Tati Estelle not get the memo or does she need my dad to send a copy of one of his emotional intelligence pamphlets? And if she mentions that stupid intern One. More. Time! Responsible and a positive influence? Psh. He’s just trying to get a nice letter of recommendation at the end of his little internship. He’s the last thing I’m worried about. Him, and how my actions have come at an “inopportune” time for her. Not when her twin sister—my mother—is battling Alzheimer’s. ALZHEIMER’S.
I can’t stop reading about it online. You slip away little by little...or in a split second. That might be the scariest part. You don’t know what’s happening until it happens. And there isn’t much out there in terms of treatment. You’re sitting there, filing your nails, waiting for your brain to melt. I hate not being able to do anything.
“You can always do something.” My mom said that to me once when I was seven and complaining about some bully who kept messing with the quietest kid in class. It’s stayed with me my whole life. It’s part of why I want to be a journalist, to at the very least share information with the world so that more people can choose to act. But dreams can’t fix this. I can’t imagine how powerless Mom feels and this has cracked my heart in two.
But that was my initial reaction. Anger and frustration. How predictable of me.
Then I realized that my aunt is going to lose the person who knows her the best in the world. I might hide behind my hilarious jokes snark when I can, but everyone’s got their shields. Hers just happens to be putting on airs and going on like nothing’s wrong. If she wanted to chastise me about my project, she could join the club. Besides, she was right: the internet isn’t exactly teeming with information on Marie-Louise Coidavid and Marie-Madeleine Lachenais. And don’t even try searching only their first names. It’s Marie. That’s like the Haitian equivalent of Maria in Miami. They’re everywhere.
And even though me freaking out on my classmates seems even more justified now...I’ll take the get-out-of-jail-free card that is this volunteer experience.
My dad’s face was contorted into a terrifying grin as we sat across the panel of nuns who decided my fate. He was doing his best to remain calm as they handed down their judgment. When they finally said that I had to make up for my behavior by volunteering, my dad’s smile had only tightened as he said, “I have just the place for her to do this.”
Peter Logan’s dad gave in and stopped pressing for more punishment when he learned I would be away from his son for a couple of months. And that I was a huge reason why he wouldn’t have to repeat calc. (Again.) Not to mention, Peter’s life was saved because only I thought to give him his EpiPen shot. Let’s ignore the fact it was my fault his life was in danger to begin with. I suspect Dad told Sister Pollack privately about Mom’s diagnosis and she didn’t have the guts to kick out the girl who was already losing her mother. But she’s not lost yet. I may be doing community service for PATRON PAL, but I’ll also get to spend time with my mom, who still isn’t ready to come back to the States. That isn’t a penalty. It’s a gift. I gave Tatiana a heads-up that I wouldn’t be able to chat as much because my dad was giving me something called a “text messaging allowance” that was only for emergencies and part of my punishment.
The next afternoon when we arrived at the airport, my dad was silent as he helped me unload my luggage from the back of the car. My feelings about the trip hadn’t changed overnight and that was clearly etched on my face. My dad sighed deeply and pulled me in for a hug. He was always the first to cave. But when he did, I was soon to follow.
“I love you, Alaine,” he said as he held me tight.
“I love you too,” I grumbled, the remaining anger I had slowly deflating as my shoulders dropped. “I don’t mean to be a disappointment.”
“You could never be a disappointment, although your actions are sometimes disappointing,” my dad said with a small smile as he tilted my head up to look at him. “But you really need to learn to use your powers for good and not chaos.”
“I’ll try,” I said. I gave him one last tight squeeze before I gathered my things. “Check my closet.”
“Huh?”
“Your bread maker’s in my closet.”
I shrugged.
“Goodbye, Alaine!” he shouted as I headed into the airport. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”
The Life and Times of Alaine Beauparlant
My dad’s words were still swirling in my head as the plane eased to a stop on the runway. I was in Haiti. Ayiti. The Motherland. Would you believe me if I said that I instantly felt a connection to the people? I could feel the blood of my ancestors coursing powerfully through my veins. Intense pride swelled within my chest as I realized that I had returned to the country of my forefathersmothers.