Marked For Love

Shemroy Cusbert would have preferred to let his cell phone ring out in his pocket and focus on the road. But a quick check revealed that it was his mother. So, he answered. All while weaving through crowds of people who, like him, were exiled from the sidewalk by vendors.

“Shem!”

“Ma?”

“Where yuh deh?”

“Going to work ma. Ah can’t talk-”

“Shem, yuh hear Chris getting baby? Baby number three for he and Solanje.”

Chris? Shemroy knew many Chrises. Chris Lashley, his former classmate who joined CANU- Customs Anti-Narcotics Unit? Well, he died in a shootout two years ago, so Shemroy doubted Ma meant him. Chris Halsey, the carpenter down the road? He had seven kids, including two born to two child mothers. After he got married. Chris Parris? Ma’s former student, who she constantly held up as the gold standard of manhood?

“Which Chris, ma?”

“Which other Chris ah gon talk about Shem? Parris, wuh does wuk in d bush. Wuh building de two storey down at d back. Duh Chris.”

A bus passed perilously close to his elbow, causing him to jump and almost drop the phone. Shemroy wedged himself between two vendors in a corner on the sidewalk. He sighed as his mother launched into a five-minute sermon on Chris’ virtues.

There was a brief pause that told him ma had two minutes remaining on the call before her credit ran out. Shemroy took his chance.

“Ma, ah lil late fuh work here. Ah gon come see yuh this weekend.”

“Yuh coming and bring this girl fuh see me?”

‘This girl’ was a reference to Pauline. Unfortunately, Pauline had broken up with him last week because she had had an epiphany that “he wasn’t the right man for her and he was incapable of changing.” Whatever that meant.

“Soon, ma, soon. Pauline busy with work,” Shemroy lied, keeping a close look out as he leaned against the wall. The vendors and other sales people tried to catch his attention. He shrunk from them.

“I want you and she get busy with giving me grandkids. You’ze thirty five now Shem. Wuh gon be yuh legacy?”

“Ah gotta go-”

Her voice turned quivering. “Shem, you mean fuh tell me if I dead tomorrow I na gon see no grand-”

The line went dead and Shemroy sighed with relief. A knot he hadn’t even realized had formed in his stomach, released itself. He resumed his journey to work with double the haste.

Once at work, Shem had to listen with downcast eyes to his marketing manager lecture him about being on time. That out of the way, he took his seat and logged into facebook. The ad was the first thing he saw.

TIRED OF NOT FINDING LOVE? DREADING CLASS REUNION BECAUSE ALL YOUR CLASSMATES ARE GROWN AND MARRIED?

Not for the first time, Shemroy wondered if facebook had been listening in on his calls.

MARKED FOR LOVE IS HERE TO HELP YOU WITH YOUR FOREVER LOVE… FOR ONLY $7500. CALL AND MAKE A RESERVATION.

Shemroy stroked his chin. Did he want to find love? Not particularly. Did he want his mother off his back about giving her grandchildren?

He quickly clicked open the post in search of a phone number or address.

Shemroy found neither, so he headed to the comments. He had to scroll past fifteen persons asking for a price, before he found one asking for a phone number. This was the only comment the page responded to.

“Them people right fuh ignore yall,” Shemroy muttered under his breath, gesturing at his computer screen . He copied the number on his phone. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of his coworkers peering at him from around her computer. “De damn price deh right deh!”

A man with a deep voice answered on the fifth ring. “Marked for love, this is Mark speaking.”

Shemroy paused. “You said… your name is Mark?”

“Yes sir. Are you calling about my service?”

“I am…”

The man chuckled. “I get this alot, sir. And yes, you heard right. My government name has been Mark Angelo these past thirty nine years.”

Shemroy snickered. “And I deh here thinking you actually marked people for love.”

“Those two things are not mutually exclusive,” the man said, his voice abruptly serious. “What if I told you my name is Mark… andddd I can mark your next wife for you?”

“Ah would ask you how?”

“Technology, my friend, technology,” Mark said. “Two ten, fourth street, Bel Air gardens. I have a slot this afternoon at five I can fit you in.”

Shemroy wrote down the address and repeated it to Mark, sure he had gotten it wrong. He hadn't.

“Alright good.”

~

After work, Shemroy took a bus that passed on the main road using the scenic route- seawall to locals. Walking through the well kept streets of Bel Air, he was conscious of twitching curtains and curious glances. He tried to focus on finding the place.

He didn’t have long to look. Soon, he saw a MARKED FOR LOVE sign outside of a little, green, pharmacy looking building. Shemroy inched his way around the heavily tinted white Honda Vezel parked on the bridge and went inside.

A burly security guard dressed in black got up from a stool by the door and scanned him with a metal detector. As he did so he kept blinking rapidly.

“Yuh alright champo?” Shemroy asked, his brows knitted in concern.

The guard smiled.

“I'm fine sir,” he said pleasantly. “It’s just the heat. Are you Mr. Angelo’s five o’clock?”

“Yes.”

“Right this way sir.”

Shemroy followed the guard’s broad back through the foyer and down a hallway. The powder blue office walls were empty and sterile. The former he could understand was due to the late hour. But the latter? It was as if the landlord had told Mark or whoever operated this place, to leave the wall as they found it.

The guard led Shemroy to a brown door with a nameplate that read ‘Mark.’

“Enter,” the deep voice from the phone called from within.

Shemroy twisted the door knob and opened the door. He had to pause to take in the office. Unlike outside, this office wall was a deeper blue. Additionally, this office had pictures. Several of them. As well as a basketball on a shelf.

A man rose from behind a huge oak desk. He was very tall, with an imposing physique that was obvious even through his working clothes. His white striped sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscled, caramel brown forearms. The man held an icepack to the side of his bald head. And his beard was well trimmed, but streaked with white. Everything about him looked put together.

What struck Shemroy, though, was the man’s eyes. One was dark, with the white of his eye clear. The other was electric blue and reddened.

“Mark Angelo?” Shemroy asked tentatively.

“At your service,” Mark said, stretching out his hand. Shemroy took it, receiving a vigorous handshake. “Please, sir, have a seat. I can have the guard bring you some refreshments if you like.”

Shemroy took the seat, looking around. “Daz alright.”

Mark put down the icepack and groaned, picking up a bottle of painkillers. “Been troubling with migraines of late. Pressures of running a business. Hope you understand, Mr…”

“Cusbert. Shemroy Cusbert,” he squinted at a framed certificate from John Hopkins University in a corner of the wall. “You’ze a doctor?

“Yes,” Mark said, wincing. “A fact I don’t like advertising, unless necessary. To everyone, I’m just Mark.”

“Doctor of what?” Shemroy asked, curious.

“Psychology. I have a PhD. In fact, both me and my wife have PhD’s. Her’s is in Neurotechnology.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Yes… so lets get down to business,” Mark said, handing Shemroy a clipboard with a questionnaire. Shemroy raised an eyebrow. “Just some questions. All new customers have to go through this, so I can better understand the type of partner you’re compatible with.”

Shemroy skimmed the page. There were basic questions pertaining to name, age, date of birth and marital status. Strangely enough, there was a question asking him if he had a phobia against contact lens. But then there were questions like ‘what are the prerequisites for an egalitarian society’ and ‘what are your views on the state of politics in Guyana’. Shemroy looked up. Mark was watching him intently.

“Oh I don’t pay attention to politics,” Shemroy said as he filled in his information. “I gah enough thing to study. Can I skip dem questions?”

A look of disappointment crossed Mark’s face. “Questions requiring your subjective viewpoints are optional. I can’t control you and tell you to answer them. But I would appreciate it if you did. Politics is indispensable to human life. And all are involved, all are consumed.”

“Me ain’t answering them,” Shemroy said, as he finished filling out the form and handed it back to Mark. “And dats final. Now, tell me about this service you do.”

Mark opened a draw and took out a palm sized container like the ones used for ear buds. He connected this to a laptop and spent several minutes typing, while glancing at the questionnaire Shemroy had filled out. When he was finally finished, he unplugged it and handed the container over. Inside were… contact lens.

“Wuh’s this?”

“My wife and I developed it,” Mark said, his face excited. “We call it the Markissa 4- basically combining our two names. Her name’s Nerissa. Anyway, it literally marks your soulmate. While you’re wearing it and going about your daily life, it’ll show you the person you’re meant to be with. I programmed it to identify your ideal partner, based on your answers to the questionnaire.”

Shemroy stared at it skeptically. "How?"

"Biometric scanner," Mark said, steepling his fingers. "Quite advanced."

“I may have said no, I don’t have any phobias, but me ain’t want me eye turning like yours.”

Mark laughed. “Your eye won’t turn like mine. I have a special lens. Please, try it on.”

Shemroy did, blinking his eyes rapidly. The lens fit comfortably over his right eyeball. He looked at Mark and smiled. “I surprised it feel so comfortable… how long it does take to work?”

“Something usually shows up within three days, if you’re following your usual routine,” Mark said, then grimaced. “Although its not unheard of, persons getting a reading right in this office. In case that happens, I don’t swing that way. Just letting you know.”

They laughed about this as Shemroy handed over his money. He was still chuckling when he had left the office and stood on the road under the cool, clear dusk sky.

~

Regret assailed Shemroy during the journey home along the East Bank of Demerara.

Did he waste $7500 he barely had, on a product that would never work? He had deliberately walked up regent street and through the bus park.

During his walk, he must have crossed paths with at least a hundred women. And the only remarkable thing to happen all night was him passing a junkie dancing on his tip toes by the bus park.

He was considering calling Mark and asking for a refund when he saw it. A thermal heat signature passing him in a blur through the window.

“Anyway round here! Right here, right here!” Shemroy shouted at the top of his lungs over the bus music.

The bus came to a wobbly stop, but not without grumblings from the conductor. After he had paid and began the long trek back, he had time to think about what he would say. Or so he thought.

By the time he reached the girl bathed in thermal light, he still had no idea what to say to her.

She was selling dog food at the road corner. Beautiful, with dark skin, arched brows, perfect teeth visible as she laughed at a message in her phone. And an upturned nose. Her glossy edges were laid and her tightly knitted braids fell down to the small of her back.

A sign on her wooden stand said ‘KEZIAH’S DOG FOOD’.

“Yea?” she asked, smacking gum.

“Hey,” Shemroy said, nervously twisting his bag strap.

Then he straightened and raised his chin. He had been bold enough to stop his bus, five villages from his home, and approach a complete stranger to try to hustle her. If there was ever a time to be brave, it was now.

“I like you,” was what he came up with.

Keziah laughed. “Yuh know how much men does pull up in their cars to buy dog food and tell me they like me? And you ain’t even buy nothing. Wuh I supposed to do with this information? Go in de shop tomorrow and tell de shop lady, hey this bai like me. Please fuh a bag ah sugah?”

Shemroy blushed, digging into his wallet for money. “Sorry. My bad. Ah could get yuh number though?”

Keziah, who had been reaching for the money, froze. “I got a boyfriend, so no. Yuh not getting my number. Might as well keep yuh money.”

Shemroy, who had no dogs and would not in a million years get one, shook his head. “Still give me de dog food. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Soljuh man, if is a sale yuh giving me then is no bother,” Keziah said. She laughed as she took the money and handed the bag of dog food over. “Better luck next time with some other gyul.”

The transaction complete, there was nothing left for Shemroy to do but walk up the road and wait for the next bus.

~

Shemroy was waiting for him when he pulled up the next morning in his tinted white Vezel.

“Mr. Cusbert,” Mark said, after he exited his SUV and put on the alarm with his fob. The businessman wore a navy blue slacks, a white short sleeve shirt with tiny roses all over it and Oakley sunglasses hiding his mismatched eyes. He carried a brown leather working bag. “Technically, I’m not open for business yet.”

“Technically, I want muh money back.”

Mark paused and looked at him. “What happened?”

Shemroy detailed all that happened last night, gesturing at his eye as he did so. Mark listened, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed in the distance. When he finished, Mark frowned. “But from what you’re telling me, last night was a success.”

“A success!” Shemroy spluttered. “A success!”

“Yes, a success.”

“She wasn’t my soulmate!”

“Maybe at another time, when she was single, she would have been,” Mark said patiently. He disengaged the alarm and rested his bag down on his car hood. “But let me ask you this. Would you have stopped a bus, miles away from your home, to ask a random girl for her number if you weren’t using my product?”

That gave him pause. “No,” Shemroy admitted.

“When is the last time you had the courage to go up to a girl you liked and tell her you liked her?”

Shemroy didn’t answer.

“Years ago, when my wife and I first met as undergrads at John Hopkins, we collaborated on my school project. Dozens of single students, male and female, participated. We followed them for a week as they tried to get dates with their crushes and with random college students. Forty three per cent success rate. Then we used the contact lens she was developing. An early prototype, mind you. Reprogrammed it and gave our participants. Eighty seven per cent success rate in only five days!”

Shemroy considered this. “So, it was never about de lens?”

Mark smiled.

“Oh, it was about the lens. But last night? That confidence you showed?” He jammed his finger in Shemroy’s chest. “That’s your starting point for getting your forever love.”

Shemroy smiled, but that quickly changed to a look of horror. “But what if I was some psychopath? Or some banna who couldn’t take no for an answer?”

“I’m a psychologist by profession,” Mark said, picking up his bag and patting Shemroy on the shoulder as he passed him. “I evaluate all my clients from the moment I start talking to them. And I evaluated you.”

Mark left Shemroy to his thoughts to open his store. After a while Shemroy began walking aimlessly. He should have been on the way to work. Instead he found himself headed for the seawall.

Once there, the sun beat down on his skin and vehicles zipped past on the road below. As he sat there thinking, he ignored the curious stares his presence on the wall attracted. It occurred to him that once upon a time, he would have been too self conscious to sit on the seawall by himself. Much less during the high day time.

A middle aged woman came jogging by, one of the few to dare exercise mid morning on the seawall. Other fitness lovers tended to wait until late in the afternoon.

“Excuse me,” Shemroy said, putting his hand out. The woman stopped, startled, and took out her ear buds.

“Yes?”

He pointed to her bottle of water. “Can I have some of that?”