Night Nurse: An Afternoon in Negril

By Roland Reimer

Taylor has spent the winter in the laid-back beach town of Negril, Jamaica. Tomorrow, he’ll be catching a flight back home to Canada. But today he’s on his motorbike and he’s making his farewell tour of Negril. It’s a cool morning. He’s headed for the Out of Town Bakery for a roadside snack. Ahead he spots an attractive Jamaican woman walking along the shoulder of the quiet road. He slows down. She waves and calls out, asking him for a ride. This chance encounter is the opening gambit in what turns out to be an interesting afternoon in Negril.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Roland Reimer
• Release date: Mar 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301042388

Roland Reimer

Roland Reimer lives in Ottawa, Canada. He divides his time between air traffic control and writing. His first book was Walk Good - Travels to Negril, Jamaica. His first novel, 'Sunset Negril' is now available.

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Night Nurse

- An Afternoon in Negril -

A Short Story

by

Roland Reimer

By Roland Reimer

Copyright 2013 Roland Reimer

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Author’s Note:

Night Nurse is a work of fiction.

The names, characters, places, incidents and organizations depicted within the story are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The Pickup

I steered my scooter to the side of the road and switched the engine off. I was deep in the west end of Negril. I’d ridden from Orange Hill, via a circuitous route, and arrived at a point that was just west of the Westender Inn. To both sides of me were open fields; across the road were a villa, some trees, the cliffs, and beyond that, the Caribbean Sea.

I looked around me. Bougainvillea bushes in full bloom draped the stone walls that bordered both sides of the road with glorious cascades of pink blossoms. It was a clear and cool morning. Above, high in the deep blue sky, a raptor glided effortlessly on currents of air coming in from the ocean.

It was my last full day before heading back north. I’d been in Negril for three and a half months. Earlier, I’d decided to get out of the apartment that I’d rented and spend the day cruising around to all my favorite spots; hence the early ride out to Orange Hill, a picturesque little village nestled in the verdant back-country hills.

I guess you could call the ride my farewell tour. My steed was a rented bike, a black Honda equipped with a 125cc motor. I’d had the bike for my entire stay and it had served me well.

I sat astride the bike and removed my helmet. Wearing a helmet in Negril was a bit of an oddity. Virtually none of the locals wear helmets and most people who rent bikes, visitors to the island, don’t wear them either. But I do. Back home in Canada I ride my mountain bike on some gnarly off-road trails. Over the years I’ve had many ‘unscheduled dismounts’ and on one particular occasion I went over my handlebars and crashed the side of my head into a nasty chunk of granite. After that event I’d sat up and seen little birdies circling my head for a couple of minutes. I’m sure my helmet saved me from a serious brain injury that day. So I feel naked without one.

The helmet I was using came with the rental. It was painted bright yellow and had ‘TOUGH’ written across the front in bold black letters. I thought it was funny-ironic, ‘TOUGH’. Yeah. A Honda scooter with a mighty 125cc motor.