We met another woman with barbie-pink lips so big they comprised a full 17% of her face, who when I asked what brought her to Jamaica, placed a two-inch-long barbie talon to her lip, thoughtful, and said, "I didn't have a passport, and I put off getting it for a long time because my life was too stressful, then I got a passport, then I was like where should I go? I'll go to Jamaica!"
We met a third woman, a local, with a five year old daughter and a babydaddy dead from cancer. Local woman has hazel eyes and the green sparkles when she talks about her life and her daughter and her hardships and, when my husband leaves for a moment to pay the check, how upset she is at not having the money to send her daughter to school on Monday. She leans over and tells me in her thick accent that a friend promised her the money, then backed out on the promise. "But then," she says, "I guess they weren't a real friend after all" and the green pierces.
Oh.
Everyone has a story.