A 7-year hitch, and now bye?

In the dark basement of the Montserrat Aspirers Club in Dorchester, elderly men played dominoes on a Friday night. Their younger counterparts inched shyly toward well-dressed women sipping Courvoisier at the bar. The food was good, the conversation flowing and there was no hint that in a couple of months, some of the regulars might be gone.

By February, Milton resident Peter White could be missing from the dominoes table, and Anita Lynn Weekes of Dorchester may no longer lord over the karaoke machine that plays her favorite reggae songs. They likely will be back on the tiny Caribbean island of Montserrat, living under the same dangerous conditions that forced them to leave in the first place.

White and Weekes are two of about 292 Montserratians who for the past seven years have lived in the United States under ''temporary protected status," which the US government granted after a 1995 volcanic eruption on the British-controlled island forced thousands to flee. The Department of Homeland Security announced in July that because the volcano remains active, conditions won't be safe in the foreseeable future. The perilous situation, therefore, is permanent and the refugees' ''temporary" status no longer valid.

Since then, some Montserratians in the Boston area have tried to lobby for a reversal, writing congressmen and alerting the public through the media.

Others, like Weekes, just want to ignore the deadline as long as they can.

''When people talk to me about it, I get depressed," she said. ''When that day comes, I just deal with it."

Galvanizing the public with demonstrations isn't a priority, she said. ''I'd rather keep my mouth shut. I'm not a fighter."

That November night at the club, located on Washington Street since 1994, Weekes said she did not know exactly who ''had TPS," or temporary protected status, and who didn't.

No one asks, and few will volunteer the information, according to club officers.

''We've tried to do outreach, but still not everybody has come out of the woodwork," said Codrington Barzey, club president. ''Fear is the biggest thing, and just not wanting people to know your status. Monsterratians are very proud people. They work hard. They're not eligible for welfare [under temporary status], so they've had to work. They're proud of what they've achieved, and they're hurt they're about to lose it all."

They are not, however, without hope. Club members are counting on a bill New York Senator Charles E. Schumer introduced in September that would give permanent residency to nationals living under temporary protected status. Marsha Meade of Whitman, along with a coalition of other Montserratians, will visit Senator Ted Kennedy's office next month to obtain his support of the bill.

Meade, who will have to leave with her daughter Enya, 7, has also been pushing nearly all of the state's 10 US representatives to support a similar bill in the House by Representative Major R. Owens, a Brooklyn Democrat. Meade said most have agreed to support it. Representative Michael Capuano is still ''reviewing" the bill, said an aide.

But hope is fading. White joined a ''TPS committee" the club formed around August to lobby for a change in status, or at least an extension of the Feb. 27 deadline.

''I don't know what we thought we could accomplish," he said. The presidential elections drew attention away from the Montserratians' plight. And now, with Congress in recess until Jan. 4, all the nationals can do is wait until the new session convenes and the bill is reintroduced. But some fear that even if it gets to the Senate Judiciary Committee, it will languish as other bills have. White's son, an American citizen, has filed an application for permanent residency on his father's behalf. It is the last chance for White to stay in the country, unless Congress acts before February.

''I have an option, unlike most people," he said.

Dan Kane, spokesman for the US Citizenship and Immigration Services, said the agency has no choice but to revoke the status. ''The situation in Montserrat we thought at the time would be temporary," he said. ''This is a permanent situation and we cannot in all honesty tell the American people that this is a temporary situation."

Montserratians, he said, have some options. Those who entered the country legally can change their status if they marry a US citizen, and those who leave can seek refuge in the British Isles. Barzey, however, said many Montserratians fear the trauma of having to settle into a new country again, especially after accomplishing so much here, like buying homes and finding jobs.

The weakness of the dollar and bleaker job prospects in Britain hardly make it an attractive alternative, said Vera Weekes, assistant director of the Caribbean Research Center in Brooklyn, N.Y., and no relation to Anita Lynn. But if Feb. 27 arrives and there aren't any other options, Weekes believes many will move to Europe.

''It's that or starve in Montserrat," she said.

Anita Lynn Weekes, who will have to leave with her two daughters and 1-year-old grandson, can't fathom returning. Her house in Montserrat was destroyed by the volcano's ashes, and finding a job would be nearly impossible.

''There is nothing for me at home," Weekes said.

She said she and her daughters cry at home about their uncertain future, but come Friday night, it's time to forget trouble. Rain or snow, Weekes hits the club almost every week after her work as a nanny for a Back Bay family. The club on Washington Street was a refuge from the loneliness she first felt in Boston, once a strange city but now home.

''I can't imagine leaving," Weekes said as she waited for the night's MC to start the karaoke machine. But she can't imagine staying illegally, either, she said.

''I don't want to stay, walking the streets, looking over my shoulder," she said. Weekes stared into her plastic cup of Courvoisier and coconut, then took a sip.

''I don't know why they're doing this," she said.

Maria Cramer can be reached at mcramer@globe.com.