The Heart of Revenge Read online

  “It’s perfect. Nothing’s wrong with it, it’s the exact length I wanted. It’s an Italian fit boo. This is the length it’s supposed to have. Not long down and sweeping the floor.”

  I didn’t want it to actually be touching the floor or sweeping it, but two inches more wouldn’t hurt either. It was close to showing his socks when he walked. But that’s how he wore all his clothes exact, close-fitted to his muscular sculpted body and bow legs.

  He had been smiling like a pleased chimpanzee as he tried on the suit, showing his two sharp and pointed teeth at either side of his mouth that made his smile stand out. He turned and wheeled around in the full length mirror. Checking out his suit at different angles. I imagined it was Ajrien in the suit. That it was Ajrien I was marrying.

  “Perfect.” He smiled, he spun his back to the mirror, holding the lapels of the white jacket, head turned behind him, smile widening.

  “This is perfect boo.” I walked out the room. It disrupted the smile on his face.

  “Where you going?”

  “To get something.”

  “What?” I reached by the long bladed knife in the kitchenette.

  “Something.”

  “What?”

  “Our favourite. Just wait.”

  I returned with some Grey Goose Vodka, two liquor glasses and no ice.

  “Lee?”

  “What? Stop acting like a girl.”

  “Lee!”

  “What?” I shrugged.

  “That’s your favourite, not mine. You know I turn into an idiot when I drink.”

  “Qwan, we celebrating. What’s better to celebrate, than with Vodka.”

  “Leeee.” His expression got stern. “I don’t want to drink no vodka.”

  “Baby please, you got to, we celebrating our marriage. You gonna be my husband in the next three weeks. Aren’t you happy?”

  “Not happy enough to beat and abuse you.”

  “Don’t worry. I can take it.” I poured out two full glasses, gulped down one in one heads-up and refilled mine.

  “Lee, I hate when I hit you, and you know that’s what the drinking does to me. I’m never drinking with you again. I’m serious this time. You not making me. This shit is tearing me apart.”

  “Hear me complaining?” He folded his forehead and squinted his eyes.

  “This shit needs to stop! I’m not drinking any Vodka and you need to STOP.” I went straight ahead and took a shot, drank half glass, one swallow.

  “This the only thing that makes me happy. Why you want to ruin me? Why won’t you make me happy?” I motioned the glass forward, “Drink.”

  “Stop being an ass Lee. Making you happy or hurting the only woman I love? Our marriage will be hopeless if you don’t kick that habit. Make any sense to you?”

  “Relax honey, just drink with me man. Let’s get ontop of the world. Whenever you do it with me, I’m on top of the world. Just the two of us in our crazy little world.” He smiled with disbelief, shook his head at my pressing determination. I wanted him to share the moment with me, live a little, be on the edge a little, be a bit more stern and aggressive with me, be like Ajrien.

  “You’re a nut case, you know that?” The look in his eyes sounded as if he was tired of this, “You’re damn crazy.”

  “We crazy boo. It’s our world, me and you, just me and you. Our crazy world.” I handed him the glass. He gently pushed it back to me with the back of his hand,

  “I can’t live with myself hurting you, I don’t want to.” I drank my glass empty and poured some more, thinking he is so soft sometimes; such a bitch. I wish he’d harden up, be a man. Drink.

  “Qwan please, just until we get married. I promise I won’t force you to drink with me after we are married.”

  “No ...” He stopped. Thought for the small time between two seconds. “Well, I will but...” his eyes were soft as he gazed into mine. “Promise me you will stop this drinking too.” He looked far into my eyes. “Please.” I didn’t answer, “Please Lee.”It sounded like forcing more than asking.

  “I promise.” I knew that promise was out of my league, but I lied. “I PROMISE Qwan.” He kept his gaze into my eyes, took the glass from me, drank a sip and walked into the kitchenette.

  I heard ransacking and rattles in the kitchen. What the hell?

  “What in the world you doing inside there Qwan?”

  “Keeping our promise.” Contrarily to the ransacking I heard, his voice sounded calm and level-headed.

  Things got louder. I heard glasses being smashed. ‘Spa-shenk! Spa-shenk! Spa-shenk!’ I hurled into the kitchenette. Damn. He got so violent when he drinks. It’s like he morphed into being a raging machine.

  “Already? You drunk!” He flung the last of the six bottles of Vodka into the wall. Broken Grey Goose bottles on the floor mixed with froths and bubbles. ‘Spa-shenk!’

  “You getting mad Qwan! Stop it, stop it!”

  “Only three weeks left. What the hell we gonna do with all this Vodka? Keep them here just to tempt you to pick up back drinking. A deal is a deal. No drinking after we are married?”

  I stomped over to him, my hand smite him right across his cheek, ‘CLACK!’ his face slashed around, his teeth seemed to clatter.

  “You! ... Wasteful!... Inconsiderate! ... Arrghh!” I searched for words. “Little ... fucker!”

  “That’s all?” He asked smiling, with his sexy side teeth surprisingly still in place. He grabbed me by the arm, pulled me in, the front of my body leaning on his white suit, belly to belly, I could feel his hard chest. I wiggled myself in an anger tantrum. He overpowered me to a calm. Looked into my eyes. I held my head down, not wanting to look back in his. He placed his finger under my chin, pulling my face skyward to his, kissed me, pressing his lips firmly into mine, his eyes closed. He spoke with his mouth so close to mine. His breath, so seductive.

  “I can’t wait to be your husband.” I rested my head into his chest with love, wrapped my arms around his obliques. Looked floorward. Sighed. A little more than a sigh, it was a longer exhale that travelled from below my heart. I felt as if I were building a mansion on quicksand. I wasn’t sure what to reply. I didn’t want to lie. I replied in a very simple tone,

  “I know.”

  I kept on building my mansion on the quicksand.

  CHAPTER 15

  Picture-woman Munchy

  by: Leelia Lexings

  Pinky’s friend, Munchy, the devil, would not have the decency in her to squat her ass down and stop taking pictures while Pastor Ellis is reading from the Bible. Pinky did zit to discourage it.

  The rotund Munchy, posed, leaning to her left, one hand on her knee holding her weight while the other hand akimbo. Pinky snapped the picture. Everyone in the church stoned them, dog rotten, with their hard stares of incredulity. That was exactly what the disruptive Siamese twins wanted- attention. Before Munchy could even tweet the picture, Pinky posed, pushing her elephantine bumper to Munchy’s BB phone.

  “Take mi picture. Catch this one Munchy.”

  The church was blessed with three bright flashes as Munchy snapped away in fantastic paparazzi style, spinning her BB flat, then tall, fitting Pinky in the screen, cross-way, - snapped, then longitudinally, - snapped.

  “Ladies!” Pastor Ellis eyes toad-out, his obese nose-hole widened, nose hairs sticking out of his two dark caves.

  “Take your seats!” His body jerked, his harsh voice rumbled in the church as if he had yelled through a mic.

  “This is not WEDDY WEDDY WEDNESDAY!”

  At the sound of the thundering command, Munchy froze, her face knitted and her eyes feistily piercing the pastor. Her bulgy ass reluctantly went downward to her seat, fingers pressing buttons on her BB as she jeered Pastor Ellis loud enough for the entire church to hear,

  “See you damn face look like bullfrog back. Bout take seats, hsst.” She plopped down her hind meat in the seat and stuck out her broad tongue, zipped it back in then rocked her head side to side, teasing,


  “ABAY make you ugly. You don’t cute! ABAAYYY!”

  The pastor resumed. Munchy snapped Pastor Ellis’ pic and tweeted. I could just imagine the caption under his handsome picture.

  “Will you take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?” The pastor looked to Qwan.

  CHAPTER 16

  An Heartfelt I Do

  by: Leelia Lexings

  Within an eye-beat Qwan answered firm and loud.

  “I DO!” And immediately sentimental water build up in my eyes.

  A burst of joy on Qwan’s face when he saw how overwhelmed and schmaltzy I was. He was mistaking my tears for tears of joy. He gazed deeper into my water-puddled eyes; he saw the truth. The joy crawled out his face and left it pale and his eyes weak. The water grew higher over my gray eyes. Qwan felt the hesitant shakes in my left hand he held on to.

  “And do you ...” Pastor Ellis turned to me, “take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?” Pastor Ellis smiled. Qwan’s hand that held mine shook, a slight twitch. I gazed. My heart racing, beads of sweat on my nose, my armpits felt clustered with the hot sweat forming. It made me feel even more uneasy. The sweat trickled down my underarm unto my strapless gown. I swallowed my spit, racing my thought. YES. No. Yes. What about lastnight? I shouldn’t marry him. He loves me but ... What about Vance? Maybe I’m marrying for the wrong reasons or do I really love Qwan... Maybe I can live with him forever without regretting this decision. I do love him. I am certain I do, but ... Well, it doesn’t matter, does it? All that matters is saving Vance. I’m his only hope. YES is my only option.

  I pressed my arm against my sticky hicky armpit trying to stop the sweat from running down without embarrassingly wiping under my arm. Heartbeats passed in silence, the agitation inside the church felt unnerving on my skin. I felt the eyes. They were all staring at my lips. Pure and complete silence. A silence so quiet, it seemed even the clocks stop ticking and were listening for an answer too because not even the clock ticking could be heard. No sound whatsoever. My heels all of a sudden felt uncomfortable. My legs straining to stand still. The silence spread so wide I could hear the softest wind blowing outside. Not just my foot, my whole body was uncomfortable and mind in disarray.

  I couldn’t get the words “I DO” out because of the throbbing bile in my throat. My throat was dry, better yet parched.

  Qwan touched his pink tie, jerked it a nudge. His adam’s apple went down then up and he had tiny globules of sweat forming a thin line across his upper lip. The church as silent as emptiness. A long hollow pause went by and persons shuffled their bottoms in their hard wooden seats.

  Qwan’s Dad, Micheal Douglas bald head flushed with sweat. I wasn’t sure if he actually wanted this wedding to go through. He had not smiled all day. He looked at me with some fire, some threat of a sort, couldn’t quite make out what those eyes meant but they were the same look he gave to Qwan when he was pissed off about something he did. Or maybe he’s fretting about what he had done and held under the wraps. He had to be, it was too scandalous. Terribly.

  Maybe he was wondering if that’s causing me not to say “I DO”. Trust me, it was more than enough reason to not say “I DO” to Qwan. Yes. I wasn’t talking about the rumours of him in his community of paying all the young girls who just begun to grow hair over their vaginas, to get a taste of it, a sample. And In return he’d offer them money and trips to foreign countries. Rumours had it that he couldn’t perform sex for over five minutes, but when it came to oral sex, he could suck a woman until she came enough times to make her whole body dry. I heard that some girls even asked him as a favour to have that tongual experience. I thought if Mr. Douglas was the last man on earth, I still wouldn’t let him do me, not in a million years. He was too disgusting and he gave me the creeps.

  It was only a rumour though. Micheal Douglas didn’t need to buy vagina and he wasn’t that type of person. He basically built the community I was from. He was the backbone; he had so many businesses there. He never forgot his roots and still gave charity handouts to many of the youths and unfortunates from the community and provided employment for many, including Mom. He took me in as his own when I was fourteen. He was a good man who could’ve easily became the Member of Parliament (M.P.) for our community, but he hated politics. In my eyes, Mr. Douglas was a respectable man, innocent until proven otherwise.

  What I caught him doing may’ve been a mistake or not. I wasn’t the type to stick my face in other people’s business but this secret I had for him was valuable and worth protecting. As bad as the rumours were, this was definitely more terrible than the rumours of him buying green vaginas as delicacies. It was much worse. Much worse. I swear.

  The awkward pause would not end. As a jockey, riding his horse for victory, with both reigns in hand jerks the reigns for the horse to giddy-up faster, so was the jerk Qwan gave my left hand. Sweat beginning to form small crystal balls on his forehead in the cool church. Persons were tossing in their seats watching my lips in immaculate silence. I spoke so low the pastor had to strain his ear to catch what I said.

  “I don't know.”

  A gawk of disbelief from Qwan. His firm grip widened and went loose from around my lifeless hand. A surprised “Huhhh!” escaped from the startled crowd in unison. Their loud gasp swept across the silent church with a hollow echo ringing through the tense air of the church. Their frightening shrill made my knees less strong, they felt like porridge, weak. I tried to keep standing and keep in my urine.

  Dad fidgeted with the sleeve of his oversized jacket, shoved his hand down his pocket and glanced over at the bridal party. They all had unblinking eyes and perspiration was building up on their foreheads.

  Pastor Ellis stopped looking through his glasses, instead he looked over them at me. He pulled his head back with a short neck movement as he tried to decipher the foreign language I had just spoken. Mom shouted. It was sharp and piercing through the pounding silence of the church. It was almost as if I could hear my ears beating, not like a drum but exactly like a heart would. Bo-dum! ...silence Bo-dum! Complete silence ... Bo-dum! Terrifying. Mom’s voice rang in my ears.

  “LEEE! Jesus Christ. Mi did dream ’bout this lastnight enuh!” I knew Mom was obliterated. I knew she was thinking of Vance. I knew me not saying yes was stabbing her in her heart with a cutlass. Killing her. I could hear it in the shakiness of her yell.

  Qwan’s neck went soft. He could barely keep his head up high. Too ashamed to look at the congregation, too ashamed to look at his family, too ashamed to look anywhere else but in the gray watery pupil of my eyes. His lips trembled, his blood too cold to speak. Pastor Ellis adjusted his gold frames on his nose, trying to clarify what he had heard, he asked,

  “What?.. What you mean?”

  The shame and embarrassment in Qwan motioned his anger. He made a powerful swift tug on my hand. Squeezed it with a hurt-filled and pitiful heart. I felt disgusted at what I was doing, it was difficult. I could either lie to Qwan and rob him of his money to save my brother, or tell him the truth, rip his heart to pieces and watch my brother die. In his eyes were earnest sincerity and desire to be my husband. His eyes went narrow, half shut and so intense it seemed as if they were screaming at me. I felt his confusion, his rage, his hot blood. Munchy snapped a picture.

  My brain pleated in contemplation. Should I forgive Qwan? But Vance? All these thoughts were flying through my head in less than two seconds. I couldn’t even process Pastor Ellis’ question the way I was confused and lost in my own tug -of-war decision. What the pastor had asked me before? ... I heard his words, but they just didn't stick to my senses. The flurry of emotions in my chest rose in a rough tidal wave choking the windpipe in my neck. If I tried to speak it would sound crackly. I looked in the crowd. I wasn’t willing to let go my tears; a single one slipped from the corner of my eye. No yes, no, yes, speeding through my head. The air started to smell of perfume and old clothes mixed with perspiration, as if everyone was sweating and I was certain somebody in th
e crowd didn't bathe, because there was a stench of moldy arm, I wasn’t saying that water didn't touch their skin, but that person definitely didn't bathe, maybe just a quick wipe up or tidy. The frowsy scent was really close. I think it’s the pastor. Pastor Ellis didn’t bathe.

  The air in the church felt hotter. My neck sweating. The silence was blank and the congregation was all staring at me. I made up my mind. What I decided scared me. My heart’s swirling around in the bottom of my belly. I wanted to use the toilet.

  I breathed out, looked at the time on the wooden clock. My voice rickety almost clickety clack rather than a confident tone as I answered louder than I did before.

  “I.. I...I” I stuttered, “I don’t know.”

  My left hand that Qwan held was like a rattle snake. I tried my best to keep it steady, tried my best to keep my eyes out of his. My heart felt the biggest I had ever felt it, as if it was swollen. My heavy heart crashing in my ribcage with every heavy thud it made, ‘bo-dum, bo-dum, bo-dum’. Over and over again. The congregation all together swept another gasp at my answer sounding like they all sucked in their breaths at once, a big loud and definitely frightened “Huuhhh!”

  But this time they didn't remain silent after the gasp, instead a sheet of gossiping spread over the stunned congregation. Everyone was turning their heads around to suss with whoever they could. I felt embarrassed. The whispering blather from everyone summed up to a loud scandalous chatter. Shock and disbelief stood stiff in everyone’s eyes. Mom desperately tried for me not to screw up everything. She pelted out at the tip of her voice, almost bursting her lungs,

  “LEELIA!”

  The tip of Mommy’s Chanel heels must have been real sturdy how loud it sounded each time her heel hit on the hard floor running over to me.