The Heart of Revenge Read online

  She snagged my arm above my elbow with the brute force of a Pinky. Thoughts racing through her head, she whispered in my ears, and tears came down my eyes, dripping spots of water slightly brown from the makeup it rolled over and washed away. It fell on the breast of my white wedding dress. Mom asked,

  “What about your brother eeh? Vance? You going make him dead?”

  The pink cushion with the ring fell from out Loriel’s tiny hand. The solid white gold made a soft metallic dingle when it hit the tile. ‘Bing’...bounced... ‘bing-bing’. Rolled, fell flat ‘bingy-lingy-ling’. Stopped just by Qwan’s white shoes. Another loud shout came. From the sound of it, it sounded like Pinky,

  Hey BOM—-!” Yes, it was Pinky.” Hey mad gal Leelia, stop act like a frigging infidel! You a novice or what?”

  Pastor Ellis’ saltfish breath was urging me to answer with a roughness “YES or NO ... CHILDDDD!” The tip of his tongue hit the pink ceiling of his mouth and he held it still as he prolonged the pronunciation of his last word, “CHILDDDD!”

  Munchy snapped a picture.

  CHAPTER 17

  My White Gold Wedding Ring

  by: Leelia Lexings

  Before I could answer Pastor Ellis, Vance shot straight up out of his seat. He jumped up so wild and so much out of control of what he was doing that his hip clashed into the front row infront of him, bumping it forward and caused the people in the front row to make some slight commotion. He made a spectacle as he dug pass everyone sitting in the row to get out. Everyone in the front row flashed their heads around to see what was the matter. Why was he so shaken by the whole ordeal? His eyes avoided eye contact with everyone and he looked over their heads, keeping his eyes focused on the second door, the same wooden door Ms. Merl had come through.

  He walked brisk, then hurried, ran, then went into a sprinting dash through the door. The church all wondered why, but Mom knew. I knew. Mom’s eyes flooded as she watched her dying son’s back bolted through the door, ran pass the willow tree and through the church gate.

  It was his escape. Too proud to let the entire church see him crying. He never looked back.

  Qwan bent to pick up the ring at the side of his shoe, but as he did so, he went down slow, as if he was unsure, his mind telling him let it stay there, thinking, this wedding made no sense now, already embarrassed, too embarrassed to go on with the wedding. He stood straight, both hands at the side of his white pants, none of his hands having the ring. Empty hands. The ring was there on the tile and we both stared down at it, the entire church did too. The church was a shuffle when Vance sped through the door but now, now it’s, it’s silent, so silent. I heard the wind blowing through the big willow tree, ‘wooeee ... wooeee .... wooeee’ and I didn't know why, but I took it as an omen, as a sign of warning, calamity ahead - WOE. I knew worse was yet to come.

  In some sort of way Loriel seemed to feel what was going on, though she was so young. Somehow she could feel the tension in the entire church, read everyone’s face, no one was smiling. The skippiness vanished from her face, her little princess dress was still pretty but her face was not. It wasn’t that her face wasn’t pretty. No, not that. It was worried, like everyone’s face in the church was, as if the worry was a contagious disease and it infected the child. In a hesitant and careful motion, her small jejune fingers picked up the ring from whence it had fallen and remained. Mom brutishly snatched the ring from out Loriel’s hand and stretched her arm at me, the ring in the middle of the bald hairless portion of hand. The ring had grains of dust clung around the white gold. It wasn’t glistening much anymore, maybe it too had a sad-face or a face of worry of what’s to come next. Mom spoke,

  “Here.”

  She grabbed my wrist and forced the ring into my hand. She stared at me stern, penetrated my eyes. Her jaws tensed and it was as if Mom was sending me a silent message, or stronger, a silent threat. Of course she was. She had carefully devised this plan six years ago and today I was on the verge of wrecking it. Tearing away all her hopes from her chest of saving her only begotten son.

  I looked away from her fiery stare, opened my hand and looked at the ring. There was no dust on it anymore. It was glistening, a sign of hope perhaps. More tears came to my eyes as I realised that my whimpish actions would not only kill Vance, but I was killing Mom at the same time too. I had to do what I had to do. Inside, I forgave Qwan for everything he had done. A tear fell in my hand, and another fell. It made a tiny splash on the ring. The pastor spoke,

  “Ms. Lexings ...” He then paused a beat.

  I slowly turned my head up from the ring in my palm, looked at the pastor, my vision blurry with tears. I rubbed my wrist across both my eyes, rubbing back and forth as if dust had blown in my eyes.

  A voice broke off the Pastor before he spoke again,

  “Lee, stop behave like mascot nuh!” Everyone looked at Pinky’s loud mouth, her lips covered in bright red. The pastor continued his question,

  “Will you take him Ms. Lexings?” This time Pastor Ellis spoke calm and patient, he waited on my reply as he sensed my battle inside. He saw the bloom of my love for Qwan conquering all else, waited on my internal turmoil to stop boiling, simmer, reach to a calm, a solid decision. He stood there lay-waiting my answer. The entire church did, all waiting in silence. Munchy tweeted. The yes may have come a long time sooner if it were Ajrien.

  Qwan saw the positive vibe that was returning to me. His eyes revitalised. Everyone eye’s were staring at me so intensely that their stares felt like pointed needles sticking all over and into my skin, even though it was my lips they were all staring at for my response. As I tried to make my answer come through my parted lips, my knees felt totally useless and my lungs were beating like a heart so bad I couldn’t talk. Not speaking, too anguished to find a voice in my throat, I shook my head, nodding in approval, yes. I do.

  I cleared my choked throat with a “Ahem-em” and mustered up all the power in my voice to say ‘I do’ aloud this time, so all the church could hear. I opened by mouth and a brawling commotion at the church door interrupted. What the hell was going on?

  It was an onslaught of attacking badwords spleening violently. In a church? At my wedding? The biggest day of my life? Who the hell was this? I spun to the direction of the door. The girl had a teenage-mutant-ninja-turtle shape, Donatello. She was charging into the church, pointing directly at Qwan. A hot fever took me over as I sensed the cataclysmic mayhem and debacle that’s about to take place in less than thirty seconds. I grew cross, angry, miserable, gnashed my teeth. I couldn’t believe the choice of a scalawag Qwan was cheating with. This definitely didn’t look good on me. She was nowhere close to my class, not by a long shot. How could Qwan stoop so low? She was a jezebel.

  My body flustered with trepidation and stirred with discomfiture. And only if Judas was an hypocrite, then so was I. Because buried inside, I felt a quenching burst of glee, a cheer, to know Qwan was wrong to have been cheating, it was like I had recovered from my hesitancy of saying ‘I do’, and now all the blame was on him. One question was in constant rotation in my mind. Who is this bitch? Who is this bitch? Who the hell is this bitch?

  After what Qwan did lastnight, now this? How much can I take? To live in a lifelong marriage with all this? All of this? This is a huge exchange to save my brother’s life. Because I was basically handing over my life to live in a lifetime of frustration and disrespect as far as I could see. Look at this trashy bitch. Who is she? But you know what, Qwan had handed me a packet of power over him. Gave me the upper-hand in the situation. I didn’t feel guilty any more. I stood straight.

  I looked at Qwan with disgust in my eyes and Qwan returned the stare. He looked more surprise than I was. He asked me,

  “Who is that dirty old ghetto whore?”

  I looked down the aisle at her. I realised she wasn’t pointing at Qwan. She was pointing at me. Me? My heart plummeted, shot down into the pit of my belly. Who the hell was she? I regained maximum strength in my legs. Rocket
ed out of the church, heels cantering away. My ankle twisted. I collapsed under the willow tree in its cool shadow. Got back up, quickly. Sprinted even faster down the flank. I knew who she was. God damn! This was one big dirty scandal and eruption. I fled the scene.

  I looked behind me just in time to see Qwan collapsing, head slamming on the floor, connecting at the exact spot the ring fell. The willow tree made an even louder ‘wooeee! .... WOOEE!’

  Munchy snapped close-up pictures of Qwan knocked out cold on the church floor, I heard Munchy cried out,

  “WOOIIIEE!! A yahso nice! MIX-UPPP!!”

  I didn’t look back. I kept running and the uproar in the church got ten times louder as Pinky gnashed her teeth an pelted like a gladiator at war towards the girl. Things were spiralling out of control and Pinky wasn’t trying to cool it down. Pinky was about to create the greatest mayhem ever to occur inside a church; right now.

  CHAPTER 18

  Braveheart, I Won’t Run

  by: Pinky

  I don’t ’fraid of no man. No gal. Nowhere.

  Mi short of breath take mi the instance mi set mi eyes on the three color face gal that zooped through the church’s door. She come through the door with some long dirty badwords in her mouth and calling up Leelia name. Mi head get hot, blood start boil, eye start fry. Mi don't know why Leelia run gone from the hippopotamus, all mi know is that if she don't shut her rass mouth, mi smashing in every single one of her thirty-two Chiffon butter teeth. Mi heated and couldn’t control mi tongue, as the concubine step through the door, mi start daub her up.

  “Hey little stinking swarthy gal, what you know ’bout mi sister?”

  Everyone was shuffling away from her. Mi charge towards her. Weave pass the crowd that clustered around Qwan. They were fanning him, trying to revive him and Micheal Douglas shouted,

  “Somebody call the doctor!” then in a snort-like grunt added “Huh, huh!” He was kneeling over his unconscious son, sweat washing his shine head and running down his bald face.

  Little Loriel frighten till she throw her two hands over her eyes when mi power-raged by her and down the aisle to lick the sadamite gal in her face. Munchy take one picture again, nobody love mix-up more than Munchy, not even Raga, not even Biggy and things about to get real nasty in here today. Church or no church.

  “No Pinky!”

  Aubrea exclaimed, charging behind me, but not before mi tear off a piece of this sketel gal face. Mi kick off one of my heels and the entire church had their eyes on me now, not Qwan on the floor. I kicked off mi other heels, speeding up my strides and dragging out my earrings. People stand-up out of their seats and tipping over each other’s shoulders and head-tops to see the clash of the Titanics. People start beg and desperate outbursts of pleas scatter-scatter all ’bout in the crowd.

  “No! Don’t bother with that!”

  “No Pinky! Leave her!”

  The loudest voice was Pastor Frog-face

  “THIS IS A CHURCHHH!” clutching his Bible tight, stomping one foot and raising one hand to the ceiling. That didn't damp my flaming temper much less cool me down. No. A violent belch of wind busted through the church and cla-clammed the huge window shut. Two fierce clapping sound behind each other ‘CLA-CLACK! ... CLA-CLACK!’ and the rattling sound of the windows followed after, ‘Tiltltlll’.

  I couldn’t care less about any damn church, for all I care, all the church do, is rob up people money, and from the gal diss mi sister, mi going to kill it. Church can’t save her, neither frog-face, him can go on shaking the Bible in the air all him want. She dead.

  I bent and grabbed up a green flowers pot in my hand, charging to the gal and she like an idiot, charging full speed at me, like the little imbecile don’t see mi with a big tough flowers pot in mi hand for her face. After her head not hotter than mine. Watch the two of us going to clash now, she not easing up and mi definitely not easing up. She shouted out,

  “The little dirty whoring gal just fuck with mi man in the bathroom, mi see the pic...”

  And before she could finish say anything cantankerous about mi sister, mi give her one solid bloodclawt lick with the flowers pot. Right in her face. The pot shelled out and Munchy catch everything on camera, live and direct, like she working with The Jamaican Star or TVJ.

  Nathan was tearing towards us faster than a jam-packed, speeding coaster bus on the Constant Spring bus route. The little short coward tearing through the church door to rescue his little slut. A few other people ran to help her too. The pot split into pieces on contact with her face. Black dirt ran from the pot, spilling and nastying up all of her face and ran down into her heavy bosom. She drop on her back, ‘DOOP!’ and things start fly. Her jeans skirt button, flew off and rolled on the floor. Her black and burgundy wig took a flight off her head, flipped a couple somersaults through the air and sprawled out beside another green flowers pot in the aisle. On top of her head looked bad; it badly wanted some sort out. Leelia would say it was a ‘horrendous atrocity’, ’cause Lee obsess with doing everything neat. When her wig flipped off, the tacky and tear-up tear-up top of a black wig-cap was over her dry and frizzy cane-row hair. Some of the cane-rows looked like them pull out half way because of how long she had it in. Her face looked lifeless, it was just big and there on the floor, fat and round like spare wheel for the tractors on construction site, her neck was blacker than the rest of her body and had about four fat folds on each side.

  I jumped on top of her, sat in her high-rise stomach. A small fart got loose, right in her stomach. What a time for the ice cream to start work mi. It couldn’t come at a better time. Poop on her yes. Mi hope the fart blind her. Her breathing not visible. I thought she’d be puffing and breathing hard, but there was no sign of her breathing. She looked unconscious, her eyelids batting but not opening, like she wanted to open them but like she was battling to find the energy to lift her eyelids. She didn't have the strength. I heard a woman’s voice,

  “Oh God no! No Pinky! Don't kill her!”

  It sounded like my mother, Aubrea, but mi never looked back. I grabbed the other flowers pot, raise it with both hands high above my head. I heard fast pacing footsteps charging from behind me. I didn’t look back to see who it was, but I knew they were coming mighty fast and I knew they were heading towards me to interrupt me smashing her face again, trying to save her. Mi use all of my might and brute force and bashed the other flowers pot again in her forehead. The pot splintered into pieces and more black dirt buried her face. Her head twitched, her body jerked, then stiffened, got lifeless. I rubbed the dirt in her face. A trailer fart came out. Mi think everybody hear it. Loud and clear. Makes no sense mi try cover it. If mi fart, mi fart, is what? Everybody do it. Don’t? Ice cream working mi belly and mi can’t control mi bottom. The farts slipping out as they like, as if they have a mind of their own.

  The second blow to her forehead bust open above her eyebrow. It was wide and open and long. The blood gushing from it soaked some of the dirt on her face and some ran down her face to the floor. I reached for a next flowers pot, mi breath, mi blowing short.

  “No! She’s too wicked! Hold her!” I heard from standing witnesses in the holy church. Confusion. Mayhem. Chaos. DISGRACE.

  Vance was the one running behind me. He had ran back into the church and now he wanted to create peace, part the fight and stop the pandemonium. I was a raging torpedo with only one thing on my mind, mash-up this gal face, smash, grab, squeeze. Mi just couldn’t cool down.

  “Lord have Mercy!” Ms. Merl cried out as I took the third flowers pot that was close by her feet. Her feet as skinny as cat whiskers .The french- coffee coloured stocking fit her fine legs loose with much room around them as if the stocking was worn two hundred times more than it should be worn, stretched out, and at her bony knee caps it fitted her even more swingingly. I raised the green pot high above. Ms. Merl smacked her forehead with her palm, her glasses tilted. She shut her eyes. Mi bite mi lips with monstrous force, gathered all my strength in my arms and swu
ng mi hands down with all my might, right down into the E.T. face.

  But there was no pot.

  Mi hands empty.

  I swung my head back to see which idiot wasn’t in their right mind to come snatch out mi weapon. Whoever it was, mi going to sheg them up royally. Proper. Watch.

  It was my brother. Vance. Cho man!

  I spun my head back around, and all I knew was that, I didn't see the person, or better yet I didn’t know who it was. All I saw was the shine bottom of a brand-new, made-in-China boot with the heel powerfully sailing directly into my mouth. It looked like I saw a size eleven and a half or maybe it was a thirteen on the boot bottom, it was coming so fast to my face I was confused. I couldn’t even duck the kick. Mi did just have to take it. Mi never know who it was but mi did sure he could kick better than Beckham. I felt the heel rammed into my top lip and some of the heel caught just below my nose too. And even if there were ten JPS in Jamaica they couldn’t have enough energy to fuel the light I saw flash right before my eyes; it was the brightest light ever. I swore I felt some of my teeth shifted. Instantly I started to fret about my smile. As white as my teeth were, my smile wouldn’t look so lovely with two missing front teeth. Just picture mi with the smile. I saw only the blackest blackness after the bright light flashed. I dashed my two hands over my blinded eyes. Vision slowly blurring back into them. I removed my hands and squinted my eyes over and over to find out who it was. Who was it? I saw. And him certainly dead.

  I couldn’t believe it was the coward. Nathan. What a short man foot big! Mi going to kill the short little tokoo-tokoo fucker. He had no idea what he just did, he must have seen a pretty little lot by Dovecot that he couldn’t wait to be buried in. I sprang up off the bitch and Nathan gave mi the other boot heel solid, kicking mi right under mi eye, nearly slipped out mi jawbone like the great King Yellow-man.