by Sandra Scott
With noisy determination, he yanked open the doors and, with much zeal, rummaged through the pharmaceutical supplies. The dramatic scene was not complete until Martie lifted her hands in exasperation.
“Stop, Keven—you’re making a mess in there! Let me find it.” Pushing him aside, she proceeded to conduct her own less noisy search. She then graced him with a supervisor’s look. “Why don’t you walk the aisles to see if any of the passengers are awake and needing assistance?”
Mumbling that nobody ever let him do anything, Keven reversed direction and, with pouting lips, walked between Jayson and Hog to disappear into the passengers’ area.
Forcing back a laugh, Andra glanced toward her short-term patient and was surprised to find Sapphire sporting a smile as well. It transformed her previously hard expression into a soft, more comely one.
“My team—they’re always so melodramatic.” Sapphire’s nervous chuckle mingled with the various noises within the cabin, Jayson and Hog’s conversation, and the search for upchuck meds. Her chin lifted. “Sorry about before, and thank you, Doctor.”
Andra nodded. “I accept, and you’re welcome.”
A gruff chuckle filled the small cabin. “Well, it didn’t take an actual stud,” Hog said, glancing between Andra and Jayson. “But she’s been ridden and broken—don’t cha think?”
Sapphire and Martie stared at the older man, puzzlement transforming their pretty faces comically; however, when Jayson lifted a knowing eyebrow Andra’s way, they both laughed in delighted understanding.
7
Her mother’s words chasing her, Racine slammed the door in an attempt to shut them out. Hotly, she resumed her pacing inside the privacy of her bedroom.
Try as she might, she couldn’t stop the past from crashing in on her. She whimpered. Routine senses switched to overload; sight, sound, smell, and touch intensified as unwanted pictures slid across her brain like a fast-moving slideshow. Just as she knew it would, a woman’s scream commenced, causing her to cry out in anguish. She shoved her fists against her ears to block out the woman’s squeals.
Akin to an alcoholic’s delirium tremens, her frame vibrated from her struggle to prevent more disturbing images from downloading. Yet for her, the true terror lay within the silence once the woman’s cries ceased, because Racine knew what happened during that ominous hush—unspeakable things a person could never fully convey with words, no matter how much coaxing and encouragement was received from well-meaning others.
Personally, she never wanted to talk about it—she wanted to forget.
Her cell phone rang. On autopilot, Racine reached inside her jeans pocket and pulled it free. “Hello?”
A bubbly female voice poured into her ear, the volume competing with the frightened screams inside her head. Racine flinched at the disparity between it and the caller’s gaiety.
“Hey, girlfriend! You ready to do some insane shopping? My dad gave me his credit card, and the sky’s the limit! Woo-hoo!”
Racine was speechless at her friend’s happiness, which poured forth like golden rays of blinding sunshine. Racine’s building envy of her friend’s carefreeness pushed her into a dark place. “Tracey, I can’t talk right now. I’ve gotta go.”
“But—”
Tracey’s voice, hurt and confused, was terminated. Racine tossed the cell onto her pristinely made bed.
In a fog, Racine circled the room, her hands itching for busywork. With a critical eye, she picked apart each section. The area as a whole was immaculate; no clothes required hanging, no shoes needed to be paired and then stored away, and there was no dusting to take care of or trash to throw out.
Inside her bedroom world, everything was nice and orderly, in its perfect place.
On wobbly legs, she headed for her dresser. After first staring at its well-organized, previously dusted surface, she proceeded to lift her anguished eyes to the dresser’s mirror, staring at the person framed within it.
Why can’t you simply forget? Racine silently asked herself.
Her double stared back at her, lacking an expression, as if waiting for Racine to give her the appropriate one. Desperately, she searched the other’s features, taking in styled short-cropped hair, smooth caramel-colored skin radiantly free from cosmetics, a generous mouth, and dark brown eyes the spitting image of Al’s.
You’re so pretty, yet why do I feel so ugly?
Blinking, the other remained mute.
“What do you want from me?” she screamed.
Snarling, Racine snatched at a perfectly aligned perfume bottle and proceeded to pitch it at the glass, wanting to shatter the beautiful, apathetic image into a billion pieces.
Mid-throw, her imagination dished up a futuristic montage: broken glass everywhere, pieces of shimmering slivers flying into places she didn’t have the strength to crawl into, followed by a complete mental meltdown at the mess she’d just created, and Racine having to clean it all up in the end anyway.
Why would you want to do that to yourself? her reflection calmly asked.
Racine froze. Why couldn’t she forget that poor girl’s terrified screams? She now loathed the existence of the pathetic female, whose attackers had known she was a virgin and sought her out for that reason. It had been a night long ago yet could’ve been only yesterday; the girl had walked into the college frat party in a complete state of naïveté, painfully unaware she’d already been claimed, hunted, and tagged like a safari animal months prior, only to be ultimately used as a fraternity initiation sacrifice.
Why couldn’t I help her? What could I’ve done to prevent it?
Blinding tears broke forth, blurring her mirror image. Slowly, she replaced the perfume bottle with painstaking perfection and then swiped at her bloodshot eyes.
“Andra, where are you?” She sniffled hard. “Oh yeah, right! The Virgin Bride’s traveling abroad!”
The image in the mirror now frowned in disapproval, causing Racine to bristle defensively. “I know, I know! I have no right to be mad at Andra. It’s not her fault; she has her own life to live with her white husband.”
She couldn’t push aside the thought that Andra had betrayed her by marrying Jayson. Abruptly, another distorted picture of that night at the frat party flashed inside her head, diverting her attention from her older sister.
She trembled more violently than before.
Why can’t I forget?
Unable to stomach a staring contest with the image that now glared at Racine accusingly, she dropped her head into her hands and sobbed. Why?
Racine knew why.
She couldn’t escape the fact that she and the girl who’d been raped that fateful night were one and the same.
8
Fidgeting with sunglasses in hand, Andra stood a few feet from the luggage conveyor belt, surveying the moderate-sized, crowded overseas airport.
At the thought of meeting her husband’s family, she swallowed painfully. Taking a deep breath, she deliberately switched her brain from panic mode to inquisitive mode.
Studying the people who moved about with pleasurable leisure, she enviously noted that their measured pace was foreign to her frantic, Americanized way of life.
“Wow,” she said.
The packed airport projected an old-world quaintness, and people strolled along with ease. Yet at the same time, they transmitted an invisible energy that suggested each person lived and breathed in the now. It was unlike the hustle and bustle of US airports, where people appeared to be in a race to get to their future destinations as fast as their frantic feet could carry them.
Despite her anxiety, Andra broke into a smile upon observing a twenty-something couple stand in rapt anticipation as an older gentleman shuffled along the boarding ramp toward them. Their bodies sprang to life even before he reached them, their enthusiasm enveloping his frailty within a loving circle of youthful vitality.
Straightaway, her mind conjured up a guessing game to determine the older gentleman’s identity: A grandfather? A great-uncle? Maybe a longtime friend of the family? A beloved teacher or aged mentor?
Slipping on her sunglasses, she watched the young couple sandwich the older man and his single piece of luggage between them. Faint laughter filtered through the crowd, reaching out to her as she watched them link arms. Walking in one accord, the trio headed toward the airport’s exit, their images disappearing and reappearing among the crowd until they vanished completely through the airport’s automatic sliding doors into a bright, sunny day.
The touching scene prompted Andra to silently pray that what she’d witnessed with them was a sign of what was to come for her once meeting the in-laws.
“Here’s hoping,” she said.
“What are you hoping for?”
An arm reached from behind and slid around her waist. Instantly, she was pulled back into a hearty embrace, perfectly timed to a low chuckle against her ear, signaling Jayson’s return from the men’s restroom.
“Nothing,” she said. She strove to eliminate any tremors in her voice by injecting it with forced levity. “My mouth was thinking out loud.”
“And such a beautiful mouth,” Jayson whispered. He proceeded to nibble on her earlobe. “Doc, I can literally read your thoughts. Your mind is filled with worry and all kinds of crazy stuff. But I’m telling you—please don’t. They’re going to fall in love with you the same as I did.”
The words delusional and naive floated inside Andra’s head. Instead of voicing them, she simply nodded.
She leaned against Jayson’s steady frame, endeavoring to gather strength from his presence. However, like a tape recorder, her mind rewound what he’d just said to her. Now she wasn’t sure if his voice had carried a false bravado, or was it her imagination?
“I’m not afraid,” she said, which was almost the truth. Lifting her dark sunglasses into her thick curls, she looked over her shoulder. “Buddy, as long as you’re with me, I can face anything.”
Jayson’s palm caressed her cheek, his eyes magnetically holding hers. “You know, Doc, making love to a sexy woman in my childhood bed is another thing I’ll be able to cross off my bucket list—thanks to you,” he said, his voice husky. “I can’t wait to turn in tonight.”
Andra laughed. “You’re insatiable, dude. You know that?”
Nodding agreeably, Jayson produced a grin akin to Alice in Wonderland’s Cheshire Cat.
Staring forward again, Andra felt her body tingle as fleeting images from their recent lovemaking session in the airplane’s restroom trekked across her brain. Thanking God for her husband’s virility and overwhelming desire for her, Andra took a moment to leisurely scan the area, until her sights landed upon a beautiful young woman across the airport, her head pivoting from side to side as if in search of someone. Long, flowing tresses bounced seductively about her head and shoulders; below, she donned a flower-print sundress that molded to her shapely frame perfectly.
Frowning at the lovely creature, Andra couldn’t prevent a small measure of jealousy from creeping in. She’d come to terms early in the relationship—at least she thought she had—with the fact other women, maybe even someone similar to the female across the way, had known Jayson in the biblical sense prior to their meeting and falling in love.
However, she tried to reassure herself that at least she was his final lover, so technically, she’d won over all the others—Jayson was her husband. However, she also realized that sometimes dominating a quarter in a football game didn’t necessarily mean that the team currently in the lead would ultimately win the game. She’d witnessed too many football skirmishes in which one team was initially ahead only to turn the game over due to clumsy fumbles during the last quarter.
Your marriage is not a football game. You’re not going to lose Jayson. You’re a doctor, for heaven’s sake—suck it up, Andra!
She firmly dismissed the attractive young woman across the terminal.
Taking her own advice, Andra smiled as she pivoted inside Jayson’s embrace. Tilting her head back, she cocked it to one side to stare adoringly at him. “You’re such a liar. You’ve probably deflowered many hot babes in your bedroom. I mean, long before you met me.”
Jayson smiled ambiguously and then shook his head in what could’ve been denial or agreement. She matched his grin and parted her lips, waiting for the delicious impact of his slowly descending mouth.
“I see you still have the magic, J. J.—she doesn’t stand a chance.”
At the lilting voice, Jayson abruptly pulled back to gaze over Andra’s head. “Sly!” he exclaimed.
To Andra’s disappointment, the security of Jayson’s arms withdrew, followed by his body, as he stepped around her to enthusiastically greet the newcomer.
For a second, Andra stood motionless. Her heart quickened at coming face-to-face with the unknown. Yet she already knew Fate gleefully waited for her to turn around in order to force-feed Andra a serving of irony. Pivoting slowly, she sobered upon seeing Jayson and the mysterious woman embrace.
She held back a sigh of defeat.
Her gorgeous husband was now hugging the same beautiful young woman Andra had spied across the airport terminal only moments ago.
“Sly, what are you doing here?” he asked. Wrapping one arm around the girl’s neck, he proceeded to muss the crown of her head with scrubbing knuckles. “What’s up, kid?”
“Stop it, J. J.” Sly laughed, her charming accent exquisitely framing each word. “Do you know how long it took me to get my hair like this? Hours and hours!” She brushed wayward black strands from her face and playfully pushed at him, although to Andra’s disgust, the beauty managed to stay within Jayson’s one-armed embrace.
“Aw, come on, Sly. Since when have you cared about your hair?”
The woman named Sly displayed a pouty expression, forcing her dark-eyelash-fringed emerald eyes to widen.
Andra felt ready to upchuck at the revoltingly breathtaking sight.
“Ever since I turned twenty-two this year,” Sly retorted. “Evidently, you did not notice just how much I’ve grown since you last saw me at sixteen years old!”
“No, don’t get me wrong—I noticed!” Jayson took Sly by both hands, stepped back, and spread her arms wide, scanning her from head to toe. He nodded. “You’ve probably got every man in the village trailing behind you like a panting dog.”
“Not everyone,” she said. Grinning flirtatiously, she cocked her head. “And I have noticed your Americanized speech. Very cool!”
“Cool?” he asked, laughing at her attempt at American slang.
Andra’s body bristled at the friendly and flirty exchange. Boiling, she marched the few feet to stand between her husband and the woman named Sly. Her back to Jayson, she crossed indignant arms to confront the brazen hussy whose lovely face now displayed wide-eyed surprise.
“Hey!” Andra’s eyes steamrolled the other’s fit body. “You think you can disrespect me by pretending I’m not here?”
The younger woman eyed her with bored contempt. She abruptly poked a finger into Andra’s chest. “You need to step back from me, Miss Lady,” she said, her accented voice infused with both anger and grace. “I have known J. J. a long time. He is like family to me.”
Andra’s left arm wind-milled, knocking her finger away. “And he’s like a husband to me, so it’s you who needs to step off!”
Andra saw the punch coming and ducked, and the woman’s fist missed her crown by a mere inch. Straightening, she immediately threw a counterpunch. A sickening crunch sounded as Andra’s fist connected with the woman’s perfect nose.
Andra smiled with satisfaction as her victim lay sprawled on the airport floor. Blood spurted from her victim’s nostrils, gushing forth like an open faucet and splattering her form-fitting sundress bodice.
Andra cleared her throat to recapture her husband’s attention. She formed a polite smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your little friend?”
At her words, Sly politely withdrew and lowered eyelids over unreadable eyes just as Jayson turned toward Andra with an expression that was both contrite and tense. Moving to her side, he casually draped an arm across Andra’s stiff shoulders.
“Surely, baby. This is Sly—Sylvia Menkos. We grew up together. Sly’s family home borders my family’s eastern acreage.” Jayson’s arm tightened—in loving support and not tense-filled guilt, she hoped. “Sly, this is Dr. Andra Theonopilus, my wife.”
Sly’s expression revealed big orbs painted in deep green, her eyes silent and studying. Andra bristled beneath the woman’s curious inspection, wondering if she had been assessed, weighed, and measured only to fall short.
Still, begrudgingly, Andra couldn’t help but think if she were a man, she’d already be in love with such a gorgeous creature, which made her further contemplate what affect Sly was having on her man.
Now smiling as if Andra posed no competition, Sly held out her hand. “Yes, I heard you were a beautiful African queen,” she said politely. One eyebrow rose prettily. “I hope my words are politically correct, as you Americans say.”
Andra shook Sly’s hand with all the confidence she could muster. “Even if it’s not, sounds good to me.” Andra released the handshake and attempted a matching breezy tone. “And you are, what, a Greek goddess?”
Sly’s youthful, bubbly laughter filled the area, causing a few male passersby to glance appreciatively her way. “It sounds good to me too, yes?”
Their laughter mingled; the sound was hesitant at first and then rang out with sincerity as time stretched on.
“So, Sly, why do you call him J. J.? Jayson’s not a junior.” Andra glanced briefly at her husband. “Is he?”
Sly laughed with delight, as if Andra were a dim-witted kid who’d finally said something intelligent. “No, no. His name is Jayson Jonas.” Her eyes bounced off Jayson’s now uncomfortable expression back to Andra. “Did you not know that?”