by Tiana Laveen
Arashi gently lifted her veil. The Sansankudo ritual was performed. Arashi’s teenage cousins acted as Miko girls and served the cups of sake. Arashi and Angel exchanged their nuptial cups.
Arashi took out the ring he had hidden on his person. He placed the diamond wedding band on Angel’s finger. Angel’s brother, Jason, handed Angel a thick, shiny, platinum, wedding band.
She slid it on Arashi’s ring finger. The priest spoke.
“Arashi and Angel have exchanged wedding bands. These wedding bands symbolize their undying love for one another.”
Arashi lifted the Sakaki twigs.
“O-kami-sama ni sashiagemasu. (I give this to the Gods in the sanctuary.)” Angel stood beside him and raised a gold crucifix and said, “I thank God for giving Arashi and me life and ask that he bless this union and help us in times of trials and tribulations. I thank him in advance for blessing us with much joy and marital bliss.” The priest spoke again.
“Angel Grace and Arashi Takahashi, you are now one. Angel, you are now Angel Takahashi. I now pronounce you husband and wife. Arashi, you may kiss the bride.” Arashi took Angel around her waist, bringing her close to him and kissed her delicately. The families applauded and cheered. The reception was spent eating, drinking, and dancing.
“No, Baby! This is how you do it. Step, step, back,” Angel instructed as she tried to teach him how to do the Electric Slide.
“I told you I can’t dance,” Arashi laughed. “This is useless.”
The song ended and Arashi and Angel slow-danced while the family mingled.
“If This World Were Mine" by Luther Vandross – man, I love this song!” Angel whispered as she hugged her husband around the neck. “We’re going to be so tired at the airport tomorrow,” Angel sighed.
“I know, but hey, it’s fun. Did you get enough to eat?” Arashi asked.
“Yeah, right! I had to change three times today. First it was into the red kimono then into this white wedding gown. I barely got a string bean.
“Well, come here.” Arashi took his bride by the hand and led her into the small room he was in prior to the ceremony. On the desk were a large wooden bowl of chilled fruit and two wine glasses. He lit a candle. Holding Angel around her waist, her whispered into her ear, “I just wanted five minutes alone with you.” He grabbed a strawberry. “Open wide,” he whispered.
Angel opened her mouth and took a bite. She giggled. Arashi ate the rest of it and took another one, repeating the same process. He lifted his wine glass, took a sip, then leaned close to Angel and nudged her mouth open with his lips. He slowly poured the wine into her mouth from his.
Angel laughed.
“Normally, I’d think something like that was disgusting, but you did it so sexily,” she giggled. Arashi kissed her again. He then picked up a grape and pinched it between his teeth.
He looked at her longingly. She took his nonverbal cue and took it from his mouth, chewing it slowly.
“Thank you for giving me a little time alone with you,”
Arashi smiled. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, took her hand, then led her back to the party. Angel stopped right before they re-entered the reception hall.
“Wait,” she said, pulling on his arm. “I want to tell you something.” Arashi looked at Angel and held her hands in front of him.
“What? Your birth name’s Angelo, and this is the new you after the operation?” they laughed.
“No, silly! Stop playin’! I’m being serious,” Angel giggled.
“OK, seriously, what is it, Baby?” Arashi asked as he pulled her close to him.
“You’re everything I could have ever dreamed of.” She began to cry. “I’ve been looking around tonight at all of our friends and family, the ceremony, the dancing and laughing, and I feel like I need to pinch myself,” she sobbed. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, but I want to tell you again –
how much I love you.” Arashi hugged Angel tightly.
“I love you too, Baby. I promise I’m going to do my best to make you happy.” He wiped the tears from her face. He took her hand and walked back into the reception hall. Arashi’s inebriated brother held up his wine glass and yelled, “Here again are the bride and groom. Let’s hear it for them!” Everyone clapped and waved. Angel looked up into Arashi’s eyes as he kissed her on the lips.
“After you, Mrs. Takahashi.”
* * *
“The ‘N’ Word”
“Mr. Pike, you’re sentenced to one year in the Alabama state penitentiary, Holman Correctional Facility in Atmore, Alabama,”
the judge said.
“Fuck you and your laws!” Aaron threw up his middle finger while chanting, “White power!” His voice carried in the courtroom as he gave his hail-Hitler salute, casting his heavily tattooed arm in the stagnant air. The jury and members of both the Prosecution and Defense became incensed. The gavel struck several times emitting heavy thuds as curse words dotted the audible background and spit flew.
“Just one year?” someone screamed from the victim’s family.
“He should die!” Officers raced from opposite sides of the courtroom apprehending people who were either trying to assault Aaron or protect him. The media waited outside while Aaron was handcuffed and dragged away by three officers.
“I beat that Nigger’s ass. Too bad he lived!” Aaron spit into the camera. His haunting smile was vile yet deceptive as the entire world could see.
* * *
Aaron sat on the unstable, wooden chair in his prison cell, smoking his third cigarette of the day. It was 7:00AM. His 6’4”
frame cast an elongated shadow against the dingy, light gray wall. He removed his shirt, showcasing various tattoos that depicted naked women and Nazi symbolism. The words “White Power” were written in Greek across his back. His steel blue, cold eyes squinted in the darkness as he shuffled his feet, trying to wake his bones and blood vessels.
“When do I get a goddamn phone call?” he asked calmly, his deep voice boomed throughout the adjoining cells. A security guard walked slowly to his cage and peered in the tiny window.
“Why’s your light bulb broken?” asked the security guard who reached for his billy club.
“Because I like sittin’ in the dark. What is it to you? I asked you a question. Where the fuck’s my phone call you fat, sloppy son-of-a-bitch?” Aaron said coolly, taking another draw on his cigarette before putting it on the ground and snuffing it out with his black boot.
“You keep talkin’ like that, and it’ll be the first of none! You can either play by the rules or get left behind. You’re the new kid on the block, so unless you want me to leave you to the wolves, you need to cooperate.”
“New kid on the block?” Aaron bellowed a slow, condescending laugh. “You must be new around here, fat boy.
I’ve been here before and everywhere else. People here know who the fuck I am, and I dare ’em to try anything. Now, if you don’t get me that phone call, it’ll be you that’ll be pleadin’ for mercy. Maybe the next sandwich you stuff in your mouth will have a razorblade in it, or maybe the next time you go home to your wife, who probably throws up every time you get naked, you’ll find her kidnapped. You don’t wanna fuck with me.”
Aaron smiled. His teeth shined in the murkiness of his surroundings. “You really don’t.” Thick smoke rings swam out from between his lips.
“You’re getting written up for threatening a security officer.
You just earned yourself another month here!” yelled the newbie officer as he stormed off to report the incident. Aaron smirked and lit another cigarette. He heard a voice from a nearby cell.
“Hey, man. You’re that Nazi that tried to kill Troy, ain’t you?
You run that whole group, don’t you?” The voice was thick and had a Southern dialect. Aaron burst out into laughter.
“Yeah, I am. You want my autograph, boy?” he taunted.
“Man, I can’t wait ‘til my homies get ahold of you. You ain’t go
t no protection on C-Block.
All yo' boys are down tha way. We got plans for you, motha fucka – big plans,” the voice responded.
“Fantastic, Mr. Coon. Have all the plans you want. I wish you much success on your little monkey group project. Maybe I’ll have some watermelon shipped here for you to enjoy with your brethren after you take care of me with your ape plans.
You’re so fuckin’ stupid it’d take all of you to come up with half a good idea,” Aaron laughed. His laughter sent chills up the man’s spine.
Aaron heard an elderly voice from another cell say softly,
“He’s the devil. Keep away from him.”
Aaron stood up and stretched, then laid down on his bed. He was in a solitary cell for his own protection, as well as that of others. He was isolated for fear that if he got close to other Nazis, he could arrange a prison riot in less than five minutes.
Aaron looked up in his cot and began to sing.
The rotten bones are trembling
Of the World before the War.
We have smashed this terror,
For us a great victory.
We will continue to march,
Even if everything shatters,
Because today Germany hears us,
And tomorrow, the whole World.
And because of the Great War,
The World lies in ruins.
But we don't care.
We build it up again.
And the elders may chide,
So just let them scream and cry.
And if the World decides to fight us, We will still be the victors.
They don't want to understand this song.
They think of slavery and war.
Meanwhile we grow stronger.
Flag of freedom, fly!”
* * *
“Get up!” yelled the tall, large officer, grabbing Aaron’s arm.
“You’re scheduled to see the counselor today, then you can see your lawyer.”
“Counselor? For what! Just let me do my time so I can get the hell outta here!” Aaron moved his arm away and stood back.
“Aaron, I’m warning you. I’ve dealt with you too many times in the past. This time you don’t have your little friends as back-up. If you try to kick my ass again, I’ll shoot you down like the maggot you are,” spat the officer between clenched teeth. His face was turning rosy red with rage and his hand was on the trigger. Aaron could see he was afraid of him, as most of the staff was. Some officers even feigned illness to get out of dealing with him. He was known to suddenly head-butt a man, rendering him unconscious or throw such a powerful punch, it would knock the wind out of a man, leaving an achy pain that felt worse than the most severe abdominal cramps. Aaron walked in front of the officer, handcuffed and shackled, to the psychologist’s office.
“I’m not in here for mental issues, so why the hell do I have to go in there, Cliff?” he asked calmly.
“Aaron, just do what you’re told. I’m not in the mood for your shit today!” The officer hit the buzzer and removed Aaron’s handcuffs. The psychologist opened the door. Cliff walked away saying, “Dr. Owen, buzz me when the session’s over.”
“Have a seat, Aaron. I’m Dr. Owen,” said the tall, stately looking gentleman with bifocals.
Aaron looked around the small, boxy room and sat in the little, wooden chair. College credentials hung on the wall and a tiny, wilting plant sat on the window ledge. Aaron leaned forward in his chair, studying the man.
“You got fucked with when you were a kid, didn’t you?”
Aaron smiled. “You feel a lot of power sittin’ on the other side and tormentin’ your tormentors. They know if you write a bad report about ’em, you have the power to delay their release or make parole damn near impossible. For one man to have all of that control, it must make your cock hard all day,” Aaron smiled as he lit a cigarette.
“I’m sorry, Aaron, but you can’t smoke in here,” Dr. Own said calmly.
“I guess smoke bothers you. Sittin’ way up on your high horse, you think you can’t fall from grace into the pits of hell where it’s really hot and smoky.” Aaron smirked as he extinguished his cigarette.
“Aaron, do you have a God complex? Or, do you think you’re the devil?” asked Dr. Owen.
“And let the mind fucking begin!” Aaron laughed. “Yeah, yeah I do. I do believe I’m God, and I believe that all these fuckin’ people I’ve created are very disobedient, includin’ you,”
Aaron smirked again as he flipped a piece of lint off his shirt.
“Aaron, I’m trying to help you. Your use of sarcasm and profanity isn’t going to detract or cause an escalation resulting in deviation from my task, which is what I know you desire. I have here your IQ scores, your family history, as well as your criminal history. I know you’re highly intelligent, as well as emotionally stunted. You’re a narcissist, a loner, an honor student, and a social deviant. Your charm attracts various personalities like moths to a flame, and that’s why you were able to recruit the people that you did. You’re a salesperson and marketing executive for the local Nazi party. You’re highly charismatic, can appear harmless if need be, but transform quickly once you have your prey right where you want them.
Now, you can either do what you need to do to get rid of me, which would benefit us both, or you can drag this out.” Dr.
Owen crossed his arms over his chest. Aaron nodded and smiled.
“I see you’ve done your homework. Very good, Dr. Owen,”
he clapped. “OK, I’ll play your little game. Where do you want me to start – with my childhood?” Aaron asked.
“That would be very good, Aaron,” Dr. Owen said as he sat back in his chair.
“OK, let’s see, I’m not long-winded, so I’ll make it short and not so sweet. I lived with my parents in a lower-middle-class area of town. I grew up in Frisco City, Alabama. My mother would beat the shit outta me. My dad was never home and had a gamblin’ problem. I got put in foster care in New Hope Madison County. I had a great time there from about age five until eight, but then my mother decided she wanted me back. So off I went back to her. Now she was separated from my dad and livin’ in Gordon with her parents. I was back in the same shit.
I went to the only Black school in town which started my hatred towards Niggers. Is this what you were lookin’ for, Dr.
Owen?” Aaron said with bite in his tone.
“I’m not looking for anything but your perspective,” Dr.
Owen answered, sipping his coffee.
“Fine. The Niggers at the school had…”
“I’m going to have to interrupt you. I need you to say Black or African-American,” Dr.
Owen said calmly.
“OK,” Aaron said with little emotion. “The Blacks at the school had taken over and were causin’ trouble. I was just tryin’
to go to class, but they wanted to start fights. I liked school, actually. It was an escape from home. The only problem’s the Nig… – the Blacks, ruined that for me, too. I was beaten up all the time, my money was stolen, and I had had enough. I suddenly experienced a growth spurt. That helped me greatly. I taught myself how to fight by watchin’ old boxin’ matches. I started kickin’ ass in return. Overnight I became the wrong White boy to fuck with,” Aaron smiled. “Hey, can I get somethin’ to drink? My throat’s kinda dry.” Dr. Owen hit his buzzer.
“Malachai, could you please bring Mr. Pike a bottle of water?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you,” Dr. Owen said. “Continue, Aaron.” Dr. Owen crossed his arms over his chest again.
“So, I graduated high school and went to the Army, but I got sick. I smoke too fuckin’
much and had problems breathin’, so I received an honorable discharge. Then I went to community college and got a double degree. While I was there, I met Chad O’Bryan. The best brother I could ever have. He had a heart of gold. He was good people. He took me under his wing and taught me about bein’
proud
of myself, standin’ up for what I believe in, and a new way of life. He let me know that it was time we take our country back. I’m an American National Socialist. I’m a leader in the movement. I don’t start shit, I finish it. Dr. Owen, you should be very concerned about our bein’ a dyin’ breed. With all these Illegals comin’ into the country havin’ babies like jack rabbits, they’re takin’ over. The White workin’ class built this country, and we’re losin’ it slowly but surely. And now, not even slowly anymore. I’m Aryan, and I’m proud. I’m a revolutionary. I fight for White civil rights.”
“Aaron, I want you to concentrate on who you are. I don’t want you to tell me about the groups you identify with. The person we really are exists with or without a group of backers.
We exist without family and friends. When we’re alone, that’s when we know our true selves.
If your Aryan brotherhood disappeared today, vanished from the face of the earth, who would you be?” Dr. Owen asked, smiling ever so slightly. Aaron sat in the chair and thought. He looked over Dr. Owen’s shoulder, out the window. The buzzer rang.
“Oh, thank you, Malachai.” Dr. Owen handed Aaron the bottle of water. Aaron shook the bottle.
“I can’t drink this.”
“Why, Aaron?” Dr. Owen asked.
“That Black son-of-a-bitch put somethin’ in it,” Aaron smirked. Dr. Owen picked up the bottle from the edge of his desk and examined it.
“Aaron, the seal isn’t broken. I don’t see anything.” He handed the bottle back to him.
Aaron stood up, moving towards the doctor, his shackled ankles clanking. Dr. Owen sat up defensively.
“Relax, I’m not gonna do anything to you,” Aaron said. “You see this?” He pointed to a tiny pinhole in the top of the bottle cap. Usually they switch the bottle cap with another one, but whoever did this was inept. Someone injected somethin’ into my water. Could be opiates, could be rat poison, could be sugar just to freak me out. I don’t know. They shook it up, and most of it dissolved, but there’s a slight chalky residue right here on the side of the bottle. Dr.