Saying Goodbye (What the World Doesn't Know)

by Martel, Mahima

“I said I was sorry,” said Sarah as she left with the wastebasket filled with Alex’s crumpled sheets of paper. Once she was alone next to the garbage cans outside, she pulled several sheets of paper from the wastebasket and read them curiously. She wondered what went through Alex’s mind while he wrote and, more importantly, who was he writing about.

  Alex persisted with his songwriting until he finally had some pieces he felt confident enough to share with Robbie, Peter, and their producer. He specifically wanted the producer’s involvement so Robbie and Peter wouldn’t immediately dismiss his efforts without listening.

  After giving them a sample, their reaction turned out to be positive, and Alex was given a couple of tracks on their upcoming album. Finally, something promising was happening in his life and a little sun began to shine.

  The US Army’s canteen was filled with rock music. Frankie and the other girls hung around with some of the officers who were busy fighting amongst themselves as to who would buy drinks for the pretty actresses. After a few beers, Frankie was feeling fine. When she heard the song “I Get Around” by the Beach Boys playing on the record player, she knew dancing was next on the agenda.

  It was strange. Frankie felt more inhibited than usual. In fact she danced more conservatively then she ever had in her entire life, although it was still good to move and feel sexy again. Several handsome officers each asked for her to be his partner on the dance floor. She agreed to dance with each of them in turn respectively. She preferred one particular officer above the rest because he was physically built like Alex—tall, slender at the waist, with a muscular build. She allowed herself to be held closer to him than the others, specifically so she could imagine she was being held by Alex.

  But when the Dark Knight’s song “Insatiable Lady” began playing in the canteen, it became a bit too much for her.

  Before I was done

  You wanted more.

  I can see the look in your eyes—

  The devil himself was inside.

  Ooh yeah, my insatiable lady

  Ooh yeah, my wanton baby

  You can always have me

  Any time of day.

  Frankie awkwardly pulled herself away from the officer. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I have to go.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said courteously, sensing he may have been coming on to her too strongly. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, not at all,” Frankie said as she bashfully backed away. “I just need to get back to the barracks.”

  “Well, at least let me walk you back,” he said. “You had a couple of drinks.”

  Frankie bowed her head slightly. “All right.”

  A warm, salty breeze blew through the tropical nighttime air as they walked. Looking up, Frankie saw swaying palm trees silhouetted against the starry sky. The moon, which was nearly full, brightly shone down, giving everything a silvery glow. It was such a romantic night; she missed Alex terribly and wished he were here with her.

  “It really was a great pleasure dancing with you tonight,” said the officer. “I remember watching you on television. You always seemed so sweet; I’m glad to know I was right about you. You just expect all pretty girls like you to be snobby.”

  “Being a pretty actress only gets a girl so far,” said Frankie. “A girl’s also gotta have personality and smarts to stay alive in this business.”

  “That’s true,” said the officer, placing his hand daringly on her lower back. “So can I ask if there is a lucky man in your life?”

  Frankie responded without looking at the officer. “There is a man,” she said, “although I’m not sure he’d consider himself lucky.”

  The officer removed his hand from Frankie’s back and looked at her oddly. “I don’t understand,” he said.

  Frankie smiled. “It’s complicated,” she said.

  The continued walking arm in arm until they reached the entrance of the barracks she was sharing with the other girls. “What’s complicated about love?” he asked.

  Frankie laughed and then immediately covered her mouth, ashamed of her outburst. “Sorry,” she said and then kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you for being a gentleman.”

  The officer removed his cap and grasped it in his hand. “I know I’m just an army officer,” he said, “but would you like to dance with me again sometime?”

  “I would be honored,” said Frankie with a curtsy. She then turned and entered the barracks alone.

  How foolish am I? she thought. Such a cute man and she had been longing for some kind of sexual activity. She wanted to feel a man again—if not inside her, then at least lying next to her—just to feel that closeness she had felt so often with Alex. She remembered how similar the officer’s physique resembled that of Alex. Rushing to the door, she peaked outside to look for him, but he was already gone. For a moment she felt incredibly guilty. After all, it was sex that had gotten her into this situation. Maybe I should consider abstinence, she thought.

  Instead Frankie changed into her pajamas and got into bed. She fantasized about Alex lying naked on top of her, and tried hard to remember everything she could about him—his body, his moves, and his voice. Her fantasy was suddenly interrupted by the drunken arrival of the other girls entering the barracks. She opened her eyes to see Eileen, the tall singer with a wild mane of curly red hair; Bridget, the dark-haired, full-figured, sexy pin-up girl; and Michelle, the delicate, svelte actress all laughing and staggering towards her, holding each other up.

  “Guess what!” Eileen yelled, tossing herself on top of Frankie.

  “What?” Frankie asked, smelling the alcohol on Eileen’s breath.

  “They’re in Jamaica!” she squealed with glee.

  “Who is in Jamaica?” asked Frankie.

  “The Dark Knights!” exclaimed Bridget, jumping onto Frankie’s bunk. “Robbie, Nick, Peter, Alex, and Josh—they’re doing a photo shoot for their next album, Purgatory in Paradise.”

  “We found out from one of the pilots,” explained Michelle with excitement equal to the others. “It turns out he’s got the sweets for Bridget, and he’s agreed to fly us there for the weekend.” She laughed. “Little does he know, Bridget actually wants to make it with Robbie Marin.”

  Frankie bit her lip and fell back onto her bed. “Good luck.”

  “Oh, no way in hell are you staying here,” said Eileen. “You know the band. You have to introduce us. You’re our key in.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Frankie. “Who said I know them?”

  “Didn’t you once date Alex Rowley?” asked Michelle.

  Frankie stared at Michelle in shock. “It was nothing, really,” she said and then pulled the covers over her head.

  Bridget pulled at Frankie’s blankets to expose her face. “But you know him. You can at least ask him to introduce us to the others.”

  “I hear Robbie’s girlfriend Amelia Magdalene will be there,” said Eileen with a wiggle of her hips.

  “Oh, no!” Bridget whined. “Come on, Frankie, ya gotta!”

  “All right,” Frankie sighed, “but I’m not taking any responsibility for what happens after that.”

  The girls cheered as Frankie watched, feeling helpless. There was really no way to escape without divulging the whole story, which she definitely was not going to do. Then again, her wish was about to come true—she was going to see Alex again.

  Lying back in bed while the other girls giggled and got into their nightgowns, Frankie foresaw her fantasy becoming a reality, but after how things had been left the last time they were together, she wasn’t sure if he’d have her.

  As the sun sank beneath the horizon, Alex sat smoking a joint on the beach
just south of Kingston, Jamaica. Apart from the photographer taking pictures of Robbie’s girlfriend, Amelia, he was alone. He watched as her dark, sexy bikini-clad silhouette emerged from the water like a goddess of the sea.

  “Paradise is purgatory,” he muttered to himself, recalling the vacation he had originally planned with Frankie. Instead, he had gone with Sarah and was now sitting on a tropical beach without her, watching another man’s girl prancing and posing in the evening surf.

  Alex wasn’t interested in Amelia; it was just that she and Robbie just appeared to be the perfect couple—attractive and sexy. Together they made quite a pair, appearing on several covers of worldwide fashion magazines. Alex puffed on the joint and thought of Sarah, who envied the attention Robbie and Amelia received from fans and the press.

  Nick shuffled through the sand and tapped Alex on the shoulder with a bottle of rum. “Ho, ho, ho.”

  Alex took another drag and glanced upward. “Look who it is: Saint Nick.”

  Nick laughed, sat down beside Alex, and handed him the bottle. Alex took a large swig and handed it back to Nick. Nick took a drink of rum. “Romantic, ain’t it?”

  “Are you trying to seduce me?” Alex took another hit of the joint and then handed it to Nick.

  “Sorry, ol’ chap,” said Nick. “Even if I did swing in that direction, you’re not my type.”

  “Thank God!” exclaimed Alex.

  “What do you think of Robbie’s bird?” Nick asked, nodding toward Amelia and handing the joint back to Alex.

  “Pretty fine, but a bit too much posh and not enough personality.” Alex dragged on the joint and exhaled with a distant stare. “She’s not Frankie.”

  “Where is Robbie anyway?” Nick asked, immediately changing the subject.

  “I think he’s back at the digs with some native bird. You know Robbie and his goal to have sex with a woman of every nation, race, and religion. One day he should write a book.” Alex turned toward Nick. “What do you think they’ll make us do tomorrow? I hate having my picture taken.”

  Nick laughed. “I imagine some beach balls and bingo.”

  Josh suddenly appeared, wearing an eye patch. He shoved himself between Nick and Alex and greeted them both with a drunken Argh!

  “Where’d you get that, mate?” asked Alex.

  “I brought it with me,” replied Josh.

  “You brought an eye patch with you?” questioned Nick.

  “We are the pirates, mateys!” slurred Josh. “I got the eye patch, you blokes got scurvy.”

  “Ha, ha, ha! Ain’t you a riot,” said Nick. He then attempted to pull the eye patch from Josh’s face and let it snap back.

  While Nick and Josh wrestled for the eye patch, Alex’s attention went off to the horizon. Despite the fun and camaraderie he was having with his mates, nothing could excise the pain he felt in his heart.

  The next day, all the Dark Knights were hung over from their Jamaican night of drinking and debauchery. As it turned out, it made them well-suited for their photo shoot. Everyone showed up outside an old Kingston tavern dressed rather sloppily, wearing dark sunglasses, and looking overall disheveled. Everyone, of course, except for Robbie, who was provocatively dressed, wearing a dark wide-brimmed hat. Josh wore a wrinkled oxford shirt over a black T-shirt along with a beret. Nick and Peter were dressed in slouchy oversized sweaters. Alex donned his old school sweatshirt displaying the logo for Manchester Athletics with the sleeves cut off. Thankfully for Alex, there were no stiff poses or forced smiles involved.

  Afterward, the band just hung around downtown Kingston, taking in local bars, head shops, music shops, and even a voodoo shop while photographers travelled with them, taking random shots.

  The band members enjoyed visiting the local music shops where the Dark Knights were able to listen to the music of new Jamaican bands like the Hep Ones, the Wailing Wailers, and other artists whose sound utilized ska—a style of music composed of calypso, American jazz, and rhythm and blues. It was ska that had influenced the Dark Knights’ latest LP. It was the voodoo shop, however, that intrigued them all the most.

  An elderly Jamaican woman with long, gray dreadlocks sat behind the counter and kept a watchful eye on the band members as they perused her store. It was clear that she wasn’t afraid of them damaging or stealing anything, but was filled with curiosity by their presence.

  “You there with the dark eyes!” she called to Alex in a heavy Jamaican accent. “Come here!”

  Alex set down the voodoo doll he had been stabbing in the heart with a pin and walked over to her. “Yes?”

  “Give me your hand.” As Alex did so, the elderly woman caressed his arm and then turned it over. She traced the lines in of his palm with her wrinkled finger. “Just as I suspected. You have the eyes of a demon, but the heart of a saint.” She looked down at Alex’s palm. “Your love line runs deep.”

  Alex tried to pull his hand away, but the woman held on to him tightly. “I’m not sure you’re very good at this,” he said.

  She looked him straight in the eyes. “I am the very best.” She returned her gaze to his palm. “Love runs very deep inside you—to your soul. You are bleeding over love.”

  “What makes you think that?” questioned Alex.

  “I don’t think; I know.” When the woman again looked up at Alex, she stared at him with large black eyes. Alex thought they seemed empty at first, but when he looked more closely, he felt that he could almost see her soul. “I see the promise of understanding,” she said to him.

  Alex felt freaked out by the woman and pulled his palm away from her. “What does that mean?” he asked.

  “People spend their lives living in a deluded ideal of love. Some search and never find any clues. You will gain the knowledge, and one day you will understand.”

  “Great,” Alex said with sarcasm. “I will understand love. How much do you want for the reading?”

  “It’s on the house.” Her eyes briefly darted between the other band members before returning to Alex. “You should be grateful. Your friends do not have your courage or strength. I fear that love will take its toll on one of your friends. He will not get out alive,” she said sternly. “You are the lucky one.”

  Alex nodded and backed away. “Well, thanks for that.” He walked up to Peter and whispered in his ear. “Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

  “Not into putting a spell on someone?” questioned Peter.

  Alex glanced back at the old woman. “I think we’re already cursed.”

  Later that night, in a smoky tavern, Alex and the rest of the Dark Knights were beyond high on the local Rastafarian’s dope. It was good stuff. Alex’s mind was a complete haze and his body was numb from the rum. Everything now was a vibrant whirl of color and sound.

  The band chilled and listened to hear a live performance by the band they heard in the music store and, for the first time in months, Alex felt he had found true inspiration. Despite his inebriated state, Alex sat up and took notice.

  It was, however, their creative leader, Robbie, who was inspired the most by the music and the only one really listening. Ska had been the influence for their latest LP and was the main reason why his band was in Jamaica getting wasted on weed and rum. Robbie looked around at his fellow band mates and wished they had a bit more respect. Especially Josh, who by now—after being completely smashed by the rum—truly believed he was a pirate.

  After the tavern closed, the Dark Knights headed back to the hotel to continue their private party poolside. Alex curled up on a lounge chair with his guitar, played around with a few chords, and sang without giving any conscious thought to his words:

  The dark forces of Obeah reach to me

 
Like the jagged branches of an old tree.

  Not a clue to know how far I have gone

  From the troubles in life I have sown.

  Voodoo-doobie-doo is the craft to get your wants.

  Voodoo-doobie-doo to liberate you from what haunts.

  Robbie stared at Alex. “What’s that?”

  “I dunno; it must be the spell that witch cast on me,” mumbled Alex with a joint in his mouth and a strum of his guitar.

  “Voodoo-doobie-doo!” Josh laughed and then fell out of his lounge chair.

  Darren walked out onto the patio to find his talent wasted and still awake at the wee hour of three o’clock in the morning. “Boys, you have another photo shoot tomorrow. Maybe it’s time you fellows got some sleep.”

  “You’re not our mother,” spat Nick.

  “Yeah, but I am your manager and the one who gets you work,” replied Darren.

  Peter rose from his chair. “I’m wiped out anyway.” He slapped Alex on the head. “Come on, roomie, let’s get some sleep.”

  Alex and the rest of the Dark Knights followed Peter and Darren inside.

  Robbie tapped Alex on the arm to get his attention. “Hey, mate, cool song! ’S gotta good groove. I think I can make that song move.”

  “Sure, mate,” Alex said. It didn’t make much difference to Alex. It was just a stupid song about his experience at the voodoo shop. Mostly he was irritated that the woman saw something, however vague her description might have been.

  Why did it have to be me? he thought. Why couldn’t it be Robbie or someone else to have insight?

  Purgatory in Paradise

  Frankie looked out the window of the army helicopter and watched as the aircraft’s shadow skimmed the bright blue surface of the Caribbean far below. It was a mere two-hour flight from Santo Domingo to Kingston, and the closer hey got to their destination, the more Frankie’s nerves began to jump. This has got to be the craziest thing I have ever done, she thought, flying to see a man who might not want anything to do with me. Her mind began to wander. What if they make me look like a fool in front of all the other girls . . . or worse, ignore me completely?