“We're getting married.”
“Jesus,” he smiled. “Sweet Jesus. You're so sweet.”
I could see tears in his eyes. He mumbled something to himself about young people, then asked, “When?”
“Soon.”
“I'm so happy for you,” he said. “Now what is this sin you mentioned? And feel free to be as detailed as possible. I've missed you.”
I lowered my voice.
“It's this whole thing with her sister.”
“Fran?”
“Yes.”
“And how is she doing nowadays?”
“Well...she tried to kill me, Father.”
“Come again?”
“She's obsessed with me,” I said. “She won't stop calling me. She tells me that she loves me, that she wants me. I keep trying to explain to her that I'm in love with Carmen – that I'm gonna marry her – but each time I say it, she cries and roars and hangs up. Not five minutes later, and she's blowing up my cell phone all over again. I've tried calling the cops, but that did piss. They told her to basically knock it off, or else. Useless! She stopped by my office that day, you hear me, Father? My damn office! I was with a patient, when she kicked down the door and threatened to kill Carmen if I went through with the marriage.”
I paused, wondering if I should really tell him what was on my mind. I figured why not. He was a priest. Priests don't squeal.
“Sometimes...I want to kill her, Father Lolligal. I think about it all the time, even in the shower. Is that wrong? Am I going to Hell?”
A short pause.
“Yes,” he said. “I'm sorry. But murdering someone in your mind is the same as doing it in real life. It says so in the Bible, somewhere. I promise.”
“Isn't there some prayer you can give me?”
“To do what?”
“Go to Heaven.”
“The only way you're going to Heaven is if you come to terms with your problem. Find inner peace first, then outer peace follows,” he said.
“You can't work some magic?”
“Magic???”
“You know....Can't you put some frog legs and eels into a pot and stir it around and make some kind of potion for me to drink, to help me? I'll drink anything, Lolligal. I'm desperate!”
He frowned.
“This isn't witchcraft, my dear boy. This is church.”
“You mean there's a difference?”
Lolligal kept quiet. Was he thinking of something witty to say? Did I offend him?
I leaned back.
Dammit. He wasn't going to bless me. I knew going to church was a waste of time. I said bye to the priest and stood under that statue of Jesus, of Him on the cross, that hovers above the alter. I asked if He'd forgive me for my murderous thoughts, but the Jesus statue came loose and nearly took an alter boy's head off. Everyone screamed and ran to the boy to see if he was alright.
Father Lolligal picked the boy up and pointed at ME.
“Leave this holy place!” he was yelling. “Can't you see your evil heart has done enough???”
People started screaming at me, chanting, “Bad luck! Bad Luck!” and throwing bibles and pamphlets and holy water at my head.
I ran outside and hid behind a tree, confused and shaking, watching as the mob ran down the hill and into the woods. Some of them had torches. What had I gotten into this time? And all for being honest?
I was wrong. Priests do squeal. They squeal to God.
I should've kept my mouth shut.
I was screwed.
Hell waited.
The whole ride home, I just kept thinking about Fran.
And it disgusted me. Felt like I was thinking about a baby killer. Got that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. What if I got home and found Carmen dead? What if I got home and saw Fran with a knife in her hand, standing over Carmen's decapitated body?
“How could you just let her kill me like this!?” Carmen's head would cry. “Don't you love me anymore???”
What if Fran was wearing Carmen's stomach for a hat?
Terrible images. I felt like gagging.
What was wrong with my head? Fran....She had put a hex on me! I was losing my mind. She was all I thought about. I wished her dead. I had to protect myself, my wife. Certain people had to die, and Fran was one of them. I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to kill her. Needed to kill her. I enjoyed thinking about it, and the more I thought about it, the more I really believed I could do it. I'd do it in secret....No cops. No lengthy court. No jail. No prison. I wanted to kill her right then and there – that feeling of relief was awesome. No more of her threats. Time for marriage; time for kids....My life would've been perfect. So perfect.
My way of relaxing? On those drunk nights, I'd go out back and whack my bat on a tree until apples fell all around me. I just needed release, but it was always such a short thing. As long as she lived, I'd never really get a full night's sleep. So I just hit more trees. It wasn't long before I broke all my bats. Something had to be done. Trees weren't doing it.
Maybe a more sane solution? The police?
Well....
Carmen had Fran arrested and thrown in jail a year earlier for smashing a dish over her head. It was Thanksgiving, and the whole family was there, asking us when we were getting married. Fran, she got real drunk and started cussing everyone out one by one, pointing out their faults. She got out of her seat and all up in Carmen's face and whacked her upside the head with a dish full of rice. The whole scene was a big mess. Left everyone crying and such. I remember holding Carmen's bleeding head together. I was filled with rage. I wanted to open her mouth as wide as I could until bone snapped. A few of the big boys were holding her back as she went into this big rant, kicking and screaming about how God hated her, how her life was falling apart, and how much she loved me, how much she wanted me. Said she was going to do all these things to me with her tongue. Nasty things. She was very descriptive. Parents dragged their kids away.
Before that awful meal, she'd come over to our house and tie love letters to rocks and fly'em through our windows. And they were weird letters. A lot of them seemed to be written in what appeared to be Jamaican. And sometimes she'd try to run Carmen over. (I mean...I was sure it was her.) That Thanksgiving was the last straw, and off to jail she went. Off to that, “big, cold, lonely building run by curious fingers,” as Carmen had put it.
It was repetitive.
It was always off to jail with Fran.
But it was the restraining order that seemed to do the trick....
After that, we didn't see her for a long time. We just forgot about her. Suddenly, life was good for us. Peaceful. It was a taste of Heaven. Apparently, Fran became a veterinarian and lived somewhere in the North Shore area. That's all anyone really knew. All that mattered to me was that there was a big gap between her and me – between Honolulu and North Shore. Let her stay there. Let her do what she liked. Good riddance to bad rubbish.
And then...I started to get the phone calls, the love calls, the lust calls, the death threats. I called the police, but they said Fran moved off the island. Said the call came from somewhere in India. It made no sense. I kept arguing with them to do something – to protect us – and they said they'd look in on it. They went to her house in North Shore, but the place had burned down long ago. Fran was a ghost. Carmen was a wreck. She was sick all the time and had pains all over her body.
Fran just didn't want to learn. Someone had to beat some sense into her.
ME.
I'd do it. Take a bat right to her head.
Payback.
This is for Carmen.
The radio went crazy, going to random stations. A light flooded the car. I was blinded. I screamed out for some reason. My ears were ringing. Something weird was happening. This wasn't normal. My first instinct was to run out of the car, but I couldn't move. That light was doing something to me. And then it seemed like the ceiling was being ripped out.
I was floating....
; Was I dying?
Incredible pain all over; felt like my flesh was being yanked off.
And then it was cold. I was shaking.
I could hear people chatting – but it was like they were talking backwards.
When I opened my eyes, I was on a metal table...in the nude. I'm dreaming, I kept thinking. This is all just a big joke. People were looking down at me. They looked like aliens: Grey heads; big , black eyes. They held odd, glittering instruments over me. They nodded to themselves in agreement, except for one alien that kept shaking its head and played around with a sword. I started to panic, squirming around, trying to break free. I was tied down by chains. The aliens took out a huge needle. Something was in there, swimming around. I begged them to get that thing away from me, but they didn't care. I was screaming, all-out shrieking.
The alien with the sword just stared at me, and I got the sense that if I did something astounding, he'd take care of me.
The whole place started to shake. One of the aliens yelled to the pilot to do something – pointing to the pilot, jabbing its finger at the pilot. The whole room began to jump around, like it was going over a bumpy road.
The aliens held me down and ran the needle into my chest. It went in like a pen through a Styrofoam cup. I couldn't breathe. I could feel something running all around in my heart, messing things up.
Sounds of expensive things breaking. The lights above me swayed. The UFO was in trouble. Aliens were falling over, crying, confused, begging the pilot to do something right.
And then it felt like something took a big bite out of my heart.
I screamed again...passing out....
CARMEN MURUDA
Where was Phil? He said he'd only be away for an hour or two. Said he had to go to church to get something sour out of his stomach. I missed him. I was getting nervous. What if something happened to him? Was he okay? I made all the calls – Father Lolligal, my sister, all our friends – but nothing useful came out of it. No one had seen him.
I found myself pacing in the living room. My mind went crazy – betraying me. I kept seeing Phil walk in through the front door, all bloody and crying. He'd be dying. He'd die, and I'd be alone forever, because there was no one else for me. I thought back to when Phil saved me from Denny, in that supermarket. He was my lover at the time – Denny – and we got into a fight over me having kids or not. He didn't want, and I quote, “Little money-suckers” running around, stealing his dreams of becoming a professional juggler. He was an artist, didn't I understand???
I told him that we were through. Over. Stick a fork in me. I was DONE.
Next think I knew, he had his hands wrapped around my neck – his thumbs pressed into the center of my throat. People were screaming for the police. A baby cried. I remember looking into his fat face and seeing all the hate he built up for me. Right before my eyes exploded, Phil ran up and hit him over the head with a milk carton, then beat the hell out of him – kicked, bit him, slapped him, really made an example out of Denny Horpor in front of all those kids watching. Phil sat down and held me, rocked me in his arms. I couldn't stop coughing. So embarrassing....I kept saying, “I'm sorry.” Denny stood up, massaging his head, and an old lady hit him with her purse. Then another old lady showed up and hit him, and another, then another.
The cops showed up and tackled him to the ground.
Phil...he went with me all the way to the hospital.
Stayed with me that whole time.
I stopped pacing around.
Denny. Banglan. Dreston. Drewboy. Ba'aron. Verntorn. Ralph.
All those jerks. All those ex lovers. It was time to clear them all out. It was time for an exorcism. Before I got married, I was going to get rid of them once and for all. I went into the kitchen and got out a pile of newspapers, tearing them all up, making these little dolls. Each one represented an ex lover. I even cut their heads out of some old pictures and stuck them on the paper dolls.
I went out to the backyard and stood those things up on the grass and lit them on fire.
I swear, I could hear them cry out for help. They begged for my forgiveness. Their shrieks filled my ears. It was done. I felt cured. I was clean.
I was ready for marriage.
FRAN
I felt like a fool. I didn't think it would work. The whole thing was too good to be true. I sat in my car, on the side of the dirt road, staring into the dark, waiting to see Phil's car drive up. Lolligal said I'd find him there; said that I needed to be patient; said I had to stop calling him and waking him up.
“Relax, my child,” he said. “He'll show.”
I kept repeating what he said in my mind.
He'll show....He'll show....
I started thinking about Phil and Carmen getting married. Imagining them kissing, shoving cake into their mouths, kissing, kissing, KISSING. I wanted to yell out. Felt like something heavy was in my throat. I was being strangled! Carmen was strangling me. She always had the luck, always had to better me in everything. Had to, get it? She went out of her way to shame me. Always. I started replaying things in my mind: Her better house, better job, better car, better driveway, better breasts, better face, better future husband.
She was going to enjoy all his money. Greedy whore. All that money. And I'd see none of it. And why should I? I wasn't the one God smiled down on. Yin and Yang. Black and white. The world demanded balance. Lucky sister, unlucky sister. Guess who I was???
All that thinking pissed me off – and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed that burning feeling all over my body – all that anger. I felt....
Inspired.
Where the hell is Phil? He's supposed to be here by now. I was promised.
Right when I was about to call Father Lolligal again and threaten to eat away his skin – that I was coming over to collect – I saw Phil....Saw him stumbling out of the dark, down the road. He looked like a zombie. He was naked. All beaten up. All shivering. I turned on the headlights. He flew his hands over his face and screamed at the car like it was gonna jump on him. I ran out and held his hands.
“You're okay,” I promised. “You're okay now. I'm here. I'm here for you.”
I hugged him.
He hugged back and slowly opened his eyes.
“Carmen?”
“No,” I said.
He stepped back...shocked. I thought he was going to hit me.
“Fran? I can't believe this,” he said. “It's you. It's really you.” He put his hands on my face. “I have something to tell you.” He held me close, mouth close to mine...and then he said the words I had been dying to hear for months.
“I want you,” he said. “God, I've wanted you for so long!”
He kissed me, and when he did it, a picture of my sister hit my eyes like lightning. So I kissed him back – more and more until Carmen was driven out from my mind. Phil eased me to the ground. We rolled around on all that dirt, all those leaves, all those bugs.
“It was always you,” he said. “When I was with her, it was always you I made love to. I could never get you out of my head. I'm yours. I'll give you anything! Just tell me you'll be mine.”
It worked, I kept thinking. Jesus, yes, thank you...it worked.
I could feel all his money in my bloodstream. I could feel my wardrobe expanding, my wallet expanding, my future expanding, my travel expenses expanding. The good life. It was kissing me. I had everything. Security. Peace. Life was going to be good.
I owed that priest an apology.
I opened my purse and pulled out a small container.
“Wanna have some fun?”
He looked at it, curious.
“What's that?”
I opened the container and sniffed it.
“I call it Babiroin. Super baby-heart.”
“Good Lord, it's still beating!”
“That's how you know it's good.”
“Where'd you get it?”
“I made it.”
“Made it???”
“I dig up cemeteries, bring
babies home, cut them open, reanimate the hearts with black magic and various dance moves and moaning sounds, and inject the hearts with dangerous amounts of cocain. What do you think I've been doing the whole time I was gone? Going to college? Get real. I've been making Babiroin. Super baby-hearts.”
“What does it do?”
“Babi-ro-in gives you the greatest high you've ever had. You'll feel like a goddamn werewolf!” I licked the heart, and it was like licking battery acid. “Consumption is the only way.”
“I have to eat that thing?” He shook his head. “I can't. It's too weird.”
I was losing him. He was freaking out.
“I ain’t putting that stuff in my mouth,” he said. “Jesus, please don't make me bite it.”
I kissed him.
“If you love me you will.”
His response was immediate.
“You're right,” he smiled. “I love you. As your lover, I have to do anything you say.”
We were on our knees, facing each other. I held the beating heart in front of us, and we ate it at the same time – eating the drug like wild dogs. Blood was all over my face. Our eyes were wide open. There was something very sexual about the whole thing. It was the first really romantic thing I ever experienced. Phil was looking around like a confused deer. It was like he wanted to say something important, but couldn't spit the words out. His eyebrows kept going up and down. His tongue went in and out of his mouth like a lizard. I was exhibiting the same mannerisms.
Fantastic!
We were aroused. Sexually.
Phil bear-hugged me and flung his head back and roared like a lion and we rolled down the side of the mountain – his lips pressed hard against mine. We ended up in a bush, where he made love to me every which way. I hoped I wasn't rolling around on an ant-hill.
Next thing I knew, the sky opened up and a giant hand reached down and picked us up. We screamed and screamed. I gripped Phil's legs for dear life. A bird flew into my head.
“What's happening?”
We were in Heaven. We made love on a ground of clouds. All the angels clapped and cheered and smiled at us.
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