Wicked Girl (THE FIRE Book 1)

by Mcebo Michael Metfula

  “Just before you waste time calling the police. This is not Grace. Grace is somewhere enjoying life with some man.”

  She tilted her head like a puppy. “I’m lost.”

  “Grace was cheating on me for years. And stupid me, I couldn’t see any clue. Not even one. You know Chloe, I’ve never felt so stupid in my life.”

  “What’s up with the shallow grave then?”

  “The trunk has everything that belongs to her. Everything. In my heart and mind, Grace is dead. The Grace I knew and loved is dead. This is her grave. She never existed, in fact.”

  She tipped her head again. “Elijah, you’re such an invention. I’ve never heard of such. You wake up in the middle of the night to conduct this – this – funeral. Burying nothing.” She laughed. “But I feel bad for you, El. You truly loved her. And myself, I must say, I’m truly disappointed in her. I honestly, honestly thought she loved you. And you know, I looked at her as a role model. In fact, she was one for a lot of young women.”

  “It’s life, Chloe. You know, she has successfully destroyed my ability to trust a woman. I don’t know how I will ever find it in myself to trust another woman.”

  My cell rang. It was Elizabeth, Grace’s mom. Again. I put it back in my pocket.

  “You’re not gonna answer it? Who is it?”

  “Grace’s mom.”

  “She hates me, I know, but the poor old lady should not be punished for her daughter’s dirty games.”

  “Forget her. I’m done with her daughter. And I don’t want anything or anybody that links me to that whore.”

  “You know you sound like a teen girl now?”

  “What about Kim. Definitely, she links you to Grace.”

  “You’re sure she’s mine?”

  Chloe frowned and shook her head. “El, don’t do this to yourself and to that sweet little girl. She doesn’t deserve it. Please don’t punish innocent souls. I understand you’re hurting, but pain has never killed anybody. Just try to let it sink that Grace was not the person you thought she was. She never was. Yes, I know, that’s the hardest thing for anyone to tell himself about the person he truly loved and trusted. But that’s the only bridge that will safely land you on the other side. It will take some time, I know, but someday, it will be all over.”

  “I can see, you have never been dumped by your last resort, the love of your life. If you had been, you would understand the destructive power of rejection and betrayal. You feel sour…weak…done…and dead.” I gazed at the grave as my eyes became warm. “Chloe. Chloe, you know, it hurts so bad to see a relationship you had marked as permanent end abruptly and unceremoniously. You feel like Jesus when his friend Judas betrayed him. What is sourer than betrayal and disappointment? Huh?”

  “Sorry. I’m very sorry you had to go through this. I really am. But take what I said. Just lecture yourself, she never was the person you thought she was.”

  “Unfortunately you are right. She is not the person I thought she was. She was just pretending. She never was. She never was. She never was. She never was. She never was. She never was. She never was.” I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. “She is not even close to my ideal kind of woman.”

  “But please understand, I’m not fighting you; I’m trying to help. Just change your attitude towards innocent people. That’s all I ask.”

  “I didn’t do anything to any innocent soul. Grace did it all. Do you know I couldn’t even sleep last night? The pain in my heart compelled me to stay up all night. I tossed and turned until I woke up and wrote my pain.”

  “You wrote pain. At night. You didn’t even eat yesterday.”

  “Putting your pain on paper is the most powerful therapy, I’m telling you.” I pulled out the paper from the pocket and gave it to her. “I want you to tell me if it’s normal to feel this way in the middle of the night when other people are resting.”

  She glanced at my eyes and unfolded the paper. She read aloud. “Always, I shrink when I see trusting people. People who trust other people. People who trust their lovers. People who take such a gigantic risk. Where do they get the guts? Are they naive? Or they have trustworthy people at their disposal? Their spouses are honest people?

  “Personally, I don’t blame banks for demanding security. They would be extinct if they never did. I know because I was almost extinct. Extravagantly, I gave people my most valuable assets. I gave them genuine love. I gave them genuine respect. I gave them my trust. And I almost became extinct. But I never did. Assets from the heart grow as you give them out. They never run out.

  “She thought she would leave me loveless. She left me with more. She thought she would leave me without respect. She left me with more. The only asset she successfully finished in me is trust. I wonder where I will get this valuable asset ever again. I wonder how I will ever trust another woman. I wonder.”

  DAY 11

  ELIJAH

  Friday, January 27, 2017

  4:10 PM

  The night was taking over gradually and the snow was falling romantically when the cab dropped me in front of Travis’ mansion. But of course, there was nothing romantic about my mission. It was a dangerous one actually. I had run short of alternatives. Breaking into Travis’ home was inevitable. I had to get something linking him and Grace to Leon’s murder and my attempted murder. In my ambitious thoughts, I could see myself getting something from his house. His journal (if he keeps one). Or the murder weapon (if I make it to his bedroom or office). Or the red van (if he is stupid).

  I shook off the snow already turning my jacket whitish and crossed the lonely road. For a second or two or more, I stopped and gazed at his home. But due to the tall iron bar fencing and trees, I could not see the mansion. I only saw the golf course-like yard and the beautiful gardens through the fence. Yes, the winter had taken its summer glory, but it still looked beautiful.

  A sour feeling cut through me as I thought his home was beautiful enough to lure my wife from me and her kids. Beautiful enough to make her kill her son and attempt to kill her husband who loves…loved her more than his very life.

  I took out the notebook which I had turned into a journal and wrote:

  --Friday, January 27, 2017--

  * The people you help the most today become your worst enemies tomorrow. They even deny the help itself. They claim you never helped them when they know very well you shouldered their life. They go out to help the people who mocked them when they had nothing. And they refuse to help you or be linked with you in any way. Is this normal human nature or folly of some?

  * Greatest men and women of all the time are those who reached their melting points and melted to liquid, some to vapor as God applied the heat as if He hated them. Their new states enabled Him to mold them to new perfect invincible beings. Men and women of war. He –

  “Can I help you, sir?” A man’s voice shook me to the core. I hadn’t seen nor heard him approach me. I blinked several times and scanned through the fence. I saw a man staring at me. “Sir, you have been standing there for twenty minutes. How can I help you?”

  I drew close to the fence. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t –”

  “Mr. Turner, it’s you,” the man exploded. “Sorry, I couldn’t see it’s you. I don’t see very well when it’s a bit dark.”

  “You know me? How do you know me?”

  He laughed. “Long story. Walk down to the gate, you will find me there.”

  He returned to the golf course cart and drove down the concrete pavement to the gate. The cart produced no sound like it was electric.

  I walked down happy the security guy knew me. It was like God had sent His angels to open the way for me, instead of breaking in like some thug.

  He opened the gate with a remote from his security guard room at the gate. “Come in here, it’s chilly outside.”

  I walked into his small office still not recognizing him. I could tell I had seen him before, but I couldn’t recall where.

  “Don’t tell me you still don’t
recognize me.”

  “Mmm…”

  He rose from the chair and shook my hand over his desk. “Sergio Munoz is my name.”

  “I remember you, but I can’t recall where we met.” I hung my coat on the hook – his office was too hot.

  He dropped on his chair. I also sat opposite him, facing all the glory that stole Grace’s heart through the window behind him. The lights made the night view of the mansion glorious indeed. They kind of lead your eyes along the road to the small traffic circle in front of the glowing mansion.

  “Beautiful, I know,” Sergio said. “Some people are already in their heaven.”

  “Yeah, the man has a beautiful home,” I said.

  He laid his hands on the table and gazed at me. “Mr. Turner, I got your contact from a friend. My wife was dying of cancer. She was terrible. Terrible. Stage four. But –” He wiped tears with a handkerchief. “Sorry man, I always get emotional when I talk about it. You man, you prayed for her and she was completely healed. Just like that. The best doctors money can buy had failed, but you prayed for only, what, thirty seconds and four years of sorrow and torment ended just like that.” He wiped his face.

  “Oh, I see. How is she now? Where is she?”

  “She is perfectly fine. She is at home now with my five kids.”

  “Five. You have a big family.”

  “Man, I don’t even know how I could take care of those kids without her. I don’t know.”

  “Yeah, God really did a great thing for you.”

  He ran the handkerchief over his face again. “Yeah man. Let’s talk about something else. This makes me very emotional. You’re here to see Mr. Wright?”

  I nodded. “Mr. Wright? Yep.”

  Sergio smiled. “You don’t seem enthusiastic about meeting him.”

  I smiled. “Of course, I’m not. If it wasn’t for my principles, I would be here to kill him.”

  Sergio laughed in a way I had never seen before. Besides being loud, his laughter sort of came from his stomach. “Say that again. Me too, the man is full of himself. He thinks money is everything.” He broke and laughed again.

  I also laughed. But not at what he said but at the way he laughed. “What should I say? Yeah, I’m here to see him. In a way.”

  “Okay, but he isn’t available these days. He is in Europe on a vacation.”

  “Can you believe that he might be with my wife in Europe? He ran away with her.”

  “He what? What?” Sergio screamed. “Oh, sorry man. I can’t believe your wife fell for that…for him. You know that man play stupid women like a piano. I see them come in and out of this gate. Every day. Day and night. Dozens of them. At times, you wonder how some women think. How do you let someone use you just because he has money?”

  “Dozens? Are you serious?”

  “I’m telling you. To say the least, he’s a crazy womanizer.”

  I sighed heavily. “Okay, I see.”

  “I’m so sorry, man. I won’t even say I know what you’re going through because I don’t. My wife has always been faithful to me. But I guess you’re feeling worse than me when my wife was diagnosed with cancer. Betrayal hurts more than cancer or death. I’m really sorry, man, but the Lord will see you through. I’m sure He has a great woman waiting for you.” He shook his head. “But how can I help you? Whatever you need I will do for you.”

  I tapped the desk. “Thanks.” I stood up. “I think you’ve already helped me. Breaking into his house digging more stuff won’t help me in any way.” I shook his hand and left.

  In the cab, I took out my notebook and wrote:

  --Friday, January 27, 2017--

  * The biggest mistake we make as men is to expect our wives to love and care for us more than our moms. That’s near impossible. Only a few men get those kinds of special women.

  Also, we expect our wives to be good to us as our moms were great to our fathers. Chances are that it ain’t gonna happen. Then what?

  When the cab overtook a bus full of noisy students coming from a game or something, my cell rang.

  “Detective,” I said.

  “Good evening, Mr. Turner,” Detective Howell said. “I want to believe I’m calling with good news. Your wife’s credit card was used this afternoon in L.A. But LAPD couldn’t get any footage in the shop it was used in. The card was used to buy ice cream and walnuts. I tried to reach you but I couldn’t get you; your cell phone was off. But your housekeeper did confirm that your wife likes ice cream and peanuts, which may imply it was her using the card.”

  “Yes, she was right. Grace likes mixing walnuts with ice cream. She rarely eats ice cream without peanuts.”

  “But it’s winter now.”

  “She eats ice cream even in winter so long as she is in a properly warmed up house – or in front of a fireplace.”

  “That’s valuable information, Mr. Turner. Let’s keep our fingers crossed she is the one who used the card then.”

  “That would be great, sir,” I said happy she was alive, but bleeding she was enjoying that ice cream with a womanizer she preferred over me.

  DAY 17

  ELIJAH

  Thursday, February 2, 2017

  7:54 AM

  The sunlight promised a great day but I had to drag myself into my home office. I was tempted to go back to bed like the previous days. Nothing seemed possible without my longtime friend and wife. The hardest part was that all my faculties were failing to accept that Grace was never what she presented herself to be. She was just a good actor as Chloe said.

  I scanned my office. It felt different in an awkward way. I took out my notebook and emptied my heart again.

  --Thursday, February 2, 2017--

  * A good story with a bad ending is a bad one, but a bad story with a good ending is a good one. So my story with Grace is obviously a bad one.

  * I wish my tears could grace my eyes like I was a woman, but my eyes are stingy. They are not interested, yet, I desperately need the therapy tears bring to an abused and aching heart.

  * My Lord Jesus, I am nothing but a bullet in the gun that’s in your hand. When you press the trigger, I don’t delay exiting the barrel. I hit your enemy according to your targeting. However, now, things are different Lord, the enemy picked up your bullet and smashed it with a hammer mercilessly. Rescue me, oh Lord. Please, I beg you. I’m dying.

  I stared at the laptop. It’s screen also stared back at me with the expectation that I would hit the ON button and start working as usual. But I pushed it away. The scourge of betrayal was so severe in my heart. I felt like I had to cry all day or die. I trusted Grace with all of my heart. Her bogus smile, bogus kindness, bogus honesty, bogus humility and bogus love fooled me successfully. That’s why I found it hard to accept what she truly was and move on. I thought burying everything that belonged to her would brew an oasis of closure. But closure never came. Only disappointment reigned in my heart. A special kind of it.

  I pulled one drawer and took out my Samsung tablet. In the Google search bar, I typed “How to find closure after a breakup or divorce.” Millions of answers came back. I opened the second one entitled “7 Must Dos After a Nasty Breakup.” I scanned through the seven bullets. Only one point drew my attention:

  The quickest way to forget the pain of a cheating spouse is to replace them as soon as possible. Easy, right?

  I sighed, failing to buy the blogger’s view. I failed to understand how you could get involved with another person whilst still hurting. But at the same time, he sounded convincing because he claimed if you don’t lay your eyes elsewhere you keep on thinking about your ex – what she did – the affair – the betrayal. The more you think of it – of her, the more you hurt. Allowing that process to recur and recur is taking the shortest cut to the grave. Just get a nice chick and forget the whore.

  I raised my eyes to the door shocked by the quick replacement that clicked in my head. “Jesus. No ways…Chloe!?” I shook my head. I had never viewed Chloe as a wife. She was too supermodel-
ish for me. But somehow, somehow the idea to have her as a wife thrilled me because she was already playing the role of a wife very well.

  Fine, her food wasn’t as nice as Grace’s, but she was good too. And she got along with Kim very well. They were great friends. Some people on the streets would not believe when she explained to them that Kim wasn’t hers. She treated her like her own. She loved her. That was the biggest test that ought to be passed by anyone I would marry after divorcing Grace.

  Getting results confirming Kim was my child indeed made me value her more than ever. She was the only meaningful thing I had.

  I laughed to myself realizing that the blogger’s trick seemed to work. Yes, I still felt horrible about Grace’s betrayal, but I began seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. Hope for a new, better life with a genuine person settled in me.

  I pulled the laptop. Somehow, motivation to work, to live, was promising a huge come back. “Life,” I said trying to comprehend that if all went well Chloe could be Mrs. Turner! She would leave Kim’s bedroom and share a bed with me. It felt like a crazy dream indeed. I had never pictured my life, my future without Grace. I viewed her not only as a wife but as a great helper in my calling for she understood it very well. She would even manage to pray with me to make the “Book of Life” thing possible. Of late, she was even helpful on the blog. But all of those memories were nothing but historic archives. Chloe seemed to be the future.

  I took out my notebook and wrote:

  --Thursday, February 2, 2017--

  * Life has taught me that there are two different types of pain: One that fades away after some time and another that does not leave you, no matter what, whatever you do, whoever you talk to, it does not leave you. Those who thought alcohol and drugs could wash away the permanent pain ended up washing away themselves from the surface of the earth. Unfortunately.