by Gus Leodas
“I don’t want to talk about this on the phone. I’m coming over.”
“No. The only time we see each other is at the office. Nine to five.”
“I made a mistake. I apologize. I was desperate. I love you, Alise.”
“It’s late for that.”
“Look, I’m no good at apologizing over the phone. If it’s to be goodbye let’s face each other. Let’s not separate like this over the phone, too impersonal and inappropriate. I deserve better from you.”
You deserve shit!
She weakened, far from weakness or feeling sorry for him, wanting to see his face when he groveled; to savor his wounded face; to watch his wounded ego; to see him leave in defeat, beaten, rejected, and unwanted as he made her feel repeatedly.
“All right,” she conceded. “We owe each other that. When?”
“Now.”
“I’ll be here.”
She hung up and surveyed her habitat for neatness. She pulled a suitcase from the closet placing it by the door to simulate a return from travel, tired to unpack. She poured a glass of cranberry juice, sat on the sofa, and waited. Cool. Calm. Thoughts gathered.
Would she weaken when she sees him? Forgive him like before? She wanted him out. To continue with him would be masochistic. She decided to change into jeans, more suitable to casual travel. She slid into them. They pinched at the waist as her body expanded normally.
What could he say to change her mind and take him back? Nothing could justify that direction. Forgive him?
Never.
Telling Kabani her past then leaving her like a sacrificial lamb reached the heights of insult and lack of respect, an ugly and despicable act. Nothing could erase his betrayal from her memory, and no absolution, not an inch.
The doorbell rang followed by a soft knock. She set the juice on the table, adjusted her mental posture, and opened the door.
He looked dismal, humble, defeated. Neither spoke. Alise opened the door wider and he came in. Alise, with a hidden smile of triumph, closed the door and turned to follow him into the room. To her surprise, he waited.
“Go ahead in,” she urged.
Then she saw his rage rising. He swung his right hand and slammed it across her face sending her reeling back to the door with a thud. He attacked and hit again.
Alise was stunned to speak, to yell out. He beat her to the floor then lifted and shoved her hard into the living room sprawling to the floor. Her head hit the cocktail table upsetting the juice. He pounced on her like a hungry animal after prey slapping the reddened, stinging face, deaf to her cries for him to stop.
“You whore! How dare you!” He punched with each statement. “How dare you pull that shit on me? Get up!” He stood over her.
Alise cried, screaming hysterical for him to stop.
“Get up you miserable bitch!”
Ali kicked her hard in the stomach. Alise screamed nearly passing out from the pain. He kicked again.
She rushed in urgency to get her words out. “My baby! Please stop!” He kicked her again.
Alise writhed in pain doubled up, arms trying to protect her baby, the pain stifling her throat.
“You and your goddamn baby!”
She screamed through the crying. He lifted her leg and kicked her groin repeatedly and harder. She nearly passed out again. He lifted her by the hair and punched her with all his might. She slammed to the floor.
Blood flowed from her nose and mouth. Alise squirmed in pain, nearly unconscious, groggy, her vision doubled, seeing two Ali’s; right arm flaying at the wrong Ali.
Then he screamed elongating the word, “Whoo-errre!”
Ali grabbed her hair again and punched her to release all his venom and hatred. Alise slammed to the floor again. He breathed violence, a crazed look in his eyes, and through with her after another punch. She shook from the blow moaning and struggling to maintain consciousness.
Ali sneered at her with disdain, his raging hate satisfied – his vengeance complete. He left.
Blood flowed faster from her nose and mouth; body smothered in agony. Severe pain throbbed in her abdomen as she clutched it with both hands. She crawled and turned in erratic motions to ease the jabbing pain. Blood stained her jeans spreading from the crotch.
Pain turned to hysteria, eyes flowing.
Desperate, she crawled to the phone with distorted vision, her swollen face running with blood and tears. The phone slipped out of her hand to the floor then she struggled to dial with blurred vision, blinking desperately to focus the numbers. Blood stained the phone.
A horrified Laura listened to the moaning and crying before she recognized Alise’s pleading voice.
“Help me. Please help me, Laura. Please come and help me.”
Silence.
Laura prepared for an all night vigil at the hospital. Alise remained in critical condition from internal bleeding.
She lost the baby.
Laura paced and waited for the doctor. In the interim, Laura left a phone message for Shaba in Kinshasa then called me. The half-hour on the phone with me eased tension and anxiety – easier to cry to me then to cry alone. I comforted my Laura as best I could and felt grief for Alise. I wanted to fly to New York to beat Ali to a pulp. Critical, would Alise live? I prayed for her survival.
Laura sat forlorn in the solitude of the empty waiting room, a lone distressed figure in mourning, hurt. On seeing the doctor enter, she thrust to her feet for news.
“She’ll be all right, Ms. Johnson,” said Doctor Alexander Schmidt, a young doctor who conveyed confidence and authority. “She remains in intensive care.” Laura breathed relief. “You may as well go home. I have your number if anything changes. I’m sorry about the baby.” He looked sympathetic.
“I am, too. More than you know. Can I see her tomorrow?”
“In the afternoon preferably to give the sedation time to wear off. At your request, I have a private nurse assigned to her for the night. Also at your request, we’ll assign her to a private room tomorrow. Alise is sleeping comfortably and out of danger. Are you direct family?”
“We’re close friends. I notified all concerned.”
Laura returned home after prepaying for the private nurse and room on her credit card. When she thought of Alise and the baby, she cried. The scene at the abortion clinic brought more grief. Then she called the hospital and spoke to Doctor Schmidt.
“One other thing I forgot to ask, Doctor, about the baby. Does she know?”
“No. I planned to tell her tomorrow.”
“Can you please do me a favor? Tell her when I’m there. I want to comfort her, to ease the tragedy.”
“Shall we meet in the waiting room, say…four o’clock?”
“Thank you. I’ll be there.”
Laura hung up and stayed under a doleful umbrella. Then she called me and cried again. Laura’s phone rang ten minutes after we hung up.
Could that be the doctor already? Did something go wrong? Who else could it be? Don’t let it be the doctor.
Laura also thought it could be me to offer more comfort.
Laura approached the phone with trepidation acting as if each ring was electrified. She grabbed the phone and brought it to her ear slowly with a prayer.
Please, God, anyone but the doctor.
“Hello, hello!” the voice called out. The voice was feminine, foreign, and distant.
“Hello,” Laura called out.
“This is the long distance operator calling person-to-person for Miss Laura Johnson. Is Miss Laura Johnson there? Mrs. Pilar deLorenzo is calling from Buenos Aires, Argentina.”
Laura arrived at the hospital waiting room at three-thirty. She forgot to call Kim Soom and her husband, Doctor Tao Soom, who worked in the same hospital, New York Hospital, in the Neurology Department. She arrived earlier to meet Tao.
Laura phoned Kim about Alise and relayed her conversation with Pilar. Kim promised to pass by the hospital this evening and notify Jasmine and Asmir. Laura scolded herself f
or forgetting to call them last night. Her immediate instincts were for Shaba and me.
Tao greeted Laura. Laura said Alise was on the next floor and would he please look in on her to assure she received more than the proper attention. They sat and talked until time for Laura to meet Alise’s doctor.
Doctor Schmidt motioned to Laura to remain seated and sat next to her.
He said, “I’m sorry but I had to tell Alise about the baby earlier this afternoon. She recovered sooner than expected concerned only about her baby. To withhold the tragedy would’ve been criminal.”
“I can guess but how did she react?”
“Hard. Hysterical.”
“Oh, I wish I was there. Can I see her now?”
“Shall I take you there?”
“I know where she is.”
“How long do you figure she’ll be here?”
“At least three, four days. She should walk around in two to three days.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate all you’ve done.”
“Tell Alise I’ll pass by before dinner.”
Laura reached Alise’s room. The private nurse had left…a good sign. Alise lay motionless, her face turned towards the window staring, her mind into a foggy future. A dark, dry line highlighted where her lip had bled. A dark bruise covered the swollen left cheek, a bump evident below the hairline, eyes reddened with discoloration surrounding the right eye.
A pathetic and sad aura greeted Laura when she crossed the open door.
“Alise?”
Alise turned to the voice. She lifted her arms for Laura to come to her. Laura hastened and they embraced, both crying. “Laura, he killed my baby. That bastard killed my baby. I want to kill him. I want to kill him.”
Laura winced when she saw her face and held her tighter. Then they settled, sniffled and settled. Laura held Alise’s hand looking at her with compassion.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
Her body heaved to dissipate empathy.
“I’ll be all right now. Please, sit. Let me pull myself together and we’ll talk. I’m still weak.”
Laura turned the chair to face Alise and sat.
“Do you still have pain?”
“Still. What’s today? What day?”
“Wednesday.”
“One day. I feel like I’ve been here a month.” Her hands passed over her stomach and abdomen then patted the bruised, puffed face. “Do I look terrible?”
“A little swollen. This too shall pass, right?”
“An experience I don’t recommend to anyone. How’s Adam?”
“We spoke last night. He’s upset for you and sends you love and kisses.”
“Why don’t you marry him? Don’t take him for granted.”
“In time. He understands that I need to wait.”
Alise stared away, distant. “Does Shaba know?”
“I left a phone message at the number you gave me the other day.”
“Good. I want to talk to her.”
“Jasmine, Kim, and Asmir will come see you after work.”
“That’s great.”
“Tao Soom works here. He’ll stop by to check on you. Oh, almost forgot. Pilar called me last night from Argentina.”
“No kidding?”
“She sends you her best. I didn’t quite say you got the hell beat out of you. Only that you were in the hospital. I told her your number and she may call in the next few days. If not, she’ll write.”
“How’s she doing?”
Laura closed the door. “You won’t believe this. It turns out two men planned to undermine her uncle’s government to turn it into a war government and they were killed, blown up in the pool at her uncle’s estate. She said it’s related to the Heart. She couldn’t say more. She returns in a few weeks, and guess what? She’s getting married and coming to New York.”
“Terrific. Good news. Wait a minute. You mean she had something to do with blowing up those two men?”
“She said related to the Heart. What else?”
Alise came alive. She grimaced with the sudden movement.
“Pilar? Quiet, sad Pilar? What else did she say? Who’s she marrying?”
“Her brother-in-law. Now, listen to this…”
“But I don’t understand. If she’s marrying someone from down there why come back here?”
“As I said, listen to this. Her future husband, Tomayo, will be the ambassador to the United Nations. The present ambassador will be senior advisor to the President. Pilar will return here for a few years. She’s had a personal experience with the Achilles Heart and wants to promote its aims and growth. Can you believe? Music to my ears. How about that?”
“I think we created a monster. I hope she calls. I’d love to talk to her.”
“Well, if she doesn’t call, here’s her number. You call her.” Laura wrote the number on a pad on the night table. “I wonder how Shaba’s doing with her husband.”
“I don’t know. She didn’t think her marriage would work out. I have the impression marital problems will consume all her time. I doubt she implemented our objectives.”
“I also doubt it. She’ll call soon. She should’ve have received my phone message.”
“I can’t wait to see her. I miss her,” Alise said.
“Do you want to talk about Ali?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I think you should press criminal charges against him.”
“No.”
“You should. He deserves it.”
“No more vindictiveness.”
“Plan to see him again?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Good riddance then.”
“I think I ruined him, why he was crazy.”
“You haven’t done enough for what he did to you.”
“It’s over. Let it stay that way.”
“I don’t think the police will believe you.”
“The police?”
“They may get involved, probably will. Hospitals report injuries like yours. If they do, what will you tell them?”
“I don’t know. I won’t say Ali hit me; a mugger; a burglar, something. But I won’t say him.”
“You should put him away.”
“I want to forget what happened.” In the next instant, thoughts of the baby brought tears and Alise cried hard with an anguished cry. “That goddamn…goddamn that son-of-a-bitch.”
“Don’t think about him. Let’s change the subject.”
Kim, Jasmine, and Asmir came by at six o’clock. They left with Laura when visiting hours ended for a local restaurant. Doctor Schmidt had stopped by content with Alise’s progress. Tao Soom stopped by twice.
Alise was alone again. She thought about Pilar, hoping she’d call. Maybe she should call Pilar. She removed her watch and placed it on the night table. The Achilles Heart caught her eye.
Alise fondled the Heart as she thought about Pilar then put it on. Then her thoughts shifted to Kabani; in no condition to pay the debt she promised to spend the day with him. He’ll have to take a rain check. Maybe she should tell Kabani what Ali did to her. No. She decided no more mind games and guilt trips.
Massaging the Heart made her thoughts race faster. New thoughts came upon her like a fresh dawn and they intrigued. She picked up the phone.
“Long distance, please. I want to call Buenos Aires, Argentina.”
Doctor Schmidt marveled at Alise’s recovery rate. Alise had walked cautiously the next morning.
“Such determination,” he told Laura when she visited during her lunch hour, leaving the room as she arrived.
“See you later, Doctor. You look good, Alise. Happy.”
Alise sat in a wheelchair by the window.
Laura pulled a chair and sat next to her.
“How about this?” Alise said referring to the wheelchair. “I’m making progress. I talked with Pilar last night and told her what happened to me, the whole story. She invited me down to visit.”
�
��Are you going?”
“A few days away will be perfect, maybe a week. I must get away from Ali and not see or speak to him. I tried to forgive and forget how he destroyed my baby. I can’t. I never realized the hate in me. So much hate for one person. I don’t like me this way.”
“He earned and deserves your wrath, better you found out before you committed your life to him. He would have abused you and the children. You’re spared from being a future boxing bag.”
“He wouldn’t have been a wife beater.”
“Oh, shit, Alise.”
“There I go again, defending…” The rest of her words froze.
Ali stood in the doorway about to enter a funeral home to pay respects.
Laura hadn’t met Ali, but from his look and Alise’s shocked expression, it had to be him. He shuffled into the room like a shackled prisoner. Laura positioned in front of Alise ready to protect her.
“I assume you’re Ali?”
“Yes,” he replied, a weak response.
“I’m Laura Johnson. Can I help you?”
“Well…I came to see Alise.”
“Why?” A reply eluded him. His delayed response made Laura impatient. “You nearly killed her.”
“Laura, it’s all right. Leave him,” Alise said.
“He did a good job when you were on your feet. Imagine what he could do with you in a wheelchair.”
“I don’t intend to harm her,” he pleaded.
“Laura, it’s all right. Ali, come closer.”
Laura left her chair and sat on the bed. He appeared uncomfortable and pained to see Alise. He looked at Laura then at Alise, asking, “Can we be alone?”
“I’m staying,” Laura said.
“Please leave us alone,” implored Ali. “We have private matters to discuss.”
“Ali, I want her here,” Alise said.
“I mean no harm to you.”
“Anything you have to say can be said in front of Laura.”
“May I sit?”
“Help yourself.”
After sitting, he stalled. Laura made him uncomfortable. Laura watched his discomfort.
“Tell you what, Ali. I’ll wait in the hallway if you stay seated. When finished, call me. Do not stand until I’m in the room.”