Affliction

by S. W. Frank

  “Hold on babe, we’re going to need a flashlight,” he said before they were about to descend in the dark.

  She waited near the staircase as he went in search of one. In a storage room he found workman tools often left behind on jobs. He shook the industrial flashlight when it flickered and the light stayed on.

  His babe looked so cute in her sweats and sneakers. Her appearance took him back to when they first met. Surprising, how quick time passes. The love when it’s strong doesn’t, though.

  A lot of marriages crumble. Theirs shifted during a storm, but the foundation remained strong as hell.

  He pointed the light down the stairs and led the way.

  Selange held on to the back of his shirt as they carefully navigated the stairs. They reached the upper level of the basement. He imagined old furniture stored here. But this wasn’t where the secret meetings were held.

  He shone a light around the walls and the floor until he discovered the entry was actually in plain sight. A door blended to look like the wall was opened with a pull inward. He propped it open with a brick, used the flashlight to pan around to gauge the condition of the stairs and width before stepping a sole on the step, testing the weight and then fully descended.

  Selange was his shadow through-out.

  Nothing out of the ordinary at this level, he thought.

  He put his arm around Selange’s waist. “Might be a wasted trip.”

  “No, your dad was clear. He referenced those your grandfather assisted. If people are in hiding, they don’t want to get caught. We’ll find something.”

  “All right Indiana Jones. You like this mystery crap, I don’t.”

   “It’s fun. Do you know puzzles and riddles keep the mind alert and can delay the onset of Alzheimer’s?”

  They were examining the walls and floors, walking slow in order to ensure they didn’t miss anything.

  “I heard that somewhere,” he answered.

  Selange chuckled. “Do you knowFanta originated as a result of difficulties importing Coca-Cola syrup into Nazi Germany during World War II due to a trade embargo?”

  “No, didn’t know that.”

  “Did you know Norway and Denmark had a Jewish population of 10,000 between them, Denmark saved almost all its Jewish citizens, while Norway managed to save about half?”

  “Nope,” Alfonzo answered as his hand reached in darkened corners, touching cobwebs and dust.

  “Did you know America was suffering the Great Depression and refused to accept Jewish refugees?”

  “Yep, I knew that one.”

  “Did you ...”

  Alfonzo spun around. Selange had touched a broken slab of brick and dammit found the concealment area that saved hundreds of lives if not thousands of Jews and others during the years of Hitler’s campaign to exterminate people like insects.

  They entered the area by squeezing through a space that Alfonzo widened with a metal pole found on the floor. They spent hours sifting through old books, crinkly with age, things of no importance to anyone other than the owners.

  He pulled cloths from pictures and coughed from the stagnant dust. His eyes examined an oil painting which matched the description he’d been given.

  He called Nico. “We found it.”

  “Hot damn!” Nico exclaimed and then his tone became downright gloomy. “Tomorrow come by the house. We have another development that I’m sure will make your morning.”

  “Come on Nico.” Alfonzo croaked from the dust,

  Selange looked up from the paper she held with tears in her eyes. Alfonzo frowned. The woman had such a big heart he was glad he had a part.

  “What’s that?” he asked when he put the cell away.

  “A drawing by a child”

  “If he or she were here, they were safely transported.”

  Selange wiped her eyes. “I hurt sometimes knowing there are still wicked people who want to hurt others because they’re different.”

  “Babe, it’s okay.”

  She blinked trying to stem the flow. “I dealt with girls like that in school. Every day, every damn day I held my breath not knowing what they’d do next to try and hurt me when I’d done nothing to any of them.”

  Alfonzo didn’t know that. “Oh nena.”

  “They didn’t like me for silly reasons honey. They said I thought I was cute or I talked too proper and junk like that. They’d pull on my book bag and laugh when I’d go to the library to just sit by myself. I preferred studying over being mean to other people and that’s what many of them were. They ran around in stupid ass cliques messing with girls who hadn’t done anything but want an education. I dealt with that mess and didn’t tell my parents because sometimes that makes it worse. I started defending myself after getting so damn tired.”

  He went and put his arms around his babe. “There are assholes in this world that enjoy trying to break other people down.  I’ve dealt with my share of the fools. That’s really all they are, ignorant people who can’t do shit so they’ve mastered causing drama for others.”

  “I know…but Shanda wasn’t afraid to step away from those girls and say they were wrong. She stood with me when everybody else was scared to have my back. Oh, honey I loved her so much for that and every time I think of her I remember a brave girl.”

  “You were very brave every day nena. You walked through a pack of hyenas who tried to rip you to shreds, but you fought alone and never backed down. And what Shanda recognized was a true leader. All she did was stand with a lion. That’s how I see it.”

  Selange sniffled. “I suppose.”

  “Babe, that kind of hate are girls who hate they’re not you. Uptown dudes went hard when we got hate from jealous motherfuckers. It was like fuel. We let ‘em talk smack while we got paid, moving up and leaving their asses still sitting on crates in front of bodegas. Babe, those people talking shit are always left in the dust. They’re too busy worrying about somebody than taking care of their business.” Alfonzo chuckled. “Ah man, this world’s a trip. All I can say is keep being who you are. One of the reasons I love you is because you are strong with a beautiful heart.”

  “You’re right, I know I had to go through stuff and it’s only made me see what’s important. I miss my friend…I miss her voice.”

  “Yo sé. I know, but can I be a friend, too?”

  “You’re more than a friend.”

  “Word?”

  She grinned as the sadness floated away from her body. “Word.” Then she asked as she folded the drawing and placed it in her pocket, “What happened with you and Domingo. I know how much you loved him?”

  The time had come; there was nothing but bared truths around. Among discarded items of a persecuted people he found the courage to expose himself completely. He stared in her watery eyes.

  Naked.

  Tatted.

  He revealed the ugliness.

  “Domingo put a bullet in my heart babe. He was doing drugs and selling me out. I confronted him and he pulled a gun on me.” Alfonzo’s jaw clenched for a moment. The tightness was his heart squeezing to pump the blood out. “I killed him because I saw our future die if I let him live.”

  Selange caressed his face. “That had to be hard.”

  “What’s harder is learning he was still abusing Teresa around the kids and I didn’t hear about it.”

  Selange frowned. “Who was that guy Jesús?”

  “Teresa’s lover who she confided her troubles to, but you can’t start a relationship that way, there’s nothing good found in lies.”

  “Dang.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Come on, let’s go home and I’ll cheer you up properly.”

  Selange nodded. “Yeah, let’s go home and I’ll do the same.”

  Alfonzo’s mouth twitched. He had to grin at her appearance. She was the chica in BK, sweats and sneakers, ghetto cute, catching the attention of guys on corners selling or cruising by. Uptown, same damn thing and in every ‘hood there’s a Sela
nge. Some rise above their circumstances and some never leave the ‘hood. Selange used education as a lifeline; way before he came in the picture she found opportunity through hard-work. Nobody gave her anything, she fought with books.

  Tough, was his woman, yet she remained soft.

  Not many can handle finding corpses or outsmarting the law.

  She had and more.

  A leader takes action; too many only talk and when shit pops off they scatter like cucarachas.

  A leader stands and will fight even when everyone else has gone.

  The way he saw things, he was lucky to have snagged a BK star with a really good heart that stood for something other than frivolity.

  She stood for family.

  Stood up for others when they were knocked down.

  For him, even now.

  Selange had character and stood her ground.

  “Uh, babe,” he said.

  “Yes?”

  He pointed to her face. “You might want to wipe that snotty booger off your nose, that shit looks nasty,” he said before reaching for the painting.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

   

   

   

  Giuseppe’s body was weightless, light as a feather. He had a restful slumber after a passionate night. His head twisted to the side and the down where his eyes met red hair and a womanly form with an arm holding on to his stomach.

  He remained still and then he felt the throbs punching awareness to his body that he was no longer a teenager. What transpired last night was not a dream and he recalled in detail the scene of grown people becoming acquainted with the other’s body.

  Nicole had undressed him, touched and caressed his muscles, smiled when he flexed to make his pectorals leap like speakers.

  “Show off,” she teased and then slipped out of her dress, reach in her purse and hold between fingers a gold wrapped condom.

  He said nothing when she bent to sheath his member, rubbing and stroking him so sweetly he growled. What pleasure he took in making her purr like a kitten until the guarded restraints came down. She roared then and the clutches made bruises and her claws came out. He didn’t compare her to Shanda because no other could replace her in his heart. She was Nicole, the pianist, tender and passionate, unbound.

  Pensive, he caressed her arm as she slept, thinking too bad she could not stick around after Tiffany’s wedding. She had a concert in Brussels on the seventeenth. Perhaps, he would travel there to hear her play and then share a dinner. He liked her, but she loved her career and where would a Don fit?

  His cell lit the curtained room and with a slight extension of his arm, he grasped the phone in his hand to greet the caller. “Buongiorno?”

  Ah, Amelda.

  “Buongiorno fratello. Are you awake?”

  “You are smart, figure it out,” he said sarcastically to his annoying sister.

  “Mama has married this Signore Glavovitz. This is madness. He is a felon. I have investigated. He is a leader in the Israeli Mafiya who deals with our enemies. The Russian Viyachov hated papa, he and others are who Signore Glavovitz beds in business. Ah, fratello we must speak with mama, she must undo this pairing.”

  Giuseppe bolted upright, gripping Nicole. “Cosa?” he bellowed and slipped the woman to the bed, but she was wide awake now. His foot touched the floor and he walked out of the bedroom to shout to his sister. “Why was I not informed. Perché?”

  “I have only learned of this last night.”

  “I will deal with this. Grazie for ruining a good morning sorella. Ciao!”

  He turned and stormed back to the bedroom. “Mi dispiace bella. I will take you home, I have an emergencia.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Giuseppe observed a flicker of disappointment. “I apologize -”

  She gathered her clothing. “Don’t, the comforting is over. I get it, the sun is out and time to move on. Don’t worry, I’m a big girl. I’m not expecting commitment after a screw,” she said and hurried to the bathroom.

  He tossed the phone on the rumpled covers. Again he had offended this woman. She must think him a selfish ass to bed her and then rush her out in the morning, when that was not his intention. Breakfast and more sex before he retrieved Carlo was his hope. He wanted her to join them at the aquarium but famiglia had unsettled a Don’s joyous morning.

  Ah, why is famiglia a blessing and a curse, he wondered?

  He had a wonderful awakening only to find the reality was not as nice.

  This marriage of his mama’s could not stand.

  Enemies are not friends and he could not allow his mama to endanger the famiglia.

  Through a husband, his mama had let in problems.

  He did not seek war with his mama, but if she stood with this Israeli crime lord, she would lose a son and Carlo.

   

   

   

  CHAPTER TWENTY

   

   

   

  Grogginess from travel and a late night doesn’t prevent parents from waking. The Diaz house was abuzz on a Monday morning with sounds of children readying for school.

  Selange was already awake and clothed. He could hear her firm voice as she spoke to one of the children in the hallway.

  “Change the shirt Sal.”

  “Mom…what’s wrong with this one?”

  “Change the shirt Salvatore Diaz.”

  “But mom, I don’t want to wear that collar shirt. I look like a geek in it.”

  “Then choose another collar shirt. The one you have on is unacceptable. You know there is a stringent dress code at the school.”

  “Yeah, and everybody looks like Harry Potter, too.”

  The father appeared at his wife’s side. Calm delivery isn’t what he used. “You heard your mom. I don’t like this back-talking. Change the shirt hijo, clothes aren’t what make you cool, it’s the attitude, comprende?”

  Sal marched away in a huff. Selange sighed, took a deep breath and a kiss cheered her up. “Morning love, let me get a shower and I’ll be out to help with the kids in a minute,” Alfonzo told her.

  “Thanks honey.”

  He snuck a glance at her ass in the tight pants when she bent over to pick up a pencil Sal must have dropped.

  “Oooh mami,” he whistled and she stood blushing and told him to shut-up.

  While in the shower a smell made him pause. Soap in hand he sniffed a familiar odor. He rinsed off hurriedly, snatched a towel and bam-bam, hit priority parts dry before donning a T-shirt and shorts.

  Food that smelled that good could only mean his mama or Anita was in the house.

  Thank goodness somebody had taken pity on a hungry male.

  He rushed through the hall right along with the children. He overtook the stampede of Diaz’, gipped the rail, arm muscles bulged with venous branches as he did a Parkour leap from the center stair to the floor below.

  Everyone shouted, “Not fair!”

  But hey, all’s fair when it comes to love and food. Maybe they run faster, he laughed.

  In the kitchen he rushed and right on, Anita worked her magic, and brought Puerto Rico to his home.

  “Anita, gracias, and gracias!” he exclaimed and hugged her tight from behind.

  “Ah, basta…basta!” she shrieked tapping him with the utensil. “You are half-dressed.”

  The children screamed, “Anita. You’re back, you saved us!”

  Selange leaped for joy, too. Fewer insults about her culinary skills and a smiling family were always welcome in her home.

  Once the hug-fest ended, they sat to eat.

  Anita said she’d come because she knew they would need her. With Alfonzo’s troublesome butt and a busy mother who could not cook, she could not desert her extended family in their hour of ne
ed.

  “You hit again, I go!” Anita warned Alfonzo.

  Selange winked at her husband between a bite of sweet meat to instigate. “Um-him, tell him Anita, if he doesn’t behave, you’re leaving.”

  “What about her?” Alfonzo asked pointing a finger at his antagonistic wife.

  The cantankerous woman snorted. “Una familia no es la guerra.”

  And they nodded in agreement.

  Family should never war with each other, that's how pestilence crawls under the doors.

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Glossary

   

   

   

  In honor of Israel's 60th Birthday, here are a few key words and phrases in Hebrew that will bring you closer to Israel's people and culture.

   

  1. Shalom -- [shuh-lohm] hello; goodbye; peace. Shalom Yossi, how are you? Probably the most uttered Hebrew word in the dictionary, its three meanings make it an indispensable tool for everyday conversation, as well as international peace summits.

  2. Slicha -- [slee-chah] sorry; excuse me. Slicha, I was here first. A polite word that'll come in handy when trying to get an Israeli's attention -- or when trying to avoid a brawl.

  3. Todah -- [toe-DAH] thank you. Todah for the directions, bus driver. You should know how to thank people in every language; showing gratitude is a universally appreciated gesture -- even with manner-deficient Israelis.

  4. Naim me'od -- [ny-EEM meh-ohd] very pleasant. Naim me'od to finally meet you. You can use this phrase to describe something, such as when the weather is very pleasant, but it is mostly used when meeting someone for the first time.

  5. Lama -- [lah-mah] why? Lama don't you come visit more often? Israelis love to ask questions and challenge things and people. You may want to know how to do the same in order to fit in.

  6. Yalla -- [yah-lah] let's go; come on. Yalla, where is my food? You'll hear this word -- which is actually an Arabic word adopted into Hebrew -- said frequently, with impatience, with enthusiasm, with anger, in a song, in conversation. It typifies the impatient nature of Israelis -- and Arabs for that matter.

  7. Ma koreh? -- [mah kor-EH] what's happening? Hi Tali, ma koreh with you lately? Young Israelis often substitute the more formal "how are you" with "ma koreh," perhaps reflecting their interest in the recent events of a person's life as opposed to the person's feelings.