The Deviant

by Tiana Laveen

  “Oh my God, King.”

  “To this day… to this fucking day, Suri,” he said, his heart caving in, “Tomas refuses to tell anyone what that man did to him. He wasn’t in there with him a long time before I got in, maybe five or six minutes at worst, but really, it doesn’t take long to hurt a child, to do something inappropriate. Well, I imagine it doesn’t take long at all.” King sobbed. He hated this shit. Hated how it played back in his mind. Hated how he felt. The way his brain throbbed and his heart pounded.

  Suri lowered herself beside him, crying softly as she held him. Bringing his head to her chest, she cradled him. Rocked him. Loved him. After a few moments, he caught his breath and finished the story.

  “Tomas blamed himself I think, for that day.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he still wanted to keep trick or treating when I told him we needed to go home. I gave in because he was so happy, and I figured a few more houses wouldn’t hurt. I held guilt because of it. I didn’t trust anyone anymore because of it. I died a little inside because of it. Now, I was this kid who beat a man’s brains out, to protect my brother. I acted okay, but I was never okay after this, Suri. I had to live with this truth, year after fucking year. Tomas started to hate me, and I never really figured out why exactly, but I do know it started from this night. This night right here. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I just couldn’t, Suri… Nobody knows, not even my friends. I didn’t tell anyone shit. Only my parents, Lucas, and of course Tomas knew. It fucked me up so bad. I lied to you that night I took you to the whiskey bar. I was hurt. But nobody hurt me. I was hurting my damn self.”

  As the clock ticked, he needed her touch more than ever. Iman Omari’s song, ‘Just The Beginning,’ marked that moment.

  “King, I love you more than nude paintings of myself on full display for all to see. I love you more than the countless drawings of me. I love you more than bright red paint on a white board. I love you more than the deepest hurts strumming your heart’s chords. I love you more than wedding proposals and deviant smiles. I love you more, than children being brave, while adults remain degenerate and mild. I love you more than the memory of monsters who prey upon the young. I love you more than daddies who disappear before the day of visitation is done. I love you more than fighting over a last name. I love you more than the prettiest white and black vases, acrylic cases, and designer fame. I love you more than pulsing hearts. I love you so much that I became your art…”

  “Did you make that up on the fly?”

  “Yes. Loving you makes rhyming easy. Art is contagious.”

  He smiled harder then. Cried harder then. Hugged her harder then.

  My soul didn’t even want to be around me, but everywhere it turned, there I was…

  She raked her fingers through his hair, allowing him a safe space to fall apart and keep his secrets close to her heart.

  “You’re so damn brave, King,” She held him tight and he buried his head against her bosom. “I understand you… I get it. When you needed help, more times than not, nobody helped you. Instead of taking your rage out on others, you took it out on your art, but that rage still bubbled up in other ways. The art said you weren’t being completely truthful with those brush strokes. What happened made you angry at the world… a world you tried to love.”

  She kissed the top of his head. “When someone doesn’t love you back, you don’t take your love away, baby. You just protect yourself by stepping away, but you leave a piece of your love there to inspire. As you go, you say, ‘Here’s a piece of me. You can’t have the whole me because you didn’t earn it. Use that piece of me as an example of what you should aspire to be. Then, you blow it a kiss, and sincerely say, ‘I hope you heal, world.’ I’m so proud of you, baby. King, you are the forever protector. You can’t help yourself. You are a king amongst kings…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  A Chrysalis Change is Going to Come

  “Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

  —Jennifer Donnelly, Revolution

  The left side of his skull throbbed and he didn’t dare turn around to look at his mother. King took a deep breath as he sat by his lawyer, while Tomas recounted what happened on the evening of the attack. This went on for quite some time, but during the cross examination, Tomas was crushed like an insect. His criminal record was brought into question, despite his lawyer trying to say it was irrelevant to the case. Fact of the matter was, Tomas had been high as a damn kite that evening and no one, not even Lucas, would say otherwise. He’d almost ripped their family irreparably apart because of that night. Yet none of this quelled King’s worry and hurt, not even his obvious road to victory.

  Tomas appeared in court disheveled, after being missing for a week. His shirt was partially unbuttoned, and he hadn’t shaved. King linked his hands, closed his eyes, and meditated. Prayed. Swallowed his pride. Listened.

  When it was time for him to speak, he didn’t deny the allegations. He did, however, explain the context. As the case wound down, it didn’t take long for the judge to declare that it to be thrown out under the premise that Tomas had engaged in theft and other criminal activity, including being present on his parents’ property with a key stolen on the night he’d vanished with the car. King, however, was encouraged to look into anger management classes, and to stay away from his brother until Tomas willfully sought treatment. As he looked at Tomas sitting there wailing, laying it on thick, the police report being broadcast over and over again, the pictures of his busted up face, he felt more and more sorry for his brother. The anger began to evaporate, replaced by pure sadness.

  King studied his father out the corner of his eye. Brian kept staring Tomas down. It was a dangerous situation. That’s my little brother. My flesh and blood. He used to look up to me. He used to beg me to read to him. He used to take my toys and guilt me into playing with him. I babysat this kid. I fed him. I took care of him when he was sick. And now, we’ve got nothin’…

  The judge gave some parting words, and mãe wasted no time seeking an embrace, while Chris shook his attorney’s hand. Dad came over to hug him, too, and Suri’s face shone with happiness and relief. She looked gorgeous, even on such a somber day. When they exited the courtroom, Tomas was cursing, acting belligerent. He was warned by the bailiff to pipe down, but he snatched his arm away from his lawyer and marched up to his mother, hatred in his eyes.

  “You’re gonna take King’s side again, huh? He beat the shit outta me, Mom! In your own house! But who do you run to? King! This isn’t right!”

  She shook her head, anger in her eyes, too.

  “You got off easy, punk!” Brian screamed, marching over with his fists balled tight. “I should finish what my son started, ya piece uh shit!”

  “Brian, please!” Mãe shouted. She turned back towards Tomas. “I am not going to argue with you, Tomas.” She stood straighter, chin high as Chris stood beside her, looking just as stern. “Your father and I have been to therapy, and we’ve been enabling you. Especially me. We will not do it any longer. We will not allow you to continue hurting our family with your behavior and lack of accountability.”

  “I don’t wanna hear this shit.” Tomas smacked his gums and turned away.

  “This kills me,” Mom cried softly, “but I must put my foot down. You are not welcome in our home any more, Tomas, until you complete treatment. We would also like to know where your father’s car is. Please tell us now!”

  “Why don’t you ask King, since ya think he’s such a God? Bow down and pray to him, kiss his fuckin’ feet, why don’t ya?”

  BAM!

  Mãe slapped him so hard, his face turned instantly red. She appeared startled, out of sorts. A police office immediately approached, and she began to cry, speaking in Portuguese, losing control of herself. Chris tried to calm things down. Brian jumped in too, asking the officer to back off. Tomas smirked, shook his head, and
started to march away.

  “Tomas!” King called out. Suri tugged on his arm. “Baby, it’s all right.” He held up his hand to stop her. Tomas stopped walking and glared at him. He made his way towards his brother, fighting angry tears, sad tears, years of pain. They stood about a foot away from one another, looking into each other’s eyes.

  “What? Another fuckin’ speech about how you’re always right, and I’m always wrong? Mr. Perfect! Mr. Famous Artist! Mr. Got It Made! You want to tell me what a fuck up I am, right?!” Tears welled in Tomas’ eyes, too.

  King crossed his arms.

  “No, Tomas. Just wanted to tell you that… I forgive you for everything you’ve done to me.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Martyr? Well, I’m not sorry and I don’t forgive you at all!” Tomas’ voice said one thing, but his eyes, his face, his heart said something else.

  “Tomas, I’m sorry that I only protected you most of the time, not all of the time. I tried.” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I’m sorry I can’t erase our mutual guilt. If I could take back some of the things I’ve said to you over the years, I would. I meant them, but they were said to try and hurt you. I love you, and I’ll always be your big brother, protecting you from afar. Even if it’s from yourself.”

  He walked away. Tomas yelled, cursed, and stomped about, but King just kept on walking.

  Suri took his hand and kissed him while his parents started to make their way down the courthouse steps. No one turned to watch Tomas as he continued to rant. The entire family just kept moving forward. Chris and his mother held hands, while she cried nonstop. Brian was unusually quiet, a cloud of sadness about him now. King’s heart was breaking with each second that passed, but sometimes, things have to break in order to properly heal…

  One year later…

  The vision before her surpassed her expectations. Suri had hired a coordinator to allow her and King to have their wedding in Central Park. They’d applied for their permit and were ecstatic to get the date and time they’d wanted. She stood in the South Garden of the Conservatory Gardens, gripping her red rose bouquet while the photographer snapped several shots of her and her bridesmaids.

  “Mom! Get on over here!” Suri laughed, waving the woman over.

  “No, this is your time to take photos with everyone. I’ll take more pictures with Cassandra and your father later.”

  “Mom, stop being modest and get in on this! People need to see the matriarch, with your fine self. That means I’m sexy, too. I get it from my mama.” Mom and everyone else burst out laughing. She crept closer, wearing a beautiful dark red dress that reached right below the knee. Her father stood a ways away conversing with Brian, but every now and again, he’d look over, clearly fighting his emotions. Dad had made available one of his best limousines for them, while Mom had insisted on purchasing her dress. After the bridesmaids’ photos were finished, she took more shots with her parents, then her in-laws. Brian and Chris were side by side, while she stood in the middle with Cassandra to her left. The woman wouldn’t stop crying, and it was tearing at Suri’s heartstrings. When the photographer was done, Cassandra grabbed her by the wrists and drew her close.

  “I’m so happy today, Suri. You’re such a wonderful girl, I mean, woman!” She kissed her cheek. “I see you and King as if you were still kids. I know you aren’t, but I am so thrilled. I finally get a daughter.” They embraced, their laughter light and airy. “You look so beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Mãe. So do you.”

  Mãe was dressed in a cranberry colored pant suit with simple pearl accessories, and it did so suit her. For herself, Suri had picked out a traditional white and ivory satin gown with two slits on the sides, showing some leg. For jewelry, she’d chosen diamonds and rubies, and her shoes were red and white, with diamonds along the heels. She’d had her hair done in a long braid, adorned with a diamond tiara which anchored a long ivory veil. It wasn’t long before the ceremony was underway. People sat in their white chairs, including her aunt Carlita who’d flown in from Paris for their special day. Everyone was facing the front of the garden where the vows were to be exchanged. And then, she saw him…

  Now see, God, I can tell you’re showing out again. This man right here? Yummy! I know you think I’m shallow, but this man is FINE. I’m gonna wear his ass out tonight, and he won’t be able to come up for air on our honeymoon, either. He’ll be calling 911, and I’ll say, ‘Hello? All lines are busy…’

  She laughed at herself, and as he drew closer, her breath hitched. The whispers began. Her stomach flooded with butterflies.

  Standing tall like a mountain, King sauntered coolly, a proud smirk on his face, with a train of men behind him. Lucas, Shane, the rest of his friends, and Ricky were dressed in black suits with red ties. Yes, Ricky had made amends, and though King had meant what he said regarding never doing major business with him again, Ricky demanded they’d make peace. He’d claimed what happened upset him so greatly, he and Lincoln had fallen out over it. This was highly unusual. Ricky just wasn’t the ‘I care about you’ type, but King had a way of changing people with his personality, and even his mere presence.

  King was dressed in a black and red luxury Indian Sherwani Churidaar Pyjama. His beard was trimmed, though still thick and luxurious, and his hair was long at the top and short on the sides, the sideburns blending into his facial hair. He sported red and black nose rings, diamonds in his ears, and black velvet Mojari slippers on his feet.

  “Ohhh my God! The groom looks so damn good! If it don’t work out with the bride, baby, call me…” a stranger blurted out as she walked past, causing a rumble of laughter.

  ‘Pink Skies,’ by Lany, began to play. The audience swayed to the music, clapping and snapping their fingers. The minister began to recite a simple prayer while the music continued to play, a well-worn Bible in his hands.

  “It’s time.” The coordinator summoned Suri, getting her and her girls together.

  She hadn’t wanted the groomsmen to walk her girls down. They wanted to make their own independent entrance, just like the grooms had. Suri led the way, her train flowing behind her. Her friends danced and clapped to the beat as they walked behind her. People enjoyed the scene, snapping pictures.

  When she reached her man, she tried hard to not fall apart. She was determined to not cry, and she’d been doing so damn well. But when he looked at her, her stomach flipped. The way his cinnamon eyes settled on her turned her inside out. If love had a look, he had it in spades. Beautiful music drifted on the air on a perfect spring day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Simple vows were spoken.

  “Suri, my love, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today, our wedding day.” He slid a gold and silver wedding band, lined with rubies and diamonds, down her finger.

  “King, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness. As I place it on your finger, I commit my heart and soul to you. I ask you to wear this ring as a reminder of the vows we have spoken today, our wedding day.” She slid a thick, gold and silver band down his finger.

  “Suri, I just want to add to what the minister said earlier. Yes, we’ll be together until death do us part, and then after. Because I believe in total commitment, and I believe in the afterlife, too. I believe in heaven, but it’s not heaven, if I’m not with you. My loyalty to you extends past this lifetime. You’re in my soul, and that means, we’ll be together forever.”

  That was the final straw. A single tear streaked her face.

  “I pronounce you spouses for life. You may now seal your marriage with a kiss.”

  And they did just that. King picked her up his arms, pulling her off the ground and crushed her lips in a kiss. The guests cheered, and the melody of ‘Slow Love,’ by Michael Alvarado began to play. This song always made her cry. She struggled, holding on by a red thread. King placed her back down on her feet, took h
er hand, and they danced right there, cheered on by their family and friends. She laughed, crying tears of joy as he spun her around and around…

  There was splendor in darkness.

  Secrets in light.

  Beauty in deviancy.

  Growth in fright.

  Family ties.

  Loose like red ribbon.

  Time taken.

  Healing given.

  This is our story.

  And with this ring.

  We become one.

  As Queen and King…

  EPILOGUE

  “Give me some of that.”

  “No. You’ve got your own ice cream, King.” Suri exclaimed as he tried to steal a lick.

  “But I want some of yours.” He pouted. She hissed but gave in, and he sampled her chocolate cone.

  “You’ve violated it.” She chuckled.

  “You don’t complain when I violate you down there.” He winked, then quickly deflected the swing of her arm.

  They walked hand in hand along 5th Avenue. It had been a busy morning, so it was good to relax and enjoy each other’s company. Suri was taking an online course in home décor and interior decorating. She was only two classes away from receiving the certificate. He only had a few more classes left before receiving his BA in Art History. Furthermore, he was preparing for another show, and Surine, Inc. was gaining more and more clients.

  “Here it is.” He opened the door for Suri, allowing her to step inside, then took her hand once again as they walked into Rockefeller Center. “It’s supposed to be over here, right?” He pointed to the right, feeling a bit confused.

  “Yeah, that’s it.” They walked inside, and he welcomed the burst of air conditioning. The place smelled sweet, and the walls were painted a pale yellow.