ATONEMENT (22 page)

A
bruptly
,
he
detach
ed
. The
sudden
separation
generat
ed
a
wet smacking sound
.
His mouth
glistened with her wet
sweetness but his tone was
sour
.
“
Hold on, y
ou don’t get to toy with me
twice
and
not
expect
me to question
whether you’re aware of what
you’re doing.
”

“Nico…”

“
Do you want me as
a
lover or
do you want
some
thing more
?”

She felt confused. She thought he wanted her
, “
I...I don’t know what I want anymore
. I don’t know
…
what
do
you want me to say
?
”

“
I
want you with
your
eyes wide open
and certain
.
No more games…no more.” The coal pupils were heated,
“
And you
better be damn certain
you’re
prepared
for the
consequences
, this time
. I’m not going
on
another ride
with you until
I’m told the
destination
–until then
I’m getting
out,
right
here
!
”
H
e said
getting
to his feet
then
look
ing
down
at
her stricken face, “
Come on get your stuff,
let’s go!
”

Later
,
that night Selange lay in bed thinking about what Nico said.
He seemed extremely pissed. She wrapped her arm around the fluffy pillow
. ‘Whew,
okay
,
she’d tell him the truth.
’
Yes, she wanted
him
, but she wanted her husband as well. She couldn’t have
both; she knew that but why not? S
he rolled onto her back in a fit of restlessness, okay, then tell him…he makes you feel good and makes you laugh…tell him that, she thought. 

During the
night a
loud shriek, followed by rants in
a foreign language.
They
broke into her dreams. Ah, yes, Lucia, she must have found the gift.
Dead roses in a box,
with
a few
garden
worms crawling about
for dramatic effect
.
Written
on
pretty
pink stationary
were the
cryptic
words
:
Than
k you for helping me choose which flowers to place on your grave. –S

Selange chuckled and drifted back to sleep. That’ll teach the hussy!

                             
CHAPTER SEVEN

The problem with trying to do the right thing is the ‘trying’ part, either you do it or you don’t. That’s the way Alfonzo looked at it. He walked from behind his desk, stood near the window over-looking downtown
Bayamón
with his mom’s voice buzzing in his ear. He listened to her give a million reasons why she didn’t want to accompany him and the children to the wedding.
“They’re not nice people,” was one reason, “Those kids shouldn’t be around people like that, they may pick-up bad habits,” was another excuse until finally he had enough.

He rubbed his sore arm. The stitches were
removed this morning and the
slight
throbbing at the site
irritated him.
“Mama, those people are my family,
también
.
You should
’ve considered these things
before you slept with my father.”

The minute the words were out, they hung suspended in air. The silence
continued and he swore he could hear her fingering those goddamn beads like a martyred woman. Such hypocrisy!

Stricken by his comment she tore into him. “You say that to me?” Then she began to berate him in Spanish for being disrespectful when in fact he only spoke the truth. She had a problem h
earing the facts of how he came
to be.
As ugly as it sounded, the truth was indisputable. She slept with a married man and had a son. She made the choice and now she wanted him to disregard his other roots, simply because she disapproved of them. Maybe, had she been a devout servant in those days, she would have saved herself from
perpetual repentance
. Currently, he tired of it. The religious obedience served only as a security blanket to avoid loving any other man for fear they’d betray her.

The sun dimmed and a soft glow hovered across the horizon as he tuned out the rants. Once she calmed he spoke again, “Mama, didn’t you say we’re forgiven sins if we repent?”

“It’s true.”

“How long are you going to ask forgiveness for falling in love with my father, or can it be you pray fervently to those saints because you think I’ve become
just like him
?”

Silence.

The lack of response served as confirmation. He disconnected the call
and
stared into nothingness. His cell rang continuously but he didn’t answer. It was her. The ring-tone told him. Through the void, came the ugliest of truths. She would always be disappointed in him, how could she not? Alfonzo represented Luzo, the man she once desired and later came to despise. To the pious woman her son was not a gift but a curse. His mother’s supplications were desperate cries for her son’s salvation. The sting of it hurt deeply. His cousin Domingo in a childish disagreement once called him The Devil’s Bastard. The insult resulted in their biggest fight. Ten year old boys are cruel, but he’d always wondered why his mother never married or didn’t have boyfriends like other single mothers. The question plagued him
at times. H
e started to think Domingo may be right.
Maybe, h
e was the son of the devil
.
This he never told anyone; instead he suppressed
it
and rebelled.

His shoulders slumped. The ten-year old child existed, concealed by the man. The ‘tough’
New York
attitude wasn’t enough protection
against
the bullet to his
chest
.
He wanted to hear his wife’s voice, soften the
hard blows of rejection. He
wouldn’t mention the conversation, just like he hadn’t mentioned the shooting incident. Selange was in Italy to celebrate and he didn’t want her worrying about him, hearing her was all the
psychological
first-aid he needed.

He
woke
her;
the
sluggish tone of her voice the tell-tale
signs.
“Hey
hun
,
is everything okay with the kids?”
Was the first thing she
asked.

His soul extended
across the seas
reach
ing
for solace
,
“They’re fine, babe
, I just wanted to hear you
.”

“Did something happen,
are
you
okay
?”

“I’m missing you,
amor
.”

“I miss you,
too.”

“I
really
mi
ss you
…so…so…bad
.” He replied. The hint of desolation exposed, but she missed it and mov
ed
mechanically through
the conversation
without addressing
it.
 

“
I’ll see you
soon enough.”

The
words
were right, yet
he detected a change in modulation, her voice lacked something…what was it? He searched his brain to think. Then he frowned, it lacked warmth.
“
Okay,
sure.
”

“Love you.”

“
Love you too, babe.”

Their conversation lasted under two minutes, had she lingered perhaps he would have told her more. Instead, he gathered his wounded ego, put his cell in his pocket and headed out the office door.

“Hey, ready to go finally?”
Came
Vincent’s inquiry as he placed down the girlie magazine and rose from his seat in the receptionist area.

“Yeah.”

Alfonzo punched the button on the elevator and when it opened and they were descending to the lobby he turned to Vincent, “Take the
evening off
Vin
, I
have something
personal
I need to do
.”

Vincent nodded. “
Yeah, o
kay.” He
scoffed
, l
ike he’d really leave Alfonzo without protection. If he had to take care
of ‘needs’
then fine
, but
he
must
be
crazy
to think
Vincent would follow his order
.