My Wife's Li'l Secret (18 page)

“I think about you all the time,” she said. “I wonder how you are, what you are doing, if you’re happy with Olga, if you can tell the difference...”

How the hell did I tell her that I
wasn’t
able to distinguish between the two women? What an idiot I was!

She placed the baby on the couch and walked over to me. “You want some coffee?” she asked, wringing her hands.

I stared at her, not knowing what to say, how to react. Where did we go from here? I had not factored her in any of my plans.

“It has to be black. I have no milk. Sorry.” With a sheepish look on her face, she wiped her hand on the sides of her jeans.

I frowned. “No milk?” How could she have a baby in the house and not have milk?

“Did you have breakfast? I can make eggs. Sorry, that’s all I have. But I’ll be quick. Toast and eggs?” She looked into my eyes. “With tomato sauce in a zigzag? The way you like it. I remember.” She smiled. “I could never eat eggs without thinking of you, Ritchie, and the zigzag way you applied your tomato sauce. Like a little boy…slowly.” She laughed, then covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

Her bawling brought a lump to my throat. I had to admit, I missed the woman in front of me. Nadia, that was her name. The real Olga. My wife, the woman I fell in love with, my best friend and mate for life who used to care about me, who loved me like I had loved her. I had the urge to draw her to me, take her in my arms, rest my head against her breasts and weep with her.

Instead, I jumped to my feet, cleared the frog in my throat and said, “Let me take you to lunch. We can talk over it. You and…” I looked at the baby, who sadly, I couldn’t connect with at that moment. If he was my baby, I would accept the label of
Jerk
. But too much was going on for me to get mushy about the son I never knew existed. I still didn’t quite trust Nadia, even though I believed and pitied her.

Her eyes lit up. “That would be great, Ritchie. I only had two eggs in the fridge anyway.” She chuckled, I didn’t.

Two eggs?

Two eggs in the fridge? Was she serious?

"Give me five minutes to get Gareth's things."

While she was busy, I walked over to the kitchen, opened the fridge and scanned it. Two eggs, an almost-finished bottle of tomato sauce, a tub of margarine, and a jug of water. That was it.

I opened the cupboards. A packet of rice, a couple packets of noodles, flour and olive oil.

It was then that I really took note of the surroundings. Threadbare, mustard carpets, probably from the seventies, rattan couches with holes in them, doors hanging off their hinges, peeling paint, damp walls.

Nadia was living in poverty.

Nadia and my
son
were living in poverty, while Olga was living in luxury.

I walked over to the baby and looked at him. He cooed at me and thrashed his arms and legs. I slipped my pinkie into his hand. He grabbed my finger so firmly I smiled.

“You’re a strong boy, aren’t you?”

He cooed louder.

I picked him up and held him close.

If you are my son, I am sorry that you had to live like this. If you aren’t my son, I will take care of you. I promise. You and your sisters, I swear you will never live like your mother did. I am your knight in a shining Jeep.

When Nadia returned, I was still holding little Gareth. “I changed my mind; I’m taking you guys away. Out of this shithole. Pack your things right now.”

She stared at me. “I…I…Ritchie, if they come here and see me gone, my things, they will come after us and…”

“Fine, leave your stuff. All of it. We’ll get more. Let’s get out of here. I’m going to put you in a safe place till I can fetch you.”

She didn’t move.

I tried to grab her hands. She pulled them behind her.

“Nadia, you need to trust me,” I urged.

“I’m scared, Ritchie. They killed Viggo, remember? You can’t cross them and…”

“Don’t be,” I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice. “Trust me. Please. I have a plan.” I put out my hand once again, my eyes urging her to accept the lifeline I was offering. After staring at it for a few moments, she gingerly reached out to take it, her fear unmistakable in her clammy touch.

“Good girl. You’re doing this for our kids.”

She nodded. “For our kids,” she muttered.

“Let’s brainstorm,” I said. “I need your help here.”

Another nod from her.

****

As I drove away from the dilapidated house, a nervous Nadia lay flat in the backseat of the car with Gareth next to her. After about ten minutes of driving, she sat up.

To buy us some time, Nadia left Aristov’s men a note, saying she was taking Gareth to a friend's house to get him some hand-me-downs. We hoped that when the men saw the note and her clothes still in the closet, they wouldn’t start looking for her straight away, which would then buy us some time. We took nothing from the house except for Gareth’s baby bag.

“Why do you live like that?” I asked. “Olga gives you a grand a month?”

“Yes, Aristov arranged that,” she said in a sheepish voice. “He wants her to support me, to keep me happy so he can use me again. I used to send her money when I was there.”

“I found out about that recently.”

“But I only get three hundred dollars.”

I turned to glance at her. “Why?”

“Aristov’s men get the rest.”

I felt my face growing hot from anger.

“How many times has he used you, Nadia?”

After looking out of the window, her eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. She held up four fingers.

My blood boiled. I really wanted to kill Cruikshank and Aristov. “Seriously?”

“Yes. I ensnare the men, Olga marries them. She’s been married five times. Four to foreigners, and once to Cruikshank.”

“So if she was married four times to wealthy foreigners, why isn’t she stinkin’ rich, Olg…um, Nadia?”

Her response was to tap a nostril.

“Ah.”

“She and Cruikshank, they snort it all. Their share, that is. Aristov takes about eighty percent, the rest is given to Olga and Cruikshank, who spend it on cocaine. I get nothing. Olga won’t let me have any.”

“Really?”

“Cruikshank, he’s as evil as she is, and he beats her when things don’t go right or when money is scarce. She’s his cash cow, that’s all. But she still loves him.”

I shook my head. What the hell does she see in a dirt bag like that? I wondered.

“Has Olga any children?”

She nodded. “Two boys. She gave them both up for adoption years ago. Sold them to an American couple, basically.”

“Wow!” That sociopath was watching my kids at that very moment. It made me uneasy. “I need to get home quickly,” I said. “No telling what she will do with them.”

“Oh don’t worry, she won’t really be able to hurt our girls, because Aristov – he won’t let her.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re
girls
, Ritchie. Soon they will replace Olga and I. They’re very valuable to him, because with them, his future is set – the future Olga and Nadia.”

“Over my dead fucking body!” I said, rage bolting through me. “Never will that happen. Never!”

“Where are they now?” she asked. “Our girls?”

“With Arena during the day. I don’t trust Olga with them.”

She nodded.

“Who’s the old couple that visited me in Sydney?” I asked, forcing myself to calm down. I had so many questions that anger and rage had to wait.

“Aristov’s ‘friends.’ They are mules. At their age, customs seldom stops them.”

“Wow! That old friendly couple works for a drug pusher?” I wasn’t going to call that fuck a drug
lord
. He was anything but a
lord
to me. He was scum.

“They have no choice; they do as he says or he will simply kill them.”

“And Aristov’s got permanent residence in Australia? How the fuck does a prick like him manage that, when decent people are turned away?”

“Aristov is probably using someone else’s identity. Someone he killed. Besides, Aristov is connected. So connected, none of his charges stick. The cops are scared of him. You mess with him and he comes after your family. They call him The Family Man, not because of his family values, but because he kills your family and leaves the bodies for all to see. Where are we going?” she asked, her neck swiveling around.

“Airport.” I looked at her in the rearview mirror. “I’m sending you both to South Africa.”

“No! They know everyone in South Africa, Ritchie!”

“Cape Town. I have a cousin called Hannetjie there, who you haven’t met. Someone Aristov doesn’t know about. Hannetjie’s won’t ask questions, and she’ll take care of you both until I get things sorted at home. I can rely on her while I take care of things in Sydney. Then I will send for you. Don’t contact me or anyone in Sydney or you will be traced.
I
will contact you when it’s safe.”

“But…but…”

“You have dual citizenship, remember?” I said, ignoring her protests. “South Africa
and
Australia? No need for a visa to South Africa.”

She shook her head.

“What?”

“I don’t. Olga does. I’m Nadia, remember?”

She was right. I had forgotten about that minor detail.
Crap
!

Stumped, I pulled over to the side of the road. What do I do now? She would need a visa to visit South Africa and that would take time.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

Exhausted and emotionally drained, I hung my head as my plan unraveled.

Nadia tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up and found her smiling.

“What?”

She waved a passport at me. “Olga’s.”

“You're kidding me!”

She shook her head. “It’s current too.”

“What!” I snatched it out of her hands, excitement coursing through me.

“She’s using my passport right now because of a drug possession charge. Was afraid they would give her trouble when she flew around because of her criminal history.”

I could hardly believe my luck. It was my turn to smile. “You’re a beaut! Let’s get the fuck out of here. Cape Town, here we come!”

Luckily for us, Nadia, Gareth, and I were on a flight to Cape Town within three hours. We both were nervous as hell, constantly glancing around, expecting Aristov’s men to come after us, guns blazing.

I carried little Gareth in a baby sling and held Nadia’s moist hand at the same time, chanting, “It’s gonna be okay. Relax.”

Only after takeoff and after the seatbelt light went off did we both exhale.

“Tell me about the girls,” she said, turning to me, her eyes shining. “Olga doesn’t tell me anything. She screams at me when I even ask about them. They must be grown. How is Ally? And Becky, is she…?”

Imagine if I told her how mean Olga was to them? It would break her heart. Instead of telling her stuff, I took out my phone and handed it to her to view the photos and videos of them.

As she flipped through photos of our daughters, she laughed at first, then cried silent tears, and finally clutched my phone to her chest and bawled unabashedly, causing the crew and fellow passengers to stare.

How could I not feel for her when I witnessed her raw, intense pain? Her grief? Even though I wanted to comfort her, I couldn’t. Not with my leaden heart. I wanted her to talk about Becky’s paternity, but she didn’t. As much as I wanted to ask about it, I couldn’t bring myself to. Just the thought of it made me feel like there was a sumo wrestler sitting on my chest.

“You’re not buying M&Ms every day, are you?” she asked in a threatening voice.

“Nah.” Two could lie.

“Good. I worry about their teeth.”

“Don’t.” I squeezed her hand. “They’re okay.”

To lighten the mood around us, I decided to regale Nadia with some of the girls’ antics, their smart mouths, and about Girly, her Voodoo doll and her tarot cards. It helped; Nadia laughed out loud, eliciting curious looks from the same passengers and crew who earlier had eyed her tears with concern.

As she tried in vain to suppress her laughter with her hand, I thought how good it was to hear her laugh again. How good it was to hear my
wife’s
laugh.

As Nadia busied herself with little Gareth, I took stock of all the lies Olga had fed me during the last couple of months.

The flight did not cause our baby’s death like she wanted me to believe. She wanted me to resent Liefie for flying, and she almost succeeded.

My thinning hair and beer belly had nothing to do with her not wanting to sleep with me. She couldn’t sleep with me because she had tattoos in intimate places she did not want me to see. I was not a boring fuck because she had never experienced my sexual
prowess
in bed.

At thirty thousand feet I was smiling to myself as I tapped my stomach. Olga was just trying to steal my confidence, that was all.

“What, why are you touching your stomach?” Nadia asked, her face a mask of concern. “Are you in pain? Do you have an ulcer? What’s wrong, Ritchie?”

“Olga told me I was fugly,” I said before I pouted.

“What? No way!” Nadia slammed back in her seat, an incredulous look on her face. “You are…you are…” She shook her head. “Ritchie, you are beautiful. Inside and outside. The best-looking man I have ever met.”

A smug look crept on my face. “Weeeell…”

“And a gut?” She reached over and placed her hand on my stomach. Her touch, unexpected at that, jolted me. It was strange feeling her touch. Not a
bad
feeling, just strange.

I shifted some more as she looked into my eyes. “Eh…”

“That’s not a gut, Ritchie. You are,” she leaned in and dropped her voice, reminding me of our early days together, when we sometimes felt each other up on the plane, “sexy. Always were, always will be.” Slowly, her hand moved up my chest, over my neck and toward my face. Gently, she stroked my face and lips, ran her thumb over my lips. “Just as I remember,” she whispered, her face inching close to mine, her scent familiar and highly intoxicating.

“Here we go, one Jack Daniels and one orange juice!” a stewardess’s voice boomed.

Nadia and I jerked apart, then accepted our drinks.

Mellowed out from two Jacks, I reached out for her hand, kissed it and held it to my chest.  As I looked into her eyes, I saw hope, light, and maybe even a rainbow.

We are gonna get through this.

She nodded as if she could read my mind.

****

After spending a fortune on food and clothes for Gareth and Nadia at a mall in Cape Town, I prepared to leave them in the care of my cousin Hannetjie, who had once served in the South African Navy, but who now ran an armed security business with her partner named Army.

Hannetjie's father,
Oom
Stander, my late mother’s brother, was a minister who had strongly condemned all gays and lesbians to hell during his monotonous sermons.  He forbade us and his children from associating with them, quoting from the bible book of Leviticus, Chapter 18, that homosexuality and lesbianism was frowned upon by God and that it was highly contagious. I had never read the book of Leviticus, but being a little boy, I took
Oom
Stander’s word for it, that homosexuality and lesbianism was indeed highly contagious.

Thankfully, my parents often clashed with
Oom
Stander’s beliefs and had nothing against gays and lesbians. When I was around twelve,
Oom
Stander disowned our family for refusing to march with him and the rest of his church members in an anti-gay, anti-black, anti-Jew, anti-everything-and-everybody-other-than-whites protest.

But his kids loved us, so we kept in touch.

When Hannetjie introduced me to her partner Army, I made a few mistakes.

I talked to Army for at least three minutes before I realized that Army
wasn’t
a dude, she was a chick! With her buzz-cut, her thick, tattooed arms, khaki shirt, khaki cargo pants, chunky Caterpillar boots, and one of those wrist watches with a lot of wheels inside, I just assumed she was a dude.

My second mistake: I thought her name was Harmy or Armi, or even Armien…something like that. I had no idea she was so patriotic to the South African Army, which she once fought for, she
changed
her name from Jean to Army.

My third mistake: I didn’t know that Hannetjie was a lesbian. After all, she was the daughter of
Oom
Stander.

Guess I was a little distracted about leaving Olga with Army and Hannetjie after I saw an old South African flag (from the apartheid era) flying inside their property, which most South Africans believe to be a part of a degrading, divisive, and inhuman system that was declared a crime against humanity by the United Nations.

Hannetjie’s place was like a fort, with its electric fencing, steel gates, burglar bars, alarm, motion sensor floodlights, a German shepherd, two Dobermans, and a Boerboel. They were rigged for combat, and I pitied the fool who would be dumb enough to try and break into their property.

I took in Hannetjie's camouflage pants, brown t-shirt, cropped blonde spiky hair, brown boots and eyebrow piercings and said, “When did you become a lesbian?” Stupid question.

“Oh, when I turned fifteen.” Stupid answer too, I think.

“Really? But you marched in all those anti-gay rallies with
Oom
Stander?”

“Fok, ya, I did!” she said. “You think I had a choice. He would have honor killed me,
boet
!”

I laughed.

“I was walking and, at the same time, checking out all those chicks walking with me. Perving them. May have winked at a few, too.”

“You know that
Oom
Stander must be turning regularly in his grave, right?”

“Let him turn, I don’t give a fok!” she said with a laugh, before she took a swig of her beer. “The old South African flag will placate him,
noggal
.”

“
Miskien
! (Maybe)” I said and drank up.

Anyway, Army and Hannetjie appeared fond of each other and shared a mutual love for weapons. My cousin appeared happy, so I was happy for her.

“She is very safe here,” Army said, as she brought out a stash of weapons.

Together, they owned no fewer than nine weapons; revolvers, 9 mm pistols, a couple of shotguns, and two AK-47s.

Of course, they were not licensed to
carry
or have in their possession assault rifles, but clearly they weren’t going to let the law stop them from packing what they wanted to.

“Don’t you worry ’bout a thing, Liefie,” Army said, cradling an AK-47 and making me nervous as hell that my son was going to live in a property with that many weapons.

“Anybody come here, the Russians, the Koreans, the fucking Germans, Hitler himself,” she kissed her AK-47, “I shoot first and question their corpse later.”

It was not necessary to remind her that Hitler was dead.

“That’s my M.O. Trespassers will be shot, survivors will be fed to the canines.” She jerked her head toward the front gate. “If they can read the sign, they won’t want to
fok
with us. If they can’t read, the canines get lucky.”

Nadia’s elbow dug into me. I shook my head at her, silently urging her not to worry. She clutched Gareth tighter to her chest, a look of disbelief on her face. Chuckling at her horror, I put my arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

“Ya,” Hannetjie said, pulling out the second AK-47 and stroking it lovingly. “We got enough fire power to take on North Korea, I tell you.” She kissed her AK-47. “It’ll be
moorse
fun, these babies, I tell you.”

It was not necessary to educate her on North Korea and their development in nuclear technology. It was also not necessary to inform her that an AK-47 was not a baby in any way, shape, or form.

Nadia inched closer to me. “Ritchie, your cousins, they’re crazy!” she whispered.

“So are your cousins,” I reminded her with a grin, then gave her a reassuring hug. “They’re mad, but they’re okay,” I whispered. “We can trust them to keep you and Gareth safe. That’s the most important thing.”

“So I believe they took away your piece?” Army said, a look of sympathy on her face.

I squinted at her. “Who?”

“The Aussie bastards.”

“Nah, they didn’t take it away; I wasn’t allowed to take any weapons into Australia when I migrated, that’s all.”

“That’s not right, I tell you,” Army said, waving her index finger at me. “A man should be allowed to protect his family from the blacks and the Jews and the Muslims and…”

“Ohmygod!” Nadia’s hand flew to her mouth, a look of horror in her eyes.

Did I mention my cousin and her lover were utterly racist?

Maybe it was my slack jaw, but Army cocked her head at us. “What?”

I sighed. Talking to Army or Hannetjie, who were still stuck in 1985 and loving it, wouldn’t help. It would be a case of five walls in the room. Or six, in their case.

Since I had Ally and Becky to think about, my plan was to leave South Africa that same day, even though I was really tired. As I prepared to leave them, Nadia became tearful.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said, giving her a series of hugs. “Just stay put, don’t worry. I’ll handle everything in Sydney, make it safe for you to return. Trust me. Then I will send for you. Only when it’s safe to do so. Don’t call, don’t be tempted to make any contact with me, and all will be okay. Don’t know how and when, just wait for that plane ticket from me, okay?” I tilted her face to look into her eyes.

“What if you change your mind?” she asked, tears sliding down her face. “What if you go home and decide you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

I held her face in my hands. “You are my Liefie,” I reminded her.

Her tears vanished. “Say it again,” she said, grabbing me at the waist. “Say it again!”

I smiled and kissed her forehead. “Liefie. You are my Liefie. I dunno who Nadia is, and of course, Olga is out of the picture, but Liefie, she lives here. I took her hand and placed it on my heart. We have three children, we have to figure things out. We have no choice
but
to try and work things out. The kids, they come first, Liefie.”

She hugged me hard. “I will make you so happy, I swear, Ritchie. You do whatever you need to do, and I will fix things between us, I promise.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Sounds great, actually!” I meant it – it was time to make my family whole again.

With a smile, she stood on her toes and kissed me lightly on my lips. I didn’t kiss her back, but I didn’t pull away either. I would have liked to, but it was too soon. The hurt and pain of the last couple months was still fresh in my mind. Things were moving at an incredibly fast pace, and had I not had so much on my mind, I probably would have felt a little swamped.

“I understand you need time,” she said, as if she was reading my mind, her eyes fixed to my chest. “You're hurting more than I am. You’re suffering with information overload, and I get that. I’ll be patient.” She hugged me again.

“We’ll start afresh,” I said, really grateful for her understanding. “Maybe renew our vows?”

The words just slipped out without me thinking.

She gasped. “Ooooh, are you asking me to marry you again?”

My laugh was a little nervous as I thought about it for a moment. “I am!” I said with a huge nod.