My Wife's Li'l Secret (32 page)

“This is a bad idea,” I said, running my hand slowly across my mouth.

Silence.

I looked at my sister. Her eyes were glassy. Wordlessly, she shook her head from side-to-side and I wondered if she had already read the results.

But I know she hadn’t.

I glanced back at Liefie, chewing on her thumbnail, looking like she was on the verge of tears herself. She quickly averted her liquid eyes and continued chewing on her nail.

“It’s okay,” I said to her.

She didn’t answer or look at me.

I looked at Bear. He held my gaze and nodded.
I’m here for you buddy.

My nod was slight.
Thanks Bear.

“I really don’t need to see the results,” I said.

“Absolutely!” Bear mouthed.

“I mean…what difference does it make, right?”

“Yeah, of course, Ritchie,” he said.

“Because no matter what…”

For the next five minutes I babbled and rambled and not once did anyone interrupt or stop me.

Finally, I looked at Bear. “Tell me.” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Bud…?” he whispered, his chin jerking toward the envelope.

I nodded.
It is time.

I stood with my eyes squeezed shut, my fingers steepled over my nose.

Please God let
Becky
be mine.

Bear looked at Arena, at Liefie, then at me before he reached for the envelope and tore it open.

When I heard the envelope rip open, my eyes flew open.

Bear’s eyes scanned the envelope and I watched his shoulders slump.

Arena jumped to her feet, stood behind him, and I watched her eyes move rapidly from left to right before a wail escaped her.

Quickly, she clamped her palm to her mouth. Too late. Her naked pain and the tears that gushed down her cheeks caused my heart to plummet.

“No,” Bear said, clearing his throat several times. “Becky, she’s…she’s not… yours. Sorry, Ritchie. Sorry, man.”

The anguished cry I heard behind me was Liefie’s.

My breath came out in spurts. Becky was not my daughter. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened it. My head bobbed. “Doesn’t matter,” I muttered, my throat constricting with…pain, I think. “I expected this." I shrugged, then threw out my hands in a
whatever-she’s-still-my-child
gesture
. 

See? I’m a good sport about it. I handled it. See? Like I said, it wouldn’t matter.

Suddenly, I felt really hot in spite of my false bravado. “I need to go,” I muttered, bunching up the front of my shirt and shaking it. 

“Ritchie, I’m so sorry,” Liefie said. “I am so…so…”

“Don’t worry, hon,” I said with a dismissive wave. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. She’s my baby no matter what.” I started to back away, eager to be alone with my thoughts. My patio – that’s where I needed to be. Staring out into the bush, just me, my thoughts, and my citronella candle. “Thanks, Bear, Arena…”

“What about the second envelope?” Bear interrupted.

My neck jerked to look at him. “What…second enve…?” I stopped when he waved another envelope at me. Somehow, nervousness and anxiety had caused me to miss the second envelope.

I spun around to look at Liefie.

She nodded.

“You're kidding me!” I said, feeling like I had been sucker punched. 

Her eyes dropped to the floor.

“No fucking way, Liefie!”

“Ritchie…” Bear said in a calm-down voice.

I ignored him. “Ally? Serious…?”

“Ritchie, she wanted it all out in the open,” my sister said, moving to stand next to Liefie in a protective gesture. “That’s –”

“Stay out of this, ARENA!” I yelled.

She clammed up and raised her palms in a motion of surrender.

I resumed my glaring at Liefie. “Ally’s paternity was
never
an issue!
Never
in question, Lieife. So I don’t want to know about it, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes to the ground, her shoulders rounding.

Furious, I strode to the door.
Ally’s paternity – what the fuck!

I put my hand on the doorknob to open it, then stopped. Slowly, I turned around to look at Bear. “Tell me,” I said, my chest heaving as if I had run a marathon. “Maybe …maybe I need to know.” I gave a series of small shrugs.

With a big nod, he started to tear open the envelope.

“Stop!” I said, backing away again. “Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know. I don’t…”

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Liefie crying. 

You’re the type who needs to know to move forward…

She was right – I
was
that type. I
had
to know or I would always be plagued by wonder. Is she? My mind fast-forwarded to me studying her cherubic face, watching her mannerisms for signs she was mine, scrutinizing her every move…

Like I did with Becky.

My head suddenly lolled. 

Nobody said a word.

When I looked up at Bear, I nodded.

“You sure?” he asked.

No…

“Tell me,” I whispered, once again dragging my feet, which suddenly felt encased in cement, back to him. “Tell me.”

Please God, please let her be mine. Please! Please! Please! You took away Liefie, you took away Becky, please give me Ally. She is my heart.

As Bear read, his shoulders suddenly slumped, his mouth turned down, and his head fell.

My heart plummeted.

“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, then shook his head. “Sorry.”

Suddenly, I felt as if I had been maced – my eyes started to water, my lungs started to burn, a bongo drum beat furiously in my head, my skin started to tingle, my breath came out in spurts, and something round and solid lodged in my throat, cutting off my words and choking me.  

“N…o…no …no…that can’t b…be,” someone said in a strangled voice. Me.

My knees wobbled, forcing me to lean against the table for support. “Ally, she…she looks like m…me, she talks like me, she acts like…”

I’m dreaming. I’m having a nightmare.

I put my both hands over my head. “How…?” I muttered. “Doesn’t make…”

“But they’re not Cruikshank’s either,” Bear said in a thin, almost-shrill voice that I had never heard before. “That’s a good thing, right Ritchie?”

I didn’t answer. What did it matter that Cruikshank wasn’t their father?
I
was not their father. That mattered!

Shell-shocked and feeling like I had been hit on the head with a baseball bat, I stumbled over to my sister, who was sobbing loudly. “It’s okay, ’Rena,” I said, putting my arms around her and snapping out of my anguish at the sight of my sister’s distress, my protective instinct kicking in.

“I love them with all my h…heart and I…I will protect them till I die. It doesn’t matter.” I hugged her hard. “Really, it doesn’t!”

She clutched at me and sobbed.

“Gareth is my son, too. Let’s not forget th…that,” I said, fighting to keep my voice in check, wanting to stem my sister’s flow of tears.
Needing
to.

Her head bobbed, and she even tried to smile. And failed.

But she was no longer sobbing, and that allayed my anxiety over her tears.

I released her and turned away.

Bear walked over to me and hugged me. Didn’t say anything, just clasped me to him, his Adam’s apple bobbing away.

“I have to go,” I said, as I pushed him off me. Before anyone could respond, I walked toward the door.

Not once did I look at my ex-wife, who was also crying.

As I passed her, she lunged to hug me. “Ritchie, I’m sorry, I…”

“DON’T!” I snarled, holding out my hand, stopping her.

She reeled back, her eyes large.

“Please!” I hissed. “Don’t
ever
touch me! I have forgiven you for everything
Nadia
– the deception, the betrayal, the mountain of lies, taking up with Vlad, even Becky’s paternity, but I cannot forgive you for taking my Ally away from me.”

“Please!” she begged. “I didn’t…”

“You didn’t have to do this, but you did it because you
wanted
to hurt me. Badly. Payback – that’s what it is. You were hurt when I jilted you, forced you into marrying someone you didn’t really want to, so now you’re getting back at me, maiming me for life. I get it.” I nodded. “Now we’re even,
Nadia
.”

I ignored the crushed look on her face and plowed ahead. “But you’re
really
winning here. A whitewash. In fact, you will be a winner
forever
with this one,
Nadia
, because it’s a check mate. Game over! The winner is…drum roll, please…Nadia Alvang from Ukraine! A knockout!” I pumped my fist in the air for dramatics. “Happy? You should be,
Nadia
.”

I strode away, marveling at how strong and unwavering my voice had become when addressing and insulting my swindling ex-wife. (Good ol' anger, it can be so useful at times. Bet it can even resuscitate a person!) 

“No, Ritchie, It’s not like that,” she sobbed as she ran after me. “Please, don’t be angry at me. I’m doing the right thing here and I’m sorry it turned out this way!”

Save it!

“Ritchie, it’s all my fault. I take full…”

I slammed the door shut on her, drowning out her voice.

A high school and a primary school in the vicinity had just ended, and school kids and their parents spilled onto the street.

Ally, my baby, my firstborn…

I paused to look at a father at a zebra crossing, holding his two little girls’ hands, both similar ages to Ally and Becky. He has nothing to worry about, I thought. He knows they’re his kids. He’s probably certain of that. Lucky bastard.

I fished into my pocket for the keys to my Jeep. Nothing. I had left them inside the house.

No sweat, I thought as I eyed my Jeep. I can hotwire this baby. Used to do it when I was younger, remember? But I needed to get inside the Jeep first to do that.

My eyes scanned the place and rested on a brick nearby. I picked it up and slammed it into the side window of the Jeep. The window shattered into a million little pieces.

“You
and
my heart,” I mumbled to the window.

Ignoring the frightened stares around me, the parents reaching for their children and hurriedly crossing the street to get away from the madman with a brick in his hand and the screaming of the Jeep’s alarm, I reached into the Jeep and opened the door.

After brushing off some broken glass from the seat with my bare hands, I sat down. As I did, I felt a prick on my chest. The top pocket of my shirt held the keys to my Jeep.

Dumbass
!

With a wry smile, I took the keys and started the Jeep. It started to rain, so I turned on my windshield wipers. The wipers didn’t help; my visibility was still hampered.

For a few moments I sat in my Jeep and stared at the pouring rain as I remembered the day Ally was born. She was a soft pink, with shiny, grey-blue eyes and rosebud lips. She opened her eyes when I called her name and smiled at me. Then her eyelids gently closed, reminding me of a butterfly closing its delicate wings.

I was in awe of the real-life doll I had created, and I feared I would break her if I held her too tight. My camera never stopped clicking, and my ringtone was her cry, imagine that.

My screensaver used to be her smiling face, until Becky arrived, then it was both of them smiling at me whenever I sat in front of my laptop.

People claim not to have a favorite child. I had one, I admit – my firstborn, Ally. She called me ‘Daddy’ first. That was huge, and let me tell you something…you never know how much love you are capable of feeling until you hear
Daddy.

Each time she uttered those words, I fell a little more in love with her.

And Becky, my little tattletale, my future anchorwoman…

As I pictured her lovely, soft face, the way she burrowed her face into my chest, the way she scolded me whenever I returned from business trips with,
You were gone forever. I counted
, my heart threatened to burst out of my chest.

I’m a nice guy, I thought with disdain. I don’t cheat, I put family first, I treat my wife with respect…and yet, I finished last. I went from loving dad to loving adopted dad overnight. How? Why?

Karma, my mother would call it. What had I done wrong to deserve this? I demanded from my broken self.

Think! Think! Think!

With both hands on my head, I racked at my brain for clues, but nothing I did in my life that could warrant such artful deception, such unbridled hurt, and such searing pain, the physical and emotional kind, came to mind.

What about killing Aristov and setting up Olga and Cruikshank?

No. That couldn’t be it. They didn’t deserve to live. They were evil, and I had freed so many people from their clutches.

I did the world a favor by killing Aristov and his men. I protected Liefie, Ally, Becky, Gareth, and even myself by putting Olga and Cruikshank behind bars.

Besides, Becky and Ally’s paternity, that travesty occurred years before I tangled with Aristov, Olga and Cruikshank.

It had to be something else.
Think! Think! Think!

Hang on – what about that time I stole my father’s Valiant? One night, while my parents were asleep, I took my father’s car without permission and went joy-riding with my friends.

There were three really hot girls in the group, and I started showing off, speeding, burning rubber, letting my friends sit on the bonnet while I drove.  While showing off, I accidently scraped the side of the Ford.

The next morning, my dad was livid and confronted me about it. Scared, I denied anything to do with it and Arena got the blame somehow.

I was seventeen, I had to have known right from wrong then. Why didn’t I man up and confess? I let her take the rap. She was grounded and missed a Madonna Concert. How could I have done that to my wonderful and caring sister?

She had bought a pair of new three-quarter black jeans, black ballet shoes, strings of pearls, and a cross to wear around her neck in preparation for the concert. For weeks she practiced dancing to "Papa Don't Preach" in front of the mirror.

But while all her friends went ahead without her, she sat crying in her room, doing time for a crime she did not commit.

Even though I felt really bad, not once did I fess up. What a bastard of a brother I was.

A shadow fell over me. I looked out of my window at my sister who once took the fall for me.

With tears running down her face, she reached in through the window and turned off my wipers.

I frowned.
Why did you do that, Arena?

She opened my door, leaned in, and wiped my cheeks with her palms. “It’s not raining,” she said in a hoarse voice.

It was then that I realized I was crying.

For the first time in my life that I could remember, I was crying.

I got out of the Jeep and faced my sobbing sister. “I scraped Daddy’s Ford, ’Rena. It was me. I did it. Me!”

“I know…Ritchie, I know, I know.”

“You …you…kn…ew?”

Her head bobbed. “Your friend Karel, he told me.”

I stared at my sister, at a total loss for words.

“It’s okay,
boet
, it’s okay, it’s okay!” She reached up and again wiped away my tears.

I pulled my face out of reach. But…“Papa Don’t Preach.”

A small, sad smile appeared on her face.

I looked at my sister, who fixed everything broken in my life – something I liked
and
resented at the same time.

“What do I do now, ’Rena? What do I tell Ally and Becky? They love me so much, ’Rena?”

My sister, my mainstay in life, shook her head as fresh tears gushed down her face.

“Fix it, ’Rena,” I pleaded. “Please…fix…it.”

“Rich…Ritchie…boet …” Her shoulders sagged with helplessness.

“Ma said we must pray and I did, ’Rena, I did. But God, he hates me, Arena. He took away Liefie, he took away Becky…Ally.”

She shook her head, pain etching her wet face. “Ritchie…Ritchie…Ritchie…”

Then, for the first time since my terrible ordeal, in full view of everyone in the crowded street – mothers, fathers, school kids, Bear, and my sobbing ex-wife, I unraveled completely. Broke.

I held onto my sister and sobbed.

THE END