The Hearts We Burn

by Briana Cole

  “Wait, Yana.” My words had her turning around to face me again. “You believe me though, don’t you?”

  Her smile was now sad, bent in sympathy. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Because no one can help you. Or me. So just enjoy it. It is what it is. You need to behave and be careful, Saida.” And with that, she turned away.

  I had never felt so sick before. This time, I couldn’t attribute this to the fact that I had now reached cruising altitude on this private airplane. Any other time, the plush, beige leather reclining seats, champagne, and chilled shrimp cocktail at my elbow would have me immersed in the lap of luxury and basking in every bit of it. But as the clouds glided past my window, all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut against the horror. With every passing second, I was traveling further and further away from my life, and closer and closer to my prison. The realization had me dying inside.

  “Something else to eat, Miss?” I heard the voice, but didn’t bother answering the flight attendant’s inquiry. She got the hint and I heard her gentle steps as she padded away, probably to ask the same thing to Leo and Tyree.

  I hadn’t even acknowledged them since we had boarded, and thankfully, they had left me alone as well. They sat together a few rows in front of me, their heads huddled together and speaking in hushed whispers as if I gave a damn what they were talking about.

  The swell of nausea in the pit of my belly grew and I suddenly rose on shaking legs. As if on cue, their heads whipped up and they tossed suspicious looks in my direction. I smacked my lips and snapped, “What the hell do you think I’m going to do? Jump out the plane?” Neither of them spoke, but I could feel their eyes on me as I made my way to the back of the plane, bracing against the seats for support. I needed to get to the bathroom before I redecorated all this pretty, expensive shit in here.

  I made sure to let out my frustration when I slammed the door behind me. That gave me a little liberation, but not much. The rest came as I stooped over the porcelain toilet and let the bile do its business. As I continued to dry heave over the bowl, I let the tears flow again. Was this my karma? Did I really do something so messed up that this was the punishment considered to fit my crime?

  I sank to the floor, weak from throwing up and exhaustion. Physically, I felt as empty as my heart because Lord knows Leo had snatched everything from me. In a matter of minutes, I had to give up everything I loved, to save everyone I loved. The irony.

  “My love,” Leo’s voice came soft through the door. “Are you okay?” What the hell kind of question was that? The man was staging my death just so he could keep me all to himself, a prisoner in my own body. Yeah, I was overfuckingjoyed. His knock was just as soft, but persistent, enough to have me groaning and peeling myself from the floor. If I thought I was about to have any peace, I would have been better making good on my threat and jumping out the plane for real.

  I snatched open the door and stared into Leo’s face. He had the nerve to actually offer a smile and that pissed me off even more.

  “Do you need anything?” he asked.

  “Yeah, for you to leave me the hell alone,” I snapped and shoved past him, feeling a little triumphant when he bumped against the wall. I stormed back to my seat, slightly surprised when Leo followed and sat next to me. I was even more surprised when he grabbed my hand and lifting it to his lips, kissed my palm. His signature. Part of me was hoping I would just piss him off. Maybe then, he would realize he was much better off without me. I damn sure wasn’t trying to make this easy on him.

  “You know I love you,” he said.

  I tried to pull my hand from his but he held on tighter, now gripping my fingers until they nearly hurt with the pressure. I winced and struggled to keep my face neutral. The last thing I wanted to do was give him the satisfaction. But my lack of response must have been enough for him because he smirked, kissed my fingers where he had just tried to squeeze them broken, and let my hand go.

  “I like Saida,” he went on after a moment. “I think that fits you, my love.”

  I frowned. “The least you can do is let me keep my real name.”

  “Kimera Davis is dead. I made sure of that.” He rubbed his knuckles against the side of my face and I turned my head from his touch.

  “Did you do what you promised?” I asked. “Did you send the police to help Adria?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do I know?”

  Leo shrugged. “Guess you’re going to have to trust me.” He started to stand and I grabbed his arm, almost desperate.

  “Leo please. You promised. Let me just . . . talk to her or—”

  “I sent the police. I got word. Your friend is safe at the hospital.”

  “And the babies?”

  Leo shrugged. “Don’t know and really don’t care. She’s been admitted. They’ll take care of her. I did my part. Now you just have to do yours.” He left, leaving the statement, which seemed more threatening than I liked, hanging in the air.

  Maybe I had pushed his buttons too far. I couldn’t be sure. But either way, later that evening, we had touched down in Texas. And though I wasn’t finished with the conversation, I damn sure wished I had been.

  “My love.” His accent licked each syllable in the two-word greeting as he entered my room. I turned my head when he met me in the closet, the kiss intended for my lips instead planting gently on my cheek. He smelled of overly-splashed cologne. Cuba. It used to be my favorite for him. But now the stifling aroma merely masked the stench of sex, and did nothing but turn my stomach knowing where his body, and lips, had just been. Obviously not fazed by my evasive gesture, he turned and headed for the bathroom.

  I met him in there and he was leaning in to the shower stall. For a brief second, I eyed the bends and angles of his well-toned physique. I watched him until he disappeared behind the frosted shower glass. I waited, half expecting him to speak, but heard only the water echoing off the stone walls.

  “Leo, do you love me?” I asked finally.

  “Of course, my love.”

  “Then why are you doing this? Why won’t you let me go?” His silence had me snatching the door open and gasping as the hot steam slapped my face. Leo turned, and on a smile, wrapped his wet arms around my waist. “Leo . . .” I struggled, suddenly angered as he pulled me into the shower, pinning me against the wall.

  “You know I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing mine.

  “Leo, stop it.” I was furious as I shoved his chest and as if on instinct, my hand snaked out and connected with his cheek. The slap of skin echoing in the stall was enough to snap me out of my instinctive daze, ripping a fearful gasp from my lips. “Leo, I’m sorry,” I said as his eyes narrowed in restrained anger. “Leo. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

  “Bitch,” he growled.

  I hadn’t even had time to brace for the punch. His knuckles connected with my jaw with enough painful force to snap my head back and slam it against the wall. Crippled with pain, I slithered to the floor. My face was throbbing and I was sure I felt a trickle of warm blood pooling from my scalp. Or maybe that was the water from the faucet. I couldn’t be sure. But I folded myself into a ball anyway and braced for the next round of punches I knew was sure to come.

  I screamed when I felt his fingers grasp the back of my throat and drag me from underneath the spray. “You want to act like a bitch,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I’ll treat you like a bitch.”

  Leo held me down by the neck as he yanked me across the linoleum. Our soaking wet bodies left a trail of water on the floor as I struggled to keep up in a half-crawl, half-slide type of maneuver, to keep from breaking every bone in my body along the way. “Leo, please,” I could only muster a whisper as his grip tightened. “I’m sorry. Please don’t.” But I knew I had fucked up.

  He pulled me through the bedroom and into another room down the hall. A thirty-six-inch dog crate sat on the side of a futon and Leo threw me against the metal wire. I winced as it bit into my flesh. Confused, I sho
ok my head fiercely. “Leo, please,” I cried. I ate my words as the sole of his wet foot jammed so hard into my mouth that it felt like my teeth came loose from my gums.

  “Shut up,” he said. “And get your ass in the crate.”

  Weak with pain, I crawled into the tiny cage and folded myself tight against the confined space.

  “My father told me I needed to get a better handle on you and he was right. You come out when you’re ready to act like my love and not a little bitch,” Leo said closing and locking the door. With that, he padded away.

  I didn’t know exactly how many hours he left me in there. But when the sky turned to night and moonlight spilled into the room, I knew it had been all day. Leo didn’t say a word when he finally came back and opened the cage door. My muscles were tight as I crawled out of the cage and it was enough to have me whimpering in agony. “I love you,” Leo murmured. “Are you ready to behave?”

  Too exhausted to speak, I merely nodded. Leo scooped me into his arms and kissed my tear-streaked face. My body felt numb. Even as he carried me back into the bedroom, laid me on the California King Bed, and began to undress me, I couldn’t even feel his touch on my skin. When he licked my neck, the gesture had me bursting into a fresh set of tears. What had I done? What had I agreed to? I had to get away . . .

  “You are never leaving me again, my love,” Leo’s throaty whisper came as if he had read my mind. “You agreed and now, we have our happily ever after. Tomorrow, we’ll go to the courthouse and make it official. I love you.” The silent threat was enough to have me shuddering as his lips took possession of mine.

  I tried to stay to myself as best I could for most of the evening. But as I stood by the bar and nursed glass after glass of wine, I couldn’t help but notice my “precious husband” had all but disappeared from the festivities. Funny. I was gone for 3.5 seconds and he insisted on sending my little bodyguard to come drag me from the bedroom. Yet here he was, absent from his own party for, I had to think for a moment the last time I actually spotted him among the crowd. Yeah definitely over thirty minutes. Which could only mean one thing.

  My eyes lifted to the ceiling, as if I could almost see Leo getting a little birthday gift from his secret boyfriend Tyree in the upstairs bedroom. The thought alone had me finally setting my half-empty glass on the bar.

  Shit was pathetic, if I could be completely honest. Tyree was content with hiding in the shadows while Leo paraded me around like the trophy. It was socially acceptable but both men acted as if the world would end if someone found out Leo was on the down low. I sure as hell didn’t care. But what I did care about was that they expected me to be just as content with this arrangement. Of course I wasn’t, but for the safety of me, my kids, and my family, I had to fake like I was. So Tyree lived in the huge house with us as well, only coming out when all of us were in private. Then, he and Leo didn’t hesitate to display their affection freely and publicly. All within the confines of these walls. But when guests came, Tyree was nowhere to be found. He knew his role. I frowned at the huge wedding ring glittering from my finger. I guess I knew mine too.

  I must have spoken Leo up because not even ten minutes later, I caught him inching down the stairs, his eyes darting around to make sure his entrance wasn’t too obvious. He even had the nerve to be stuffing the tail of his dress shirt in the waistband of his slacks. Damn, I wish someone other than me was watching this. Leo easily blended back into the crowd and before I knew it, he had re-emerged, this time heading straight in my direction at the bar. I rolled my eyes.

  “My love,” he leaned to kiss me and I just as smoothly, shifted my body away from his so his lips couldn’t make contact.

  “Already opening your birthday gift, I see,” I murmured, my voice hushed.

  Leo ignored my comment, instead gesturing toward the bartender. His poison of choice was placed in front of him and he downed it in one quick swallow. If I cared to really pay attention, it was more than evident Leo was uneasy about something. He used the small paper napkin to dab at the sweat on his forehead. I didn’t say anything but inside, I couldn’t help the small gloat that had my lips turning up. Good. Whatever Tyree had told him, I’m glad it worked. Leo turned to look at me and that’s when I saw it for the first time, a sliver of fear that had him readjusting the neckline of his shirt. And because I figured he really wanted me to, I chose not to speak any further on my observations.

  “We need to talk,” Leo said finally. His touch on my arm was light, so light in fact, I had to look down to confirm that it was indeed a slight tremble in his fingers that I felt.

  “Are you letting me go?” I asked.

  He seemed confused by the question. “No, it’s something important.”

  “Well if it’s not about you letting me and my children go, I really couldn’t care less.”

  “My love, listen.” He turned me by my shoulders to face him. “I think I—may, no we may be in danger. All of us.”

  The statement chilled my blood. “What are you talking about?”

  Leo opened his mouth to speak again and quickly shut it, as his eyes slid to someone behind me. I turned as Leo’s father walked up, gently kissed me on the forehead, and draped his arm around Leo.

  “It’s time, Son,” he said, and it was obvious he could barely contain his excitement. I didn’t know what was going on, but it was clear Leo did by the way he allowed his father to lead him away. Together, they walked to the massive fireplace and bowed their heads together to exchange a few words. Then, Obi turned to the guests.

  “Attention please,” he said, his voice carrying through the room and immediately silencing the party chatter. All pairs of expectant eyes turned to Obi, their king. In their expressions you would think the man was Jesus himself. Obi continued, “Today is a very special day. My only son has reached a milestone year. I must admit we haven’t always had the best relationship, but I couldn’t be more proud of this man.” As if on cue, “aawws” wafted up to accentuate Obi’s words. “So, happy birthday, Son. May you and your lovely family enjoy all the blessings the world has to offer.” Now claps and cheers as Leo stood uncomfortably in the middle of the attention.

  “So to celebrate this special occasion,” Obi continued, once the applause had died down, “I wanted to do something I knew he would appreciate. I know this has been a tough few years with the death of his other two wives, and I have to applaud Leo’s wife Saida for stepping in to support her husband in this time of need.” Now more applause, this time in my direction as everyone grinned and cheered. As if I had a choice. “But now,” he continued. “It’s time for me to give my son a little bit of the sunshine he’s lost. Son, meet your new wife Naomi.”

  People seemed to part to let someone through, and the cheers of approval only intensified as little Miss Guest of Honor made her way to Father and Son. I didn’t see her face, but from the back, I could tell she was wearing the hell out of the Vera Wang beaded gown and her hair, in brown and blond highlights, was cascading in voluptuous waves down her bare back.

  She hugged first Obi, then Leo, and they shared a passionate kiss as if they’d known each other for a long time rather than a first-time greeting. When she turned, her face finally came into view. I couldn’t really tell how old she was, but she looked like she could’ve passed for my age, twenty-seven. She looked to be mixed, but I couldn’t make out her racial background.

  For a brief moment, the woman almost reminded me of myself. The way she quickly snuggled up to Leo and seemed to relish the attention from everyone took me back to one of the first times I started dating Leo myself.

  I had met him while working at the bank. He had just strolled in to open a new account and made a large deposit while grinning and flirting with me the whole time. And me, in all my naïveté, had flirted right on back. It wasn’t really the male attention I was seeking. No, more than his looks, the man had money. And according to the commas in the deposit I was keying into the computer, lots of it. After dropping out of college
and moving back in with my parents, it was money I was lacking; so suddenly, this mystery man had my undivided attention. Not even Adria could talk me down from my stupidity.

  I watched Leo lean over and whisper something in Naomi’s ear and she giggled playfully. Yeah, that was me all right. Two years, two babies, and a lifetime of common sense ago. If only I had known better. And now, apparently the circle of life continued because here was Naomi, parading around, confidence masking her ignorance. And when she finally found my eyes through the crowd and a bright smile touched her lips, I too smiled, already working on a plan to use Leo’s new wife to finally get me the hell out of here.

  Chapter 3

  Adria

  Eerie. That was really the only word that could describe the air hanging so thick and still in the afternoon. As if the wind carried the weight of the death surrounding it and was now buried under its suffocating pressure. I should have been used to it by now. But of course that was a lot to expect of myself.

  The smell of damp soil and moss clung in my nostrils as I made my way across the grass, my sneakers crunching on the fall leaves littering the ground. Headstone after headstone trailed past my peripheral, each one with names, dates, and words I had seen so much they had been committed to memory. Gloria Renee Malcolm, a grandmother and best friend. Kimberly Pastor, daughter and wife. And who could forget Leonard. No last name, just Leonard. His stone was void of the loving sentiments and instead just read Good riddance. I remember first seeing that one and having to pause in my own trek, frowning at the simple harshness. “I’m sorry for whatever you did Leonard,” I had mumbled to myself.

  We had buried my daughters together, wanting them joined in death as they had been in my womb. Their names were also together on one headstone, inscribed in an elaborate cursive font that was both beautiful and angelic. Just like I knew they would have been. Britain and Brooklyn Davis. At the base were two sets of angel wing figurines and beside those, a bouquet of daises that had begun to wither with either age or weather, or both. Two baby dolls, still wrapped neatly in their plastic boxes were propped against the headstone, evidence that Mama Davis had come by recently. A smile touched my lips.