Sworn Enemies, Secret Lovers

by Eve Rabi

  “It’s Reedwan’s child too. And I’m his fiancée, you know.”

  I swing around. “Shut the FUCK up Abeeda!”

  She recoils at my ferocity.

  “Don’t you fucking say another word!”

  “Megan, stop!” Reed says.

  “This is my child, Reed. She has no right planning a party for my baby.”

  “Okay, Megan, I … look, let me talk to her, okay?”

  “What is there to talk about, Reedwan?” Abeeda says. “I’ve already sent out the invitations. Some even RSVP’d. We can’t stop this now.”

  He nods several times then looks at me. “Eh, Megan … I’m sorry.”

  Furious, I grab my bag and storm out of the apartment. My only child, my miracle baby, who I fought so hard to be with, and she does everything in her power to cut me out. As I walk to my car, I spot her Jeep.

  Pretty, new, shiny red Jeep with a convertible soft-top. She loves this car and is always careful where she parks it. For a few moments, I stare at the Jeep. Then I walk to my car and scrounge in my trunk for something sharp. I find a metal letter opener. It will have to do.

  Adrenaline pumping, I stride over to her car and hack at the soft-top leather. Not too much. Just enough to piss her off. When the car alarm doesn’t go off, I walk over to a construction site not too far away, pick up a brick, and throw it at the car.

  “Hey! Whatcha doin’?”

  I look up into the faces of two huge African American women. One of them has braids with Rastafarian-colored beads, and the other is wearing leg warmers and a red bandana.

  “You can’t do dat?” Braids says. “You crazy or somethin’? Wasyoproblem?”

  “Yeah,” Bandana says. “I’m calling da cops right now.” She starts dialing her cell phone.

  “What’s my problem?” I shout. “She’s supposed to be my friend, but she’s sleeping with my husband. Stole him from me. She deserves more than this, so call the cops if you must. I don’t give a fuck!”

  Bandana pauses with her dialing. “Say what? She yo frien’?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “She planned my baby’s first birthday party. Now I don’t get to have one.” I furiously wipe away tears.

  Both women gape at each other, slack jawed.

  “She … she got him to call her Mama. How unfair is that? Huh?”

  Bandana plants her hands on her hips. “Well, girlfrien’, dat ain’t no way to mess up her car, den. Stop yo whining and get yo white ass outta da way.”

  “Huh?”

  “Move, gal!”

  I step aside and watch as she hurries to her car, opens the trunk, and returns with a tire iron and a metal baseball bat. She hands the tire iron to Braids.

  To my delight, they take turns hammering at one side of the car.

  Worried that the car alarm will go off, but too thrilled to care, I smile and yell. “Why not the other side?”

  They pause with their hammering to explain. “Cos we wan’ da insurance company to only pay fo da one side. Dat way da whole car don’t get no nice new spray job. Patches, different paint jobs, it ain’t good for da value of da car.”

  “Brilliant!” I say as they resume their vandalism.

  The car alarm still doesn’t go off.

  “What the hell are you guys doing?” A voice booms.

  We look up into the face of a middle-aged peroxide blonde smoking a cigarette and pushing a stroller at the same time. “You stop now or I’m calling the cops!”

  Bandana walks up to her, points at the Jeep and says, “She sleeping with Skinny’s husban’. Was her best frien’.”

  The blonde’s eyes grow the size of saucers.

  “Got her chil’en to call her Mama.”

  “Whaaat?!” The blonde swivels to look at me. “Happened to me last year. He hasn’t paid child support in six months! Hey, don’t I know you?”

  I shrug and surreptitiously adjust my wig.

  Bandana nods. “Uh-huh. Can you do them tires? All four?”

  The blonde nods and fishes into her baby’s diaper bag. To my utter surprise and delight, she pulls out a sheathed knife. “Got just the thing,” she says and hands me the stroller.

  With a gleam in her eye, she slashes at the tires. The whooshing sounds sends us all scurrying back. “Gotta make it deep,” she says as she slashes the rest of them. “Costs more to fix, or she’ll have to replace them.”

  Caught up in the moment, I jump up and down and clap at the destruction.

  Bandana raises the baseball bat and cautions, “Stan’ back!”

  We all back away as she swings at the windshield several times, a wicked smile on her face. The alarm finally goes off.

  Instead of running off, I quickly hack at the soft top until the hole is big enough to put my hand through.

  “Cops!” someone shouts.

  Bandana and Braids run into a nearby apartment as the blonde with the stroller casually walks away. I get into my car and race off. As I pass a cop car traveling in the direction of the apartment, I realize I never had a chance to thank the women for their help. When I think about the damage to the Jeep and the look on Abeeda’s face when she eyes her precious vehicle, I let out a devilish laugh.

  Fifteen minutes later, I get the call.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Megan?” Reed says.

  “What are you talking about, Reed?” Luckily I’m on the other side of the phone, or he would have seen my red face.

  “You vandalized Abeeda’s car, Megan.”

  “Who, me?”

  I hear Abeeda yelling in the background.

  “I know it was you,” he says. “You’re nuts, Megan. How could you do that? You will pay for all those damages!” He hangs up on me.

  The next day, Abeeda opens the door to me, her eyes smoldering with hatred. “You destroyed my car.”

  “What you talking ‘bout?”

  “You’re horrible. You’re vindictive. You’re …”

  “Go fuck yourself!” I say and push past her. “You stole my boyfriend, now you’re stealing my life. Some friend you are, you nasty piece of shit.”

  “I will fix you. I will tell Reedwan everything.”

  “Well, why haven’t you told him yet?”

  “I will tell him, then he and I will leave America and we will go and live in Bahrain. He will be happy there among his people. We will be a family, and you will be out of the picture.”

  That wipes the smirk off my face. To keep up pretenses, I act cocky. “Oh, yeah? Go ahead and try. But remember you don’t know how he’s going to react when he learns that I’m not the villain he thinks I am. Bet he’ll dump your ass and come back to me.”

  “Oh really?” She walks away and returns with an envelope. “This is for you.”

  I open it and gasp. It’s a wedding invite and it’s addressed to me. To stop the room from spinning, I clutch at a chair and fight for breath.

  “Three months. Hope you can make it. I bought a lovely white suit for Wyatt. Need to change that name though. Wyatt is not traditional enough. I will talk to Reedwan about it.”

  “What’s going on?” Reed’s voice booms.

  “Nothing,” Abeeda says. “Megan is offering to pay for all damages to my car.”

  “Oh?”

  I nod.

  “Well, I’m really glad you’re taking responsibility, Megan.”

  All I can manage is another nod.

  Without another word, I rush to my car and drive to see Jake.

  “I’ve lost him!” I whine. “After all I’ve been through, only to lose him to her. I can’t believe it.”

  Jake’s reaction surprises me. “You’ve got three months.”

  I look up at him, eyebrows raised.

  He shrugs. “Go get him. Quit your whining and play the game. He’s given you so much already, allowed you so much leeway, that she is insecure enough to probably badger him into marrying her. Now, you make a decision to get him back and get him back. Simple.”

  “Simple?
”

  “Simple.”

  I nod. “How many years for murder, Jake?”

  “Forget it. Go get him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I look at my shrunken clothes in shock. She’s washed my clothes in boiling water. Done deliberately, of course.

  I’ve been leaving some of my clothes behind, which was part of my strategy to embed myself in my boys’ lives and create a visible presence.

  Now Wyatt has thrown up over me and I took a shower, banking on the clothes I’d left behind. Obviously, I can’t use them now. I have to wear the soiled clothes again, and I know that when I walk into the lounge with my soiled, smelly clothes on, she’s going to laugh at me.

  Reed will probably laugh at me too. I feel like walking up to her and punching her smug face. Unsure what to do, I sit on the edge of the bathtub, pouting at my destroyed clothes and pondering my predicament.

  Suddenly, I have an idea. I slip on the shrunken t-shirt and skirt, tussle my hair, and walk into the lounge. When Abeeda sees the blouse straining across my braless breasts, my ass peeping out from under my tiny skirt and my exposed thighs, her hands fly to her mouth.

  “Whoa!” Reed says.

  “What?” I ask. “It’s not like I’m not wearing underwear” I lift up my shirt to flash them my G–string. “Look!”

  Reed laughs out loud, to my delight, while Abeeda looks like she spotted a family of maggots under her pillow.

  “You could have asked Reedwan for one of his shirts,” she says.

  I look at Reed and cock my head to one side. “May I …?”

  Still grinning, he walks to his closet and returns with a shirt.

  “Oh, this one!” I say. “You’ve always liked me in this, remember?”

  Like a jackass, he nods.

  “Reedwan!” Abeeda screeches and elbows him in the ribs.

  “What?” he asks.

  She shakes her head and rattles off in Arabic, cutting me out again. But Reed can’t seem to take his eyes off me. Encouraged by this, I reach for a banana and peel it. With my eyes fixed on Reed’s face, I eat it.

  “Don’t you have a class to attend now, Abeeda?” I ask innocently.

  “That’s none of your business!” she snaps.

  “Well, I’ll take care of Reed while you’re gone. I mean, Wyatt! I’ll take care of Wyatt.”

  “I’m skipping class tonight,” she snaps.

  “Oh, too bad.”

  Reed’s eyes follow me around after that. Whenever I look up, he looks away. A couple of times, our eyes meet and he quickly turns away.

  When I leave, I hand him Wyatt. Deliberately, I touch his hand. “Thanks,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For being you.” I meant those words.

  His amused smile dips, and for a moment, I see sadness in his eyes. Probably sadness for what should have been – what could have been.

  I know this for sure – I feel that way too.

  ***

  I enter the apartment, carrying a sleepy Wyatt in my arms and see Reed lying in bed, watching TV and drinking beer.

  “Lying in bed at four in the afternoon, watching Springer re-runs and drinking beer? You on welfare or something, Dr. Kader?”

  “Heeeey!” he says, getting out of bed and walking toward me. “It’s my day off and I’m celebrating. He’s asleep?”

  “Almost. Whatchu celebrating?”

  “Got one of my articles on leukemia in KYDZ published! Another one up for publishing soon, Megan. Can you believe it?” His excitement is tangible, and I realize that for the first time in months, he’s used my name.

  “Wow! That’s super cool. Congratulations. I’ll put Wyatt in his bed.” I walk into Wyatt’s room and place him in his crib. When I turn around, Reed’s in front of me with a glass of wine.

  “For me? Thanks.”

  Offering me a drink? Like old times. Can’t believe he’s being so nice to me.

  “Come watch Springer with me.”

  Sure! Can I lie in bed with you and rub against you too?

  “Okay,” I say, and follow him into the bedroom.

  He gets into bed and pats my former side of the bed. No protest from me. I’m thrilled at the way things are going, and I’d like nothing better right now than to climb him.

  He tops up my glass as we watch TV.

  When the show ends, both of us are a little tipsy. We lie in bed, face each other, and talk about Wyatt, Reed’s articles, his future articles … all boring stuff, to which I say, “Uh-huh … Really? … Wow!” All the while I’m imagining him inside of me.

  “You look pretty today,” he suddenly says.

  “Th … thanks.”

  To my surprise and my delight, he reaches over and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I’m probably dreaming.

  But my dream gets better – he leans in and kisses me lightly on the lips, then pulls away. No way he’s going to get away after that – I lurch at him, grab his face, and slide my tongue into his mouth. Just the way he likes it – deep and long.

  “Remember that, Reed?”

  “No,” he says. “Can you refresh my memory again?”

  With an evil grin, I refresh his memory, and he responds by flipping me over so he’s on top of me. Thanks to chardonnay and beer – courage in a glass. We grin at each other as his lips hover over mine.

  “It’s been a while,” I say, slipping my hands under his shirt and raking my nails slowly down his back.

  “Mmm, fifty days, fourteen hours, and … probably forty-five minutes,” he says. “Not that I’m counting.”

  I giggle and he kisses me again.

  “I can’t stop thinking of you,” he moans between kisses. Our kisses become frenzied – wilder, wetter, deeper as his hands roam my body and settle in the moistness between my thighs.

  I’m thrilled. Finally, we’re going to be united. Tonight is proof that neither Damien nor Abeeda could keep us apart.

  “I love you, Reed,” I whisper, overcome with emotion. Not to mention lust.

  “Yeah? How much?” he asks, undoing my bra and taking a nipple in his mouth.

  How easy was it to get him back?

  “With all my heart.” I’m not holding back. I want him more than anything in the world, and now I know he feels the same way. “I want you,” I whisper.

  “You want me?” he asks, grinding his erection against me.

  “Yeah … so … badly …” I moan and part my thighs. “Now!”

  “You sure?” he asks, unzipping my jeans and tugging them off.

  “Desperately!” I groan when he rolls down my panties and tosses them aside. After months of suffering, dying for him, dreaming of us together, it’s finally going to happen.

  “Good,” he whispers. “I’m so glad you desperately want me because … I … don’t …want …you.”

  “Huh?” Did I just hear …?

  He rolls off me and gets out of bed.

  I stare at him in disbelief. “What … what d’ya mean?”

  “I said I don’t want you, Megan.”

  As the starkness of the situation dawns on me, I realize I’m naked and he’s not. Quickly, I draw the bed covers to my chin. “I don’t understand …”

  “I’m rejecting you, Megan. See, I don’t love you anymore. I realize that now.”

  “But …” I scan my brain for clarity on this.

  “Get dressed, will you? My fiancée will be here soon.”

  Fiancée. “Then why…?”

  “Just testing myself, Megan. Curious to see if there was anything there. But, there’s nothing.”

  Shell-shocked, I can only stare at the mean man I once called my love, my Angel-man. When his phone rings, he answers it, while I continue staring at him.

  I hear Abeeda’s voice through the phone and reality bites. Humiliated, I get out of bed and slowly dress.

  He ends his call. “Sorry about this, Megan.” His tone is taunting and suddenly, I feel like crying.

 
; “You … you just told me you missed me, Reed.”

  “I lied. I just said the right things to get into your pants. Now that I know how easy you are, and how I could just have you, just like that, I don’t want you anymore. Sorry.”

  Never in a million years would I believe he could pull something like this. Now I believe he is over me. Abeeda has finally won.

  With shaky knees, I walk to the bedroom door and open it.

  “How does it feel, Megan?”

  I pause with my hand on the door and turn around slowly. “What d’ya mean?”

  “Are you crushed?”

  What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

  “Answer me. How does it feel? I need to know.”

  I need to know.

  Now I get it – revenge! He set me up for rejection, got what he wanted. What an asshole! But I’m confused; he’s achieved what he set out to do, humiliated me, so why the hell doesn’t he look happy? Why does he seem bothered and uncomfortable?

  “How could you do this to me, Reed?”

  “You did it to me, Megan! Remember?”

  I turn my whole body and face him. “I didn’t plan to hurt you, Reed. Never would I ever do that to you. But …” I exhale loudly, “I accept that you needed to do what you needed to do, and I hope you feel better now.”

  “What do you mean? What do you mean?”

  “Well, if you don’t feel immense satisfaction, then … then that’s a whole lot of plotting and scheming down the tubes. How are you feeling?”

  My question seems to disconcert him. “Eh … I, eh …”

  “Happy? Triumphant?”

  Silence. He just stares at me, for a moment reminding me of Wyatt when he’s just about to cry.

  “It’s okay, I forgive …”

  “Don’t say that!” he yells. “DON’T YOU FORGIVE ME, Megan!”

  “Okay,” I say. “You’re hurting. It’s not your fault.”

  He grabs his head with both hands. “Stop saying that!”

  “What? You want me to be angry with you right now? Do you?”

  “YES! I want you to be blazing mad.” He sticks his finger in my face. “I want you to feel the way I did.”

  “Get your finger out of my fucking face!” I say and slap at his hand. “I feel sorry for you. Sorry you’re not able to really move …”