Crossroads: An Anthology

by LaShaun, Elizabeth

“Hello Brenda,” her mother-in-law greeted her as she opened up the front door.

  Somehow, even with her years showing in the age lines and crow’s feet that marred her appearance, her beauty wasn’t diminished. In her youth, when life had been more kind to her, it was undeniable that she must have been comparable to a goddess among women. Even now, if you stared into her deep blue eyes, you’d feel as if you could drown in the depths of the deepest ocean. Only a single, majestic streak of gray stood out against the golden, blonde hair that fell past her shoulders and almost to her waist. Brenda always thought that the woman resembled what a fairy-tale princess would look like, long after the happily ever after ending of the story. It seemed absolutely surreal for this white woman to be living in this part of town, a place where Blacks and Hispanics were usually condemned to live their entire lives as prisoners of poverty.

  “Hi Mrs. Swan,” Brenda answered

  “I keep telling you to call me Emily sweetie. My married name still makes me cringe when I hear it. Besides, you’re more than welcome to the title,” Emily told her.

  “Of course. I’m sorry Emily. Anyway, I’m here to get the boys. Are they ready?” Brenda asked.

  “Well, there was a problem. Something happened today,” Emily explained, nervously rubbing her hands together.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” Brenda asked. She noticed that the children’s grandmother rubbed her hands together until her knuckles were white.

  “Demetrius is fine but little Douglas got hurt today,” Emily answered.

  “Oh my God, what happened to little Dougie?” Brenda asked, frantically.

  “Well, I only left them alone for a second. I left them in the backyard playing while I came inside to answer my phone. I heard Demetrius shouting so I ran out to see what happened.

  When I got outside, Demetrius was holding little Douglas in his arms and there was blood everywhere,” Emily explained.

  “Blood? Oh my God! What happened to my baby?” Brenda asked, grabbing Emily’s hands in her own as tears started streaming down the boys’ grandmother’s face.

  “They were playing and little Douglas sliced his thigh open on a jagged piece of sheet metal. I’m so sorry. I was only gone for a second,” Emily sobbed.

  “Where is he?” Brenda asked.

  “I called an ambulance. I couldn’t get you on the phone so I called Dirk to meet us at the hospital,” she answered.

  “Is Dougie alright?” Brenda asked, letting go of Emily’s hands. Now, Emily was sobbing so hard that Brenda could barely understand her.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know. As soon as Dirk got to the hospital he sent me away. He was furious. He wouldn’t even look at me,” Emily answered. Brenda turned away and ran back down the crumbling stairs.

  “I have to find my boys,” Brenda shouted as she flew through the rusty gate.

  “I’m sorry!” Emily called out to her as Brenda jumped back in the taxi.

  PART 4:

  Observations, Speculations & Revelations

  “I’m just glad that he’s okay. I hope there isn’t any permanent damage,” Brenda said as she flopped down on the couch, exhausted. She found it unnerving that she sat in the same place where earlier, she’d almost let the son that she was now so worried about die in the bathtub. After racing frantically to the hospital, only to discover that her boys were not there, she was relieved to find them safe at home.

  “Dr. Griffin said it looked much worse than it really was. By the way, why were the boys at my wonderful mother’s house in the first place, if you don’t mind me asking?” Dirk asked from behind the bar in the enormous living room. “I mean, I’m in the middle of an important meeting when I get a frantic phone call from this woman I don’t even speak to.”

  Brenda leaned her head back to look behind her. From an upside-down viewpoint, she watched him put ice in two shot glasses as he prepared to make two drinks.

  “I needed a break,” Brenda answered, trying her best not to appear nervous. More than anyone else in the world, she knew how shrewd and cunning her husband was. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

  “If you needed a break, why didn’t you just leave them with Helga? That’s what I pay her for,” Dirk questioned his wife. He grimaced as he drank both of the drinks he’d poured and immediately started to mix two more.

  “Because your mother hadn’t seen the boys in a while and I figured she would be happy to see them,” Brenda answered, secretly praying that he wouldn’t pry further.

  “Yeah, that makes sense since my mother has such awesome maternal instincts. Of course,” he said.

  His voice was laced with sly malice and Brenda imagined that she could feel the poison of it coursing through her veins.

  “Dirk, I don’t think that’s fair,” she replied.

  His strained relationship with his mother was one of the things they always argued about. Brenda never understood why he wouldn’t just let the past go. She thought it was cruel for him to torture and torment the woman until the end of her days. Often, she’d found herself wondering what kind of man she’d married.

  “Oh my love, I’m pretty sure I know what I’m talking about,” Dirk answered.

  “Don’t you think you’ve done enough to that woman?” Brenda asked.

  “Actually, no. In fact, I’ve done to her almost exactly what she’s done for me, absolutely nothing!” he said.

  “All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time you had a conversation about what happened and why she might have left. We don’t always understand the things our parents did in their past until they explain themselves,” she said, trying to reason with him.

  Secretly, Brenda also hoped that the spotlight would be taken off of her and her strange behavior that day. It was better for her if her husband’s thoughts were turned to his feelings towards his mother.

  “Why? Nothing she could say would change my feelings about the whole nasty business of what she did or how she did it,” he answered. He tossed back both of the drinks he’d poured. Brenda heard the ice clang in the glasses and knew that she was about to be in for an interesting night.

  “You men will never understand what it’s like being a mother. You assume that we’re just supposed to be naturally good at it. Motherhood is harder than you think. Parenthood is complicated for us too,” she sighed.

  “Speaking of parenthood, have you ever noticed anything different about our little Douglas?” Dirk asked.

  “Different? How? What do you mean, different?” Brenda asked. Dirk came from behind the bar with two fresh drinks in his hand. He didn’t sit down next to his wife even though he handed her one of the shot glasses of liquor as he passed her. Instead, he sat in the plush recliner directly in front of her, on the opposite side of the coffee table. He put his glass down and fumbled in his sport coat pocket for a cigar. He reached forward and pulled the ashtray close to him before he lit the cigar and answered her. He inhaled deeply, causing the end of it to glow bright orange.

  “Well, for one thing, he’s much darker than Demetrius,” Dirk began. Smoke from the cigar escaped his lips, mixed with his words and created the illusion that his insides were on fire. It was unnerving to look at.

  “And? You’re a white man and I’m a black woman. That does happen you know?” she answered, annoyed and terrified of where Dirk was probably going with this. He smiled before he took his second pull from the expensive cigar he’d just lit.

  “Hmm,” was Dirk’s response as he sent a cloud of cigar smoke tumbling towards his wife.

  At first he fixed his eyes on the vaporous nicotine as it filled the air between them. It gave the appearance that a storm was brewing in the room. Then, he fixed his cold gaze on Brenda.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? My mother was a light-skinned black woman. She was even lighter than I am. My father was as black as coal. So, it stands to reason that our mixed-race children could have totally different complexions. Doesn’t it?” Brenda asked matter-of-factly.r />
  “I guess it does. But, I still find it strange,” Dirk said, leaning forward to pick his shot glass up off of the coffee table. Now, he studied Brenda’s body language while the liquor burned his throat and the intensity of his gaze burned her skin.

  “Where is all of this coming from anyway? Is it because you saw your mother today?” Brenda asked. She took a sip of the drink he had given her. She fidgeted nervously on the couch while her husband watched her every move. Unlike his mother, Dirk’s hair was as dark as black ink, something he definitely inherited from his father. Brenda had even found the resemblance between the two men uncanny. An enormous picture of a young Mr. Swan hung in Dirk’s study and the only thing that distinguished father from son was that Dirk opted not to wear the thick moustache as his father had. Otherwise, they could have almost been twins. Brenda thought that her husband’s father closely resembled George Orwell’s Big Brother from his classic novel, “1984.” At that moment, the one trait that the two men did not share helped to make Brenda incredibly uncomfortable. Her husband had the same deep, blue, powerful eyes as his mother. She knew that as he smoked his cigar, those eyes attempted to peel back the layers of her soul. Her skin crawled while her guilty conscience wrestled with her tongue to keep certain details hidden. To slip now would lead to disastrous results.

  “Well, I guess I would say that it’s the strangeness of today. Everything seemed, well, I guess, just out-of-place,” he answered.

  “Out-of-place? How so?” Brenda asked, trying to avoid his eyes as she stared at the ice cubes in her glass. They floated smoothly in the brown cognac like icebergs in a polluted ocean.

  “Well, first you took the kids and left them with my mother instead of taking them to school. Then, I get a phone call from my mother saying that she’s at the hospital and that one of my children has lost a lot of blood. Then, in total confusion I rush to the hospital while wondering why my wife isn’t answering her phone. I get to the hospital and something even stranger happens when I try to give blood to my own son,” Dirk continued before he took another pull from his cigar. It was so quiet in the room that Brenda heard it crackle as he inhaled.

  “I still don’t see where you’re going with this,” she lied. She knew exactly where he was going and the panic was written all over her as plainly as if it had been a tattoo. Dirk smiled, pleased with himself. Again, he sent a cloud of cigar smoke floating in his wife’s direction.

  “Do you know how I’ve managed to hold onto my fortune when most rich kids would have frivolously pissed away everything they’d been given?” Dirk asked, tapping his cigar on the edge of the ashtray, causing grey ash to crumble from the end of it.

  “No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” Brenda answered. She pouted and prepared for the psychological assault that she knew was coming. Her husband never asked a straight question and rarely gave a straight answer. It disgusted her how much he enjoyed toying with people. She finished her drink and banged her glass on the coffee table out of anger and frustration. She was trapped and there was no escape.

  “I’ve actually expanded and quadrupled what my father left me. Know why?” Dirk asked.

  “Because you’re sooooo smart,” she answered sarcastically, folding her arms and looking away from him.

  “Actually, I’m a little bit more than just smart. From where I’m standing, I’m actually not much different than Superman,” he began to explain, extinguishing his cigar in his glass of liquor instead of using the ashtray. The hissing sound unnerved her. Brenda felt like a cobra waiting to strike, and not a man, sat on the other side of the coffee table.

  “Oh really? Now it all makes sense to me,” she answered and slapped herself on the forehead as if she’d just stumbled upon an obvious truth. She shook her head and chuckled nervously. They both knew that her laugh was hollow. She was afraid and well aware that there was no humor in her current predicament.

  “Don’t laugh. I’m very serious. Let me explain,” he told her, getting up from the recliner. Dirk walked to the window, closed the blinds, and the curtains. Brenda’s heart began to pound in her chest. He walked over to the lamp in the corner and turned it off. A sliver of moonlight still forced its way into the room through the thin gap in the curtains but it was not enough to conquer the sudden absence of light. Brenda began to wonder exactly how much her husband knew and more importantly, what he was going to do in the next few moments.

  “By all means, please explain it to me. I can’t wait to hear this,” she said. He loosened up his necktie and walked towards her. Even in the gloom, she could see the wide sinister grin on his face as he walked over to her.

  “Aww, c’mon honey. With all this power, how am I NOT Superman?” Dirk asked, throwing both of his arms up in the air like a referee signaling a touchdown in the NFL. He flopped down on the couch and tried to put his arm around her affectionately. His hug was anything but gentle.

  “Do you hear yourself? How many drinks have you had exactly? Now I can see why your father hated that damn comic book collection of yours,” she said, sliding further down the couch in order to escape his loving embrace.

  “Of course I have powers. In fact, I have the same ones as Superman,” he told her.

  “How so?” she asked nervously. Her face was still turned away from his so he grabbed her chin firmly and forced her to look at him before he spoke again. He pulled her face close enough to his that she could smell the liquor on his breath.

  “For example, right now, I’m using my x-ray vision to see right…through…you. You might as well be invisible. Without even asking you the questions I really want to ask, your body language is telling me everything. I can see it all, from the hairs standing up on the back of your neck to the goose bumps that rose up on your beautiful, honey-brown skin,” he said as he ran his finger delicately across her cheek. “I saw how you tensed up when I asked about Douglas. I noticed how you panicked inside when I mentioned his blood and mine in the same sentence.”

  “So, what am I supposed to be so afraid of Dirk? What have you said to make me panic?” Brenda asked, roughly pulling his hand from her chin.

  “Oh, my love, it’s not anything I’ve said, yet. What has you on edge is the chill of my voice. You know exactly where this is going. And, you and I both know that right now, I should be spitting flames in your direction. Instead, my coolness petrifies you,” he told her before blowing her a kiss. Brenda couldn’t take it anymore. She got up off the couch, walked to the window and pulled the curtains open. The moon was still high in the sky but now it was hidden behind dark clouds.

  “Why don’t you just say what’s on your mind? Why do we ALWAYS have to do this?” she asked, folding her arms in a desperate attempt feel some small sense of safety. She knew that her husband certainly wasn’t going to comfort her.

  “Because, if I did things any other way, I’d die from boredom,” he answered flippantly. That described exactly who Dirk was. He was the guy that ripped the wings off of flies and watched them die. That was the part of him that frightened her and killed her love for him slowly over time. The kindness he faked was a mask. This grim, malevolent spirit was who he really was. It was who he had always been. That was the truth that had tormented her no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. That was why she had slept with Nash that day, three years before. Brenda had wanted to tarnish the false reflection of her marriage so that she could never be fooled by the lie it had become, ever again.

  “No, you do things the way you do because you’re cruel,” she responded.

  “Maybe, but realistically speaking, don’t you think Superman would have been cruel as well with all of that power? How could he NOT be? In fact, I believe he was a very cruel being. For example, don’t you think it was sadistic for him to even put on the guise of Clark Kent? I mean, I know most people would say that he only wanted to feel a little less alone by pretending to be normal but I don’t buy that theory. If he really was as much the hero that everyone believes, wouldn’t he have want
ed to spend ALL of his time helping humanity instead of treating the fate of the world like a part-time job? I have a completely different theory. I believe that inside the hero that we all know and love, there was a darker side in plain sight that everyone chose to overlook. I think he was intoxicated from the sense of satisfaction he got from hiding himself among normal people, watching them suffer, knowing that they needed him to save them. I believe Superman was a sadistic voyeur with a hero complex,” Dirk explained to Brenda in a creepy, lifeless, monotone voice.

  “That’s just sick and demented. That’s like saying Santa Claus was a burglar who liked to break into people’s houses on Christmas Eve,” she answered, continuing to look out of the window to avoid looking at him.

  “Maybe, but that’s how I see it. Now, I’ll move on to the part of my Superman comparison/analysis as it relates to our little life. Now, I know I’m the resident comic book expert here but, do you remember what the Man of Steel’s one weakness was? That was an easy question by the way. It’s fairly common knowledge,” he said and waited for her response.

  “Kryptonite?” Brenda asked, even though she was sure of the answer. She didn’t want to play along with him any more but at the moment, she was absolutely sure that it was dangerous not to.

  “Yes, Kryptonite. But, I see it differently too. I think he had two weaknesses,” he said.

  “Really? Pray tell, what was the other?” Brenda asked.

  “Lois Lane!” Dirk answered, raising his pointer finger high in the air. “Aside from his sadistic voyeurism, she was part of the reason why he chose to pretend to be Clark Kent. She made him want to be weak like normal people. I remember that in one of the movies, he even gave up being Superman to be with her,” he said.

  “That’s what love will do,” she sighed, remembering a time when she believed Dirk was her own, real-life superhero.

  “True, but do you remember that at first, Lois Lane wasn’t even interested in Clark Kent at all? However, she immediately fell in love with Superman from the very first time she saw him. Know why? It was because she was attracted to all that power! She only lusted for Clark Kent AFTER she figured out that he was really Superman. And you know what? For a long time, I though you were my Lois Lane,” he told his wife. Now, Brenda turned around to face him.