BOMAW 7-9

by Mercedes Keyes

  "I should go now." He walked to the door, wishing to leave.

  "No! Please!" She grabbed his arm, then threw herself against him, hugging him tightly, pressing her body against his, she began sobbing, clinging to him, begging, "Okay, okay, okay, I don't care, Derrick! I-I don't care! I love you so much, I'll take whatever you give me! Please, don't leave me! I'm begging you! Anything you give me, no matter how small, I'll take it! No one will ever know! She doesn't have to know! Pleeease, Derrick! Please! I love you so much—"

  "Let go of me," Derrick gasped, shocked by her behavior, grabbing her arms to pull her off of him.

  "No! I can't! I could never let you go! I'll take you whatever way I can have you! Please, make love to me, just once…" She began pulling up against him, trying to kiss him, holding onto his clothes, hooking her hand around his neck to force him down to kiss her, refusing to let go, rubbing herself against him. She was desperate, anxiously trying to have her way with him. One hand went to his heavy groin area, cupping his abundant sex, trying to arouse him to an erection. Derrick had never been accosted by a woman before, not ever. Not like this. She was blowing his mind as he struggled to disentangle her. Her hands were everywhere, touching him, trying to kiss him, sobbing and crying, begging and pleading, she wouldn't let go of his clothing, clinging to him tightly; he heard a rip and began to panic. He didn't want to hurt her, but she was all over him, one leg raised at his hip as she ground her nether heat against him, hot, turned on, hungry, as if starving to death if she didn't have him. She was panting and shaking.

  "Please…please, Derrick, please!" So tormented, her voice was low and guttural, reminding him of some sort of demon as if possessed by the devil, he was more turned off than ever now.

  "What are you doing? Stop it!" he barked. "Have you lost your mind? Let go of me! You're ripping my clothes!" he blasted. She was beyond hearing him.

  "Love me just this once! Love me just this once! Just once! Pleeease! I swear to you, I won't tell…I won't say…a word to her! Derrick!"

  She wouldn't let go. Derrick had no choice but to become forceful with her. He gripped her forearm, squeezed extra hard, twisting it, pushing it down and then up behind her back to get her to let go of him. She screamed out, sobbing even harder. The pain made her turn him loose. They were both breathing hard as he walked her backwards away from the door. Margaret was holding her breath, afraid he would break her arm.

  Gasping hard from exertion and total disbelief, through clenched teeth, Derrick bit out, "Stay away from me! You hear? Come near me again, and I call the police! I'll report you to the school board! You hear? I mean it. Don't ever—touch me—again! Don't talk to me—"

  "Nooo! Derrick! I'm sorry! Please! I'm sorry!"

  "Shut up!" he barked.

  They were both red, sweating. He pushed her away from him with a shove that almost knocked her down and made his way quickly to her door, snatching it open, and rushing out like demons from hell were on his heels. The momentum of his flight was so that her door swung back and closed with a click. Margaret fell to the floor, bawling in misery.

  Out in his truck, Derrick tried to check himself in his rear-view mirror. He wiped at his face, removing faint lipstick stains. His clothing was stretched and ripped in places, and he had scratches on him. Shaking, upset, he started his truck, wanting to get as far away from her and her home as possible, less she run out screaming his name. As he drove, he didn't know what he was going to do, how he would explain this to his wife. He had little choice. He couldn't go back to the school like he was, he had to go home and get out of the clothes he was wearing. He had a feeling he wouldn't be making it back to the school that day. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed the school and said he had a family emergency, he wouldn't be back from lunch.

  Next, he dialed home to see if Meribel was there. He prayed that she was out, so he could go in, change and then maybe, he would get back to the school to take care of closing up his files and year end schedule.

  No such luck, she answered.

  "Hi, papi…¿Qué pasa?"

  Derrick drew in another of several deep breaths.

  "Derrick?" Meribel called his name, sensing something not right with his hesitation and deep breathing.

  "I'm on my way home. And, uh, reason I'm coming home…not a good one."

  "Why? What's happened?" she asked.

  "I'll tell you when I get home. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

  He hung up. Meribel stood holding the phone, wondering what was going on. Her eyes narrowed, thinking about that teacher, Margaret. She was certain it had something to do with her, it had to be. When he left that morning, all had been fine between them. So whatever was not good, took place at that school.

  She was waiting for him when he pulled into their driveway, watching through the kitchen screen door when he turned off the engine and stepped from the truck, slamming the door. Looking at the state of him, his clothing as he walked up the steps of their side porch, made her mouth fall open. She moved back from the door and let him in, looking at him.

  "What the hell? What's happened to you? Did she attack you? Is this about that teacher?"

  Derrick was heading for the stairs with his wife behind him, he was pulling his shirt off, without a clue to the scratches on his back. Meribel saw them and blew a fuse.

  ""Who did that to you? What happened?" she screamed, following him into their bedroom where he threw his shirt on the bed, then went to their big dresser mirror, turning his back to look at it, now he knew why his back burned.

  "Derrick!" Meribel bit out his name.

  He turned, looking at her. "First, I need you to stop yelling. Second, I need a moment to collect myself. Can you give me that?" he asked.

  Although she was upset, it was plain to see that her husband was also upset. Meribel took several deep breaths, nodding her head that she would give him that moment. She dare not open her mouth, she bit her tongue, watching him undress, and waited. He completely stripped down to his underwear. He could still smell Margaret's perfume, her scent on him as he headed for the shower. Meribel quietly followed, her imagination pinging about all kinds of scenarios, she was getting more and more angry, yet still held her tongue as he washed himself down.

  Seeing him do that, worried her. Why did he feel that he needed a shower? She turned back to their room, picking up his clothing, looking them over. That's when she saw the lipstick stains on his shirt collar, saw the rips, smelled the perfume. She felt such rage, tears rushed to her eyes. Glad that he was in the shower, she paced and talked herself down from going completely nuts on him. She had to keep telling herself that there was no way that her husband had cheated on her. She had to wait. Once he came out of the shower, she would know all then. Demand all!

  She heard the water turn off, the pipes signaling that he was done. She was sitting on the bed, facing the bathroom door when he came out with a towel wrapped around his waist, another in his hands drying his hair. He needed a hair cut again, his hair grew fast. Dropping the hand towel around his neck, he looked at his wife sitting there, holding his clothing, her eyes narrowed on him.

  "Can you please not jump to conclusions? I'd like to dress, please," he asked calmly.

  She gave a quiet nod, remaining silent, willing to give him all the time he needed. Hurry up and dress, dammit! She thought.

  Drying off, spraying deodorant, he dressed in fresh underwear and his sweats, pulling a tank top over his head last. His wife sat quiet, still, waiting, watching his every move with eyes that made him shiver. Not that he was afraid of her, but the looks she could give him, made him nervous, wary.

  "How much longer?" Meribel asked.

  Derrick stood facing her, scratching his head in front of the mirror. He was scared of her, just a bit.

  "Okay, I'm asking that you give me a chance to explain everything. Don't jump to any conclusions; please don't leap ahead of me, assuming anything, let me explain all." The look on her face was as serious as it co
uld get, threatening, even. Again, he received the nod to proceed, with her remaining quiet, however, her expression spoke volumes. Derrick shivered and gulped.

  "I went to work today, with full intentions of settling this matter once and for all. Unfortunately, she began exhibiting behavior that—"

  "Let me stop you now. First, you not at school, okay, papi? You at home now. While I do not begrudge you your college-degree verbiage skills, I don't wanna hear no trim. No psychological bullshit! I'm your wife, not the goddamn principle or school district. I wanna know what happened, what that puta and you did—straight to the point." There was that Spanish accent, coming through strong and true.

  Derrick stood a moment staring at her, he took a deep breath and started again.

  "I told her I didn't want her. To back off; she started tripping, getting loud. I didn't want a scene at the school. She asked me to come to her place, her apartment, and I did. There, it went from bad to worse. She tried to physically force me to go to bed with her. I strongly rejected the offer, needing to be equally physical to get out of there. I don't know how else to say it. That's it in the nutshell." He leaned against the dresser, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

  Meribel sat staring at him. Many questions sprang to life to ask him, like, "Why did you go to her apartment, Derrick?"

  "Because I didn't want a public scene, Meribel."

  Again Meribel nodded, quiet, thinking. "So, you know where she lives?"

  "Not previous to following her home today, I didn't."

  "But you know now?"

  "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

  "Where does she live?" she asked instead.

  Derrick stared at her, thinking, seeing and knowing her. He ran his hand over his face, scratching his scalp and then bracing his chin between his index finger and thumb, elbow resting on the other arm.

  "Where does she live?" Meribel asked again.

  "Meri, I've already told her to stay away from me. I've already told her that I will get the police in on it if she comes near me again. I've already told her that I will report her to the school board. I've already told her that I'm happily married. That I love my wife. I love my family. There's nothing else that needs to be said. That needs to be done."

  "You gonna tell me where she lives?"

  "No, I'm not. I don't want you in the midst of this. Let me handle it."

  "The way that you looked when you got home, I don't think you can! You're too soft, Derrick! She needs a boot up her ass—I have just the right size!"

  "I don't want you retaliating! I don't want you reacting in a way that brings undeserved judgment on you."

  That made her stand up and walk up to him. "Sounds to me like…you're afraid of me doing something that will embarrass you."

  "I said no, Meri! I don't remember you behaving in this manner over losing Armundo to Sylvia!"

  "First of all, he was a piece of shit! I was better off! She didn't go after him. He, the lying, scheming, crook that he was, went after her, full-force behind my back. Knew that I was pregnant and dropped me like I was nothing, to chase after her. She ended up with the raw end of the deal, not I. You…him? No comparison, unless, that is, you're giving her second thoughts?"

  "Don't be ridiculous! I wouldn't have her if she were the last woman left on earth. I mean that." He reached out and pulled her to him. "I love you. You know that I love you. You don't have to resort to street fighting to preserve what we have. You are my wife, mother of my children, and this is your home, our home. I will let no one, her included, come between us. Let me handle it. Besides, after today, I'm more than certain she got the message loud and clear." He bent forward and kissed her brow, then her nose. "Okay?" he asked.

  Meribel exhaled.

  "Okay?"

  The phone rang.

  Smiling, about to give in, about to answer okay, she stepped away from him to grab the phone by their bed.

  "Hello?"

  A sigh, a catch in someone's throat, pausing, then they hung up.

  Meribel turned back to her husband, and click the phone off.

  "Hmmm, I wonder who this was…whomever it was, couldn't speak to me, and hung up." She laid the phone back on its rest, gave him a dirty knowing glance and walked out of the room, forgoing the agreement, the okay. Derrick's hands went to the top of his head, fingers laced.

  "Hell!" he exclaimed, and couldn't help wonder if that was exactly what was about to begin.

  Chicago...

  "Where have you been? I've been looking for you. You haven't been to work since last week," Laek asked.

  Vivian had signaled for the others to go ahead to the restaurant and that she would join them. She stood in front of one of the towering office buildings, unwilling to go somewhere private for them to talk.

  "I needed some time off, Laek. Why are you looking for me, anyway? We're done, there's no reason for you to be checking on my whereabouts."

  "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you deliberately torturing me? I messed up, yes! I handled our relationship wrong, I know. But I was married at the time."

  "Exactly! There should have been no relationship between us to begin with! I'm just as wrong in it as you were. When I discovered the truth, I should have ended it right then and there. I didn't because I was stupid—"

  "You loved me! I love you—"

  "You know what? You had five long years to do something with that! All those years where I waited for you, foolishly! All those years when I wasn't thinking straight! You did nothing with all that time. Looking back at it now, I say, thank God! You know why? Because you had your family obligations to think of, which was right. I was wrong for holding on, okay? I've faced that ugly truth about myself. I was selfish, into myself, making it all about me, carrying on in a way that left me right where I should have been left: looking the fool that I was! Laek, I'm awake now. I've seen the light, okay?"

  "Vivian how can you just forget everything? Maybe it was wrong!"

  "It was wrong! Lose the maybe," she returned.

  "Okay, okay, so it was. Even so, it doesn't erase it, all that time you said you loved me, and I know that you did! All the things we did together! Places we've gone, that I've taken you! I wasn't that bad to you, Vivian! I did express my feelings in many ways, but I just couldn't…divorce at the time. Now it's happening, we're divorcing…I don't want to lose you now."

  "It's—too—late! How many times, how many ways, do I have to say this to you? We are finished. This is a closed chapter in my life, close it in yours; close it, and then move on."

  "There's someone else, isn't there? The white man? Is he still around?"

  Vivian stood staring at Laek, wondering if she should say something, tell him the truth. Without a word, she slowly lifted her hand and hesitantly showed him her ring. He stared at it as if it were some type of growth, hideous to behold. With wide eyes, he looked up from it to her. "He asked me to marry him. I said yes."

  "You don't love him! You can't love him! How long have you known him?"

  "Long enough, and it sure as hell didn't take him five years to know what he wanted. Me."

  "You're doing this to get back at me! You don't love him, you can't love him! You still love me! I know you do, Vivian…I know you do!"

  "Laek, leave it alone, leave me alone. You're an intelligent man, for goodness sake! You're a doctor, you can catch and have any woman your heart desires. Come on, Laek, you have powers of discernment, you work in an emergency care environment. You know when the patient's dead, and when it's time to give up the fight to save a life that's over. Use that discernment now, check the pulse one last time, Laek…it's dead."

  Vivian walked around him and down the sidewalk with quick steps of confidence, needing to put as much space between them as possible.

  Laek stood unsure of what to do. His mind then went to Jake. He decided that maybe they should talk. Problem was, where was he, and how to contact him? He had no choice but to wait to find that out; but he would find ou
t, and then…he would see just how strong things were between them.

  Camp Daniels...

  The house was quiet. Crystal was still sleeping. Shawn was leaning back in his chair at his computer desk, taking a breather. A much needed breather. Ben had just left, going to pack up his things from his mother's and Quincy's home. He had called first to see if she was home, and got the answering machine. He wasted little time, wanting to move out as soon as possible while she was gone.

  Shawn sat in deep reflection on so many things in his life, he spent quite a bit of time that way. Maybe it was because he was getting older. Maybe it was because, finally, he'd found where he belonged, he'd found his fit. Life was funny; his sure had been. He sighed, smiling. Who would have thunk it? He thought, relaxed.

  For one, he was caught up. Thanks to Benjamin, the pressure, the heat, was off. The kid was quick, efficient, and knew what he was doing without a need of someone standing over him. He was a self-starter, a leader. He'd devised a method for getting layouts done rapidly, and Shawn could do nothing but admire his ability, because by no means, was any of his work lacking. In fact, very humbly, he made suggestions concerning work Shawn had already done on one of the finished covers, a small suggestion, but still…one that made a nice difference, definitely an improvement. At this stage in his life, Shawn knew a gift when he was given one, and he readily accepted it.

  Although Benjamin was gone to get his things packed up, he promised to return to finish up all that was left to do, and the websites that Shawn was creating graphics for. It was the completing of the last one that he was sitting back from now. Seeing and listening to some of Benjamin's ideas and techniques, sparked off a wave of creativity within him. Everything was flowing now. There was still more to do, but everything would meet his deadlines. In fact, for once, he was ahead of the game.

  Thus, why he now sat back and took the much needed breather; it was nice.

  Automatically, his mind brought up a comparison of where he was this time last year. He had been clearing up the last that there was in L.A. The home he and Deidre had shared finally sold, and before leaving, he made his rounds to say goodbye to everyone. He'd been nervous, admittedly scared to come back home to Wisconsin. His initial plan had been to return with his wife and daughter; that had never come to be, of course. Part of him had wanted to remain there because of King Louie, Mama JoJo, and other friends accumulated, thanks to Jesse. Yet, to remain only prolonged the agony of his guilty conscience for deserting his family. He could not justify remaining there when he'd left his mother, father, sisters and brothers. They were his blood family, and he wanted to be back among them. With all the years passing with him away from home, he felt that he was ready once again, to truly be…a McPherson. To be the elder son his father raised him to be. He'd left Wisconsin alone, running away from it all, what seemed a life of oppression, too much expectation, too much control over him. He'd felt the monkey in the middle, being taunted from over head, from his parents, and then from his siblings. The object of much talk from the community they lived in, he'd become the area oddity, never really belonging. There was always someone ready to take a piece out of him because of it, but found it was not so easy to do. He supposed that was an unfair statement towards Derrick and Shanna. With them, and his mother, was where he could find a modicum of peace, relief—a place where he fit. Still, within him had been a beast long held in check, needing to break free, needing to be away from everything that he was responsible for. And he'd run for his life, made it to L.A. and basically went wild - did everything he knew his father would object to. Hooked up with Jesse and spent a period of time in abject debauchery. Truth be told, he'd turned himself into a male whore. He'd hung out in the hood on the street corners, drinking, and every now and then, when Jesse would allow it, smoked a bit of weed.