by S. W. Frank
He went to bed and stretched out the tension in his legs. His torso was sore. He pulled Selange against his naked body, squeezed her tightly in gratitude she was alright and they had survived another crisis.
Ah, man. The mess I go through in a week.
He shook the tension from his legs and Selange stirred. She pushed her tush into his stomach like she always did and made it impossible for him to sleep.
“Oh Al I missed you honey,” she said when she spun on her side to look in his face. Then she saw the contusions and sighed sadly. “Oh look at you.” She tenderly kissed his bruised cheek. “I’ll make it better.”
“You will?” Alfonzo asked as she kissed his mouth and stretched his lower lip before letting go to answer.
“Um-hum.”
“Are you trying to escape the lecture about going to New York although we were solid on that issue?”
“Sí papi. I’ve been bad.”
Her lips placed wet kisses on his chest in the shape of a heart.
He chuckled. “You’re still getting a spanking nena.”
“Umm.” She moaned as she descended and poked out her ass more and looked up. His shiny blues danced as she sucked on his throbbing dick in a slow suctioning action that further defined her high cheekbones.
His eyes drank in her image, his body responded to her touch as she stroked away his pains. And when she straddled him he gripped her waist moving in rhythm as she rode. But he saw a fleeting sadness in the joy of their mating. She bent over to kiss him and hide the tears but he tasted the salt and rolled on top, thinking the hell with my rib, she is my rib and she’s hurting, too.
He kissed her hard, forced her to open to him and she let him inside to remove the humiliation suffered from ill-treatment. She moaned, gripped his sturdy shoulders, slid her hand down the bulging bicep with her name inked on smooth skin and cried for her honey’s love. He pressed inward, replacing the bad with love.
Her tears flowed and Alfonzo understood how being caged with nowhere to escape has a strong person going inside for strength and that hope.
“I have you nena, every day I have your back chica,” he assured his wife as she gazed at him with those beautiful adoring eyes. Selange was tattooed on his skin, but she was actually in his blood. He sucked her throat, whispered endearments, spread her legs wider, held her neck, caressed her cheeks, provided oral pleasure, and worshipped the shit out of her.
The chica greased him from tip to base, the sounds of skin on skin slapping together during their fevered reunion turned him on. He even caused her to chuckle when he rapidly swiveled around in her pudding and licked her throat telling her in Spanish, “Te gusto.”
Then he lifted her torso forward, bringing her atop his thighs and lowered his head to her breast as if in prayer –he was.
Every shot he took over the years, the trials his family went through, he was unbelievably grateful to have this special woman. He knew she was solid and rare, how else would they have survived the elements for so long?
Selange’s hands slid down his neck and she whispered their poem in his ear.
Whatever weariness he housed and the pain had fled.
His dick stayed hard as hell. He loved the honey pouring in a warm rush on it and the way she gripped hold when another orgasm took hold and then kissed him in desperation as if he were going somewhere, but he wasn’t.
Anywhere his babe and family were is where his heart dwelled. When he tongued her back, the fiery climax was brought on by his undying love for his babe…his woman…Selange.
EPILOGUE
“What is the matter Maria?” Sophie asked as she stirred the batter. To think the donna had such guilt over her action caused Sophie to wonder if Maria should not petition for sanctuary from herself.
“I did not say kill her. I said scare her.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “I did not send anyone Maria. The girl perhaps ran away, which is wise when such a vile deed is done to family.”
Maria sighed. “She would not leave the girls.”
Sophie wiped her hands on a dry cloth and checked the cake. “Ah Maria, por favore, let us have no further discussion on that matter. Besides, I have attended many funerals this week and now I look forward to the celebration of love and life.”
Sophie was hired to cater the wedding for Tiffany and Tony at the last hour. She was very excited and Maria was killing her joy. Giuseppe had shared his news this morning that he had married Nicole in Japan. Giuseppe’s aversion to churches had made a mother wonder if he said such things to avoid settling down. Sophie would have preferred to have given the couple a grand wedding, but grand does not ensure a fairytale happily ever after. Amelda and Matteo had a lavish affair and looked what happened. Anyway, her new daughter-in-law and son were returning for Tiffany’s modest wedding. Sophie was baking another cake in honor of the newlyweds, how could she not, Giuseppe was finally wed?
Sophie planned to surprise them. Tiffany had suggested her sister should celebrate her wedding in a dual reception.
Sophie loved the idea.
Giuseppe had found love and a mother was ecstatic.
Now if only Maria would move.
Yosef appeared; he sniffed the aroma. “Kosher?”
Sophie pointed to his special muffins. He lifted one to his sensual mouth and grinned after biting in to the sweet bread. Yosef’s eyes were on his voluptuous wife. Sophie had been well worth the hellish wait. “Shalom,” he said to Maria and then departed. Holding Sophie at night allowed him to sleep.
“Maria, por favore it is done, now either help me donna or leave,” Sophie said irritably when her bello exited.
Maria washed her hands, donned a spare apron and surveyed the foods. “Aye, where is the representation of the earthiness of Puerto Rico and our rich culture?”
“The couple is not Puerto Rican Maria.”
“Everyone becomes Puerto Rican after eating my delicious mofongo.”
“Sicilians believe this as well about their dishes, now hush and help cook or leave the kitchen, capisce Signora DeMarco?”
Maria’s eyebrow elevated. Who did Sophie think she was to tell her to be quiet?
***
Upstate New York with houses spaced apart is beautiful in late spring. Teresa fled here with only the clothes on her back, leaving her daughters in her mother’s care. She didn’t leave a forwarding address –nothing.
She was scared.
The police hadn’t honored their end of the bargain. She was on her own, looking over her shoulder ever since stabbing Selange in the back. Remorse is an understatement. What she wouldn’t do to rewind the clock and restart, but she couldn’t.
She hurried inside the store to buy a pack of cigarettes, beer and crackers.
Her hand shook as she paid for the items. They convulsed violently when she left and the tremors didn’t cease until she reached home and locked the door.
She peered nervously from behind the curtain every few minutes. The foreboding crept up her skin and she told herself to calm down.
Relax.
A bubble bath, that’s what she needed.
She went inside the bathroom, ran the water, added liquid soap with the scent of jasmine and undressed. Painted toes touched the porcelain base and she sat, hugging herself as the tub slowly filled. She cried, wishing this nightmare of a life was over. Sometimes what is asked is given and the saddest truth is she saw it coming.
Her mouth trembled at the sight of the man who suddenly appeared at the door. He wore glov
es and the gun he pointed at her head was steady.
He put a finger to his lips, “Ssshhh,” and walked slowly toward her and took a seat on the toilet.
He placed the weapon on the floor and she whispered in Spanish, “Please I’m sorry.”
A needle was removed from his pocket. His Spanish was refined but his comment lacked culture. “You fucked up chica when you did that shit.” He scoffed. “You wanted to hurt me, didn’t you?”
“No…no…I swear,” Teresa cried.
“You resented Selange, didn’t you?”
The frightened eyes widened. “No…no.”
“Come on, don’t lie chica. We go way back. When I thought about what you did to my wife, I started thinking about that night you came to my place wanting some coke, remember that chica?”
“Sí, I remember,” the pretty Latina answered.
“You offered me head for some blow. I spot you a dime and told you to go. You were talking to my cuz and I wasn’t down with that shit. Then you said you had really wanted me and not Domingo but I wasn’t feeling you and Domingo was persistent. You recall that too?”
“Yes.”
“You stripped and tried to make it hard for a high dude to refuse. You started kissing on me, saying we can keep what we do secret.” The intruder snorted. “But I told you to get the fuck out and we’ll pretend like the shit never happened. You know Teresa; I don’t think you ever got over that.”
She sobbed. “Please don’t do this Alfonzo.”
“Choose.”
“I-I-I can’t.” She stammered.
The method of death was chosen by the executioner. He seized Teresa’s arm and thrust the needle in, depressed the liquid killer in her veins until her eyes rolled in her head. When Teresa slumped in the water is when he tied the rubber band tight around her arm for the effect. He checked her pulse.
Nothing.
He dropped the needle on the floor.
Then he passed the vanity mirror.
Why view the image?
Alfonzo knew who he was.
Clothes hadn’t altered the man.
A dude from Uptown believed in a code.
He didn’t send anybody to deal with family.
Real personal shit required his hand.
His polished feet hadn’t left the concrete.
His speech hadn’t changed nor had the self-assured stride.
He possessed the swag of a gangster –refined.
The Final Volume in the Alfonzo Saga coming Spring/Summer 2014
ATAVUS
Alfonzo Volume XV
The Latin word for Ancestor is Atavus.
Atavus is defined as: great-great-great grandfather, ancestor.
Prologue
The heat was at his back, Vitamin D from the sun soaking into the golden skin cut, marred and tatted. The entire Giacanti clan had converged on African soil, some with smiles and others with downcast lips. Dons and their Donnas sought to make sense of the long feuds that shortened their bloodline. They were here in celebration of Nicolo Giacanti’s 98th birthday.
For an elderly man, his blue eyes were clear. His skin wrinkled, yet taut around the neck and cheeks. An ice cap mountain of white was his hair, and the fiery spirit of a Giacanti breathed in the air.
He watched them, great grandsons and great-great grandchildren of his brother. The teeth which chewed bani and hasema were lined in a wide smile. The years of secret exile were past. An old man was free. This seb’ay had overcome the worst of trials. He was proud. A strong aged hand balled into a fist to grind to his libi –heart.
The youngest leader, with the semayawi colored eyes more brilliant than his brother’s; fierce they were but loving.
Alfonzo walked to where an elder reclined in a weathered bamboo seat. There was something in those eyes that craved knowledge, perhaps he was tired, this great warrior who perhaps in ancient days may have been a gladiator, conquistador or tribal leader. Wise beyond his age and a king in all respects in the world where chivalry and love were dying.
“Selam.” Alfonzo greeted with the Tigrinya word for hello he recently learned.
“Selam, metsia ambear?”
Alfonzo’s forehead wrinkled. Hello is all he knew and megbi, which meant food and oh yeah, happy birthday. “Zibug lidet!”
The senior with sun burned skin laughed heartily. “Grazie, gracias, thank you wedi.”
“You speak English well.”
“Yes, and many other languages equally. To live in a world of many tongues, it is a handicap to speak only one.”
“I agree.”
Nicolo tapped the tome sitting on his lap. It was as fat as a dictionary. “Today, we not only celebrate the day of my birth, we will also honor our ancestors.” He opened the book and in a commanding voice shouted, “Abahago, ahabaga, abo, ade, wedi, gual, amo, hatne, amitche and gorebet –come. It is the hour to learn of your ancestors.”
He looked at the brown woman holding the hands of her children, the one with hazel and walnut colors in her eyes. That one, was not aware of her heritage, she was lost.
There is wisdom gained in life. But how does someone understand their purpose if they lack knowledge about their ancestors?
Today, she will hear of her people as well, an ancient tribe of Ethiopians who once ruled long before popular religions. Today as he opened the large book, he took satisfaction that the recordings carefully chronicled with his hand would bring her peace. “Rhus,” he smiled as the large assembly took seats upon the sand. Today they would hear on the wind, songs and the forceful drums of their ancestors. They will hear not fictional words but truths from the chronicles of a Giacanti who lived to see this glorious day.
The royal bloodlines survived.
Glossary
Tigrinya Words of Eritrea and Ethiopia
Abdomen = Kebdi ከብዲ
Aba djigo = God (esp. the rain god)ኣባ ጅጎ
Adult = Abi ዓቢ
Ago, A few days ago = Kedmi kurub qenyatቅድሚ ኩሩብ ቅነ
Amitche = Eritrean born or brought up abroad (esp. in Ethiopia)ኣሚጬ
Amlak ymesgen = Thanks be to God ኣምላኽ ይመስገን
Angry = hariku (m); harika (f)ሓሪቃ ሓሪቁ
At last, So it’s come? = Mewedaetius ... metsia ambear?መወዳእቱስ......መጺኣ እመበር
August = Nehase ነሓሰ
Aunt = Amo (aunt from father side); Hatne (aunt from mother side) ኣሞ ሓትነ
Bad dog = himak kelbi ሕማቅ ቀልቢ
Beer = Bira ቢራ
Beer (home-brewed) = Suwa ስዋ
Beles = cactus fruit በለስ
May you feel better soon = Mihret yewrdelka ምኺረት የውሪደልካ
Birthday, Happy = Zibug lidet !ጽቡቅ ልደት
Black = tselim ጸሊም
Bless you = Teb
Bless you = Tebarek! ተባረሕ
Blue = Semayawi ሰምዋው
Body = Akalat ኣኻላት
Bon Voyage = Tsibuk guezo ጽቡቅ ግሾ
Boot (a make of light B. preferred for Sawa) = kongo ኮንጎ
> Boy = Wedi ወዲ
Braggart = Hadadi/t ሓዳዲ/ት
Bread = Bani ባኒ
Bread, Home-made = himbasha (cf. Too bad they are far
away, we would have visited them with some himbashas =
Adi arhikom koynom ember ... himbasha hizna
mbetsahnayom nierna) ሕምባሻ
Breakfast = Kursi ቁሪሲ
Brother = Hawiሓው
Crazy, Oh, I think he’s going crazy = Wey gud, abidu
ember ወይ ጉድ ዓብዱ
Day = Mealti, Ketri; Days = Mealtat መዓልቲ፣ መዓልታት
Day, Have a nice day = Bruk mealtiብሩኽ መዓልቲ
Day, How was your? = Kemey wielki? (wielka if
addressing a male)ከመይ ውዕልኪ/ውዕልካ
Days of the week = Mealtat nay semunመዓልታት ናይ ሰሙን
December = Tahsasታሕሳስ
Delicious (of food) = t’ium t’ium ጥዑም
Devil, - seytanሸይጣን
Dog = Kelbiቀልቢ
Doomed, I am = Weyti gudeyዌቲ ጉድይ
Drinks (alcoholic) = Alkolawi mesteኣሃልኮላዊ መስተ
Drinks (soft) = Islus meste ሉስሉስ መስተ
Drunk, he got = Sekiru; she got d. = Sekira ሰኺሩ፣ ሰኺራ
Drunkard = Sekram ሰኽራም
Eagle = nisri ንስሪ
Ear = Ezniእዝኒ
Eat, to eat = Miblae (enjera belia = she ate enjera)ምብላዕ
Egg = Quakuhoኢንቆዖኾ
Elephant = harmazሓሪማዝ
Evening = Mishet ምሸት
Evening, Good = Bruk mishet ቢሩኽ ምሸት
Evening, and good night = Bruk mishet, Bruk leyti ቢሩኽ ምሸት፣ቢሩኽ ለይቲExcuse me = Keshegereki/a ከሸጊረኪ/ካ
Eye = Ayni ዓይኒ
Father = Abo ኣቦ
Feast = Nigdet ንግደት
Finger(s) = Asabiti ኣጻብዕቲ
First= kedamay You came first = enqua Hagoseka!
Kedamay wesika ከዳማይ፣ ዕንቋዕ ሓጎሰካ፣ ከዳማይ ወጽካ
Food = Megbi መግቢ
Foot = Egri (Feet = YeEgar) ኢግሪ
Forehead = Ginbar ግንባር
Girl = Gualጓል
