She didn’t kiss me back. Disappointed, I let go of Trina and handed her a glass of wine while nursing one of my own. I patted the bed. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
We sat together.
I raised my glass in the air. “But first, let’s make a toast.” I signaled for her to join me. Trina raised her shaky glass; drops of wine ran down her glass onto the hardwood floor.
“Well then,” I continued, “to surprises. After all, this night wouldn’t be possible without the element of surprise. Ain’t that right, baby?”
Trina slowly nodded, struggling to hold her glass steady, spilling more drops of Sangria on the floor. I clinked my glass against hers and took a pull of the fruity wine. Trina followed suit, taking one big pull, finishing it as if her life depended on it. I sat both of our glasses down on the nightstand.
“So,” I said, drumming my fingers on the nightstand, “speaking of surprises . . . why don’t you tell me what you been up to?”
Trina stared at the floor, uttering empty words.
“Excuse me?” I leaned closer to her.
Trina spoke louder. “I don’t know what to say. It’s just that I,”—she paused for a moment— “I-I’ve been so lonely. I mean . . . you’re always gone. I hardly even see you, David. I’ve been trying to—”
“Don’t,” —I jabbed my finger at her— “you sit here and make excuses. Don’t do that. I work my butt off for you, woman.” My temperature soared like a rocket.
How dare her!
We sat in silence for a couple of seconds, before I continued. “Listen . . . I know what you’ve been up to.” I fished out the Samsung Galaxy from my bathrobe—brandishing it. “Surprise! That’s right, Romeo’s phone.” For a minute there, I thought Trina’s eyes were going to burst out their sockets. “But wait, there’s more.” I laughed, yet anger filled me. I retrieved the Tracfone from the duffle bag and held it in the air. “I used this lil’ gadget here to lure in Romeo. Oh, you should’ve seen the look on his face when he found out it was me.” I looked at Trina. “He had that same pitiful look.”
Trina sobbed. “What—”
“I’m not finished!” I threw the Tracfone at the computer desk, knocking several lit candles to the floor. Our shadows flickered on the wall.
Trina yelped.
I took a deep breath and exhaled. “Remember when I told you I had to go to San Francisco?” Trina nodded. “I lied. I’ve been in town the whole time with my parents. I found it mighty suspicious that all of a sudden you had to work overnight all the time, so mom offered to help me get to the bottom of it. I had been begging God to keep you faithful to me, but it didn’t work. So much for faith, huh?” I poured myself another glass of wine—downed it—and set the glass back on the nightstand. “I never thought you’d cheat on me. Boy was I wrong. Mother always said you were a whore.” I shook my head, staring at the scattered pieces of the Tracfone.
Trina softly spoke. “Your parents are dead, David. Are you taking your meds? You’re starting to imagine—”
“Don’t talk about my parents!” Medicine or no medicine, my parents were alive. For the last couple of weeks, I had been Haloperidol free. Mother was right; I didn’t need any medicine. It was all a part of Trina’s plot against me, as if cheating on me wasn’t enough.
Trina stroked my arm, her touch as delicate as a flower. “I’m so sorry.” Tears puddled up in her eyes. “Forgive me, David. Please? I know I don’t deserve it. Please baby? Let go and let God work on us. Come on. We can do this. I’m willing; are you willing to?” I refused to cry in front of Trina. Like my father always told me: Men don’t cry. But there was a part of me that wanted—so desperately, to cry out in pain. My wife had betrayed me, and now here she was trying to ease the pain that she caused. Trina caressed my face. “I love you.”
“You don’t know what love is.” I removed her hand from my face. “And don’t touch me with those filthy, rotten hands of yours.” I clasped my right hand over my left fist as if it were a baseball glove. “How could you do this to me? To us? And with him of all people? What a surprise . . . What. A. Surprise.”
“I’m so sorry, David. I made a terrible mistake. I was about to break it off—really—I was.”
A wicked smile formed upon my face. “Oh don’t worry; I took care of it.”
Trina’s eyes lit up like a flashlight. “What do you mean? David? What have you done?” Her voice quivered towards the end.
“Like I said . . . I took care of it. That’s all you need to know.” Trina sat in silence like a student waiting outside the principal’s office. Despite the pitiful expression on her face, Trina looked sexy. A tingling sensation invaded my crotch area. I moved closer to Trina, put my arms around her, and whispered in her ear, “You and this dress.” I walked my fingers up her dress.
With both legs, Trina clamped down on my hand. “No David. We really need to talk. What did you do to Phillip?”
I took my left hand and cleared the night stand, sending the bottle of Sangria, the two wine glasses, and the hotel phone crashing to the floor.
Trina yelped.
“Shut up. Shut. Up.” I demanded, grabbing her by the neck. Trina cringed, whimpering like a scolded child. I lowered my voice, and spoke softly. “Don’t clam up on me now.” I massaged the back of her neck. “You said you love me right? Well show me.”
Trina gazed into my eyes. “What's wrong with you?”
I removed my hand from the back of her neck. “What's wrong with me?” I said, jokingly. “Uh—hello, you cheated on me. I think that's pretty self-explanatory.”
Candles flickered; Keith Sweat poured his heart out over the radio; and lust captured me, refusing to let go. I untied my bathrobe and pulled Trina close to me, kissing her neck, taking in her Vince Camuto fragrance. Trina moaned, sending my heart rate through the roof. But she still resisted me: tugging on her dress, maneuvering her way out of my arms, begging me to stop.
“Don’t fight it.” I pulled Trina closer, this time applying a vice grip, planting wet kisses on her chest.
“Stop . . . David . . . what happened . . .” She struggled to break free, “Tell me what happened to Phillip.” Trina demanded, her voice sharp as a butcher’s knife.
“Oh, so now it’s all about Phillip, huh?” I ripped the front of her dress. Her black, pink-laced bra barely contained her breast.
Hastily, Trina took both hands and covered her chest. “Stop it, David.”
I wrestled with Trina. “Bet Phillip didn’t have to fight for it.”
Trina wiggled her way free. “You’re nothing like Phillip.”
I slapped her. “Screw Phillip!” Trina turned her face from me. I grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at me. “Now say some more disrespectful stuff . . .” —I paused a couple seconds, enjoying the fear written all over her face in bright red— “I swear to God I’ll break your neck.”
Trina sobbed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just a lot going on right now: your hallucinations, your job, my depression. I mean . . . I keep sitting around—praying to God, wondering when is it going to be about me for a change. I’m trying to keep faith in us, but it’s hard. Especially, since you’ve stopped coming to church with me. You use to be such a God fearing man. It just seems like ever since your parents . . .” Trina took me by the hand. “Look, I’m not happy with you, David. But I want to be.”
I jerked my hand away from hers. “You ungrateful little . . . All you do is whore around. Talking ‘bout you’re not happy. I guess being a whore isn’t as exciting as you thought it would be, huh? What’s next? Carpet munching?”
Trina frowned. “Well, if you were taking care of your business at home, then I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere. Now would I?”
“I thought I told you to watch your mouth. Matter fact, I got something for those loose lips.” I grabbed Trina by the back of her neck and forced her down on me. Trina bit
my crouch; the pain struck me like lightning. I pushed her to the floor and pounced on top of her. “You crazy witch!”
Still sore from the early scuffle with Phillip, I struggled to restrain Trina on the floor. She positioned herself over me and shoved her knee into my crotch, sending me rolling on my side in a fetal position. Trina rolled into the bed. I watched, as she pulled back the cover, peeking underneath the bed. Trina shot up like a jack-in-the-box and let out a glass shattering scream, shaking her hands as if they were wet.
“You killed him!”
I grabbed Trina by her shoulders, and slung her back down on the bed, rose pedals flew everywhere. I positioned myself on top of her, placing my left hand over her mouth and using my right to hold myself steady.
“Keep your voice down,” I demanded.
Trina responded, her words muffled.
“Now I’m going to remove my hand, okay?” She nodded. “And when I do, you better not scream or else.” I uncovered her mouth.
Trina panted. “Oh my God, David,”—she lowered her voice— “why did you kill him?”
“Do you know how it feels to be cheated on?” She didn’t respond. “Do you? Do you?” I shook her.
Hastily, Trina shook her head.
Earlier, I had fantasied about choking my wife to death; now granted the opportunity, I wrapped both hands around her neck and squeezed hard. Trina’s face took on a purplish color. She tried to pry my hands, her manicured nails embedded into my skin. Her grip loosened by the second.
Mentally, I wanted to kill my wife, but physically, I just couldn't do it yet, so I let go of her neck. Trina gasped for air as if she had nearly drowned. We both laid there—me on top of her—in total silence, breathing heavily. I chuckled, thinking about that stupid question Trina had asked me.
But why did you kill him?
“Wh-what’s so funny?” She asked.
“Do you really wanna know why I killed Phillip?” Trina didn’t respond. “Huh?” I raised my voice. “Do you really wanna know why I killed Phillip?”
Trina shook her head. “No David, calm down. I don’t—”
“Shut up! Shut. Up. Imma tell you anyway.” I took a moment, laughing like a mad man, and continued. “At first, I wasn’t gonna kill him—really—I wasn’t, but you know how Phillip is: arrogant. Well, I told him to get lost, before I did something I wouldn’t regret. He taunted me, talking ‘bout he was just helping me out with my wife; if it wasn’t him, then it would be the next guy. That really pissed me off. I told him I didn’t need any help from him nor anybody else for that matter. Well, Phillip thought that he was just going to steal you from me and ride off into the sunset. I told that fool that I’d kill both of ya’ll, before I’d let that happen. Do you know what he said to that?”
Trina shook her head.
“Would you like to know?” Nothing. I shook her. “Would you like to know?”
Trina burst into tears.
“Answer me!” I smacked her face.
“Okay, okay . . . yes—tell me.” Trina’s eyes flooded with tears.
I moved in closer to her and whispered in her ear, “Over my dead body.”
Knock, Knock, Knock.
***
“Help me!” Trina cried. “Please help!”
I grabbed Trina by her throat and squeezed with all my mite. “You’ll die before that happens.” Bulging eyes, Trina silently pleaded for her life, trying her best to pry my hands.
An old man’s voice spoke from outside. “Hello? Sorry to disturb you, but you left your head lights on.”
Knock, Knock, Knock.
“Hello?” The old man’s voice got louder. “Are you the owner of the white Toyota Echo parked out here? You left your head lights on.”
There was this one incident in which Trina and I had gone to visit her parents in Florida. After about four hours on the road, we had stopped to rest at a Day’s Inn. When it came time to leave the hotel, our car wouldn’t start: dead battery. It was the first of many times Trina had left the head lights on.
Knock, Knock, Knock.
I loosened my grip on Trina’s neck and quickly placed my hand over her mouth. “Now you be a good little girl and keep quiet while I figure out how to get rid of this prick.” Trina didn't reply.
“Hello? Is everything okay in there? Was that a scream I heard a moment ago? Kinda worries me a bit. I’m not leaving until I here from ya.”
An onslaught of death threats kept Trina quiet while I dragged her with me to the front door. “Uh,”—the words slowly came to mind— “no need to hang around. Everything’s fine in here and yes that’s my car outside. Silly me. I’ll take care of it. Thanks a million.” I sighed, waiting for the old man to move on.
Trina quivered, her face full of sadness. Just last year, we had renewed our vows, devoting ourselves to each other before God. She had shed similar tears then and they felt so real. I cried too. That was a huge water shed moment in my life. But now, her tears didn’t have the same effect on me. She had betrayed me in an unforgivable way. An old blues song came to mind.
The thrill is goonne, oh, oh. The thrill is gooonne.
The nosey, old man’s voice snatched me back to reality. “No problem. There’s just one other thing. I saw a pretty young lady driving that same car today. Don’t mean to meddle so much, but I could’ve sworn I heard a lady scream? Is she—”
“You did,”—I interrupted— “it was the television. We’re watching a scary movie right now.”
“We? Oh, I see. You two are a couple. Married?”
What difference does it make?
“We’re married and you are interfering with our quality time right now.”
“Well, I don’t mean to impose, but there is just one more thing, then I’ll leave you two to be. I’ll even make it worth your while by treating you guys to lunch tomorrow. I’m just a couple of cabins down. My wife and I.”
What now?
“So far, you’ve been doing all the talking. Would you mind if I were to hear from your wife, so that way I know she’s fine? I’m sorry to be such a pest, but I’ve seen lots of episodes of 48 Hours Mystery. I’ll toss and turn all night, worrying if I don’t hear from her.”
“Well, she’s in the bathroom right now. No need to worry, okay?”
“I’m sure everything is okay. I just really need to hear it from your wife. I’ll wait here. Just have her tell me. That’s all it will take for me to go away. I’m sure you can understand. I would want you to do the same for my wife.”
Trina tried to wrestle herself free, but the aggravation from dealing with this old fart, mixed with the rage I had for my wife, garnered me the super human strength needed to restrain her. “I appreciate your concern for my wife and all, but to be honest with you, what you are doing is quite rude. Now I told you my wife is fine. She’s in the bathroom. We’re minding our own business and so should you. Now please go away. I need to get back to her.”
“Rude? How dare you insult me when all I’ve done is tell you about your headlights and express genuine concern for your wife. It shouldn’t be a problem, unless you have something to hide. Do you?” The nosey, old man waited for my response. I kept quiet. He shouted. “Now you listen here, wise guy, you have five minutes to have your wife speak to me, after that, I’m calling the cops. You hear me?”
“No, you listen to me. I’ve had it with you. I’ll have the police come arrest you for harassment, if you don’t leave at once. Do I make myself clear?” Eagerly, I waited for the old man to go away, but that hope was short lived.
“That’s it. I’m calling the—” Something or someone interrupted the nosey, old man. “But I’m just . . . but . . . there’s something going on in there . . . Okay, Okay. I’m coming. Just let me . . . What do you mean don’t worry about it? But what if?”
The old man’s voice slowly faded, followed by two soft thuds and the roar of an engine. I peeked through the blinds. The nosey, old man drove off with his compani
on. I sighed, but I had a strange feeling the police might show up, and that would be a recipe for disaster.
Mother stood behind me. “You need to get rid of her, so we can leave, beloved. Time is running out.”
Father joined us in the living room. “Don’t kill her, son. It’s not worth it. Turn yourself in and repent to God. Your sins will be forgiven, but you have to act now.” Father placed a hand on my shoulder. “Let go and let God.”
I sobbed uncontrollably, releasing Trina out of my arms. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.” I wiped endless tears from my face. “She cheated on me, dad. I never cheated on her. I can't have that. Since God won’t straighten her out, I’ll—”
A sharp blow to the head, followed by dizziness, made me flop to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
“Take that!” Trina snatched her purse and ran out the front door.
“Get up, beloved. She’s getting away.”
***
I chased Trina down the same dirt path my father and I took through the woods earlier. Now out of all the times Trina and I had raced—with me always winning, I just knew catching her would be a cake walk, but my wife was Marion Jones that night.
Pouring rain, mixed with gusty winds, impaired my vision. I listened for movement in the woods. Trina screamed as loud as she could. I took my iPhone, turned on its flashlight, and headed towards her frantic voice. The movement stopped and so did her screams.
“Come out, Trina. I promise I won’t hurt you.” Using the light as my guide, I searched the surroundings. “I know you’re out there!” I tiptoed through the woods like a thief in the night. The rain resided, leaving me soaked and wet in my favorite bathrobe.
Aw chew!
I shined the light to my left and spotted Trina nestled behind a small colony of trees. “Boo!”
Trina ran. I chased her through the woods, stumbling over tree debris and wet leaves.
Help! Help me!
I trailed Trina’s frantic voice. “Come here you little—”
“Hey,” —an unfamiliar male voice shouted— “now you leave her alone. I’m warning ya. I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it.”