Chapter 3: One of the victims.
A person who believes that there is nothing more to life than just work, money and sex is a useless person. A person not only useless to himself but to society. If such a person is in sufficient power, his influence reproduces and spreads throughout the weak minded and unfortunately the weak minded outnumbers the others dramatically. Disappointed he will be when the wilful take over and bring destruction to him, for, there is a force, a universal force within the living that brings goodness home.
Seven months elapsed since Rikki's dismissal of Jared. The first three of those months his son was born.
“I am not after his money,” Chantel said to the social worker. “I just want to be able to raise my son, Ms. Clarke.”
“I understand, ma’am. And you say he refuses to take the test?” The social worker, Ms. Clarke, looked over glasses rested on her squat nose.
“He told me that he knew it wasn't his. I tried to plead with him, tried to remind him how much I loved him, but he's…,” she paused and looked up to keep the tears from coming out. She swallowed hard and said “He is just too stubborn; he was not always like this.”
“They all always were not...Chantel, I'll ask you this once,” she said taking off her spectacles and resting her hands on the desk. “This scenario you are in, it's all too familiar to me darling, and I’ve dealt with many a case as shallow as yours. So,” She stopped, as if to stretch the connection between what she was going to ask and what she had been saying, “are you positively sure that you have made no mistake and that the child is his?”
Chantel did not hesitate. Answering the question, she showed no nervousness but a bit of an indignant tone, “The child is his ma’am.”
Ms. Clarke sighed and thought about the number of times innocent looking young girls had come to her for assistance only to find out they were lying after all her work in assisting them. She did not believe this girl. To her, the long un-obscene dress Chantel wore and her neatly done hair, were probably just a false impression worn to sway social workers, now that a child had compromised her life.
“I won't say I believe you, Chantel,” she said and kept quiet to let what she had said sink into Chantel.
At what was said, Chantel gave up holding back the tears and led out a sob which turned in a cry. She did not deserve this. A voice come into her mind, a maniacal and sinister voice.
Huh. The Voice laughed in her head. What did you expect, running around with boys, what did your father say...yes and you did not listen because you were little miss know it all, weren't you Channy? Little miss high school. Yeah, sluts get what they deserve, don't they?
More tears and more sobs escaped through her eyes and mouth. She fidgeted in her chair, trying to quiet The Voice in her mind. Ms. Clarke noticed her distress and it pleased her to see that her words had the required effect. From experience, those not in distress after such words were prevaricating.
“But,” she continued, after the quietness “I will do all that is in my power to help you Chantel. After, and only after the DNA tests...will we see.” Ms. Clarke opened the drawer of her desk and took out a form and a writing pad.
“When you get home, fill in the form. It’s basic stuff like where you were born,” she said to Chantel handing the form over to her. She wore her glasses again and grabbed a pen from her desk. “I will ask you a few questions, Chantel, and please answer honestly, for your own sake.
“Is Rikki the only person you were intimate, sexually, with at the time?”
“Yes.”
After sexual questions came questions about her behaviour, whether she drank and such, and then came questions about her employ and who was helping her with the child.
“I am a gas-station attendant, I passed high school with an exemption to enter university, but I haven’t gone any further than that.” Chantel answered, and thought about how she gone so low, from the soon to be wife of a wealthy man, to earning just over two pounds an hour. “The child stays over at my friend’s place while I'm working.” Ms. Clarke asked her what her friend’s employ was. “She does sewing at her house- curtains, she sews curtains.” She asked about her place. “She stays further downtown to where I live in Westville.”
“Okay, Chantel, I'll see what I can do. If he continues to refuse, we'll have to go to trial, where he'll be forced to take the DNA test. You say he's rich?” Chantel nodded affirmatively. Ms Clarke continued “Well then, I know a couple of lawyer friends from reputable firms who owe me a favour or two and might go pro bono,” she said with some arrogance in her voice.
“Till then,” she added, “Don't do anything to compromise yourself.”
“Thank you very much, Ms. Clarke,” Chantel said in a more relieved tone than the one she had had when she came. “Goodbye.” She grabbed her bag from the seat next to her and stood and left.
-
Two weeks passed on with Chantel trying hard to adapt to her new position as a single mother. It hurt her, it devoured her from within and many times after realising the reality of her situation, she had thought of killing the child but, many times too, she held back. She would look at the child, innocent and unknowing, and she would find something that promised that things would work-out. She had not seen Rikki those seven months and she had been lucky a handful of times after many attempts at getting him to answer his phone, even if he just picked it up and dropped it immediately after. She wondered how he was, how he slept at night knowing that out there, there might be a child of his. She had asked her friend, without success to call him after she gave birth, she had tried again two weeks later, and eventually she gave up.
She took the child over to the desk in her bedroom to change his diaper. The television was on and she overheard it.
“According to musicstats.com, Rikki's latest album is not doing as good as his previous two. The main flaw outlined by critics is his now apparent lack of creativity. “Basically, you listen to one song of his, you listen to all of them” said recognized critic Elly Gibb. Compared to his previous album which sold over seven hundred thousand copies in one week, his latest has not even sold a third of that since its release last week. We have not been able to get any response from Rikki…” The television went on but these news made no impact on her.
After all, he still has money, he still doesn’t love me, I think, and he still is adamant about the child not being his. You see, Channy, no difference in your situation at all. She considered.
Ms. Clarke had persuaded one of her lawyer friends to handle the case pro bono and had introduced her to the lawyer who had taken her case three days ago. The lawyer, a man in his sixties, was lean and towering and wore thick lens silver rimmed spectacles. Chantel looked at him and thought of how quite energetic he was for a man of his age. He introduced himself as David Richards.
“Pleased to be of assistance,” he had said to Chantel in a charmingly quaint way. But his efforts of charm were futile, what with Chantel in her state.
Rikki's lawyer had then been contacted through Rikki’s secretary, Abigail and a meeting was to take place three days later-that day- and Chantel’s mind ran wildly about how the meeting would go. She could not imagine how she would be able to look at Rikki. Her presence was of course unnecessary, but she had insisted on going.
Rikki. She called out to him in her heart. If you would only come back and see that I'm the one for you.
Yes. She still loved him but in her there was that hatred building, slowly. She and a few others in the world were the only remaining ones who still held the concepts of love and hatred, the rest were just animals. She looked down at the child and dammit he reminded her of Rikki terribly. She wondered if when the child grew up whether he would do the same to some unfortunate woman. Tears from her eyes dropped onto the child's chest.
“Sorry,” she said in her sweetest voice. “Mommy's just crying because you are so special to her.” The child, calm and relaxed on the table, suckled his thumb ignorant of the distress he had
caused.
Rikki loved me before he was rich...Dear whatever force there is in the universe...is love just a bargain, an admission to defeat where you have to stick with one just because you know that no other will accept you and you are lucky to be accepted by this one. Do I miss Rikki just because the wealth he has is the answer to all my problems? Or do I miss him because...is loving someone just an evolutionary trick to keep someone who would benefit you. Then love is just greedy.
She thought about what would have happened if she had gone to university – if she had chosen wisely.
I would be a biologist right now.
She finished dressing the child, laid him down on the couch and went to the bathroom for one final inspection of her face. On the surface she did not want anything to do with Rikki but deep down she wanted him to see what he was losing by losing her and to make an attempt to bring him back. It was far-fetched but only if she could...
-
She dropped the child off by her friend's and drove uptown to the address Mr. Richards had given her. She was to arrive there at ten o'clock. It was a day brooding ominous clouds, dark clouds saturated with rain. It resembled her soul, the weather, her hurt soul being like the cloud saturated, itself, with sorrow and regret. For the first time she observed how the world was, now that she was compromised. Just a world of whores and man-whores selling themselves. She thought. A world of whores and man-whores whose momentum is kept by music, television and such.
What happened to believing that there was more to life? She thought. And that having a child was a means of...when dying your children are left to continue to find the purpose of existence.
But, with such overwhelming influence from the majority of people, it was very difficult not to believe that the meaning of life was just what the general population was doing.
Up ahead was a billboard, the only one she had seen in a very long time that had not some sexual innuendo and some sultry models. It hang from a horizontal post attached to a two story building to the left and read “Richards and partners: Divorce attorneys.” in large bold letters.
“This is it,” she muttered to herself and drove into their reserved parking spaces.
She cast a final glance of herself in the rear view mirror and exited the vehicle and walked to the entrance. The building was a quite old-time building and she found that it appropriately suited Mr. Richard's quaint old self. There were two glass doors, one with a mark above it which read entrance and the other exit. She looked at her wristwatch, noted that she was fifteen minutes early and entered the building into the reception area. Contrary to what she'd expected, the reception room was a mixture of modern art and nature. The floor was carpeted with the fur texture of a leopard, and here and there at the corners were African violets, hibiscus and some flowers of which she had never seen before. The receptionist's desk was at the centre and behind it was a small pool with fish, with a stream of water falling above it, an artificial waterfall, the water made to sparkle scintillating-ly from the golden lights above on the white ceiling, and to its sides were spiralling silver metallic stairs leading to the upper floor. But she noticed all this subconsciously for her mood was much too gloomy to take in such allure. She walked to the receptionist.
“Good morning,” the receptionist said warmly before Chantel could say the same.
“Good morning,” Chantel replied, “I am here to see Mr. Richards, I...uh...have an appointment with him.”
“Your name please.”
“Chantel Wiggins.”
“Oh, Ms. Wiggins. You’re quite early, but Mr. Richards is free at the moment, follow me, I’ll lead you to his office.” The receptionist stood and walked to the left staircase gesturing for Chantel to follow her.
Even he uses sultriness, Chantel thought as she looked at the short and tight skirt the receptionist was wearing, shaping and cupping her buttocks, her high-heels showing beautifully French tipped toes and accentuating her calves, to her blouse, which she had not noticed when the receptionist was seated but now from the back, told of a tightness which could only be caused by large breasts. She looked at the receptionist’s hands and saw that they also were French-tipped and coloured pink. Very sexy, she thought cynically. She turned around as they climbed the stairs smiling, and now attentive Chantel observed her red lipstick and her eyelashes...and wondered if she had been hired based on her qualifications or on her sultriness. She compared herself to the receptionist. I look like a single mother. Oh, my shoes, when was the last time I ever had on nail polish. How will Rikki look at me? I thought I had done a good job before I left. The last time was on the day Rikki accused her of trying to take his money when she told him she was pregnant.
“I don't like Rikki's music, I think it's degrading not only to women but to mankind itself,” The secretary said catching Chantel off-guard. So she knew, Chantel surmised, what else does she know?
“It's easy to make money,” Chantel replied in such a way as to shut off the subject. The secretary took cue and said nothing until they reached the upper floor.
“Mr. Richards is at the corner office, the other's lawyers haven’t arrived yet, but when they arrive, the meeting will probably take place here.” She gestured to her right at the door with the words ‘Conference room’ written on it.
“It's a very lovely place.” Chantel said again in a tone that told she wanted the secretary to ‘shut up’ and the secretary did not reply.
They reached the corner office, which was on the left of the corridor they were walking on. The door was open and Mr. Richards was seated behind his desk, seemingly busy on his laptop.
“Mr Richards, Ms. Wiggins, ten o'clock.”
“Yes come in. Good morning, Chantel, please take a seat,” and before Chantel could do so, he walked swiftly around and drew the seat for her.
“Thank you,” Chantel said and sat down.
“Lily be so kind as to get us some coffee. Haven't the other lawyers called yet?”
“No, but they could have while I was escorting Ms. Wiggins. I'll go see. How would you like your coffee?” she replied and asked Chantel.
“Two sugars and black,” she replied.
She took leave and closed the door behind her.
“The conference room has already been made,” he said more to himself, than to her. “They are late. Anyway, let’s use this time to go through what is going to happen today.” He sighed and continued, “Today, you have to understand, we are only going to try to avoid a case, we are just going to talk to Rikki about making a deal beneficial to the both of you, he'll probably try to scare you by coming with a dozen lawyers but that's unnecessary. But if you are not satisfied with what he offers then we'll go to trial.”
“Okay, Mr. Richards, but I don't know Rikki anymore. He is adamant that the child is not his. He has never even called to check up since...since I told him that I was pregnant.”
“Personally,” he said with a grin on his face “I don't like the guy, I'm an old man with old solid ideas and I don't like the guy and all that he stands for. He's a cancer to society, that's what he is. And cancers need to be cut off and disposed of.”
Chantel only nodded, but the idea that the father of her child was thought of as a cancer to society hurt her.
-
“Can humanity not see that even if there was no god, living as though there is one would be the best thing that could happen?” The Voice says.
-
“We are here,” the driver announced. Rikki turned and looked at Abigail and then at his lawyer. The lawyer had advised him that going into the meeting with his secretary was unnecessary and so had agreed that she should wait for him in the car. He wore large sun-glasses and a golf cap over his green dyed dreadlocks for disguise and exited the car and so did the lawyer and headed into the building. He had also been given advice to dress formally for the occasion by his lawyer which he refused citing his ‘realness’ and after that his lawyer consoled his irritation by accepting that he was here just
for the money that Rikki was paying him. They walked into the reception room and headed for the desk. The secretary greeted them and told them that they had been long expected; a nicer way of saying they were late. Rikki's lawyer released a grunt which told that it was not his fault and Rikki told her rudely and ironically that “time means money” to him. She cast a glance at him, looking at his apparel, very colourful and very childish and very dis-respectable. She led them upstairs to the conference room and then headed down the corridor to alert Mr. Richards of their arrival.
Mr. Richards entered the conference room first followed by Chantel. The others were already seated. Rikki's lawyer stood, greeted Chantel and Mr. Richards with a handshake and apologized sincerely for the delay.
“We haven't got all day,” Rikki said not greeting anyone, clearly annoyed and irritated to have even been there at all and Chantel noted his peculiar voice but let it down to her not seeing him after so long.
Mr. Richards ran a scenario in his mind in which he jumped across the table to where Rikki was seated, punched him a few times in the face, knocking off his sunglasses and holding him with the collar of his funny looking jacket, throws him through the window, after which he looks back at Chantel and lights a cigar smiling. But no, he is just a client, not my client but a client nonetheless and I must be professional. He consoled his anger.
Chantel did not know what to think or how to react, she simply walked to the desk and Mr. Richards noticing this, swiftly went to her side and drew her a chair and she sat down folding her arms and trying by all means to pull back her tears and to appear strong. Rikki was not moved a bit. He just sat there, his expression hidden by his hat and sunglasses.
All seated now, Chantel next to Mr. Richards on the long side of the desk closest to the door and the others on the opposite to them. A glass decanter was in the middle of the table and drinking glasses were in front of each individual, on the table. A sound recorder at the centre.
“Date: May twenty fourth, Year two thousand and 20
“Meeting place: Law firm Richards and partners, Honneyball Street, Venuii City
“Present are Ms. Chantel Wiggins, myself Richards Neville, Mr. Royke Chards aka Rikki and Mr. Joseph Patel
“Okay, let us commence. This should not take more than thirty minutes after which a decision will be made to make a deal or to go to trial,” Mr Richards said opening his leather folio envelope and withdrawing its contents. Chantel sat still and avoided looking at Rikki and Rikki’s attention was indiscernible behind his sun-glasses.
Mr. Richards handed a copy of the contract he drafted to Rikki's lawyer.
“Those are the conditions of the settlement my client requests in order to avoid trial. Please, it is too long, I'll summarise it and you can review it later after the meeting,
“My client requests that Mr. Royke Chards provide financial support for the child. Broken down, a monthly child support payment, a home, as well as excess payments (not much) to take care of any unforeseen circumstances”
Rikki said nothing.
“All taken care of on your side, my client, Ms. Chantel Wiggins, will allow visits to take place between the child and the presumed father, Mr. Royke Chards conditionally, as well as when she is financially stable to suspend the support from Mr. Royke Chards. Accept these informally, a more formal layout of the conditions, as said, is in the contract I have just handed you.”
“Okay. But,” Rikki's lawyer said. “What we are hearing are just words- ‘amounts’, ‘payments’ and such. I appreciate the summary but please if you would, tell us what you want in numbers.”
“Five thousand a month for child support, two thousand a month for excess and as for a home, my client will settle for anything decent and in Venuii City,” Mr. Richards said and thought about how Chantel was letting the ‘half-wit’ go easily.
Rikki's lawyer smiled. It was a good deal. A deal that would not leave a scratch on Rikki's wealth. He would be stupid not to take it. The silence seeped into the room. Chantel sat still hoping that there would not be a trial and reasoned on how unnecessary it was.
But he was stupid.
“You ain't getting anythin’.” Chantel, instead of acknowledging the words, again noticed the scratchy horrible voice.
Rikki lawyer reached out and touched Rikki on the shoulder, trying to draw himself towards him to whisper something but Rikki just shook him off. He took of his glasses and-
My God. Chantel exclaimed to herself, noting his appearance without the sun-glasses. It sucked in everything and for a moment Chantel forgot about everything, ensnared only by his eyes. Those horrible, eyes. She cleared her throat and the sound reverberated throughout the silent room. Mr Richards saw his eyes too but thought and said nothing.
“I said there ain't no deal takin place here today. I've had enough of you trying to take my money.”
“Young man,” Mr Richards intervened before Chantel could retort, “have you even considered what would happen if the child was yours? I mean clearly you haven't consider-”
“The child ain't mine. That’s what I'm sure of.”
At this Rikki's lawyer tried to reach out again but with the same result as before.
“I've lived my life, I made myself-”
But he couldn’t finish as Mr. Richard, with as professional a voice as he could bring out of himself said:
“Clearly, this meeting is over and by this meeting; this meeting was an attempt to help the both of you.” He looked at Chantel sadly and then cast a short glance at Rikki. He continued:
“This meeting was an attempt at concluding this whole debacle as best as could be done with minimal damage. But, it is over-”
“Rikki, why would I lie? You even insisted on not using condoms, do you remember that? I don't even want your money, I just want what's best for my child- our child. By God, the child is yours. I told you before. I told you when I told you. I told you when you threw me out like a vomit. I tell you now,” she said and deep drawn sobs escaped her mouth.
Not moved by what Chantel had said, he continued, “everyone is trying to take my money. Even those claimin’ to help,” he said and cast an obvious glance at his lawyer.
The lawyer, red-faced and having given up was the first to stand up. He had had enough.
“No matter how much you pay me,” he said, “doesn’t mean you can shut me up when I'm only trying to help you. But,” He laughed contemptuously, “clearly, you are your own lawyer and now I wish you good tidings. I quit.” He wished Mr. Richards and Chantel good luck too and “By the way Rikki, if the child is yours, you are definitely going to lose more of that money that everyone is stealing from you.” And he went out the conference room door and left.
“Chantel, We will see Mr. Chard in court,” Mr. Richards said, his voice directed more to Rikki than to her, “go home and rest, do not worry about anything. I'll take it from here.” He stood, grabbed the recorder and waited for Chantel, still sobbing to stand too and escorted her. At the door he looked at Rikki still seated in his chair, tired and wearisome looking.
“I believe you will find your way out,” Mr. Richards said and “see you in court,” he added.
-
“Greed makes you not human. Mammon is self-destructing and mammon is to be controlled, not worshipped,” says The Voice. Rikki did not know this.
During the months from the meeting leading up to the seventeenth of November the same year, a paternity suit was filed, papers were served to a Mr. Royke Chards, and blood tests confirmed Mr. Royke Chards as father to the child Neville Wiggins and then just to be safe, a suit for full custody for Ms. Chantel Wiggins was filed. Rikki did not show up for the latter and she won.
Interlude 2: The Voice.
What is momentum? The spirit? The force? Luck? That which many talk about? That it helps. The law of attraction? The grace? If one said that humans were much smarter before science, would you disagree? What if the meaning of life, just on a need to know basis is to take over? Would
you disagree? Some of which that we do not know is just for our own good. Is it that for a real human being such things as capitalism, communism, money, power, and greed have no meaning? Those who are atheist, are they so because they just gave up searching for something to believe in? Surely one who is such is dead. Order, civilisation, discipline. Those were the days. Consider a ball moving. The ball has momentum associated with its mass and velocity. Consider a human being living, does not the human being have a momentum too associated with the choices the human makes? Only a fool would say no. Lies bring more lies. Truths bring more truths. Murders bring more deaths. Life begets more life. It was when science took over that humans felt they ‘are too old to believe’ but what humans knew not was that below religion-any religion- there is a scientific reason why. But then could one say for a ball in motion that nothing moved it from the start? That the ball has always been in motion. Absurdity. Then why is that some say nothing ‘kick-started’ life? Absurdity.
In this world there are always two ways. One or zero. On or off. In or out. In this world, there is good and bad, and good and bad are relative. For example, for one who kills, building weapons is good. The opposite is true for one who does not kill. Now, consider the whole population of humans. To live, good and bad must be defined. Note that the relativity here lies on ‘living’ and that anything that does not promote living is bad. God and the devil. Why is goodness and badness given not just nouns but also pronouns? Humans are alive, should not the momentum of living creatures be alive also? Good and bad (That which makes living and that which does not) should they not have momentum associations? Then, if they do, good and bad are themselves alive. Were we smarter back then? That is the reason why goodness has a name and goodness is alive. Alive. That is why badness is alive, because we are alive. Skeptical? Do not be skeptical. You know how badness lingers on one. How itself seems to never leave and how it seems to bring more badness to one, in other words, how it reproduces. The basic definition of life is having the ability to reproduce. And how goodness reproduces, creating more goodness. Then to answer the question that has been asked for so long; God is the momentum of goodness and the devil is the momentum of badness, and both are alive but with different purposes.
Chapter 4: The beginning of death.
Rikki played with fire. Because the momentum of badness is in itself self-destructive.
-
I say hell to the world. Hell to the world, everyone in it, anyone who’s been in it. Hell to the whites, hell to the blacks, hell to all. I am Rikki. I hate this. What happened Rikki? Who is asking Rikki the question? I was screwed over. That’s what happened. But I am rich and I have all my bitches.