Cutthroat Heroes, Page 2

  My way of relaxing? On those drunk nights, I'd go out back and whack my bat on a tree until apples fell all around me. I just needed release, but it was always such a short thing. As long as she lived, I'd never really get a full night's sleep. So I just hit more trees. It wasn't long before I broke all my bats. Something had to be done. Trees weren't doing it.

  Maybe a more sane solution? The police?

  Well....

  Carmen had Fran arrested and thrown in jail a year earlier for smashing a dish over her head. It was Thanksgiving, and the whole family was there, asking us when we were getting married. Fran, she got real drunk and started cussing everyone out one by one, pointing out their faults. She got out of her seat and all up in Carmen's face and whacked her upside the head with a dish full of rice. The whole scene was a big mess. Left everyone crying and such. I remember holding Carmen's bleeding head together. I was filled with rage. I wanted to open her mouth as wide as I could until bone snapped. A few of the big boys were holding her back as she went into this big rant, kicking and screaming about how God hated her, how her life was falling apart, and how much she loved me, how much she wanted me. Said she was going to do all these things to me with her tongue. Nasty things. She was very descriptive. Parents dragged their kids away.

  Before that awful meal, she'd come over to our house and tie love letters to rocks and fly'em through our windows. And they were weird letters. A lot of them seemed to be written in what appeared to be Jamaican. And sometimes she'd try to run Carmen over. (I mean...I was sure it was her.) That Thanksgiving was the last straw, and off to jail she went. Off to that, “big, cold, lonely building run by curious fingers,” as Carmen had put it.

  It was repetitive.

  It was always off to jail with Fran.

  But it was the restraining order that seemed to do the trick....

  After that, we didn't see her for a long time. We just forgot about her. Suddenly, life was good for us. Peaceful. It was a taste of Heaven. Apparently, Fran became a veterinarian and lived somewhere in the North Shore area. That's all anyone really knew. All that mattered to me was that there was a big gap between her and me – between Honolulu and North Shore. Let her stay there. Let her do what she liked. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

  And then...I started to get the phone calls, the love calls, the lust calls, the death threats. I called the police, but they said Fran moved off the island. Said the call came from somewhere in India. It made no sense. I kept arguing with them to do something – to protect us – and they said they'd look in on it. They went to her house in North Shore, but the place had burned down long ago. Fran was a ghost. Carmen was a wreck. She was sick all the time and had pains all over her body.

  Fran just didn't want to learn. Someone had to beat some sense into her.

  ME.

  I'd do it. Take a bat right to her head.

  Payback.

  This is for Carmen.

  The radio went crazy, going to random stations. A light flooded the car. I was blinded. I screamed out for some reason. My ears were ringing. Something weird was happening. This wasn't normal. My first instinct was to run out of the car, but I couldn't move. That light was doing something to me. And then it seemed like the ceiling was being ripped out.

  I was floating....

  Was I dying?

  Incredible pain all over; felt like my flesh was being yanked off.

  And then it was cold. I was shaking.

  I could hear people chatting – but it was like they were talking backwards.

  When I opened my eyes, I was on a metal table...in the nude. I'm dreaming, I kept thinking. This is all just a big joke. People were looking down at me. They looked like aliens: Grey heads; big , black eyes. They held odd, glittering instruments over me. They nodded to themselves in agreement, except for one alien that kept shaking its head and played around with a sword. I started to panic, squirming around, trying to break free. I was tied down by chains. The aliens took out a huge needle. Something was in there, swimming around. I begged them to get that thing away from me, but they didn't care. I was screaming, all-out shrieking.

  The alien with the sword just stared at me, and I got the sense that if I did something astounding, he'd take care of me.

  The whole place started to shake. One of the aliens yelled to the pilot to do something – pointing to the pilot, jabbing its finger at the pilot. The whole room began to jump around, like it was going over a bumpy road.

  The aliens held me down and ran the needle into my chest. It went in like a pen through a Styrofoam cup. I couldn't breathe. I could feel something running all around in my heart, messing things up.

  Sounds of expensive things breaking. The lights above me swayed. The UFO was in trouble. Aliens were falling over, crying, confused, begging the pilot to do something right.

  And then it felt like something took a big bite out of my heart.

  I screamed again...passing out....

  CARMEN MURUDA

  Where was Phil? He said he'd only be away for an hour or two. Said he had to go to church to get something sour out of his stomach. I missed him. I was getting nervous. What if something happened to him? Was he okay? I made all the calls – Father Lolligal, my sister, all our friends – but nothing useful came out of it. No one had seen him.

  I found myself pacing in the living room. My mind went crazy – betraying me. I kept seeing Phil walk in through the front door, all bloody and crying. He'd be dying. He'd die, and I'd be alone forever, because there was no one else for me. I thought back to when Phil saved me from Denny, in that supermarket. He was my lover at the time – Denny – and we got into a fight over me having kids or not. He didn't want, and I quote, “Little money-suckers” running around, stealing his dreams of becoming a professional juggler. He was an artist, didn't I understand???

  I told him that we were through. Over. Stick a fork in me. I was DONE.

  Next think I knew, he had his hands wrapped around my neck – his thumbs pressed into the center of my throat. People were screaming for the police. A baby cried. I remember looking into his fat face and seeing all the hate he built up for me. Right before my eyes exploded, Phil ran up and hit him over the head with a milk carton, then beat the hell out of him – kicked, bit him, slapped him, really made an example out of Denny Horpor in front of all those kids watching. Phil sat down and held me, rocked me in his arms. I couldn't stop coughing. So embarrassing....I kept saying, “I'm sorry.” Denny stood up, massaging his head, and an old lady hit him with her purse. Then another old lady showed up and hit him, and another, then another.

  The cops showed up and tackled him to the ground.

  Phil...he went with me all the way to the hospital.

  Stayed with me that whole time.

  I stopped pacing around.

  Denny. Banglan. Dreston. Drewboy. Ba'aron. Verntorn. Ralph.

  All those jerks. All those ex lovers. It was time to clear them all out. It was time for an exorcism. Before I got married, I was going to get rid of them once and for all. I went into the kitchen and got out a pile of newspapers, tearing them all up, making these little dolls. Each one represented an ex lover. I even cut their heads out of some old pictures and stuck them on the paper dolls.

  I went out to the backyard and stood those things up on the grass and lit them on fire.

  I swear, I could hear them cry out for help. They begged for my forgiveness. Their shrieks filled my ears. It was done. I felt cured. I was clean.

  I was ready for marriage.

  FRAN

  I felt like a fool. I didn't think it would work. The whole thing was too good to be true. I sat in my car, on the side of the dirt road, staring into the dark, waiting to see Phil's car drive up. Lolligal said I'd find him there; said that I needed to be patient; said I had to stop calling him and waking him up.

  “Relax, my child,” he said. “He'll show.”

  I kept repeating what he said in my mind.

  He'll show....He'll sho
w....

  I started thinking about Phil and Carmen getting married. Imagining them kissing, shoving cake into their mouths, kissing, kissing, KISSING. I wanted to yell out. Felt like something heavy was in my throat. I was being strangled! Carmen was strangling me. She always had the luck, always had to better me in everything. Had to, get it? She went out of her way to shame me. Always. I started replaying things in my mind: Her better house, better job, better car, better driveway, better breasts, better face, better future husband.

  She was going to enjoy all his money. Greedy whore. All that money. And I'd see none of it. And why should I? I wasn't the one God smiled down on. Yin and Yang. Black and white. The world demanded balance. Lucky sister, unlucky sister. Guess who I was???

  All that thinking pissed me off – and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed that burning feeling all over my body – all that anger. I felt....

  Inspired.

  Where the hell is Phil? He's supposed to be here by now. I was promised.

  Right when I was about to call Father Lolligal again and threaten to eat away his skin – that I was coming over to collect – I saw Phil....Saw him stumbling out of the dark, down the road. He looked like a zombie. He was naked. All beaten up. All shivering. I turned on the headlights. He flew his hands over his face and screamed at the car like it was gonna jump on him. I ran out and held his hands.

  “You're okay,” I promised. “You're okay now. I'm here. I'm here for you.”

  I hugged him.

  He hugged back and slowly opened his eyes.

  “Carmen?”

  “No,” I said.

  He stepped back...shocked. I thought he was going to hit me.

  “Fran? I can't believe this,” he said. “It's you. It's really you.” He put his hands on my face. “I have something to tell you.” He held me close, mouth close to mine...and then he said the words I had been dying to hear for months.

  “I want you,” he said. “God, I've wanted you for so long!”

  He kissed me, and when he did it, a picture of my sister hit my eyes like lightning. So I kissed him back – more and more until Carmen was driven out from my mind. Phil eased me to the ground. We rolled around on all that dirt, all those leaves, all those bugs.

  “It was always you,” he said. “When I was with her, it was always you I made love to. I could never get you out of my head. I'm yours. I'll give you anything! Just tell me you'll be mine.”

  It worked, I kept thinking. Jesus, yes, thank you...it worked.

  I could feel all his money in my bloodstream. I could feel my wardrobe expanding, my wallet expanding, my future expanding, my travel expenses expanding. The good life. It was kissing me. I had everything. Security. Peace. Life was going to be good.

  I owed that priest an apology.

  I opened my purse and pulled out a small container.

  “Wanna have some fun?”

  He looked at it, curious.

  “What's that?”

  I opened the container and sniffed it.

  “I call it Babiroin. Super baby-heart.”

  “Good Lord, it's still beating!”

  “That's how you know it's good.”

  “Where'd you get it?”

  “I made it.”

  “Made it???”

  “I dig up cemeteries, bring babies home, cut them open, reanimate the hearts with black magic and various dance moves and moaning sounds, and inject the hearts with dangerous amounts of cocain. What do you think I've been doing the whole time I was gone? Going to college? Get real. I've been making Babiroin. Super baby-hearts.”

  “What does it do?”

  “Babi-ro-in gives you the greatest high you've ever had. You'll feel like a goddamn werewolf!” I licked the heart, and it was like licking battery acid. “Consumption is the only way.”

  “I have to eat that thing?” He shook his head. “I can't. It's too weird.”

  I was losing him. He was freaking out.

  “I ain’t putting that stuff in my mouth,” he said. “Jesus, please don't make me bite it.”

  I kissed him.

  “If you love me you will.”

  His response was immediate.

  “You're right,” he smiled. “I love you. As your lover, I have to do anything you say.”

  We were on our knees, facing each other. I held the beating heart in front of us, and we ate it at the same time – eating the drug like wild dogs. Blood was all over my face. Our eyes were wide open. There was something very sexual about the whole thing. It was the first really romantic thing I ever experienced. Phil was looking around like a confused deer. It was like he wanted to say something important, but couldn't spit the words out. His eyebrows kept going up and down. His tongue went in and out of his mouth like a lizard. I was exhibiting the same mannerisms.

  Fantastic!

  We were aroused. Sexually.

  Phil bear-hugged me and flung his head back and roared like a lion and we rolled down the side of the mountain – his lips pressed hard against mine. We ended up in a bush, where he made love to me every which way. I hoped I wasn't rolling around on an ant-hill.

  Next thing I knew, the sky opened up and a giant hand reached down and picked us up. We screamed and screamed. I gripped Phil's legs for dear life. A bird flew into my head.

  “What's happening?”

  We were in Heaven. We made love on a ground of clouds. All the angels clapped and cheered and smiled at us.

  CARMEN

  I drove faster. Phil was in trouble; I could feel it. He was dying.

  I had to think positive. He was okay. But...what if he was in a crash? All dead and bleeding and headless? Legless? Guts all hanging out – all draped over his shoulder? What then? I'd be alone again. How would I respond to being alone again? Would I contemplate suicide? How strong was I? Phil was always by my side. He was my guardian angel, my lover, my doctor, my soul mate – my damn better half. Phil had his hands all over my heart – he was gripping it – pumping it. With him gone...dead...how would I live???

  I shook my head. Cleared my thoughts. I saw something up ahead and squinted:

  Blinking red lights. License plate. It was Fran's car.

  A naked man ran in front of me. I yelped and hit him and slammed on the brakes. The man was under the car. An equally naked woman ran up and pulled him out and up to his feet.

  Fran and Phil stood in front of my headlights.

  Amazing emotions then.

  Confusion.

  Fear.

  Anger....

  It felt like I was in my very own movie: The camera zooming in on our faces for dramatic effect. I remember getting out of the car and hollering at them – throwing mad questions at them. “What?” “Huh?” “Jesus!” “F-this!” and “F-that!”

  “What the hell!” I went. “What the hell is this!?”

  Fran held Phil in her arms.

  “You almost killed him!” she said.

  They were damn dirty. Mud and leaves covered their life-giving bits. I took a step closer.

  “Phil? What did she do to you??? Are you on drugs? Your eyes....They're completely red – filled with blood!”

  Phil was shaking his head at me.

  “It's over,” he said. “We're done!”

  Fran held him in her arms.

  And then she kissed Phil on the mouth. Their tongues went at it like bewildered snakes. Phil was in ecstasy. I saw in my mind's eye a picture of the future – of us married. It shattered into pieces and went into my eyes. Crying was immediate. He gave in. Is that was happened? I thought. She finally won. I wanted to run up to him and slap some sense back into that head of his.

  “What did she do to you? Are you on drugs?”

  He shook his head.

  “Witch! You must've put some kind of hex on me. It's over now. My eyes are open.”

  He yanked at his hair.

  “You make me sick. Looking at you is like looking at an abortion. God!” He picked up rocks and began throwing them at me. “Get
away from me!” he went. “Beat it! Scram! I hate you!”

  Fran just laughed and laughed – hands on her knees. At certain points (usually when a rock hit my head), she pointed and made an 'O' face and said, “Ooooh! Ho ho ho!”

  One got me right on the temple. Dizziness took me. I felt like falling over. Had the world gone mad?! Was I dreaming??? Gadzooks! Was this Hell??? All I could manage to say was, “I...I...I....”

  Listen! Get a grip! Stop it. I was weeping – blubbering. My brain yelled, You're making a fool of yourself. Just shut up! Run away before he throws bigger rocks!

  Fran walked up and jabbed her finger at my chest.

  “Now who's the better one, huh? Nowww who's the lucky one!”

  I looked at Phil – expecting him to run up and kick Fran in the back, expecting him to carry me away, run off with me into the dark, back home, tell me that it was all some sick joke.

  Didn't happen.

  Phil just stood there with his arms folded across his chest. He was scowling at me – like he was trying his damnedest to burn lasers into my face. And it worked, too. I felt my brain melting. I spun around and ran into my car and drove away...leaving them in the dark.

  Left them to their gross business.

  Now what?

  FRAN

  After Phil was done doing things to me, I put my clothes on, and we got into my car. He was dripping with mud and shaking all the time, smiling, teeth chattering. What a mess. I made him sit on newspaper, and we drove off. He fell asleep, his arms and legs twitching. Bad dreams. He was yelling in his sleep.

  “Aliens!” he went. “Touching me. Caressing me! Ohhhhh....”

  I was freaked out. I wanted him to shut up with the bizarre talk, so I punched him in the face a few times. It seemed to work. He just snored the rest of the way to his car. The thing was a wreck – roof torn clean off.