Gerry was haunted by images of his wife laying down having
sex with that rat Ishmael. He imagined them in all sorts of positions and in
each one of them he saw his wife’s face moaning with her eyes to the back of
her head like he used to make her do early in their courtship. He remembered
how he used to make her quake with orgasmic excitement. He remembered how she
would look at him with amazement, wonder and love in her eyes after each
session of rough raw sex. That is who she was…a woman who enjoyed being
conquered and treated like a whore in bed. He realised that the times they made
love were the times she seemed not to enjoy the sex. And now this little boy
named Ishmael was doing to her what he used to do back then. And in his mind he
could see her cry in ecstasy while Ishmael laughed at him. Half the time it was
the submission position that tormented him. Doggy style!!! On top of that his
wife had mentioned divorce. Not with Gerry. Gerry had a superiority complex.
There was no way anyone would make the decision for him. He was the one that
broke hearts, he was the one that ended relationships and it would forever
remain that way.
“Ishmael will pay for this disrespect. I will show him hell”
As a cadre and a police reserve,
Gerry had connections on both sides of the law. He was as crooked as they came
and very smart. He had done a lot of unsavoury things for a lot of politicians
so he had a special button for each and every one of them. He had a file on the
rich and very powerful. Information is power and he had lots of it. It is that same power that gave him leverage
and a getaway jail card that he used at his discretion. He was as powerful as
his physical build. And he was going to use that power to hurt Ishmael. He knew
just how.
Gerry was wealthy. He lived a
simple life in Chisamba but was some sort of star within the circles of the
rich and powerful in the capital. In Lusaka, Gerard Mandanda Chisanga was a
Casanova who was known for his generosity. He made it rain. He lavished the
women in his life and they loved him for it. He had the tailor-made suits and
the expensive watches. His wit was sharp and his acquired taste was through
years of watching the life of the rich and famous. He was friends with the
likes of Mainga. Universities and Colleges were his playing ground. He put the
Z in “daddy”.
Using his connections in OP and
the police. He discovered something that brought a smile on his face. He had
finally found the first piece in his quest for revenge. He knew what to do.
_________________________________________________________________________________
“I need to
get some air, please excuse me” I said as I walked out of the house jumped into
my car and sped off. I didn’t know where I was going but I kept going.
How could I have lain in the same loins that the love of my
life came from? Who does that? What level of disrespect is this? Why was the
universe punishing me at every turn? What did I do to deserve this? Why did I
wait until she died before I could tell her how much I loved her? Why did I not
kiss her when she asked me to that night in Livingstone? Why did I allow that
ratchet Caucasian into my life? Why Kenya of all places on this earth? Why?
I had driven miles and hadn’t realised I was in Lusaka. It
was almost midnight so I decided I was going to sleep at one of the lodges in
Mass Media area. I checked in and went straight to my room.Jameson from
Northmead was my friend and I took a full swig straight from the bottle. My
mind went back to the woman I had left back at my house in Chisamba and the
revelations of the day. I took the
wallet off the side table and removed an old picture of Bison. Tears ran down
my cheeks.
“I’m sorry ek se. I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know. I’m
so so sorry. Tell me…what was I to do? In trying to run away from your memory I
ran straight into your mother’s arms. How will I live with this knowledge? I’m
sorry boi. I have let you down once more. I know I do not deserve your
forgiveness. I’m sorry”
I took another swig and blacked out.
______________________________________________________________________________
"Is this my punishment for not introducing myself into
my daughter’s life when I had the chance to? What is life? To find out my
daughter passed away from her lover, the man I’m sleeping with?"
Longa was tormented by the past that had become her present.
She loved Mwila-An as much as she hated her. As much as she
had flirted with the idea of getting rid of her while she was still in the
womb.
Longa remembered that day vividly two decades ago when she
had gone to visit her friend in the neighbourhood. She was in full puberty mode
with pimples on her face but it seemed to only further interest her friends’
brothers and the boys in the hood. There was a way they looked at her that made
her feel both uncomfortable and beautiful. It gave a sort of confidence and
power how they all seemed to freeze and ogle whenever they saw her. On that
fateful day, she met him. All she knew about him was that he was her friend's
elder brother. He was a strong member of the church and his wife was devoted to
him. Once in a while she saw him playing with a baby boy; his young son. As
fate would have it, He lured her into his room by sending her to go and get
something for him. There, he took her innocence away from her.
It was a confusing time. How could a man so good do
something so bad. Longa only told Miss Allen when she discovered she was
pregnant. Her parents never knew and they died without ever knowing. No charges
were ever pressed against Mr Situmbeko. Longa suddenly felt a lump in her
throat, her body trembled and felt too heavy for her knees.
“Oh my God Noooo…Lord please no.
This can’t be. I hope it isn’t.” she frantically went through Ishmael’s drawers
trying to find pictures of his parents.
Ishmael was very private about his family and
never mentioned them or hang family portraits in his house. She went to his
bedroom and checked his drawers. At the very bottom of his boxers' drawer was a
small photo album. She took it out and browsed through it…right there on the
fifth page was a picture of a tall, skinny, handsome man with thick rimmed
glasses and a smoking pipe. Fear ran through her veins, unlocking a part of her
she had long thought closed. Her heart stopped.
_________________________________________________________________________________
I woke up with a headache and a hard on. My penile veins
were throbbing as much as my head was pounding. I stumbled straight to the
bathroom, took a pee and stared at the man in the mirror. I could barely
recognise the man I saw. I washed my face and stared again...scars. I managed a smile. Scars gave the face
character after all. I looked like Khal Drogo and liked it. The thought made me
laugh.
My Bison was like Khaleesi in some ways. Strong of will,
Confident, Decisive, Fearless and Stubborn. Traits I admired. I missed her. A
ball of salt water ran on to my lips. I wiped it off and hit the shower.
In my drunken state, I had at least remembered to put my
phone on the charger. I saw a blinking green light and reached out for it. It
wasn't a missed call from Longa. I opened my WhatsApp and saw a message from an
unknown but familiar number.
Hi Ishmael. Mandanda
here. It has been a while since we last spoke. I thought I should finally share this with you seeing as you
like sharing. Enjoy watching. *laughing emojis*
I pressed the download button accompanying the message. It
looked like a home made video of two adults having sex. I looked closely and
saw my Bison with her legs wrapped around a man who didn’t care to take his Tag
Heuer watch off. My heart stopped.
He put the Z in “daddy”.?
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