Читать книгу The Policeman's Other Woman - Shala Rachel - Страница 3

I had just picked up Reece from Tai Kune Do classes and was diligently headed home, as I usually do. But something about the pre-sunset, reflecting on the waters of the Gulf of Paria on the Mosquito Creek magnetically drew us to the look-out point to admire its beauty. There were a few people scattered nearby, mostly middle-aged men with their fishing rods. We got out of my little green buggy and walked close to the edge of the water which was near the cremation site. We stood there for all of 2 minutes, looking into the vast horizon before noticing a huge black vulture at the corner of our eyes. It was eerie, but not enough to distract us from the splendor of the sunset. The sun was dipping fast. My eyes quickly scanned the rest of Reece’s face to get his reaction at the heels of the beauty of nature. One moment later, I held his hand and headed towards the direction of the car. The roadway was busy. Noisy. Yet still, I noticed that a car had stopped suddenly which seemed odd because that stretch of road is not a usual one to stop on; it was almost like a highway, you just drive without stopping. A large man with bulgy bloodshot eyes jumped out of the car and hurriedly walked in our direction. His physique was dominant and intimidating. Instinct made me pull Reece’s hand in an attempt to walk faster towards the car. But this man beat us to it. He literally ran up towards me and jammed his crotch against my waist. He said to me “family, hand over everything, or I will shoot you.” He proceeded to pass his hand over a gun that was attached to the side of his body so as to show me the shape of the gun which was hiding beneath his oversized red T-shirt. I pulled Reece behind me and handed over the smart key to my green bug.

He grabbed it from me and then commanded me to sit in the car. I did. I opened the door and pushed Reece onto the front passenger seat and then I sat in the driver’s seat. I cannot remember what my thoughts were at that moment. I’m not even sure if I believed that it was real life. The gunman stood right beside me after he closed my door. He ordered me to hand over my phone and everything else in the car while instructing me not to look at him. My Nikon camera, my Motorola Razr and Samsung flip phones, my Guess purse with $280.00 cash in it, my Olympus voice recorder, Reece’s little Spiderman lunch bag with snacks, together with his Spiderman water bottle flask that he loved so much. We had gotten it at TJ Maxx just 6 months prior. That was our last visit to the US. I surrendered everything to the gunman. There was a plastic grocery bag in the back seat of the car with gift paper inside it. My brother’s birthday was in a few days, so I had bought wrapping paper. The gunman then opened the back door behind me. He took everything that I gave him and stuffed them all into the plastic bag. Before walking away, he said, “Don’t look back or I will shoot you.”

I didn’t look back - but I looked in the rear-view mirror. He got into the back seat of a silver B15 car that was waiting for him on the busy roadway and then disappeared as fast as he had appeared. I took a mental note of the number plate, but I quickly began confusing myself with the numbers while repeating out loud what I saw. I couldn’t find a pen or paper. I was frantic.

I looked over to Reece. The innocence, brightness, and happiness that I had just 2 minutes ago seen in his eyes were now gone. He didn’t look scared but he was definitely a confused little boy. And concerned. He was always a child who worked better with detailed explanations before a situation or event. You can imagine the great difficulty I had in explaining to him why his dad walked out on us when he was 2 years old.

Nevertheless, at this very moment, on January 21^st, 2013, at approximately 5:20 pm, I didn’t explain to Reece what happened. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even process what happened. But I do remember saying out loud while sitting in the car, “we need a phone to call grandma”. There was a supermarket nearby. We would have to walk for a bit and then cross the busy road to get there. I was always afraid of crossing roads by myself. Especially major roads. I lifted Reece as though he was still a toddler and carried him close to my chest. I’m sure that must have been a funny sight – a 7-year old wearing a karate uniform with a long yellow belt, being lifted by a clearly disoriented mad woman trying to cross a busy highway-like road.

While walking, I saw an old man with a fishing rod. I was skeptical to walk past him – what if he wanted to rob me too? I still walked past him though, I had to. Hurriedly scooting along, I said good evening. He replied to me and asked me if I brought “small-man” to fish. Being the person I am, anyone who shows me any bit of kindness would immediately become my new best friend. So, I stopped for a minute to explain to him that we were just robbed and that I was going to the supermarket to borrow a phone to make a call. I even asked him to help me cross the road, because crossing roads is, of course, perfectly terrifying. He offered to make the call for me and proceeded to dial the number that I dictated. Mommy answered. I told her what happened and she asked if we were ok. She didn’t seem to react with any emotion at all, but I’m sure it was because she was a bit shocked. She commanded me to stay there while she called the police and my brother. They were about 20 mins away from me. I asked the man if I could make another call, and then I called Dylan. He was sort of my boyfriend. We were in a situationship. Dylan and I met about 14 months after I moved back home after Reece’s father left us on that fateful Boxing Day of 2007. I was 24.

Word had spread in my home town that “Juls from Convent” came back home. Dylan had beautiful light brown eyes. I knew he liked me, and I liked him too, or maybe I liked the attention. I always secretly liked the attention from men. Maybe it was the Scorpio in me.

Dylan and I never really met often except at the mosque every Friday, or every night during Ramadhan. His uncle was the Imam there. Dylan’s dad, who was also a pious leader in the mosque, indicated to my mother that he wanted my hand in marriage for Dylan. He suggested that we talk and get to know each other first, and when the time was right, he would marry us. However, I wasn’t divorced as yet. I didn’t want to get divorced to be quite honest. I wanted to have the same last name as Reece so that he wouldn’t feel left out. After all, his father was already gone.

~The situationship~

Dylan and I were intimate only twice in the 4 years we were kind of together for. Our relationship was more comedic because our conversations were usually full of laughter about the most stupid things in the world. Nevertheless, he knew me, he understood me, he could have finished my sentences, he would recognize my every mood, he would hear my tears from 1000 miles away and would move mountains to make me smile, which he did very often. Everyone at home knew when I was on the phone with Dylan because I would literally laugh till I cry. I knew I didn’t love him romantically, but I was willing to settle for a relationship with him because he made me happy.

Our first time was definitely NOT something to remember, yet I do. My parents were not at home. Reece was at pre-school. Dylan happened to call and I happened to mention that I was home alone, but I didn’t invite him, and he didn’t ask. Five minutes later, he showed up in front of my gate, ringing my doorbell. I let him in. We barely even kissed when he picked me up with his goliath body, carried me to the first bed he could find in the house and threw me onto it. Most of my clothes were on during the entire 2 minutes of our sex. He pulled my panties off, inserted his manhood into me, of which I felt absolutely nothing for two reasons. One, my vagina, just like my personality was deep. Intensely deep. So, his manhood just barely knocked on my front door. Two, I didn't have romantic feelings for him during the entire act. While he penetrated me, I looked at him with absolutely no feelings of love or excitement, and in a split second, he pulled out and made me give him head. That part worked out in his favor. Since then, that was all he ever wanted from me. He said my mouth was designed to suck wood. He would pick me up in his Ford Ranger sometimes, we would say we were going for a drive to fill gas, or buy food and he’d make me give him head. In the beginning, I enjoyed that I could make him feel like that. I enjoyed that he wanted me and that I could make him cum. After a while, it became too routine. Monotonous. In my head, he started to smell like fish. He smelled like he had just finished having sex with someone else, and then came to me with his unwashed dick for me to finish him off. He used to tell me that he jacks off to me multiple times a day and it made me mentally vomit every time I went between his legs. I kept thinking about it like it was a nightmare, and I started to withdraw from him which often led to long periods of us not talking to each other because he was both possessive and aggressive.

The second time we had sex, it happened pretty much like the first, except with a few uninvited additions. He licked my ass. This was after all of his teeth scraped my pussy. He fingered my ass, he fucked my ass, and then made me finish him off with my hand. Future me would have loved this with someone else. But for the Juls I was at that point in time, it wasn’t at all exciting. It was worse than our first time.

Back to the robbery scene, Dylan was my second phone call. Despite our situation, I knew he loved me a lot. He raced down the highway from Grand Bazaar to the Mosquito Creek in 25 mins to meet me. He got there before my family or the police could reach. That meant a lot to me. He held me tight and told me he was so scared of losing me. I felt lucky to have him in my life. But all I could think about at that moment was that my periods were coming down, and I was wearing light blue yoga pants, without a pad.