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Betrayal

Posted on July 29, 2007
Filed Under The Stories |

The sonorous voice of the priest intoned the words in the only way he knew how, “Roland Rozario was a good man…”

Hope you know what you’re doing boss…

Salvador was the only person dressed in formal funeral attire. He looked like a Salvador right from his black, intensely polished black shoes to the shiny surface of his slicked-back hair. His high, narrow forehead was creased into a frown against the heat of the sun which beat down mercilessly upon the graveyard. The smell of freshly-dug mud wafted through the air and mingled with the smell of incense and long dead flowers. The altar boys perspired heavily under their habits and the priest was trying his best to prevent the rivulets that were originating at the top of his balding head from running into his eyes. The heat stung Father enough to blur his vision with unintentional tears as he murmured the words from memory. The platitudes came easily and he was already thinking about what a pleasure it would be to get out of the cassock. He decided that he could stand about another five minutes of this…

“Many are the people who were at the receiving end of his acts of kindness…”

Salvador kept his eyes downcast under the hood of his enormous eyebrows (people who didn’t know him were unsure about what made him more intimidating - his eyebrows or his black-as-the-night, horseshoe-shaped, drooping mustache). Even though he felt them, he didn’t know which three sets of eyes were watching him.

Mrs. Rozario had visions that were completely unbecoming of her newly acquired widow’s status. She studied the frowning brow and realised that she couldn’t remember ever having seen Sal bear an unlined countenance. The craggy features had often caused a flutter in her heart. Christina realised that the very undefinable and indispensable nature of Salvador’s services to Roland now made him the most dispensable. She suspected that a man like him didn’t pay much attention to his financial security. Which put him right where she wanted him.

Carlo had sniggered at the suit and Mrs. Costa had fired him a disapproving look so he hurriedly disguised it as a cough.

Bitch!

He glared at his grandmother’s ear for a long moment and when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to keel over and drop into her son-in-law’s grave because of his black thoughts he returned his gaze to Salvador. He couldn’t read his expression because of the angle they were at to each other but that didn’t bother him too much because he had never been able to figure out what went on in his father’s right-hand man’s head. There had been a time when Uncle Salvador had been the most exciting part of his life but he had been five years old for only a year and as he grew older, Uncle Salvador became Sal and the cold wall that grew between them was painted with the colours of a respectful guardian on Sal’s side and controlled defiance on Carlo’s side. As he stared at the broad back of the only person who’d been completely privy to the workings of his father’s mind Carlo wished that he was five again. He could still remember the smell of Uncle Salvador’s biddi-flavoured fingers and the Brylcreem in his hair as he swung him round and round before crushing him close in a bear hug. He never got that kind of love from anyone ever again. While Papa had been cold and distant all his life, Uncle Salvador’s distancing was slower and infinitely more painful. He stood his ground and stared at the slowly reddening neck, wondering whether things would be different now that Papa was gone.

Raisa would have been surprised at how closely her feelings were mirrored by those of her step-mother. She’d harboured a giant crush on Sal for seven of her nineteen years and even though she hadn’t let it prevent her from having a well rounded social life, she was painfully aware of the way her breath caught in her throat every time Sal greeted her. She was certain that he could teach her things that would make all her previous liaisons fall into perspective as the inexperienced fumblings that they were.

Maybe things will get easier now that Papa isn’t around anymore…

Salvador allowed his eyes to slowly scan the assembled faces before dropping them back onto the casket. He had learnt to make himself impervious to weather conditions a long time ago so he was very aware of the two pin-points of heat against the back of his neck. Being careful not to make any sudden movements, he rubbed the spots gently then joined his hands in front of him when satisfied that insects weren’t attempting to burrow into his skin. He was also conscious of the fact that Mrs. Rozario was standing too close to him. The two things that made Salvador break into a cold sweat were insects (of all shapes and sizes) and the feeling of being hemmed in. He refused to use elevators and had gone hours without visiting the toilets in establishments where the standard rest-room resembled a “vertical coffin”. He’d gone to some trouble to supervise the breaking down and enlarging of the toilet in his own home so that the ablutions area was comparable in size to his living room. He surreptitiously moved a step away from the boss’ wife and used his fingers to examine the back of his neck again. Nothing. His eyes took in the mess of white marble and black granite headstones and gravestones strewn around the graveyard. The sunlight reflected off the surface of the black stones and radiated off the white ones. He was certain that there were shifting shapes and other-worldly spirits supervising over these rituals like they probably had so many times before.

This one will be different. It has to be…

“Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust…”

The priest bent to toss the first shovelful of mud into the grave. Salvador was aware of the way Mrs. Rozario’s dress stretched over her rear as she bent over to do the same. One by one, relatives and friends tossed some mud onto the coffin and filed out and even though there were over a hundred and fifty people, not many tears were being shed. Mrs. Costa was the only one managing a few choked off sobs but even she gave up on hearing no backing vocals and reconciled herself to sniffing loudly. The children stood stiffly next to their step-mother and accepted the condolences, hand-shakes and hugs from those that offered them and the last memory that all the visitors had of Roland Rozario’s funeral was the solemn face of Salvador, standing with hands folded in front of him looking like a footballer protecting his genitals while waiting to quell an indirect free kick aimed at his team’s goal.

Salvador supervised the clearing of all the ceremonial oils and incense-sticks that had watched over his boss before the funeral. His eyes were tired from the long vigil that he’d maintained by the side of the body and even though his body was ready to rest, his mind was still alert. The need for a biddi was the only thought that seemed to be able to shatter the bubble of alertness he’d built around his mind so he checked the stop watch he had started two hours before Mrs. Rozario came downstairs at five a.m. to tell him that Roland wasn’t breathing. He’d already been awake but had resisted the temptation to appear fully dressed when summoned by the boss’ wife. The quickly changing numbers now read 17:54:17 and counting…

Christina Rozario was finding it difficult to stay calm. There were several questions running through her mind. She wasn’t sure how a thirty-five year old widow was supposed to behave.

Roland’s children…

She was well aware of the way Carlo looked at her. The thought of playing with her step-son was an attractive notion but she was quite certain that there wouldn’t be much sport in that, even though his brooding good looks probably drove younger girls to desperation in their quest for his attentions. She thought of him as nothing more than a child in the erotic arts, untrained in using what nature had given him.

He doesn’t even know that I’m aware of my effect on him.

The thought brought a smile to her lips and her eyes fluttered open. The ceiling fan spun slowly in the air-conditioned bedroom that she’d unwillingly shared with Roland for the past ten years. After his fall in ’89 she didn’t have to worry about providing any sexual favours, but the pressure of obtaining discreet lovers had begun to wear her down. She turned onto her side causing her bordering-on-inappropriate funeral dress to ride up her stockinged thigh. Her thoughts turned to the girl.

Raisa…

The memory of the name brought a rush of bile to her throat. Christina and Raisa had hated each other on sight and the animosity hadn’t ebbed over the ten years that they’d lived under the same roof. The girl had been a constant thorn in her side and had even come dangerously close to discovering one of Christina’s liaisons. Christina had attempted to have her sent to boarding school as a character-building exercise but Roland hadn’t wanted his daughter to live apart from the family.

Roland’s will. Raisa. Carlo. The Will. Carlo. The house. The money. Carlo. Raisa. Widow.

The spinning fan was making her dizzy so she closed her eyes. Salvador’s face came up, followed closely by Salvador’s hands. Only the knowledge that Roland watched her like a hawk had prevented her from giving in to the impulse to throw herself at the singularly dominant object of her desire. His being so-close-yet-so-far only served to fuel her desire. He was polite without being familiar and she often wondered whether his piercing eyes could actually see into her mind. If Christina had ever entertained a rape fantasy, the rapist would most certainly have been Sal.

She dozed off.

Salvador checked the stop-watch. The numbers flashed and changed and when he finally focused enough to register what he was seeing, it read 18:23:16.

Raisa was trying to watch television. Her only concession to the death of her father was that it wasn’t playing as loudly as normal. Video followed psychedelic video as her mind raced at the speed of the zippy edits on the 21-inch screen she was trying to watch. She was worried about her step mother and what she had in store for her now that the balance of power had finally shifted. Raisa had always wanted lots of money but everybody who knew her was well aware of the fact that she wouldn’t lift a finger to earn any. She was the kind of girl who enjoyed the knowledge that she was born into a family with lots of money. To secure her future she intended to marry into a family with more money. Raisa had her future mapped out but she was determined to have her share of fun before she settled down into a life of domesticity. Rumours of Carlo’s promiscuity hadn’t flown as fast and furious as they had about her and even though her father’s name prevented people’s impression of her from being crystallized into words, she had lived a charmed life. Even though she had been her father’s favourite relative, she knew she had been pushing her luck. Now Papa was no more and ordinarily she would have felt a sense of insecurity but Christina’s behaviour over the past few weeks had lulled her into a sense of complacency. Their relationship had almost become cordial. That and the thought of finally exploring the realisation of her fantasy about Sal filled her with a sense of delicious anticipation that hardened her nipples and left her experiencing a shortness of breath.

Soon Sal… I’ll know what it is like…

Carlo thought of caged animals as he paced. He was the only other person who seemed to treat the passing of his father with any measure of respect. He’d even considered wearing a suit to the funeral but had given up the idea in deference to practicality. He’d felt very humble and small when he’d seen Sal looking so cool in the scorching heat. He’d also known that there would have been no way he could have worn a suit through the entire ceremony without melting inside one of the fine worsted wool creations he owned. He knew that it would now be his responsibility to look after the business and the thought filled him with a sense of anticipation and fear. He was well aware of the responsibilities that came with the job of being the man who controlled Rozary Shipping and all the other ventures that his father had branched out into. He was twenty-three years old and ready to accept the challenge; the challenge at work and the challenge of staying on top of things once he went public with his relationship. With Papa gone he could finally come out into the open about it. It had been a long struggle, keeping many secrets and telling what felt like a million lies, but the secret had managed to outlast the old man.

The world is not ready for different people.

He knew that demands would be made of his time and he would have less time to spend with her but there was nothing that could be done about that. There had been a time when he’d considered giving it all up and going off to Goa and spending the rest of his life as a beach bum. That little notion had quickly been squashed by her. She believed that she’d done enough running and hiding for one life-time and she was now ready to settle down and enjoy the fruits of having snagged a rich guy. He was aware of all this and had chosen to simply consider it a minor flaw in Anita’s character. He was completely blinded by his love for her and he remembered the night he’d met her with only the greatest of pride…

He hadn’t known that he’d decided to try and find a drink in the only gay bar in that part of the city. While he was seated on a bar-stool, she’d walked up to him and brazenly asked him to buy her a drink. He did. They’d ended up going back to a hotel he’d taken other women to. Her only reaction to this bit of “been there, done that” preparedness had been a raised eye-brow and a slight smile. After placing her hand-bag on the chair closest to the bed she had proceeded to climb out of her dress and stand before him, as if for inspection. His heartbeat, which had quickened ever since they stepped out of the car, was doing triple time and he could still manage a smile at the memory of how aware he’d been of his pulse at the time.

“Like what you see?“

He took in the large firm breasts, the slim yet showing-signs-of-thickening waist and the narrowish hips which showed bulges in places that shouldn’t have had them. She had left her panties on.

“Mmm-hmm…”

“Liar! You’ve seen better.”

“I’m not in the habit of comparing the women I sleep with.“

“My, how grown up and worldly-wise!“

“Are you making fun of me?”

She shook her head and walked over to his chair and her fingers were whisper light as they undid the buttons on his shirt, parted the material and took in his almost hairless torso. Her deliberate movements made him feel like his head would explode and the idea felt strangely welcome…

“I’m going to show you a better time than you’ve ever known.”

The line had a deflating effect on his hard-on and he remembered thinking “Jesus! Do all casual pick-ups think they’re the best?”

Her next words got his attention, “Did you know we were sitting in a gay bar?”

His silence was answer enough and he suddenly pushed her back and ripped off the panties in an almost singular motion. Her surprise was quickly replaced with amusement and she smiled, “Satisfied? I don’t have a dick.”

He sat back and she leaned forward to continue the slow but sensuous process of undressing him. Just before her head sank past his navel he thought of something, “So what were you doing in a gay bar?”

“Trying my luck.”

“Meaning?”

“I swing both ways.”

“So you were looking for a woman…?”

“I was looking for whatever I could find.”

“Yeah right! Like you would find an interested man in a gay bar…”

“Found you didn’t I?”

“I was there by accident…”

“An accident is just an event whose time has come.”

The sex was fast and furious yet they’d found the time to smoke some stuff that was making him feel pretty crazy…uninhibited even. He was lying on his stomach feeling too sluggish to get onto his back even though his head was at an uncomfortable angle and he knew he would have to move soon or risk pain the following morning. She rubbed her naked breasts against his back and giggled into his ear, he smiled and moaned his appreciation. Her question brought giggles of his own, “How’d you like to be raped?”

“What you’re going to sit on it now?”

“No. I’m going to rape you.”

He still remembered how strangely her eyes reflected the light as she asked the question, “What do you say?”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me show you.”

She reached for the hand-bag and brought out a jar of lubricant jelly and a lime green strap-on. Her smile matched the glint in her eyes even as she said, “Bend over and enjoy the ride honey…”

His eyes began to mist over as he got on all fours. He puckered reflexively when she applied the jelly but the apprehension melted away and even the pain that followed was pleasurable…

He sometimes wondered whether he stayed with her because she looked like the type who wouldn’t hesitate to talk about the fact that he liked it up the ass…

He paced some more.

The stop watch was still running at 20:11:19… Sal checked his cellphone. The signal was pretty strong at four bars and the battery would last a while.

Why doesn’t he call!

“Expecting a call Sal?”

“Hunh? Oh Raisa, I didn’t hear you come in…”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Expecting a call?”

“Just checking the battery…”

“Why?”

“Haven’t charged it for some time now…and it runs out.”

“Only one person ever called you on that phone.”

He looked at her but her expression was unreadable. He nodded, “Just habit, I think. I used to always check the battery… Boss would get upset if he couldn’t reach me…”

“He was obsessed with those things…”

“Hmm…what?”

“Cellphones. He was possessed. Never went anywhere without his phone. “

“I know.”

“Was it his idea to have it buried with him?”

“I…think so.”

“Why are you looking at your watch like that?”

“Hmm? Nothing.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes I’m okay.”

“You look like you’re waiting for something to happen.”

“No. Nothing. Raisa…?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you here? You wanted something?”

“He’s not going to call, y’know…”

Raisa had never been in his room before because he wasn’t in it most of the time. He didn’t live there but there were times when he was required to stay in the house for several days and at those times he slept in this room. It was known as Sal’s room and he owned the only key to its doors. The way she was taking it all in made him feel like his soul was being stripped bare under her gaze. Little sweet Raisa had somehow managed to transform into an unsettling, attractive young woman and he had only just noticed.

“What do you mean?”

“Papa’s not going to call.”

There was nothing in her voice as she said the words and for the first time in over twenty years he felt fear grab a hold of his throat. He also experienced the unpleasant and unfamiliar sensation of breaking into a sweat.

“What are you talking about?”

“You might as well go to sleep. He’s not coming back.”

“What do you mean?”

Your elaborate plan has failed. By now the slow-breathing-technique has turned into no breathing.

“Wha…how do you know?”

The ragged whisper seemed to come from a stranger and his fabled composure was quickly becoming a thing of the past.

“I’m my father’s daughter Sal, I paid attention when everybody thought I was too feminine to know these things. I’ve read the book that gave him the inspiration for this scam. I heard you talking over the phone when you ordered the special coffin. I know about the two cylinders which are supposed to pump air into the coffin for thirty-six hours after the coffin is sealed. I saw Papa practise the technique. I was in the room when he “died” the last time but you didn’t know.”

“What did you do?”

“Me? Nothing! Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You killed him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Sal, he died in his sleep.”

He looked searchingly into the eyes of the little girl he had swung around in the air when no one was looking. He remembered her high-pitched squeals and laughter and he wondered when she’d ceased to be that sweet little girl, “Why?”

“The cylinders never started pumping. He must have suffocated hours ago.”

“Why?”

“Why? Why what? Why did I do it? Why did I do this to a father who looked after my every need? Why did I make sure that my father didn’t pull any surprises on us? Or is that “why” just a why?”

He was silent because he didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll tell you why. Because I got tired of waiting in his shadow. Because he shouldn’t have remarried. That was an insult to my mother. Because I want what I want and I’m not going to let him pull all these stunts and screw around with my life. For the past five years I have really wanted only one man Sal and I couldn’t have him while Papa was alive. Papa would have given control of the company to Carlo, and my faggot brother doesn’t deserve it.”

“But… how?”

“I knew about the threatened raids. I must admit it was a brilliant idea though.”

The colour began to return to his face and he even managed a smile. Raisa had been pacing around the room pausing every so often to check his expression and the change stopped her short.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

The smile became broader until it was a laugh and he enjoyed the anger that crept into her eyes and coloured her cheeks, “Don’t laugh at me Sal!”

The tone of her voice made him want to stop, not because he was afraid of her but because he wanted to drag it out. He looked down at his wrist and stopped the timer. He didn’t bother to raise his eyes to meet hers.

“Why are you smiling? What’s so funny?”

“You acted in haste.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t think.”

“About what?”

“Since your father planned to come back, it’s unlikely that he was planning to live without any money.”

“So?”

“You aren’t likely to share your money with a stranger are you?”

“No, but what has that got to do with anything?”

“He needed to have access to his money right?”

“So?”

“He made sure he would.”

“Meaning?”

“He converted his wealth into more liquid assets…”

“So?”

“… in another name.”

“Wha…what does that mean?”

“That means you don’t get anything because you didn’t think.”

“Wait. What happens to the money?”

He shrugged and examined his finger-nails.

“Answer me! What happens to the money?”

“He gets it.”

“Who? “

“The man whose name he used to transfer the money.”

“Who was that?”

“Me.”

“You?”

“Me.”

“Why didn’t you kill him yourself?”

“He was my boss.”

“You’re a stupid, stupid man…”

“No Raisa, I am loyal. That is something you know nothing about.”

“Yeah that may be so, but it didn’t take too long for you to stop your watch. I’ll bet you were just waiting to see whether he was coming back before you took his money…”

Sal reached for his cellular phone, pressed the speed-dial number for his boss and spoke over his shoulder as he listened to the line connecting, “The timer was for you. Hello… boss? Ya… ya, she’s here… ya. Okay.”

He turned and held the phone out, “He wants to talk to you.”

She reached for the instrument even as disbelief and despair struggled for the dominant position on her face, “H-hello?”

“Hello baby.”

“W-who is this?”

“Forgot my voice so soon?”

“No, it can’t be…you’re dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint you my dear… it really is me.”

“But…”

“… you cut the pipes. I know. Sal rechecked the casket and found your handiwork.”

“But…NO! You can’t be alive! I killed you! You’re dead!!!”

She threw the phone away and it shattered upon hitting the wall. Then she screamed. When the people from the hospital took her away, her mind was completely gone. Sal watched the van disappear into the darkness and went back into the house, picked up a land line and called the only number he had memorised over the years, “It’s done boss.”

“Good. What about the others?”

“Fast asleep. Your mother-in-law said they must eat something…they both ate little but it was enough.”

“Good. Good. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“Ya.”

“See you then…and Sal…”

“Yes boss?”

“You’re a good man.”

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