Buenos...What?
The sound of a mariachi band is the first thing I hear. It’s a veritable jackhammer in my brain: who the hell thinks it’s a good idea to play that crap at...what time is it, anyway? I fumble around looking for my mobile device. Three missed calls and a ton of text messages, the latter being variants of the question “How the hell did you do that?” I stare at the screen in disbelief.
“You gave the guys a fright, Kari, though I do have to admit it was funny to see the dumbasses have to pay up." My companion stands in the doorway separating the main room from the bathroom. "I think they've learned their lesson quite nicely: never bet against an American."
"What happened?" My voice is little more than a croak. I can still feel a burning sensation in the back of my throat. "Never bet against an American?"
"Yeah. Dumbass numero uno had boasted that no American woman could beat the habanero challenge. Justin said you could, and...well, one thing led to another and before we knew it you had downed a seafood ceviche with two different types of habanero, a chile relleno with three types of habanero in the filling, and a carne asada marinated in some stuff with four types of habanero. And you had a monster strawberry margarita with each one. Dumbass numero dos about shat one and hightailed it out of there. Justin, Frank, and Chris are still celebrating your triumph, by the way. They told me to tell you 'way to go' when you finally woke up."
Oh, shit. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. "In plain English?"
"That is as plain as it can be. You caused two dumbasses to make fools of themselves, Kari. Good on you."
I wince as it dawns on me what had happened. "I don't feel so good."
"No kidding. Come on, let's go meet the guys and they can tell you more."
The First Night
You lean in towards me
Arousal in your eyes
The blanket covering me falls away
Tentatively at first you reach out
Desire in your touch
Your hands learning my every curve
Your lips pressing kisses against me
Slowly your hands travel downward
Caressing, gently probing
Moans fill the air, from you or from me?
Who can really tell?
You find my center, reveling in the wetness
Backing off, then repeating
Watching me closely as I struggle to keep control
Watching my body betray me
Sensations crashing, colliding
Your kisses bringing me back to myself
And then you slide into me
Retreat and crash, ever so gently
Bringing me to life
Bringing me to pleasure
Your eyes on me all the while.
To Bid You Farewell
The January day dawned gray and dreary
When we had to say goodbye
Bound together in shared sorrow
Children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews
Embraces shared and words of comfort whispered
Consolation found in precious memories
Your life summed up beautifully by your daughter and grandson
Another angel welcomed home to Heaven
Watching over her loved ones left here on Earth
Until I see you again, Aunt Virginia
So dearly loved and so deeply missed.
#poetry #freeverse
The Day Everything Changed
I recognize him in the crowd, though he isn’t wearing his clerical garb. Smiling. Laughing. He even has the gall to tweak a baby’s nose. How many families’ lives had he ruined two years ago on the witness stand when he claimed that young men’s accusations against him were false? Unconsciously my fingers brush against the gun barrel, the tearful testimonies echoing in my head. Justice. I know what they’ll say about me in the parish. Painting me as evil for murdering a man of God. The same families who will no doubt condemn me for what I have to do weren’t there to hear my older brother and my cousins confess the same painful secret about Father Murphy.
A buzzing sound interrupts my reverie. It’s a series of text messages. Alexander, Jonathan, Philip, Michael, Edward. All of them texting prayers. Prayers from George, Frank, Roy, Anthony, and Gerard. It finally hits me, the weight of what I’ve been asked to do. Not just for my brother, not just for my cousins, but for all the families forced to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. For the families dealing with the same tragedy as mine. I replay it over and over in my head...the judge announcing a verdict of not guilty...the anguished screams of the victims and their families...the smile on Father Murphy’s face. It’s that smile that disturbs me, even now.
He walks toward me. I can see something in his eyes--recognition? Fear? He knows who I am, I was in court every day for his trial. “Lidian.” There’s hesitation in the way he says my name. “How have you been? We’ve missed you at Mass.”
“You know why we aren’t there.” Slowly, methodically, I withdraw the gun. “And you know what? You’re going to tell everyone why my family goes to Mass in a different parish.” I point it towards his head. “Go on. Tell them. Tell them what you did to my brother. To my cousins. To other males in the parish.”
“I don’t understand, Lidian. The jury...” He takes notice of the gun and steps backward. “I was acquitted.”
“Tell them, you bastard, or I will.” I look him square in the face. “Tell them what you did. Tell them, God damn it!”
“There’s nothing to tell, Lidian. The jury acquitted me. You were there, you heard the foreman tell me I was found not guilty.”
I step forward. “So my brother lied. Alexander lied. My cousins lied. Philip, Jonathan, Edward, Roy, Frank, Michael, George, and Gerard all lied. And the other young men in the parish who you victimized...they lied as well?” I find the trigger. “That’s what you’re telling me? That they made it all up? That somehow they got together and concocted this story to make you look bad?” I can hear my heart pounding. “No. You're not going to get away with it." Without warning I pull the trigger and watch as he falls. I dial Alexander's number.
"Everything okay, Lidian?"
"Yes."