The CONFESSION series are written by Belly Bang, if anyone is interested in publication please contact me at [email protected], I will forward an email contact for the author.
CONFESSIONS OF A DANCEHALL EX WIFE PART 23
Marco kept on playing, moving effortlessly on the field. Football was like second nature to him. Like making kissing, making love. His strong legs moved quickly as he shouted to others on the field, giving directions. Andre looked at me, then looked at Esther and Bumpy, and I could just make out the look of surprise on his face. Frassman held unto my hand and squeezed it, his eyes looking at what was playing out off the field, while the other spectators were glued to the events on the field. I still had the cell phone to my ear, though the call had finished. Marco passed the ball to a team mate. Bumpy started moving towards us, coming around the field. Esther and Andre stood their ground. A goal was scored and Marco and his team jumped and shouted. The first goal for the match, hard won and well deserved. Bumpy started walking quickly. Frassman was looking at her. Andre stood as if his feet were planted in cement and Esther seemed to be watching with a level of calm amusement. The match was now over. As Bumpy reached a few feet away from us, Marco ran over and hugged her from behind and held unto her, in a playful manner. She tried to get out his grasp, but it was impossible. His hold was firm and appeared to be getting tighter. He still had a huge smile on his face. His eyes had narrowed and grown dark. Bumpy tried her best to get away from him, struggling. Marco held up his head and was smiling at those around him. Everyone was happy. A match well played. They didnt know what was taking place in the midst of their joy. A look of immense pain came over Bumpy’s face as Marco’s embrace, which seemed loving to others, got tighter. He whispered something in her ears and I could see the tears roll down her face. She stopped struggling. She was quietly sobbing, now limp in his arms. Marco still had a smile on his face and as he held her from behind, anyone looking on would see a man and his woman, rocking away in a loving embrace. But for the tears. Frassman got up and walked over to them. Some of the spectators who were seated around me were looking on, speaking in low tones. I wasn’t listening. Marco released Bumpy, turned her around and held up her chin and said something. She nodded and walked away, Frassman beside her. Marco’s team mates joined him and they started talking about the match. Marco didnt seem annoyed one bit. He handled the situation without any drama. I was happy that this turned out for the better this time. A public brawl was something that was not on my agenda, especially one with the mother of my lover’s children. Lover. It sounded so romantic. But this was no romance novel. This was reality. And it was about to get even more eventful.
Frassman and Bumpy walked towards the parking area. People started leaving. Marco walked over the field to Andre and Esther. Nice, calm, easy like a Sunday evening stroll walk. I picked up his bag that was at my feet and walked in the same direction. Esther stood firmly as Marco approached. He slowly walked pass her and went straight to Andre who was now stepping backwards. Andre turned around to run and Marco sprinted and caught him by the shirt collar before he could get far, right at the edge of the field by some trees. I was trying to get over there before Marco did something stupid. I could only see his back and Andre was before him, but looking in my direction. Andre was saying something. I couldn’t hear. I just saw Marco’s hand rise and fall several times and as I reached closer I heard Andre saying “Mi never know!!! Mi never know!!! She just call mi an beg mi carry her go one match an seh she ah guh pick up her fren. When mi tek a check it ah Bumpy she did ah guh fah”. As a fist connected with him, cant tell which part, he bawled out and I too cried out to Marco, “Yuh ah guh kill him”? The four of us were alone on this side of the field and the commotion would only have been noticed by someone on the other side of the field who was paying close attention. I dropped the bag and ran up to Marco and held his arm. He didnt bring it down this time. “Watch yuhself”, was all he said to Andre as he let him go and walked off. Andre face was bruised and his lips and forehead were bleeding. He looked frightened and wasn’t saying anything. Esther came over and said “Mi never know seh all ah dem yah sinting yah woulda gwaan enuh. Look wat dat f—r do to yuh”. “Yuh know dat me and the man not into anyting and yet yuh insist and carrying me hear”, Andre managed to say, spitting some blood on the ground. “Him nuh have no right fi do dis to yuh my yute and mi never know dat he was here. Mi did hear bout da football match an yuh know how mi love footballs”.With that she walked off, calling to someone on the other end of the field. The sky became cloudy and thunder began to roll.
CONFESSIONS OF A DANCEHALL EX WIFE PART 24
I picked up Marco’s heavy bag. Andre, in all his pain, took it from me. We both walked towards the parking area. “Let mi talk to Marco cause him never have to behave suh with yuh”, I pleaded. I really felt sorry for him. “Please, just leave it alone and dont seh ah word to him”, Andre barely said. When I reached my van, Andre placed the bag on the back seat. Frassman was nowhere to be seen. Bumpy was gone too. Marco was talking to some men from White Wing, cracking jokes and doing what macho men do after football matches like these. Idle chat. Cuss bad word. Loud laughter. Acting as if nothing happened. Andre went over to a car and drove off. I sat in the van. Too much. This was getting way too much now. But what to expect. These situations come with men such as Marco. I reclined the seat and closed my eyes, playing over the scene again and again in my head. I must have fallen asleep. “Move over”. I opened my eyes and Marco had the door open. I moved over to the passenger side. He came in the van and drove. “Marco, yuh know that never call for still”. No reply. He got on his phone and made a call. He just said ok as the person on the other end answered and hung up. Looking at him, I realised it was better that I kept my mouth shut. We were driving through Half Way Tree heading towards Hagley Park Road when he finally spoke. “Di next time yuh see something happening, walk the next way”. The way he said it and so long after I spoke to him, it took me a few seconds to realise that he was talking to me. “But Marco, yuh nuh easy, wat yuh mean by……”, I was cut short by his hand quickly reaching across and grabbing me in the face. He held it tightly then roughly pushed my head into the headrest. I was shocked. He said nothing. “So yuh start beat woman now?”, I asked him as tears formed in my eyes. He reached across again but this time I was faster, moving away and squeezing against the passenger door. He grabbed my blouse and pulled. I hit his hand but he didnt let go. He was still driving, his eyes on the road. He let go of me. I remained squeezed against the door, watching and waiting for his next move, whatever that was going to be. He drove unto Mahoe Drive, just above White Wing and stopped. He took his bag out of the back and opened the door. “Call yuh later” he said. Then he jumped out and shut the door. He went over to a zinc gate and pushed it and disappeared. Just like that. I went behind the wheel and drove. I called him. He answered after the first ring. “Wassup”. Just like that. Like nothing never happen. This man come in like him bipolar, sick. Split personality. His voice did not show any sign of the stress of today’s events. “Marco, wat really ah gwaan?”, I had to get soem answer, any answer at his behaviour. “Wat yuh mean by wat really ah gwaan? Mi ah guh home”, just so. Home. A simple word yet its use was clear as day. He was still a family man. A man with responsibilities. A man who had a home. A woman. His woman. “Marco…”, I started. “Yow, mi cant bother wid nuh long talk talk right yah now. Mi have someting to look about and this can wait till later. Mi will call yuh”, and with that he hung up.
I called Andre. I had to find out how he was doing. “Hello”? he answered, sounding a bit cautious, frightened. “Its me, just calling to find out how you doing”. “I am cool, by the doctor”, he sounded better now, relaxed. “Where are you?”. “By Red Hills Road, the doctor office near Sugar & Spice”. “I know it”. I knew it well. That was my doctor’s office. The same office where Paul came and played the role of the baby daddy. Silence. I was now driving along Molynes Road heading towards Washington Boulevard in the direction of Red Hills Road. I was still connected. Not saying anything. “So you coming to look for me”? “Maybe. You want anything to drink”. He told me what he wanted and I stopped by the gas station. The mighty Andre Blingers. What a sight. The bleeding had stopped but the face was now puffy and black and blue. He had changed his shirt and he had started undoing his corn rows. Andre looked like the little boy he actually was, especially now that he was on the receiving end of several blows. “Wat ah mess ehh”, was all he could say. Yup. It sure was. My mind ran back to Marco and his erratic and uncontrollable behaviour today. I started to wonder what he was doing at that moment. After all, Bumpy was still his woman, for better or for worst. “Is like you made the right choice. Cause yuh see dat mi cant fight now”, he chuckled. “Yuh just was in the wrong place at the wrong time, dats all”, was all I could say. The nurse called his name and he went inside the doctor’s office. As I sat there I realised that he had left his phone behind. His phone. I wonder what would have happened if Marco saw all those text messages that he had sent to me, or worst, that I replied. My replies were innocent enough, that could be explained, I hoped. I took up the phone and held it in my hand. It rang. I looked at the screen and saw “Private Number calling”. The phone rang and then apparently went to voicemail. It rang again. Then stopped. The phone rang again and again. I let it ring out, putting it on silent. Didnt want to disturb anyone in the waiting area. The screen lit up and I saw “Bumpy calling”. Bumpy? No way. It couldn’t be. No way in rass hell. But then again, Andre might not be a fighter, but he was slick. Too slick. Bumpy was even slicker than I thought. I had to make sure it was her. I just had to. It wasn’t my phone, wasn’t my business. But then again it was. I wasn’t going to let her hear my voice. I just wanted to hear hers. To know whether it was her. I just had to know. I stepped outside and brought up the information on the screen and pressed return call. I heard a constant busy tone. I tried again and the call went to voicemail. I called again and this time someone answered.
It was spoke clear but in a low unmistakeable tone. As it spoke, telling what was going to happen, a chill ran down my spine. Someone cannot be so cold. Murderous. What was spoken was clear. And I knew that the person was capable of doing what he said he was going to do. I had my suspicions before. The signs were there. I just chose to ignore them. Now I knew from his own lips that he was not a simple man. Marco was not a simple man at all.
CONFESSIONS OF A DANCEHALL EX-WIFE 25
I kept myself busy over the next few days. Miss Marcia and I organised a general house cleaning and furniture rearranging. The vehicles were taken for servicing. I drove to May Pen to look for some relatives. Looked for some friends in Mandeville and Santa Cruz also. Had a few lunch sessions with the girls. Dinner too. Anything to keep me active and about. The girls were glad for the extra time we were spending together. Sharon told us that she had a new man in her life. She didnt want to call his name, saying that she will introduce him to us very soon. She was happy and that was good. Less time for f—-ry. She said that the relationship was awkward at first. But, after the few kinks were worked out, it was good to go. No name. That too was a secret till we were all introduced to this mystery man. Paul and Prince apparently were passing through some rough times. I went by the used car dealership to look for Paul. Between the clients, the workers, giving directions here and there, he somehow managed to ask me for my advice. Get a woman and make peace with God was my response. The man thing was not working out and I am the best person to tell him that. He laughed. Well, he was happy by time we finished speaking. Colin, Marvin’s cousin in London, called me one night. I had just returned home from a full day of doing absolutely nothing important and was in bed fumbling with the TV remote. He said that Marvin sent his love, that being remanded in Her Majesty’s Prison was a bitch and that he missed me. I suppose that a cornered man will say anything. But, strange enough, if I searched in the deep recesses of my heart, I kinda missed him – now and then. Colin asked about Marvin JR and I told him about my visit. Little man was doing good. I didnt go into all the details. But the most interesting part of the conversation was when Colin told me that he will be coming to Jamaica for a few days to sort out some business for Marvin. Two weeks time to be exact. Of course he could stay by the house. It was big enough, he was after all family and he treated me kindly while I was in London.
Andre called me daily. He was off the medication and getting better. The swellings had gone down. His humour was back. His flirting was constant. I found myself slowly but surely tolerating his calls. He wanted to find out how I was doing, who I was doing it with and if I could give him a chance. My reply was the same – I was surviving, alone and only if hell froze over, twice. Andre refused to give up. That was his problem. My immediate problem, my only real problem now was Marco. At first I didnt take his calls on that phone he gave me. I just wanted to avoid him. At the same time I knew that he was as much a part of my life and dealing with him is will always be a reality. Then Frassman called. It was the first time that he has ever done that. I wasn’t even sure it was him, until he identified himself. In a matter of fact tone he said “Di big man seh yuh fi ansa him call”. I got the message. Marco knew and I had a choice. What would I tell him? What did I tell him. I had a lot of things to concentrate on, been busy, phone chipping in and out, family issues. “Why the attitude?”, dismissing everything I had to say. I was in traffic heading home on a rainy Wednesday evening. “There is no attitude, just dat my mind aint here these days”, keeping it civilised, in a lying kind of way. “You still vex bout wat go on up by Mona, dont it?”, low tone, trying his best to probe, to get an angle on what was on my mind. “Well, you nearly beat the crap out of me after that so I really dont know wat to expect from yuh”, and that was the truth. “Dont exaggerate. Do better than that. I hold on to yuh. Cause yuh refuse to chill. No beating never go on, except with your little boyfriend”. And that was what really got my heart racing. “Andre is not my boyfriend”, I quickly responded. “Him nuh suppose to be. Is one man yuh have and that is me. No one else. Not even Marvin. Me. So with all dat going on, dont f—k yuhself and slip, OK”? Was he waiting on an answer? Should I get into an argument with him. Did he know that I visited Andre at the doctor ? This was the first time that he has ever dismissed Marvin out of my life. We had never discussed it before. It was something that just fell through the cracks, that wasn’t noticed or discussed. Marvin was therein England. Marco was here and I was here and that was all that mattered, up until now. I couldn’t find anything to say. “So you and Marvin finish”? First he made the statement now he wanted me to answer the question that he already answered. Now I was getting upset. “How me and Marvin fi finish, under these circumstances? Marvin put me where I am whether I like it or not. I cant play ungrateful. And there is your Bumpy and your children. The only we I see happening now dont look good”. “So what them have to do with us”? How the f–k can he ask something like that. “Everyting! Dem have everyting to do with me , you, how we eat, drink, sleep and fPPk. Yuh nuh see that the woman naw let yuh go. And you naw let her go either. The two of unno deserve each other as far as I see it”, truth mixed with jealousy and frustration. “How you know dat we naw leff”? That probing voice again. “I know. With all you talking about staying up by aunt and all that, you naw leave Bumpy and I will leave it at that”.
But it cant be left at that. It wasn’t that simple. Marco’s words rang clearly in my head, even after so many days. He didnt sound upset when I answered Andre’s phone, when I expected it to be Bumpy. I didnt say a word as he spoke in a low level tone. “P–y. Mi tell yuh already seh yuh ah f[[k yuhself. Look how mi grow yuh and show yuh certain tings. And yuh just nuh want tek nuh talk. Just like yuh hard ears big hole sister. She did get fi her length and yuh ah guh get the same”. Then the call was disconnected. Given the situation it may have been the words of a jealous husband. But somehow, something just not sitting right. And the talk about Kelly’s death. Something wasn’t right. My instinct told me that Andre knew about his sister’s murder that he was letting on. It was then that I began to think that all that was happening in recent times, Marco, Marvin, Andre, Kelly, everything, was somehow connected.
CONFESSIONS OF A DANCEHALL EX-WIFE PART 26
The Superintendent of Police paid me a visit at 7:00 in the morning. He was alone. He pressed the buzzer and I let him in. We sat on the balcony and Miss Marcia offered him something to drink. He requested a cold Heineken. He looked tired. Frustrated. But he went straight to the point. One last shot at the target. My lawyers were giving the ‘authorities” a run around and time was of the essence. The paper work to be signed was needed to ‘clear up’ some outstanding issues and all it needed was my signature. I was stalling the process. To show some good faith on their part, the ‘authorities’ had unfrozen two bank accounts that I held with Marvin, so there was access to those. But one in particular was being ‘monitored’ and I would not be able to get anything from that one. It didnt matter to me cause I never had any reason to transact business on it anyway. Am I in trouble, was all I wanted to know. “Should you be in trouble? You dont seem to fully understand the type of people who you have around you. That I realise. However, I see that you have enough sense to know that you have no control over the machinery that is operating around you. Marvin, Kelly and many others, the whole five yards, down to your special friend Marco are part of one big enterprise. Kelly is just a memory now, but still an important part of the machinery. Just sign the papers and all will be settled”. Food for thought. Made no sense denying, arguing, or questioning the whys and hows. He was the police. They have their resources and sources. But then again, he may not have everything neatly packaged. He came alone, early in the morning, trying to convince me to drop my signature. The machinery was not working how everyone expected. Thats a good sign, a plus for me. I think I will take my chances as it was. I politely told him that I was not interested and that if he wanted any further information or meetings he should contact the lawyers. After all, they were being paid a shit load of money to sort out whatever it was that was happening. I followed him to the gate and waved him goodbye. Good man, bad man, who to tell. But my signature not getting mixed up in shit that I have no clue about.
Andre called me as usual. He wanted to come over. Nope. He laughed. He wanted to know if I would be going to the Spenders Ball that was being held at Pilly Blacks Plaza that night. Maybe. Didnt want to get his hopes up that I would be going there to see him. Sharon called and confirmed that it was on for the night. The Spenders Ball was another of a long string of must go to events. Even when your body is tired, when you have been to the other important events on the dancehall calendar, the Spenders Ball must be supported. But the venue is along Olympic Way, Waterhouse, several blocks from White Wing. One easy bicycle ride for Bumpy and her trusty ratchet knife. Hmm. Sharon’s new man was expected to attend. That was a good enough reason to go. Bumpy wouldn’t be crazy to try some shit at an event like that. Clothes. What to wear? No idea. I sat on the bed skimming through a few magazines, idling my morning away. Miss Marcia told me that someone was at the gate to me. I asked her who it was and she said that she didnt know. I looked downstairs and saw a man wearing a helmet sitting on a bike. I pressed the intercom and asked who it was. “Come downstairs”. What the fPPk? I grabbed my robe and went outside. “Andre, wat you doing here”, I pissed as rass. He took off the helmet and with that boyish smile said “Was just passing by and I decided to visit”. I was mad as hell. And I let him have it there and then. The f===er just kept smiling. “Can I come inside”? Nope. Go home. He reached into his jacket and took out a small box and stretched out his hand towards me. I looked at it suspiciously. “And wat dis fah now”? I demanded. “Just a small token of my appreciation”. Really now. What the fPPPk is there to appreciate? I looked up and down the road. No other vehicles were on the road. So good for him, and good for me also. I took the box and opened it. “Are you mad”, as I took out the contents. “Madly in love with you”, he smirked. “You seem to have a short memory. Member wat happen to yuh di last time yuh decide to play Romeo”, I said as I put the contents in the box and returned it to him. “You dont like it”, he said faking a hurt look on his face. “I like it, but I dont want it. You better be going”. I turned around and he held unto my hand and squeezed it tightly. I dragged it away and walked back to the house, listening to the bike as it rode off. No missed calls from Mr. Man.
I wore a strapless red ensemble that stopped just above the knees. Simple hairdo, spending money and pocketbook. Miss Marcia had left for the evening so I had to lock up. As I grabbed the van keys from the corner table, I saw someone seated in the shadows of the living room. I jumped and was about to scream when he told me to be quiet. Marco walked over. He was wearing at-shirt and a jeans. He had a gun stuck in the front of his jeans. His hair was pulled out and he looked miserable and he was sweaty. He was obviously not on his way to the Spenders Ball. He walked over to me, a black travelling bag in one hand, the other empty. “I need to shower”, he mumbled and climbed the stairs. I replaced the keys on the table. Always the fuPPPg same. Surprise people, act as if it was nothing, no explanations, did as he pleased. No questions asked. I placed the pocketbook beside the keys and slipped the heels off. I glanced outside and saw the gate closed. No sign of Frassman. No other vehicle in the driveway aside from the Range. As I climbed the steps I took up his shoes, his socks, the jeans and a bunch of keys. At the top of the stairs I found the t-shirt. It had dried blood on the front of it. Not a good sign. I went inside my bedroom and heard the shower on. The TV was turned on to a Western Channel and the black travelling bag Marco had earlier was on the bed. He came out of the bathroom, stood in the middle of the bedroom, drying off himself with a towel. He had also washed his hair. He was staring at me. “Where is Frassman”?, was the only thing I could say as I sat on the bed, glass in hand. “Him soon come”. It was then that I noticed the cut on his hand. It was bleeding. I got the medical kit and dressed his hand as he sat on a chair. He didnt say a word. “So, you going to the dance”, I asked as I finished what I was doing. “Not sure”. “Why not”, I had to know since he was already disrupting my plans. “Your yute come check yuh this morning”? “Which yute yuh talking bout”? “Blingers”. “No, I dont remember”, I lied. Still naked Marco got up and went over to the bed and opened the black travelling bag. He emptied the contents on the bed. Money. Lots of money. In crisp bank stacks. Close to a million Jamaican dollars or more. He pushed them aside searching for something and then he found it. He walked towards me, held my hand open, placed something in it and squeezed it shut. My eyes felt watery and I tried my best not to cry. I knew what was in my hand. I felt it. “Him did come and check me this morning and thats all”, I confessed. “Nuh fret, mi know nothing else never gwaan still, but why yuh lie”? He walked over to the bed and with one sweep he pushed the money and the bag to the floor. Marco then laid down on the bed, remote in hand. I was still standing in the middle of the room. “I didnt want to get yuh upset. He came and checked me and thats all”, I tried to sound convincing. But I knew that he knew more. “Try it on”, he requested, still watching the TV. “Why”? “I said to try it on”, he repeated, same tone, still watching the TV. The white gold necklace in my hand felt it weighed a tonne. It felt lighter this morning when Andre handed it to me in the box. I flung the chain on the ground and sat in the chair. What happened to Andre? What was this all about? “Wat is mine is mine and some bwoy need fi understand dat”. “Yuh kill him fid dat? Yuh really kill him fid at foolishness”, I was stunned, upset. “Who say nothing bout killing? Yuh hear seh mi ah kill nuh bady”? This time he was looking straight at me.
A phone was beside me ringing. It wasn’t mine. I took it up and looked at it. Bumpy Calling. I threw it at him and it struck the pillow just as he shifted his head. “F--k off, just fPPk off and leave me alone”, I spat and walked out on the balcony. It was a full moon.
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