Read When the Fairytale Ends Online
Authors: Dwan Abrams
When the Fairytale Ends (23 page)
Greg forced himself to grin at her dry joke. “Well, she left me a lot more than that.” He placed the flowers in a vase, covered the stems three-quarters with water, and carefully slid the vase across the island top while he closed the distance between them.
She picked up a nearby mug of ginger tea and sipped on it while giving him a blank stare.
Greg went on to explain about the money and why Mother Washington had entrusted the money to him instead of her daughters. He also told her about the offering he made to his church.
“So what am I supposed to do? Applaud you?” Shania stood there glaring at him. She picked up her knife, slid the carrot out the way with the blunt edge of the knife, then began chopping celery, using much more force than was required.
The longer Greg stared at the glistening blade, the more nervous he became. Maybe he should wait until she finished cooking and talk to her in a less dangerous part of the house. He didn't watch a lot of crime reality TV, but he'd watched enough to know that a high percentage of homicides, especially domestic homicide, happened in the bathroom or the kitchen.
He took a deep breath to still his trembling nerves and said, “Babe, I lied to you yesterday.”
“Really?” She made a sarcastic expression of surprise and slapped one hand against her cheek. “I would've never known!”
“Can you kill the sarcasm?”
“No, Greg, but I'm feeling like killing you!” she exclaimed, wielding the knife in his direction. Based on her volatile temperament lately, he did not put it past her. He held his hands up in surrender and jumped out of her way, but she tossed the knife on the island and it clanged to a stop. “You can't even lie straight, Greg. I looked in your eyes and knew instantly that you were lying.”
She put one hand on her hip and glared at him. “How do you expect this marriage to work if you breach our trust? Without trust, a relationship is nothing. Don't you know that?”
“Yes, I do.” He nodded and carefully reached across the island for the knife. Once the knife clattered into the sink basin, he felt a lot more at ease. “Baby, listen,” he said and went to put his arms around her, but she moved out of the way.
“You can talk to me without touching me.”
Her words felt like stakes being driven through his heart; however, he manned up, knowing that he deserved all of this and more. He should've never lied about the situation to start with.
Instead of touching her, he stood as close to her as she would allow and stared at her until she finally focused on his eyes. “I'm sorry, okay? No excuse. I screwed up.”
“Yes, you did,” she said, nodding her agreement.
“Franklin's right.” He leaned on his elbows as he continued to stare at her. “Your money intimidated me, babe. It made me feel like I had to work extra hard to prove to you that I can hold down my own.”
She rolled her eyes, then crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “So what'd you lie to me about?”
He inhaled deeply, knowing it was now or never. Finally, he refocused on his wife and said, “I went to sign the papers to finalize a loan yesterday.”
Her face pulled into a frown. “A loan? A loan for what?”
He inhaled even deeper. This time, he couldn't look at her when he spoke, so he settled on a spot just above her right shoulder. “A business start-up loan.”
She threw her hands in the air and walked out the kitchen. Greg followed after her, trying to get her to understand. He reached for her hands, but she slapped his hands away.
“Greg, just give me a moment.”
She tried to press the bedroom door closed, but he jammed his foot between the crack and spoke through the slit in the door. “A moment for what?”
“To think things over,” she yelled at him, pressing with all her might to shut the door.
His toes screamed for mercy, but he refused to move his foot. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he said, “Babe, you're scaring me. You make it sound like you're second-guessing your decision to marry me.”
“Maybe . . . maybe I am, Greg.”
Her words seemed to knock the fight out of both of them. She stopped pushing the door, and he stopped trying to force himself in. If her words had felt like stakes before, they felt like rusted nails nowârusted nails with serrated edges being hammered into his heart.
“You don't mean that, do you?” His words could hardly be considered a whisper. He wasn't sure if she'd heard him until she shrugged her shoulders.
She plopped down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. “What happened to us, Greg?”
His heart ached, seeing her in such pain and knowing full well that he was the cause of it. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, then settled on his knees, between her legs.
Her eyes were watery mirrors as she stared at him and repeated her earlier question.“What happened to us? Why did our fairytale end?”
He took her trembling fingers and pressed them against either side of his face and held them in place. “Life isn't a fairytale.”
She let out a strained laugh that sounded like a gargle. “God, don't I know it.”
“It'll get better for us,” he promised her and took her hands from his face and kissed both her palms. “Things will work out for us. I swear it to you.”
“Don't swear anything else to me.” She cut him off, then shook her head, biting her bottom lip to dam her tears. “Don't make me another vow until you can keep the vows that you promised me before man and God. To love, honor, and respect your wife.”
Greg pressed his face into her belly, inhaling her sweet fragrance mixed with the savory scent of the broth she was making. “I do love you, Shania.”
Shania struggled out of his touch, and before walking out of the bedroom, she looked over her shoulder at him and said, “Love is an action word.”
How was he ever going to prove to her that she was still the love of his life?
Nineteen
Shania and Greg arrived at Montego Bay airport Thursday morning. They waited in the exclusive “Couples Resort” airport lounge and sipped on refreshing drinks of chilled water and pineapple slices until their ride showed up. Greg tried to make small talk, but she ignored him and pretended to be absorbed by a soccer game that was playing on one of the TVs.
Once their van arrived to transport them to their hotel, Shania settled in a seat near the front and took in the scenic view. For some reason, Shania expected the drive to their resort to take no longer than ten to fifteen minutes. After an entire hour of having her organs jiggled loose on the bumpy ride, having her elbows and knees aching from the constant knocking against Greg's knees and elbows, and having sweat burn her eyes and puddle at her spineâbecause even though the air conditioner was on, it obviously wasn't workingâshe finally said to the driver, whose skin was as black as an onyx gem, “Are we almost there yet?”
Greg glared at her for her impatience, and she glared right back at him. The driver looked in the rearview mirror, winked at her, and said in his Jamaican accent, “About t'irty more minutes, Miss Lady.”
She tried to give him a smile, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace. Once again, she settled in her seat to sulk at the bumpy ride and stared out at the dark shades of different natives as they passed by, walking with baskets on their heads, or walking along with two or three shaggy goats following close behind, or bicycling by and waving at their van.
Greg tried to point out different things, but he might as well have been Charlie Brown's teacher saying, “Blah blah blah, blah blah blah.”
The only reason why she went along with their plans for this trip was because they had already purchased the tickets and the tickets were nonrefundable. However, she was determined to let Greg know that she was here to have a good timeâ
by herself
, and he could continue to be the self-absorbed, selfish so-called
husband
that he was.
by herself
, and he could continue to be the self-absorbed, selfish so-called
husband
that he was.
Thirty minutes seemed to drag by, but Sans Souci emerged majestically from the cliffs of Jamaica's emerald islands. From the distance, the mountains seemed purple with pink tips. Eventually, the bumpy ride came to a stop.
They checked into the resort, and when Shania saw the hibiscus cottage where they were staying, she fell in love with the tropical elegance and breathtaking ambiance. Decorated in ocean blue and white, the cottage exuded peacefulness. Shania immediately noticed the steps to the private Jacuzzi and knew that she'd be spending a lot of time there.
Greg offered the bellman a tip for carrying in their luggage, but the bellman refused. “This is an all-inclusive resort,” the bellman explained in a Jamaican accent. “No tips allowed.”
“Habit,” Greg explained as he stuffed his money back into his wallet and showed the bellman out. “This place is nice,” Greg said, and walked up behind Shania before placing a kiss behind her ear. “Is this how we're going to spend our entire vacation? With you mad at me, treating me like an unwanted stepchild?”
It must've been the ambiance of their cottage that caused her to relax in his arms and allow some of the stiffness in her spine to dissolve. She leaned her head against his chest and exhaled deeply, but said no words.
Still holding her, he shuffled them forward until they were standing on the balcony with the thin, billowy yellow and white curtains waving around them as the breezes blew off the ocean. Shania stared outside at the turquoise water that seemed to go on forever until it finally blended in with the sky. She counted the sailboats and canoes drifting across the surface, then looked up at the seagulls soaring above the water, most likely in search for dinner. She then turned her attention to the gigantic banana trees, displaying tight bundles of green bananas, and palm trees whose barks seemed to be splitting and peeling as the trees unraveled. The sound of the ocean lapping at the virginal white shore mixed with the sound of her husband's heartbeat nearly put her to sleep in his arms.
“Tired?” he asked, and she nodded.
Before she could protest, he scooped her up and placed her in the bed. She yawned, and then jet lag and weariness took their toll.
When she awoke, she glanced out the open balcony and realized that the sun had already set in the sky. It wasn't dark out yet but it was quickly heading that way. Greg was sitting at the small, circular table with his Bible and a notepad. When he heard her movement in the bed, he looked her way and smiled. “So you finally decided to join the land of the living?”
“Sorry about that,” Shania apologized, covering her yawn with her hand. She stretched, listening to her joints crack and pop; then she pushed off the bed to her feet. “How long was I asleep?”
Greg twisted his lip and glanced at his wristwatch. “About two hours.”
She nodded. “Not too bad.” She stood in front of the balcony, stared out at the water and stretched again. The catnap had helped bring clarity to her situation. There was no point in coming to such an exotic island and stubbornly remaining in such an ugly mood. So she turned to face her husband and said in a tone much more polite than the one she had previously been using, “What do you want to do first?”
He closed his Bible and hooked his pen to his notepad. “What do you want to do first?”
Yawning, Shania said, “There's so much to see. I think we should take a tour of the resort.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
They finished unpacking, changed clothes, and went straight to the beach. The sun smiled down on them as their feet left footprints in the gritty grains of sand.
“This is heaven,” Shania said as her sarong blew gently with the breeze.
Greg reached for her hand and clasped his hand in hers. Everything in her screamed to yank her hand back. Just because she was playing nice didn't mean she had to be all lovey-dovey with him. He was still in the doghouse for telling her that bald-faced lie and then having the nerve to start his own business without even including her in his plans. But, she forced a smile on her face and let him continue to hold her hand as they made their way across the shore.
A woman wearing an orange bikini, who had to have been a Jamaican native, walked by with her curvaceous figure and her flat belly. Even though she smiled in acknowledgement to both of them, Shania felt self-conscious. No, she wasn't showing yet, but she felt bloated. And she certainly didn't think she looked good enough to wear a two-piece. She eyed the shapely woman and noticed that Greg was eyeing her too. She released his hand and stopped walking.
“I know you weren't just looking at that woman.” She felt her cheeks getting hot and an overwhelming urge to punch Greg in the chest.
He started to stutter. “What are you talking about?” He threw his hands in the air.
Shania put her hand on her hip. “Don't try to play me, Gregory. I saw you looking at that woman.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Greg sighed. “For crying out loud, Shania, you're being ridiculous. All I did was glance at the woman. It's not that serious.” He took a couple of steps and stopped when he noticed that Shania hadn't moved. “What?” He sounded irritated.
Shania threw her hands in the air. “I'm going back to the room.”
“Seriously, babe.”
She trekked through the sand.
“This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of the week?” he called after her.
She could hear Greg calling her name, but she didn't stop or turn around. The thought of Greg ogling another woman made the tears flow. She felt fat and undesirable.
When she came to a walking path, she dusted off her feet and put on the sandals she had been holding in her hand. By then, she had calmed down some and almost felt like returning to the shore to find Greg and apologize for being so sensitive.
“Shania?” she heard a male voice call out to her. She immediately turned around, wondering who it could possibly be. Nobody on this island knew her except for Greg, yet someone had just called her name, and it didn't sound like her husband. Through blurry eyes, she tried to make out who it was, but saw nothing more than the leaves in the bushes and the hibiscus flowers fluttering in the breeze.
Figuring it had to be her imagination, she whipped her head around to continue walking, but no sooner had she turned than she heard the leaves beside her rustle, and then something hard clanged against the side of her head and her world went black.
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