The room we were sitting it was still. Five individuals who
inhabited the room were all silent after hearing Brad’s experiences. The silence
spoke louder when mixed with emotions. And at that point when Brad-or
Blessing-was done telling her tale of broken heart, my soul was not synced with
my heart anymore.
Everything Blessing had told us peeled another layer off
Madonna’s alias. She was not the perfect lover. Not the perfect person. Not
even a person human…
…if she ever was one.
Brad was the one who broke the silence by wrapping up his
story. He, once again, put his hand in his pockets and started speaking like a
gentleman that he was,” Well, that was all to it. After Madonna left me hanging
at that bar, I cried. A little. And I waited for it to open to the public. That
night, I got intoxicated, heavily. For the next two weeks I couldn’t come to
work. I chalked all of it up on medical emergencies and allergies.
It was all going well but one of my employees squealed to
the higher ups about how me and Madonna were close. They concluded that I was
biased towards her in the past and was helping her in her career. That made
some waves, which came crashing down when they asked for my resignation. I
demanded an outrageous amount of money which they were able to pay.
And so, to summarize, I lost my love, i lost my job, and I
lost my motive.”
He looked at Madonna, who had her head bent all the way down,”
Kind of a crappy thing to do, is it not?”
Madonna didn’t answer, and Brad was not holding his breath.
Just like before he continued to talk with his stoic expressions.
“It wasn’t the best of times. But I eventually got over it.
Today, I teach kindergarten students what not to do to a human being. I am also
married to a beautiful local girl. And thus, comes my request. Please don’t
come knocking on my door because I have something to cherish now, and I won’t
let you take that away from me. Keep your promise, at least one of them, and
stay away from us.”
The lingering sound of Brad’s harsh words pricked my skin
like needles. I didn’t cry. I wasn’t crying, I had a clear vision. At a single
scan of the room I noticed everyone’s expressions.
Priscilla was more shocked than joyous. I guess business and
personal relations don’t work well.
Also, because Blessing dated her ex.
Brad: Calm, collected and unchanged. He was keeping himself
in check, which I was grateful for. I can’t imagine what he’d do at this level
of mental torture.
Madonna: Head Down, embarrassed and ashamed, with eyes
seeking forgiveness. Not from me, but from Blessing. It didn’t please me that her
glares were pointed at him and not me.
“Kyo,” Amaan spoke in
my direction,” You don’t have to clench your fist too hard, dear. You’ll bruise
your hands.”
I couldn’t understand what she was talking about. But when I
paused for a moment and examined myself, I concluded that I was enraged. I was
having a headache so bad it could turn anyone unconscious. I was gritting my
teeth. And I was pointing all of my anger towards Brad.
Maybe Brad was not being calm. Maybe he was keeping himself
in check so as I can contain myself. I knew that I was prone to do something stupid
if he even tried to breathe near me.
What was I saying? I was never that volatile. I heard myself
thinking those terrible things and got ashamed of myself. I was Madonna.
Right at that moment Madonna put her hand on my shoulder. She
read the atmosphere and all the possible reactions I could have. It was only me
who hadn’t grasped my potential to do the worst.
I felt Madonna’s trembling palm sitting on my shoulder. As if
her whole body sobbed. It was warm, I could feel it through the shirt. It was
all too familiar touch that my body was accustomed too. But it belonged to someone
who did all those heinous things for some money.
The thought came rushing down and powered my nerves with
bitterness. I swatted her hand off of me. In the moment, I wanted the back of
my hand to connect with her cheek. I wanted to slap her across the face for not
respecting another human being. I wanted to push her down to the ground and ask
her where she lost her sanity. I wanted to spit on her, and kick her, and shove
her.
I wanted nothing to do with her.
I bit my lower lip and rushed out of the room. I marched
away. I walked away. Bottled up my spite and left the table. Just like any other
person would do. But I was not just another person in just another situation. I
volunteered to do this. I just hoped god would give me brownie points for
initiative. But the reality was proving to be a real bitch.
I saw a washroom and rushed inside to escape from the hounding
eyes. Ironically, a small room with a toilet, sink and a shower comforted me
more that an open terrace with steel chairs ever could. I ran to the mirror to
take a good read on myself. As expected, the veins were popping left and right
over my forehead.
My body seemed to burn. It seemed like it had boils all over
it. It itched for me to be in my skin. I clawed my face until blood gushed out
of my cheeks. I screamed like a banshee to spit out my fury. I hugged myself at
the waist, trying to twist it for some kind of permanent damage. But I couldn’t
answer the question I had in my mind.
Who was I really mad at?
I continued to scream until I felt another hand on my shoulders.
This time the touch was rugged. It was not smooth, but it had an iron grip. Like
someone was saying ‘I’m never going to let you go’ just from a single contact.
I turned around to find Priscilla holding me, while I had
crouched in front of the mirror. She looked at my face and bent it down into
the sink. She turned the tap on for cold water and rinsed all of my blood off. While
the blood washed away, I felt a new sense of peace within me. The cold water
had numbed my pain. and so did Priscilla.
She turned the water off and carefully started wiping my
face off. She managed to not touch even a single bruise. I stood in front of her,
silently. I remembered her authoritative attitude and her meek persona all too
well. But seeing her taking careful steps in wiping off her ex’s wife was unique.
After the wipe she held my hands and dragged me out of the
room. she walked and walked as I stuttered behind her. she opened one of the rooms,
pulled me in and locked the door behind her. she pointed at the bed and I obeyed.
I saw her angry self coming back to her, and I realised I genuinely felt afraid
of her. She walked over to me with a first aid kit in her hands.
I knew what the first aid kit is used for. I also knew I was
wounded. I also knew that it was Priscilla who was holding the kit. And yet,
something didn’t add up.
She dragged a chair and sat in front of me. After unzipping
the kit, she took out a nail clipped and went to work on my long nails. Madonna
loved when I ran my nails over her skin, and yet, I couldn’t stop Priscilla
from doing so. After all the snipping she filed them and made them smooth to
touch. Next, she doused small pieces of cotton with antiseptic liquid and
treated my bruises.
It stung at first, but it felt good after a while. Six wounds
on my cheeks and under my eyes, and Priscilla touched all of them with her
care, blowing small gushed of air over them when she removed the cotton. It was
pleasant. It was nice.
I was at peace with myself once again, I thought, when I heard
a knock on the door. Priscilla stood up and opened the door, only to find Brad
standing there. He invited himself inside and sat on the bed without matching
eyes with me. Priscilla locked the door and sat back on the chair in front of
me.
“So, what did you want to ask?” I heard Brad’s voice coming
from behind as he posed the question to the woman in front.
“For all the time you wasted back there, you didn’t explain
your sex change,” Priscilla barked her question like its nothing. I didn’t care
about it in the first place, but now I was curious.
“Well, when I was a straight woman I was attracted to men. When
I was involved with Madonna, I was attracted to women. I didn’t know if I wanted
to change my orientation, but it felt good when we had sex. And a word of advice,
a person cant live without sex, even if he/she has encountered a devil in sheep’s
clothing.
So, short story, I still wanted to have sex with women. But I
wanted to shed my skin. I didn’t want my old body. It was tainted with Madonna
touches. And Viola, I got under the blade and got my sex changed.”
“Lesbian sex is so much fun. Why didn’t you stay that way?”
“I missed insertion. I missed how a penis twitched whenever
it was in me. But with me as a male, I got to do the same thing. Ejaculating into
a woman is too much of a fun now.”
“We don’t want to hear your fun time stories. I was just
curious if there was more to it.”
“Of course there is. I have been on bot sides. And to tell
you the truth, I quite enjoy my present status as a male.”
The conversation between Priscilla and Brad was making me uncomfortable.
So, I let Priscilla know that I was okay and stood up to leave.
She tossed me a key and said, “Amaan has given us separate rooms.
Your room is right next to this one. She knows that the situation is unbalanced
right now, that’s why she didn’t put you with Madonna.”
I nodded and proceeded to leave. But on a whim, I turned around
and asked Brad about his name choice.
He looked at his right hand for a second before answering
the question,” The first thing I did after my gender change was to go to a
club. I wanted to test how attractive I was to the crowd. That night I had sex
three times with a stranger. It felt really good. Same thing next night. And it
became a habit of mine to get into regular one-night stands.
But then one night I met a girl who preferred to talk rather
than screw me. It felt nice for a change of pace. Eventually we dated for a year
and got married. To her I told my real name. everybody else knew me by the name
‘Brad’. Short for ‘Bradley’, my cheating ex husband. Sounds fascinating, doesn’t
it?”
“So, you used your cheating husband’s name to sleep with
women, who probably were already in a relationship?”
“I was too busy pounding them that I forgot to interview
them about their relationship status.”
“But now that I have brought light to this fact, do you feel
something churning inside of you?”
Nonchalantly, he replied, “No, I’m perfectly fine.”
I smiled, relieved that we were all scum,
“Hmm! I guess we have all lost a bit of humanity, haven’t we?”
I said as I exited the room.
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