Sunday, 25 May 2014

The Chronicles of April Levesque...VIII

So. Much long gone. And so was April. More than a year since I last wrote her. Quite literally. And yes, Raj, you were right to point out April in my last post about all the special women in my life. April is definitely one of them. You can read the previous parts here. Just scroll from the bottom up to read in order. 

People set alarms on their phones. April's own body was like the bird that cuckooed every next hour. With the killer headache, she rose at four in the morning. Habits, she thought. Staring at the ceiling with a hangover that made her decide instantly in a matter of less than a second, that she'll never let alcohol in her vicinity, she felt a warmth beside her. An alien feeling clamped onto her heart. Last night's nuances played like a reel in her head. She'd allowed him access to something, she never had to any man before. Ever.
And now, she had to play safe. She was much too aware of the condition she'd been kidnapped into. And much too aware of the sweet virginal pain that didn't hinder her for even a single moment since the five minutes she'd been up, about the pleasure he'd given her last night. Pleasure, and the insult. Ha, she laughed on herself, so much for giving yourself to man, who let alone honour, couldn't even respect you. She was sure she'll live to regret it. Her senses instructed her to call Chief right away, and spread out an escape plan. From Duardo, and from the hideous deal of their marriage on the expense of her true identity. 


As she tried to slither from the weight of his strong hands, he stirred in his sleep. "Lo bella? Lo siento mucho por lo que te hice.", she heard him talk in his tongue, figuring he was apologising, before falling deeper in slumber. 

She moved away, and ran to the balcony after dialling to Chief. 
"Hey, Kiddo! Everything all right? Having fun?", the kiddo again.
She took a deep sigh, and that was enough to tell him that there was trouble.
"Hey, are you all right? Did Duardo hurt you in any way?", concern dripping like cold blood from a sword, in his voice.
"What? How'd you...." She thought she was going to faint. 
"You knew all along! You knew everything! You lied to me. After all these years. After everything I did for you. You lied! God, is there anyone I can trust?", she was out of control.

Gulping every harsh word she threw at him for the next vile ten minutes, he stopped her up short, "You need a life, April. A life where you can't be killed. Where you can have something you never did; you can have a family. Your father never wanted this for you. I don't want this for you anymore..."
"Do not compel me to calm down by taking my father's name, and do not fake your concern! I'm an adult, and the kind of life I want is my decision. You betrayed my trust. You set me up!"

"Do not mock my concern for you, child. Even you father wasn't like your father."
For a second, she couldn't understand what he meant. But when she did.....
"Now listen to me, very very carefully, April. We don't know anything about your real parents, child. Jason had found you on the streets and picked you up out of sheer compassion. You were about three months old, as far as any doctor could have guessed. Your father was friends with Duardo's. He'd made him promise to look after you, should anything happen to him while he was away at his job. But Duardo's father couldn't have done anything because I chose to look after you. I wanted you for my daughter. And he let me have you only on the condition that when you come of age, and when Duardo feels ready for a marriage, you have to be married to him. He felt it too important to look after you one way or another, father or son, to honour his promise to your father. I'm sorry to have hidden all this from you, child. But you had to know the truth sometime. Hello? April, are you still there? Hello? April...."

"And did you for even a second think that my safety might be at stake if I ever appear in media as Duardo's wife? Are you not aware of the flashy life he lives? And what about the deal of keeping my identity and marrying him? Was this all part of the plan? You knew about all of this?"
Chief let out a regretful sigh, and confirmed his allegiance towards Duardo in all of this.
"April, we've made up your identity as his wife and changed your information in all databases all over the world. Past, present, future - everything. And people have lookalikes. The security staff Duardo has, are my people. You'll be completely safe."
"I can take my own care very well. Rather than you. What do you expect me to do? Be thankful for wiping out my existence like that, giving me a husband who doesn't care for me in the least, and compel me to leave what I love, what I was born and trained for?"
After a long silence, Chief spoke up, "One day, you'll thank me, April. I'm sorry to have hurt you like this. But this is what's best for you..."
When he couldn't even hear her breathing across the receiver, he prompted her name again. Unable to hear anymore further, April hung up.

She traced her footsteps backwards, and crashed into the garden chair that complemented the small space. 
Her world had rocked on its axis. For the first time in her life, she was clueless. What was she supposed to do, play husband-wife, and be content with it? She held her head on her hands for what seemed like ages. She knew the sun was rising. She could feel the slight warmth tingling her right hand. Her father wasn't her father. Chief wasn't her father. She never knew of her mother. She was a charity case. Did her real parents, or mother or father leave her there? Or, was she orphan? Or kidnapped as a baby? Were her real parents still alive, searching for her?

She's been picked off the streets by a man who was way too compassionate to see a baby die on the roads. A man who meant well. A man whose last wishes had created this havoc around her right now. A man who'd wanted her to have a normal life. A man whose wishes for her, couldn't melt her heart. A man whose wishes for her, she had no strength of revolting against, either. A man she'd loved the most. 
April freed her hands of her heavy head. She stared out at the vast lake in front of her. Last night played, yet again, in her head. And she realised she'd had unprotected sex with a man who was her husband. Husband. The word sent electric shivers down her spine. She could be pregnant for all she knew. That thought brought her undone. 

She wasn't selfless, but she did have honour. An honour that wasn't going to allow her to walk away from this marriage again. An honour that she learnt from her father. An honour she had to keep for her father's last wishes. An honour for the promise her father's friend was still trying to keep. 
She took in the heat of the rising sun. And with that, she took in who she was. She was April Levesque Alvarez. 40 years old. Ex-spy. And maybe pregnant. 

She suddenly heard footsteps, and knew Duardo was up. 
"April. Are you..."
"Good morning, Duardo.", she continued without so much as even paying a heed to his way, "We have a lot to talk about."

To be continued...


Be back sooner this time,
Ak.

9 comments:

  1. you have lost touch. or maybe its the alcohol talking. but i am glad you wrote.

    p.s.: you, Akanksha would never let someone else write your destiny. and if they did, you would defy it. i wonder how april chose to settle. but then maybe i am wrong, maybe its just me trying to find me in you.

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  2. Must be the alcohol, Raj.

    People have died in the name of honour and respect. Giving your life up still seems like a small price.
    Yes, I would defy anybody taking control over my life. But then, April isn't me. And she's been on her own for way too long. But she's too strong willed to let anyone take complete control. If she does something, it's on her terms.

    Next part will come sooner. Don't worry.

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  3. Damned whisky. :P

    accepted. everything you said. but i still dont think april would settle. to someone whos been alone for so long, their independence is like breathing. you take that away from them and you are choking them. she would run. she would so run. she may come back. but bolt she would. in one way or the other. and about you losing touch, i wasn't wrong. you used to have a grip on the kind of vocabulary that i had never mastered. this chapter, was more subtle in its approach. what i am trying to say is, your writing to me used to be a knockout. now i find myself still standing. hence, i say so. no offense meant lady but bring the next one as late as you like, but knock me the fuck down.

    ciao.

    and i think i haven't been clear with you. i would like to get to know you akanksha. as friends do. little by little. where do we start? or rather, do we?

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    Replies
    1. At times, independence can choke you. At times, you need that dependability. You need the high of knowing of someone depending on you too. Sure, people run, hide, keeping making excuses to "get some air". Trust me, I know.
      But, I also know that once you've tasted companionship, once you've had the taste of warmth next to you in bed, you'll keep coming back to it. And April wouldn't settle for anything less than the best of a relationship - a marriage. And this just isn't about April, solely. There's Duardo we have to look out for too. How Duardo makes himself good enough for April, and if April allows him to stand up to/for her is something we have to see.

      It was meant to be subtle. Being off from blogger doesn't mean I stopped writing altogether. If a knockout is what you want, so shall you have it. The grip remains, Raj. Sometimes, you want to take it slow. Like friends do, little by little. That is a question to ask ourselves.
      If my writing doesn't make one figure me out, I'm afraid nothing can.

      Delete
  4. duardo. right. its funny how i am always so focused on one thing, i can never see anything else. right. you did justice there. good job.

    and i am happy to hear you still write. :) and i think now i do get the part about taking it slow. good choice.

    your writing does help in figuring you out, but tell me can anything replace direct conversation? the joy of baring ones soul to another and watching them bare their own is something i personally can never get enough off. :) i do love reading. no doubt. but tell me, do you think that's the only reason i am here right now saying what i am? by all means, take it at the pace you want. all i am saying is, one doesn't always have the time one presumes he does. i am always filled with urgency. i want to do everything now. dont let that scare you. for the things that matter, i do have all the patience in the world.

    good night akanksha.

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    Replies
    1. Writing is, bearing my soul naked.
      April, Duardo, Chief, Farida, Wazir, Maya, Ajay, Stoner. They are all me at the end of the day.

      I appreciate anyone bearing their souls raw, showing me a bit of them. You're right. It's scary and I step in and out of the loop every now and then when I realise I've seen too much.
      Remember that.

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  5. they may be a little bit of you yes. but a mask nevertheless. the more masks, the more splendid the face underneath. i am sure that will reveal itself in time too.

    its a pity. you are as afraid of intimacy as i am fond of it. nevertheless, you will find out its a challenge i will stand up too. .

    thankyou akanksha. you may not realize it, but your soul and your truth is a delightful companion.

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    Replies
    1. Masks never come off, Raj. Not even in slumber.

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  6. like most friends, masks too come off when they serve their purpose. one can only hide behind them for so long. i understand your fear. but i believe in your strength. i do have reason to, i have seen a bit of your soul haven't i? :)

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