Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Betrayal

By Omari Jackson

He was approached early that morning. He could not agree that of all people in the Liberia, someone close to him would agree to present him with such a proposition. But then he knew how wicked human nature was, but still felt that doing what she had presented to him would indicate he was doing their bidding, and failing to do that would also show their hatred for him, as a person, and to the role he played as an adviser to the only president they had.

"What proposition?" he asked with some level of curiosity. He saw the other winked. She pulled a large envelope, like a sheet of paper from under her coat.

"I know you're aware of this," she pointed to the envelope and handed it to him. "This is your picture, you're in a disturbing act, what do you say now?"

"You mean me?"

His voice failed to respond to the suggestion. He could not agree that the picture with the two women and what appeared like himself in such an uncompromising posture, would mean anything to the people. "But what do you say?" He shot back, pretending he was unaware of it.

"You cannot deny it, can you?"

"What do you mean?" His voice was loud but fading. "Is it me?"

"You damned well know it's you," the other retorted with anger in her voice.

"So he sent you to do it?" It was not a question but he said it anyway. His face turned red and perspiration formed on his forehead. "Is it a picture?"

"You have asked for it," the other threatened, "you're going to get it."

"Me?"

"Can you help the Speaker?"

"Me help, who?"

And that was the beginning of his end. Jack Williams was a man who had known better times. In the current admiration in Liberia, he was recognized as the brain behind the successes of the president. But then, what? He was a man and a human being, wasn't he? That was no question, but with a nation recovering from years of war, such an uncompromising picture of a three-some would indicate that he was an enemy of the female sex.

Considering that the president was herself a woman and fighting to restore the dignity of women in the country. But if he had any illusion that his enemies would let him be, he was wrong. The picture that his cousin had shown him was by any account his own. He thought of it and closed his eyes, wiping his brow.

What would happen if the picture was published, as he had been threatened? He could not agree with himself that anyone wanting his downfall would go to such length to demonstrate to the world his most ugliest side. But could any of his countrymen be the first to cast the first stone, at his crucifiction? It was true that many people in high places were deep in the practice of three-some, and four-some and even five-some, and while that might be an abhoring experience, there was the horror to imagine that publishing the picture as he had been threatened would indicate the length of the decay that his had sunk.

That night sleep deserted him. On several occasions, he awoke, draining in his own sweat. He had worked so hard to build a reputation that he saw by the stroke of an enemy's doing, would be gone in smoke. But who would he blame if push came to shove?

That was his thought when the next day someone called on the phone to break the news.

"Williams?"

"Yes, what's up" His voice had broken the monotony of the day, and whether he knew it or not, there was something wrong in the call. He had never heard from anybody in such a morning, but now he was hearing it and he must as well make sure that he understood what the other was saying.

"You saw the picture?"

"What picture?"

"The three-some."

"The what?"

The voice on the other end remained silent, and he could hear his own breathing rising higher and falling again.

It was true, he knew the enemy had carried out the threat.

He stood there, his legs dancing under him.

"This is pure betrayal," he said but the other was gone. He folded the top of the cellphone and placed it in his breast pocket. He had to dance the beat of his own drum, and he was aware that he would survive.

"This is pure betrayal," he said, still the other was gone.

2 comments:

Mett said...

HaH! Good job. You made it seem so real. I can see Knuckles (opps! Williams) going through all of that.

Omari Jackson said...

Hi Emmett,
My appreciation for your encourgement, brother. Thanks again.