The Heart of Revenge (9 page)

“No. Mi have to go help out with something by
the club,” and by the club he meant by HYC. His friends all knew it
was a lie and knew that was always the answer he gave. They
purposely stopped and asked every time they were going to play
football just to shout back at him saying,

“Yow, you a gal! Sissy! Sissy Vance! Mi never
see you play no sports yet. You a big sissy! Hahaha.”

When they were gone, Vance would leave the
house and go into the old lady’s next door garden. Even if Ms. Merl
wasn’t outside he’d still go into the garden by himself, all alone,
just him and the flowers. It was true though. He didn’t play any
physical sport and he couldn’t, because it’s a life and death
situation with his heart if he ever tried to get too physical. If
his heart worked too fast, it may lead to his death, a heart
attack.

And that was how Vance earned the name
Sissy Vance
. On Saturdays when Mom was at the
market and the healthy footballers were passing by, knowing Mom
wasn’t there, they would not call him Sissy Vance. They would call
him by the name they called him more freely in the streets,
Battyboy-Vance.

But even with that, Vance would not let
anyone know the real reason he could not kick ball with them, nor
play any other sport. He remained silent and took all the degrading
names, insults and shame.

In the streets, Vance always wore his navy
blue New York cap low to his brows, hiding his eyes. He didn't walk
with his chin up either. He kept his eyes on the ground, hoping he
would not hear any of his nicknames Sissy-Vance or
Battyboy-Vance.

He had only one close friend and that was
Beanie-Boy. Beanie was not like the others. Apart from the fact
that he loved fashion and he was hype nuh pussjook, he had never
called Vance a sissy. Or a battyboy, even though Beanie wasn’t
aware of his heart condition. Vance had no problem lending Beanie
his stuff, mostly clothes . I had bought a black leather band watch
for Vance for his fourteenth birthday that he really loved, but
three weeks after he didn’t have it anymore. Beanie had borrowed it
and still hadn’t return it. Vance didn’t have much clothes but
Beanie still borrowed Vance’s shoes, shirts. He got in a squabble
with Vance when he wanted to borrow Vance’s blue New York cap and
Vance told him no.

On the contrary, because Vance stayed away
from parties and going out, he had never borrowed clothes from
Beanie. On a couple of occasions when Beanie really wanted stuff
from Vance and he refused to lend, him he resorted to calling him a
big gal, a bigger gal than Cecile and Angel together, and so. Vance
took it, smiled and didn't let it get the best of him and up till
that point Beanie still didn’t bring back Vance’s black watch.

One thing that never failed to put a smile on
Vance’s face during these rough times was his HYC meetings. On
Sunday nights, after the meetings, he’d be so perky and happy. Only
once I saw a gloom on Vance’s face after he came from one of his
meetings. It was when he was sixteen; he was sitting in the sofa. I
put down the ice tray I was filling with water by the kitchen sink,
turned off the pipe, walked over to him and had a seat beside him.
It had to be something really terrible that happened to get his
spirit down after a meeting. I had to find out what it was. I
touched him on his knee and asked,

“Why the sad face?”

by: Leelia Lexings

“Nothing.” He shrugged his shoulder but he
didn't look up from the floor he was looking at.

“Come on, I know you better than that, what’s
wrong Vance?”

“I just don't understand people, it’s like
they think you are obligated to them and if you say no, they hold
it against you, like they gave you anything to put down or
....?”

“Hold on, hold on ... slow down.” I shuffled
over closer to him and rested my other hand on his knee. “Now, who
you say is it?”

“Is Beanie. Mi and him friendship cut off for
good!”

"Why?... But he is the only friend you
have.”

“Him is not a true friend.”

“He called you gay like the others?” He
looked around at me and looked back at the floor. I felt bad and
wished I hadn’t mentioned that.

“No. Is something else.”

“What?” He didn’t responded immediately,
fisted both hands and sunk his knuckles in the mustard color
cushions of the sofa to ease himself out and stand. I covered both
his knee caps with my palms and applied some force to them,
suggesting ‘don't get up as yet, I am talking to you.’ He took his
hands off the cushions, remained seated and plaited his fingers
between each other. Bobbed his head from side to side in deep
consideration while talking,

“The man borrowing mi things to go beach and
mi tell him no.” He stopped talking. Stared blankly. I asked,

“So?”

“And him vex with mi over mi own things.” He
began pulling the buckle of his black leather band watch from his
wrist. I hadn’t seen that watch in almost a year. Seemed like the
friendship cut off for real, and Vance got back his belongings. But
who else would Vance have as a hortical friend? - no one. I guessed
he would be even more lonely now.

“So why you didn’t just lend him and done?
That wouldn’t be better than to end the friendship?”

“You mad! Mi not lending no man mi brief to
wear go no beach. No man can’t wear mi brief. Mi not into them
things with no man. You must be mad. If him want vex and thing,
make him vex. But mi not lending him mi brief to go sporting on
beach.”

I wanted to keel over with laughter. I tried
holding it back. But the laughter was too much. It just burst right
out of me. I couldn’t believe I was laughing so brawling. Vance got
angry and braced himself up out of the sofa. He turned to me and
said in frustration,

“You taking serious things make joke!” I was
breathing and taking deep gasps in between, trying to catch my
breath as I answered

“No Vance,” I gasped for air, “No.” Gasped
again, “But that’s funny still ... Mi can’t believe that hype boy
like Beanie want borrow your brief to wear go beach. Is which one
of your brief him want borrow?”

Vance hissed his teeth and walked off to his
room. I was dying with laughter. What a dirty friend! Oh my
godmother, Pinky would say ‘a dutty friend behaviour that.’ Oh
boy.

The next day, Monday, Dr. Reid told Vance
that the age of his death had moved from the age of thirty-six to
thirty-two. Vance needed to be on medication. Dr. Reid had
prescribed lanoxin, metoprolol and catopril. He told us that if he
took these drugs it may help him to live longer and avoid his heart
getting any worse. The cost of the medication for the year totalled
roughly two thousand U.S. Mom wanted to help Vance and soon after
she put her pride aside and got a job with her friend Micheal
Douglas, a job that she’d normally frown on and rather stay home
than doing. It wasn’t much but Mom had saved some money towards
Vance’s medical bill. With all her efforts, it still wasn’t even
close enough but ‘at least it was a start,’ she would say. She
began working some overtime, coming in late just to get that extra
dollar towards the bill but time was against her, as Vance was
getting worse faster than she was saving her little dollar,
dollars.

Pinky’s asthma took her again. Mommy had to
spend all her savings to take care of it. Mom was left dead broke
and back at square one while Vance wasn’t getting any better. She
nor Dad could afford the medicine and Vance had no choice but to do
without. Vance had some horrible chest pain that year but he still
managed to smile a lot with everyone.

At seventeen, Dr. Reid told Mom that Vance’s
heart was growing faster and getting worse than before because he
wasn’t getting the medications he needed, and if he didn't get the
medications every year it would only get worse and worse till
death. The rapid growth had stolen two years from how soon he would
die. He told Mom that Vance would now die at thirty. It was that
year Mom made the difficult decision to send me to live with
Michael Douglas and Qwan. She needed the money.

However, it wasn’t until Vance was eighteen
that I successfully got some help for him with his medication. I
got the money to help him from Qwan, two thousand U.S. that Qwan’s
father, Micheal Douglas was questioning. He wasn’t happy about it,
to say the least.

The medication had helped to retard the
growth of his heart and slowed down its unusual growth drastically.
By the grace of God, Vance’s heart didn’t grow much that year, but
Dr. Reid told him he had developed a severe left ventricular
dysfunction and one of his heart’s valves needed to be replaced. He
added Vasotec to his prescription which, by itself, cost about
another two thousand U.S. making his medication bill for the year
just below four thousand U.S. dollars. Dr. Reid said that he’d die
at twenty-six. Vance now had only eight years to live. From that
moment Vance tried not to get attached to anyone. He had no
girlfriends and the nickname calling got a lot worse.

Now it was rumoured, better yet taken as a
given, that he was gay. And he had to be gay. In the ghetto at
eighteen, no girlfriends and played no physical sport. He must be
gay. Everyone now more prevalently called him Battyboy-Vance. Once
coming from school he was clamoured in his back with a river stone.
He didn’t see who threw it but he heard a voice that sounded like a
grown man shouted,

“Battyboy-Vance! You must dead! Leave the
place battyboy!”

Another stone was pelted into his thigh with
a bigger rupture of pain than the one before . He ducked, cover his
head and began running. He felt another river-stone shot into his
side. He managed to ducked the one that was blasting directly to
his head. Ever since that, Vance got scared of going on the road.
He hated the road. Hating to go to school. Hating the unfair world.
Hating life. The world hated him. He wanted to die.

Vance turned nineteen without having a
girlfriend. He spent even more time in Ms. Merl’s garden than ever
before. He spoke less and he spent more time organising and doing
projects for the HYC. It wasn’t easy but I got the four thousand
dollars from Qwan for his medication. Qwan had to let it be a
secret from his father because he didn’t approve of the idea.
Micheal Douglas would say it was not his responsibility. That I
wasn’t his wife, he should not be stupid and give me that large
amount of money, but I convinced Qwan to do it anyway but under the
quiet. Dr. Reid told Mom Vance would die at twenty-four, only five
years to live. After that news, Mom’s blood pressure went through
the clouds.

.

Things finally began to look up, at twenty,
Vance was taking his medication and it was his best year since he
was twelve. His heartbeat didn't fluctuate beyond normal, no mild
heart attacks, no dizziness, no complaints about chest pains. A
couple of times well, he got out of the house, laced up his black
and red football boots and played some Salad-A-Kick with Patrick.
He and Beanie were friends again and his life was getting to what
we wanted it to be - normal. Vance was fit and kicking and Mom’s
high blood pressure went down. He was skilful with the football and
earned his respect on the football field. The other boys always
wanted to pick him first on their side. Even before Patrick, who
was the top footballer amongst them. Though Patrick was skill with
the ball he was even more selfish with it. Patrick began to carry
feelings against Vance for that. No one wanted to pick Beanie on
their team. No one. Beanie was too slight. And when he ran too hard
his knock knees always plunged him into the ground. Poor thing.

.

February, the 13
^th
of this year,
when Vance was one month from his twenty-first birthday he laced up
his black and red boots and headed out to play some football with
Patrick and the other boys. Before they had even shouted for him by
the gate, he was ready and waiting. Mom had got used to the fact
now that Vance played football every evening. She’d call me almost
every evening when Vance went to play football just to say,

“Lee, Vance gone play football today!”

And she’d never get tired of calling me and
repeating that to me. She always sounded so happy every single time
that she was on the phone telling me. She’d go on and on with much
chirp in her voice to say,

“God is on our side. I can’t believe he has
stopped wearing his cap! People not calling him those dirty names
anymore. It’s like God answered all my prayers Lee. What a
blessing.”

It was more than a rainbow, I was seeing a
thousand bright colors in Mommy’s voice. I knew very soon he’d have
a girlfriend before it even happened because even his swag had
turned up. It was just really awesome seeing him getting back to a
normal life and having fun. He got a heart attack on the football
field that day. He was hospitalized. Induced into a coma for six
days. Strung up to a drip for twelve. He lost two week’s memory.
But he told us he remembered clearly the big fist he got in his
chest and that he would get his revenge on the person who did it.
He didn’t want to call the name of who it was. We insisted on him
telling us who it was.

“You sure is someone thump you Vance? You
sure?” Mom asked.

"Yes, mi sure. After mi not a baboon Mom, mi
remember everything good.”

“But remember you lost two week’s memory, so
how can you remember that?”

“I don’t know, I just do.” Vance’s voice was
slow and weak. He looked away to the ceiling.

“Tell us is who.” Mom face looked as if it
was falling apart. She didn’t look as if she really wanted to know
who it was for revenge, she was just insisting to know more out of
curiosity, just an automation to her questions and insistence.
Surely, she looked too filled with sorrow to be angry. I had an
idea who it was. He was always number one on the football field and
now that Vance was getting more respect than he, he resorted to
playing him dirty. I didn’t think he knew this would be the outcome
though, because he didn’t know about Vance’s heart problem. So I
asked,