Too Late for Redemption

Refusal

"Tell me, what do you want?" However, he thought I would make an unreasonable demand, so he quickly added, "Only jewelry, though. You can forget about anything else."

I looked at his face, trying to search for a hint of the Lawrence I knew. It was at a banquet where we first met, and the other rich girls were mocking me. It was years ago.

Back in that little town, my grandfather was the only one I was close to. He had no idea what was trendy among us girls, and he'd spent most of his savings on my school fees. I would never bother him just to get the latest stuff.

Even though my grandfather got me cheap, gaudy clothes, I wore them, nonetheless. He had no idea about jeans or their popularity. Sometimes he would even cut out cloth to make clothing for me. "If a girl wants to look lively, she needs to wear more color."

That fashion sense stuck with me even after I was taken back to the Marlins. My mother asked Yvette to teach me, but I could never find her, so I took things into my own hands.

And thus, I made an embarrassment out of myself. My self-esteem was nonexistent and I had no idea how to talk back. Lawrence helped me out and mocked them relentlessly. The ladies almost cried.

Solemnly, he said to me, "You can't be this much of a coward. If someone tries to push you around, push them back. Punch them in the face if you have to."

"What if they don't want to be friends with me?"

"Would you rather be bullied or feared? If they don't want to be friends with you, I will."

That stuck with me for more than five years, but then, right in public, Lawrence called me a bully and an arrogant toerag. Yet, they were the ones who made the first move.

There was not a trace of care or protection left on him. All he had for me was impatience and disdain. He bent his head and urged, "What will it be? Don't push your luck."

I put my hands behind my back. With my right hand, I held my left pinky. Yes, the deformed one. The throbbing pain was a constant reminder of the torment I suffered thanks to Lawrence.

When I pleaded for mercy, I told my tormentors who I was and gave them Lawrence's number. It was a number I knew by heart, and it was the user behind that number that broke what was left of my dignity.

Lawrence answered, "The daughter of the Marlins? Her name is Yvette, not Yvonne! I don't know any woman who goes by that name!" He even castigated the loan sharks, and that made them mad.

They had to vent on someone, and that someone was me. They made me slap myself until my face was swollen like a crimson balloon. Even then, they did not stop until my gums were screaming in pain.

My swollen face made it hard to eat. Even buns felt like rocks to my teeth. My tormentors squashed the buns underneath their feet and stuffed the black, dirty… thing into my mouth.

That memory made my stomach churn. I held back my urge to retch and pinched my deformed pinky. The pain kept me awake. "Sorry, I don't have anything I want right now."

A frown creased Lawrence's forehead. He looked at me dubiously and warned, "Remember what you said. Don't come to me later. I don't have any patience for you."

"Yeah." All I wanted was for him to leave. "I won't."

Lawrence didn't press for answers. Maybe he wasn't planning to give me anything anyway. "You'd better not."

He started walking away, but then he stopped. With his back turned to me, he said darkly, "I gave that necklace to Yvette. Don't go after her for that." He strode off before I could say anything.