Kenya Transtrum

John wasn’t sure why he took Sugar into the station for questioning, but things had built up too high in him lately and he had to make her see. These headaches that were burning in his brain were more than just the misfirings of his ideas, they seemed to be the spreading of a wild fire tearing through the virgin, outback brush of his madness. All his frustration was Sugar’s fault. She had to see this. He would make her see that she had spurned him, ignored him, yet she flirted and led him on so carefully and easily down into the cavern of this dark confusion. Yes, she would pay for her cleverness, her twisted games.
He dragged her down the hallway past the other cells to the back where no one could hear, no one could see. His hands dug into her flesh and she protested with innocence in her eyes and disgust on her lips. She must know he has something special in store for her tonight, though even in his heated fury, he hadn’t yet picked the perfect punishment. It would be fitting, that much he did know.
Did she think she could insult him day after day with her winsome smile, her curly auburn hair trailing snakelike down her soft and curving back? All the while denying him of any of her soft places, those alluring red lips, even the magic of her fingertips. Not once in his feverish anger did he think of the moment when he decided she wasn’t good enough for him to marry, the day he asked for the ring back, or even the fact the it was he who was married and not she.
This was her fault and she would pay for all the years of his pain. How dare she think that he might be hiding the truth or driving her nephew to a life time in jail without proof. He was a detective. He knew what he saw. He had all the evidence he needed for a conviction. And yet for her had he been wasting his time and allowing things to be bandied about in speculation. For her had he allowed himself moments of doubt and what-ifs to flood the evidence and try to wash it all away. She was playing him, as she always did. No longer would he let this go on. Tonight he would force the haughtiness out of her.
The cell door squeaked open and John carelessly tossed Sugar inside. Although he could see the fear in her eyes, she remained calm. He seethed to see her so still, so unafraid. Didn’t she know what he was capable of? Didn’t she understand the danger she was in? In a burst of fury he rushed at her and forced his lips on hers, tearing at her clothing. He heard the gasping of her breath, a whimper. Finally. Finally. Sugar was beginning to see that he was a man who controlled his own world. No longer would she demand his patience and respect. He grabbed at his belt and yanked it open. He would take what he had deserved all these years. From here on out he would dominate her days and nights. She would never get him away from her, off of her, out of her. He owned her. Finally.

Danny moved out under the shocking bright moon. Not nearly full, it cast long dark shadows as he made his way toward the tree line. The past
week had been nearly unbearable.
The secrecy was particularly difficult. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he’d been able to just stay home and crawl into his bed like Caleb had done. Hide away from the world, sit all his emotions on the pine needles of the trees he passed, like the snowflakes that clung there. Hidden away the forest, invisible to the town, his family, to Sugar’s soul-searching eyes.
He had no such luxury, He was not expected to
be sad, lonely, appalled, frightened, sleepless, sick with dread or feverish with longing and regret. Espri’s death was not to mean anything to him. He couldn’t talk to anyone. There war not a single soul he could trust his secret to. But above all that, the secret kept him from being able to show any of his emotions to anyone He either had to soldier them in or fox hole himself when they blasted uncontrollably out of him.
It was a good thing he was a trapper. It was one inconspicuous chance to be alone, to cry and even howl without people around. Normally, Danny was quite sociable. People and he got along just fine. Yapping wasn’t his thing, but he got along just fine in a group conversation or one-on-one. Just because he wasn’t a big chatterer didn’t mean he didn’t need someone to talk to about all this. He was confused and unsure, in need of direction and normally he’d take a problem like this to Sugar or his mother. There wasn’t even a possibility that he could dream about this, let alone imagine while awake that he could speak about it. It was just such an unspeakable thing. What work they think? If he thought there was someone he could trust it would be Sugar. She loved him. She trusted him. Sugar would believe him if he said it happened the way it did. If there was anyone, it was Sugar.
That was foolish talk He couldn’t allow himself the gift of imagining such a scene. The back table at Sugar’s diner just like any other day. He and Sugar eating a cinnamon bun, drinking coffee. The morning bustle of the diner quieted down and now Sugar could sit with awhile and talk. He’d tell her a joke, make a play on words, tell her something funny he’d seen or done while out trapping and they’d laugh about it. Sugar would see the pain there, and reach across the table taking his hand in hers and ask him to tell her what’s wrong. She’d promise never to tell and he knew he could trust her. He had always trusted her. Even when he’d gotten drunk and threw the beer bottle into Officer Robinson’s front room window. She didn’t tell on him then and he knew she wouldn’t now.
Instantly, shame, sorrow and fear flooded his mind. Killing a girl is far different than throwing a bottle through a window. Someone could help you during a little vandalism, but murder? Even if it had been an accident, who but Sugar would believe him and how would they ever convince the police? If only… Yeah, he’d said that a million times this past week. He was alone. Alone with his crime, alone with his sorrow, alone with his fear.
Walking through the forest, checking on his last trap, cold, alone, hurting with unbearable agony, Danny turned around to go back home, the one place that used to make him happy. It was the end of the day. Now, he wondered, could he make it through another night without Espri?

“I’m not going home.” Caleb said.
“Got a new girl? That was fast,” teased Greg.
Caleb shot him a look of disgust. “I think it’s comments like these that kept us from being friends lately.”
“Ah, come on. Can’t you take a little joke?” Greg raised his opened palms up to his shoulder.
“That wasn’t funny, Not the least bit.” Caleb turned away from Greg and headed toward his locker.
”Sorry!” Greg called out after Caleb.
Caleb wasn’t sure he meant it. Greg had said far too many similar comments since Espri’s death. He knew a lot of the other kids were talking about him, unsure of his innocence, gauging the possibility that he could have murdered his girlfriend. He had heard them whispering, “How mad would you be if you caught your girlfriend with another guy? Having sex, no less.” He laid awake at night wondering if he would be one of the guys making pot shots at someone else if he were not the suspect. It gave him a little more patience with his fellow students, but he knew he’d done nothing wrong. How could all the evidence point at him? Obviously, someone else had been with Espri. Why weren’t they looking for that guy? The so-called consensual sex partner? Bitter tears burned in Caleb’s eyes. It was bad enough that he hadn’t had her, but that she had betrayed him, all the while he was saving himself for her out of his love and devotion to her, well, it was nearly too much to think of most of the time. She had been giving herself to someone else behind his back. It forced his flicking, ticking heart to falter and flub. The thrumming, strumming constant beat to skip and whirl, flip and twirl. ‘Is this fatal?’ he wondered. The inconsistent pulse took away his breath, drove his brain syntaxes to misfire and a weakness, darkness to spread throughout him. At those moments, and they were far too frequent, Caleb always wondered about, wished for, dreaded and dreamily considered his own death. After much thought he decided that the death part itself wasn’t the worry. It was the dying. Drowning, burning, being tortured-now those types of dying would be awful. But he didn’t think that dying instantly would really be so bad, Especially if you didn’t see it coming. No expectations, just one second living your life and the next, BAM! You’re gone. A car hits you, a blood clot explodes, a gun goes off, you fall asleep one night… It’s the not getting up, waking up, it’s the crumpling on the ground and the onlookers, the friends, the parents, the ones who adore you that know you won’t get up again, now there’s the pain. Caleb wished he’d been shot. That was the easy way, though. Would he have wanted to cause so much pain to his mother? To Espri? Come to think of it, it would have completely freed up Espri. She could have fallen into the arms of her lover and no one would have ever had to worry about her. She would never have been a suspect of Caleb’s murder. Not with her daddy’s position and she being a girl and all. It would have been better for everyone, except his mom, had it been him that died. And there were plenty of times he wished it for himself. All he could see down the road was life without Espri, the girl who betrayed him, and jail. His entire life was over and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not a thing. Talk about fatal.

I like books/movies that set you right in the middle of the story and let you figure out all the details yourself without the pages of back story. So I am going to allow you to get to know me the same way. Just dump you in the middle of my life and let you catch up with who I am and the characters that surround me as you read. I don’t get to my computer every day. So I may not post every day, but I will at least make a weekly post unless I am away from home.

I’m excited about the writer’s group that is beginning this year. The first meeting is Tuesday the 27th at my house. If everyone comes we should have about 10 regulars. Taylor has class on Tuesday nights so he may not be able to come until May. I really want this to work and be productive for everyone.

I have felt horrible with the mess that is going on because I quit taking my HRT. My doctor can’t see me until the middle of February so I am calling every day to see if she has a cancellation so I can get in sooner. I am now taking pain meds nearly all day long just so that I can function. I know that the weather usually effects me, but I feel that it wouldn’t be bothering me much if I weren’t in so much pain. Living out here in Caldwell has made me so happy. I love the house. It is easy to clean, just the right size and with my bookshelves and new closet space I feel very moved-in. Now, I just need to put up my pictures.

Right now I feel that life is very good for us. Everyone is healthy and happy. Everyone is employed. The kids are all doing well. I am so thankful for all the good things that are in our lives right now.

I have been rattled at doing the new cub scouts job. There was no one who told me what to do and I just had to go last Wednesday and figure it all out on my own. I wasn’t very happy about it and I was stressed big time. Next week, we have pack meeting and I am singing in a cantata so I won’t even be there. In many ways, I am so relieved. In February we will combine with another group, so I will have help. That den mother has been doing the job for a year and she ought to be able to get me going really well.

Last night Levi and Mari came over to help me. They vacuumed the carpet and tile and helped make dinner and brownies. They are such great kids. I really enjoy having them here. Good thing they live so close. During the party they read and then played Wii with Grandpa. I’ve been cleaning out my books and I gave them some of the ones I no longer was keeping. I was surprised at what they didn’t take more than at what they did take. I had to coax Mari to take Black Beauty. And Levi didn’t want The Hardy Boys books that I had. I will see what Aidan and Zoe want. Also Bay might want some. I still have about 20 boxes of books to unpack and I only have 2 1/2 shelves left out of the 8 Charlie built me. There ought to be a lot of kids books for them to pick through when I am done.

I have sat here too long and now I am in a lot of pain. Need to go rest.