Obsessed with Me - When she rejected him, he set out to destroy her - book 1 (16 page)

But I refuse to change it. Fuck him!

****

It’s morning. With a defiant look, I head into the dining room. “Good morning!” I say in my brightest of voices.

Tarago nods and eyes my hair. But he says nothing, so I don’t either.

By late evening, he says, “Are you going to change your hair colour?”

“No,” I say as I examine my manicure. “I don’t tell you how to wear your hair, so I don’t expect you to tell me how to wear mine.” I give him a mirthless smile.

He shrugs.

My look is one of triumph.

Later in the evening, he creeps up behind me and throws me into the pool.

“Like I care, Tarago. I can swim remember?” With a smile, I swim out of the pool, then flash him my middle finger.

My smile is still one of triumph.

The next morning, I look in the mirror and stifle a scream. My hair is green! I look like a swamp monster.

Aghast, I stare at the weird looking woman in the mirror. Chlorine. I’ve been warned.

Fuck! Tarago’s going to laugh at me. Can’t have that.

I reach for a silk scarf and drape it around my head. Doesn’t work – I have too much hair to be contained.

Shit!

Having no choice, I lift up my chin and stride into the dining room, a defiant look on my face.

As expected, everyone gasps at the sight of me.

Tarago looks at me with his mouth open.

I smile and graciously accept a cup of coffee. Inside I am not smiling.

“Your hair is green, Tanin,” Hanlie says.

“I like it!” I snap and reach for the milk.

Hanlie jerks back.

“It’s the chlorine,” Anneline says her voice dripping with glee.

“Yeah, well…” I attempt a nonchalant shrug. “It’s good to be adventurous sometimes. Next is purple.”

I hear a chuckle. I spin around to glare at Tarago.

“Shut up, you moron!”

He laughs harder. Slaps the table and guffaws.

Of course everyone in the room joins him.

“Uuurrrgghhh!” I give up. I kick back my chair and make my way back to the salon to change my hair back to my original brown. 

Hours later when I return to the mansion, I’m still mad with everyone. I sulk in my room and even have my dinner there.

I’m sitting in bed reading, when Tarago enters my room, an amused grin on his face.

“Funny?” I snap.

He walks over to me and pushes me onto my back. Then he shoves his fingers through my hair and plays with it for a few moments.

“Brunette again,” I say in a surly voice. “Happy now,
baas
(boss)?”

He nods. “One of the reasons I chose you. Your hair was beautiful. I liked it.”

“Oh yeah? That’s strange considering you are surrounded by blondes.”

“I wanted
Tanin
, not anybody else.” He kisses me, then looks into my eyes. “
Verstaan
(understand)?

“Mff.”

“One day you will kiss me back,” he whispers as he pulls down my top and takes a breast into his mouth.”

“In this lifetime? Keep dreaming.”

****

I lie in bed and mull over my thoughts – now that things are over between Ashwin and I, it’s almost as if I’m thawing towards Tarago. That can’t be right – I’m angry at him. Or I should be. He’s a moron, a barbarian, remember? He makes fun of me, calls me ‘vyf’ and doesn’t defend me from insults.

I’m his entertainment, his circus monkey. He just wants me because he can’t have me. He doesn’t love me or anything. Furthermore, he’s never invited me to his bed. He still visits me at night but always goes back to his bed. As if he’s keeping me out.

Well, I will just bide my time and hopefully he will tire of me and then I’m home – two million rands richer.

****

We’re at another one of those dreaded parties and Tarago is being his obnoxious self again.

“Vyf !” he calls, “be a good little girl, take your arse over there and fetch me a drink.”

“
Meneer
,” the barman says, “I am happy to get you a drink.”

Tarago shakes his head. “No, I want vyf to fetch me a drink.”

Everyone around him laughs at his antics.

“Get your own goddamn drink!” I hiss. “I’m not your barmaid. And stop calling me vyf.”

“Vyf!” he yells. “Bring me my whisky now!”

“Fuck off!” I mutter and walk away.

“Vyf! Do you want me to come for you?”

I pause and turn around. “What you gonna do? Throw me into the pool? I can swim. Haven’t you noticed?”

He looks at me with narrow eyes, then gets up and runs after me. Since it’s late and I don’t want to go into the pool, I race up to my room. He chases after me, but I manage to get into my bathroom and lock the door.

I sit on the edge of the bath tub with the door shut. I doubt he is going to be able to kick this door down. It’s a solid, heavy door and right now, he’s pretty drunk.

‘Vyf, open the door!” 

“No! You are a baboon. I’m not coming out of here.”

Silence.

“You have to kick it down and I’ll bet you a cent, you can’t do it, so fuck off, Tarago!”

I hear laughter around him, so obviously everyone has come to see him tame me. Mff.

“Ay yay yay yay!” he says.

Then there’s silence.

Outside I hear murmuring. What now? I get on the ground and peep under the door. Lots of shoes. I back away and resume my seat on the edge of the bathtub. What the hell’s the nutcase up to now?

About ten minutes later, I hear a strange sound. Like a buzzing. The sound suddenly gets loud and the door starts to shake. What the hell? Fear snakes through me. Then I see the blade – the nut job is using a chainsaw to cut through my bathroom door!

Stunned, I paste my hands over my mouth and watch the door almost disappear before my shocked eyes. When the hole is big, Tarago looks at me through goggles and grins.

“Tarago, you are mad,” I whisper. “Truly, you’re a fucking psycho.”

After a slight bow, he hands the chain saw to someone, puts his hand through and opens the door from the inside.

I shrink back.

He walks over, scoops me up and walks towards the party.

“Not the pool, Tarago! Not the pool! It’s midnight.”

He keeps walking.

“Okay, fine, I will get you a drink, okay? OKAY?”

The bastard throws me in, then pummels his chest.

I am so angry I can barely speak.

“One of these days, I will kill you in your sleep, you bastard!” I say as I wade out of the bathroom. I will murder you, Tarago. I promise you, I will do it.

He, together with everyone else, just laughs their arses off.

****

I’m at the pool area, reading a book when Tarago walks up to me and hands me a letter.

“For me?”

He nods. “Fan mail.”

“Mff.” I look at the envelope. It’s addressed to me and was delivered yesterday. But it’s been opened.

I look up at him. “Did you open it?”

“No.”

“Mm.” Could Julia or Charlene have opened my mail? I look towards the kitchen.

“What is it?”

I look at Tarago, then remove the contents of the envelope. “Oh my!

It’s an invite – Ashwin and Rheema’s wedding reception.”

“And? Are you going?”

“Huh?” I look up Tarago and shrug. “I …I …gosh, I didn’t expect this.”

“Do you
want
to go?” 

I take a deep breath. “I dunno. No, I think. I mean, I dunno. Maybe. Yes.”

“Yes? Why?”

Again, I shrug. “To show that I don’t care. Anymore.”

“But you do.”

His questions prevent me from thinking. I wish he’d leave me alone with my thoughts.

”Yes, Tarago,” I say in a weary voice, “I do care. This was the man I planned to marry and start a family with. We named our children, we talked about grandchildren, we talked about where we’d spend our fiftieth anniversary …” I bite my lower lip and fall silent.

His eyes remain on my face.

This invitation has such an air of finality about it – I’m publicly losing Ashwin forever and they expect me to celebrate this day with them. I swallow the bubble in my throat, shut my book, get up and walk away from Tarago.

He doesn’t stop me.

When I enter the house, I run into Charlene.

“Charlene, who opened this letter?” I ask waving the envelope at her.

“Meneer,” she says.

I look back at Tarago. He’s watching me. I hold up the letter at him, my eyebrows raised. He holds my gaze. Big fat liar!

Alone in my room, I think about the wedding. Should I turn down the invite? Should I go?

If I turn down the invite, it will seem like I’m mad at them (which I am), and if I go, all eyes will be on me. Most of them will look at me with pity. I can’t stand that.

What if, as suggested by Lima, I took someone hot with me? I smile at the thought – Ashwin will be so jealous. I know that for a fact.

“Well?”

I turn around and look into Tarago’s face.

“I don’t know. I explain my dilemma.

“I see.” He rubs his chin.

“Will you go with me?”

“No. What the fok for?”

“Mm. Okay, maybe you can fix me a date, then? Somebody hot? Somebody with big muscles and blue eyes?”

His face darkens. “No!”

I smile at his jealousy. “Tarago, I need to go with a date. If you don’t want me going with someone, then you come with me.”

“Fine, I’ll go with you but we can’t stay for more than one foking hour.”

I smile. “Deal. But you have to look sharp. Drop dead gorgeous. I want him to die with envy.”

“So you want to use me?”

I think about it. “Yes.” I smile. “You might as well make yourself useful.”

He shakes his head at me. “I’ve never met a girl with such foking attitude,” he mutters.

“You just shut up and look drop-dead gorgeous, so that I am the envy of every girl there...”

“I will not be used like that, hey.”

“…and I want you to arrange a really great car for us that will blow the wedding cars out of the picture …”

“No.”

“…and I need you to give me a kiss in case they’re watching.”

“No!”

“…and I need you to go shopping with me to help choose a gown …”

“No! Not a foking chan...”

“…tomorrow.” I walk up to him and place both my hands on his chest. “Please?”

“If you let me fok you in the change room.”

I sigh. “Fine, I’ll let you fok me in the change room.” 

“Okay! Tomorrow we go shopping for you.”

We go shopping the following day and he helps me pick out a gown.

He does get to
play
with me in the change cubicle so it’s a win-win situation.

As the days go by, my excitement about the wedding peaks and I’m pretty sure I can ace this.

Chapter Eighteen

The day of the wedding finally arrives. I’ve bought myself a floor-length off-white and silver dress. I’ve had my hair, my nails, my face, my ….
everything
done and I’m ready to dazzle.

Yet, I wake up vomiting and a bundle of nerves.

After throwing up for the third time, I crawl back into bed and try to quell the uneasiness in my stomach.

What the hell was I thinking? How could I possibly think of attending their wedding, facing Ashwin dressed like a groom, but marrying someone else?

After our dreams we dreamed out loud, all our promises about loving each other forever and how we’d take a grenade for each other, and where we’ll celebrate our fiftieth anniversary, all the playful but poignant wows we made during countless mock weddings we held during our courtship?

Ashwin was not only my first, he was my
only
boyfriend. When I met him, I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world, as he was exactly what I wanted in a guy. Now I’m losing him to …many girls, not just one. Dream after dream is being shattered with all that I’ve learned and discovered and it seems like I’m feeling the harsh effects of it
all
right now.

As for Rheema – she’s probably going to be dressed in all her bridal finery, probably how I imagined I would look.

I cringe when I imagine the looks she’ll give me – a look of pity when she stands next to her new husband. A look that says, “Why are you doing this to yourself, Tanin? You should have spared yourself all of this.”

What would she say to my face? “So glad you could make, it, Tanin. It means so much to us.” Us. She’d be speaking in twos. Maybe take both my hand in hers in a gesture of “No hard feelings.”

What about everyone else at the wedding?

Would their bejeweled and coiffured heads be grouped together, whispering about me and what a terrible thing to happen to someone as
nice
as me? People always use the words ‘nice’ in this context.

Tarago storms into my room, as usual without knocking. “Vyf?” He cocks his head and squints at me.

I give a dismissive wave.

“Vyf? What the fok?”

“I don’t want to go to the wedding anymore, Tarago. I’m sorry to have wasted your time and …you know stuff.” I pull the covers up to my nose.

“Are you foking serious?” He sits on the bed and looks at me.

I nod my miserable head.

“Why? Tell me why?”

“Cos …cos, Tarago …” I drop my covers and babble away, spill everything. “…watching the two of them publicly become one? And like, watch them give loving speeches and shit to each other? What if I cry and ruin my make-up?” I jerk the covers up to my nose again.

He pulls down the covers and looks into my eyes.

“Everybody cries at weddings, don’t they? Fok, I know I do.”

I smile and give a low grunt.

“This is your closure, remember? It tells you that it’s done. Remember your words?”

I say nothing.

“Just because something is hard to do, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it. People are going to look at you, but not for the reasons you think. They are going to admire you and think that you are over him or you wouldn’t be there.”

“Really? What do you mean?”

“You have to trust me. Get your black arse out of bed, put on that nice white dress that shows off your tits and thighs and let’s go.”