"It's a poem that Vickie wrote and she give it to me so I can pass it on to you two. It's dedicated to both of you."
"I didn't know that Vickie writes poems!" Jacob said solemnly.
"Oh, she is very talented, Just like you two. I've read many of her poems. She is very good. She just need some practice."
Diana read the poem to herself. Tears flooded her eyes. Then she gave the paper to Rosa and asked her to read it loud for everyone. Rosa read:
"Among the obscure gloom
You called me back to your womb.
It was silence, and the breeze
Moved the curtains with such an ease.
I saw in the dull sky,
One star was passing by,
One star was burning,
And one star was returning.
*
I called you...
I called you...
All my life, like a sharp knife
Was within me with strife.
Moon's white stare
Reflected the window from air.
*
There, all night, inside my heart with fright,
From hopelessness someone with rage,
Breathed heavily among foliage.
Someone would call.
Someone would want me all.
*
There, all night, from branches so black at site
Sadness and obscurity would fall;
A hopeless someone would crawl.
It is me that she would call.
*
Mom says: 'My little Vickie
Soared with the wind to be free.
A wind that took her away.
A wind that made the sky gray.' "
After Rosa finished reading, Diana wiped her teary eyes and said:
"You know, I've thought about Vickie as no one could imagined in the last three years. I've had a premonition that she would be home one day, which she wasn't. I had a portent that she would be where I wanted her, which she couldn't. Sometimes I've even waken up in the middle of the night with the strange sensation that she was staring at me in the dark room. But all of those are now over. She is coming home. We are going to get her now."
She looked at Jacob for approval. He nodded his head.
"Let's call her. And then we drive to her place and bring her home. What is her number, Rosa?"
"Oh, wait a minute, not yet. I didn't know any of these. Rosa never told me any of these." Tim began. Every time he spoke, it was like another nightmare would begin again. "You can call her later; but first you must hear my story."
"We don't want to know your story. We don't care to know it. Let's stop this madness now. I want to call my daughter now." Diana said, distorting her face in a deep- felt annoyance.
"Diana, you're the last person I want to hurt." Tim began. "When Rosa said that I'm a hateful person, she was and is right. But I swear I'm not hateful to you. You're the only decent person amongst us. You're pure; you're clean. You're very far away from any guilt that we all have. But I must say my story. It must be heard. It's vital to be heard. You can call her after I finish."
"For many years you've been talking about your secret. I've known you for four and half years. Is there any more surprises about you that I should now?" Rosa demanded of Tim.
"You may call it surprise, Rosa. I'm sure when you hear it, you'll understand why it's vital for all of us especially you, Rosa, to know my secret."
"It's six in the morning. We've been here in this torture chamber for the last twelve hours. We must go home now."Ed said with a somber look.
"I don't care if you stay or go. I'm done with you. I'm done with your loving wife and mother of your children. Just be careful she doesn't kill them. If you want to leave, go right ahead." Tim said coldly.
Ed and Thui remained in their seat even though Tim said that they could go. It seemed as though their curiosity to see how this party would end was much greater than their need to go home.
"If we must hear your story, then we should." Dian said, blinking her tears away. "I'm going to make a pot of coffee."
"Diana, please let me do it." Rosa said and then walked to the kitchen to make the coffee. When she returned, everyone was sitting with tenacity to hear Tim's secrets, which was to be the worst, the most repulsive of all.
In his energetic, sometimes profane way of speaking, Tim dabbed a stiff forefinger at Rosa and said:
"Rosa, I knew all about Vickie and you, the way you helped her; but the last part that you came to this house with a message in a form of a poem from her to her parents, you never told me. You hid that from me. But I also know something else about Vickie that you told me and you left it out telling her story. Do you want to tell that yourself or you want me to tell them?"
Sob rose in Rosa's throat. Her eyelids lowered. Her face contracted in a grimace of painful forbearance.
"I tell them." Rosa said with a muffled voice.
To Be Continued
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