From Anthology Two: First Light. 1985-1991
First Brush with a Psycho (rough draft)
At about 5:00 A.M., my phone rang. When I answered it, I heard only whimpering, the sound of a small child in pain. I hung up. The phone rang for the next hour, always with the whimpering.
Finally, Zola answered it while I was in the shower. I emerged, and she told me it was Hazim. I already knew shed gone back to him at least temporarily; why wouldnt she? They had a history together, and she was lonely. It didnt upset me, because Id left her. What shed done since Id broken up with her was her business, not mine. I had no claim on her anymore. But I was angry that he was now harassing me. Telephone stalking was endemic in Japan. Some of my friends had endured years of it. The next time the phone rang, I picked up the receiver and said, Go f*ck yourself, Hazim.
He screamed, Go f*ck myself? Okay, now I kill you! Just wait, you bastard! Now I kill you!
I hung up and took the phone off the hook. Zola swore she didnt know how he got my number, an avowal I didnt believe. I asked if she wanted me to walk her home, but she said it wasnt necessary. She seemed to be regretting that shed spent the night with me. I let her out and went to sleep.
At 10:30 A.M., Zola called and told me that Hazim had broken into her apartment while shed been with me, which meant hed been watching her. Hed ransacked the place, stolen all the photos she had of him, and left her address book open to the page where my number was written. She thought hed called me from her apartment. I asked if she was all right. She said yes, and that we shouldnt be afraid. He wouldnt hurt us; he was all just empty words.
Too depressed to do anything, I stayed home and played my bass. At 5:30 in the afternoon, the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and an inhuman howling blasted into my ear. It sounded like a dog having its paws crushed, the worst noise Ive heard a living creature make. I realized it was Zola. She was utterly incoherent, producing a series of gabbling, gasping, choking screams.
Whats happening? I shouted. Zola! Whats happening?
Dont go out! Dont leave your apartment! Hes coming after you! Hes going to kill you!
She was at a police kiosk near her home. It took several minutes for her to tell me what had happened, because she was crying so hard. Hazim had come over, and shed let him in when he said he wanted to apologize. Once inside, he immediately commenced beating the stuffing out of her with his fists and the butt of a large knife. He demanded my address, telling her the knife was for me. When she refused to give it to him, this strapping six-footer knocked her down and kicked her all over the kitchen floor. She was five feet, three inches tall and weighed 100 pounds fully clothed and soaking wet. He then yanked her up by her neck and choked her until she gave him a fake address. One hand around her throat, he dragged her out of the apartment, shouting, Come on! Lets go! Youre going to watch me kill him! Outside, she broke away from him, ran to the police kiosk, and called me.
I spoke to the cops, who told me to stay inside. They escorted Zola back to her place and stayed with her until Hazim was arrested at his apartment at 10:30 that night. Under interrogation, he denied saying hed threatened to kill me, but he admitted beating Zola to scare her. When the cops asked her if she wanted to press charges, she declined, saying she was too afraid and didnt know what would happen if she did. In Japan, arrestees were generally released on their own recognizance. Domestic violence was not considered a crime serious enough to hold someone on a bond. Hazim signed a statement of apology and a pledge that hed never attempt to contact Zola or me again. He was allowed to walk out of the station 45 minutes after he was brought in.
I went over to see Zola at about midnight. She had a black eye; split and swollen lips; a cauliflower ear; purple finger marks around her neck and throat; and red, yellow, green, blue, and purple bruises all over her face, arms, legs, back, and stomach. She was the most severely beaten human being Ive ever seen in person. It was shocking that despite what hed done to her and the terror she felt as he did it, she hadnt given him my real address. It made me realize the core of strength she had to have, somewhere deep inside.
There wasnt much we could say to each other. I told her how sorry I was about everything, and she told me she was sorry, too. Ive never been more angry at anyone than I was at Hazim. Part of me hoped hed come after me, because he didnt know that Id studied shotokan karate for years and was confident that I could bring him down with one blow, using the heel of my palm against his chin. I still practiced that movement frequently. Once he was on the ground, Id jump as high as I could into the air and land on his face with my 200-plus pounds. Since force equals mass times acceleration, that would mean more than 800 pounds coming down on Hazims brave, manly mug.
Maybe a book with with less life lessons but more towards the entertainment/show biz side of things.
