Her best friend hissed at her for days before the wedding. ‘Why are you marrying him?’ ‘He’s not a nice person.’ ‘Don’t do it.’
Sally ignored her. Her disapproval of Rob was a long term thing, no matter how hard he tried to charm her.
‘Why doesn’t she like me?’ he’d ask, hurt in his beautiful brown eyes.
Sally would shrug, kiss him on his gorgeous cheek and say, ‘Jealous, I guess. She’d like you for yourself.’
And he would grimace, as if the thought was distasteful. And Sally would laugh.
The day of the wedding brought new admonitions.
‘It’s not too late, you can still walk away.’
‘Why would I do that? I love him.’
Her best friend sulked all through the ceremony, all the reception and cried as Sally and Rob left for their honeymoon, sailing the Caribbean on a hired yacht.
Three days later, Rob gave Sally the worst tongue-lashing of her life. His steak wasn’t cooked the way he liked it. Sally stilled her anger. He was stressed, sailing an unfamiliar boat in strange waters.
A day later he lifted his hand to her, threatening. His favourite shirt was too creased to wear. Sally’s heart thudded. She remonstrated and he wept his apologies, he loved her, would never hurt her.
Two days later, he hit her with his open palm. A blow across the cheek. Sally locked herself in the tiny bathroom while he sobbed outside the door.
The next day he was cheerful, kind, attentive. Sally covered her bruised cheek with waterproof makeup and proposed they swim in the clear ocean beyond the reef before lunch.
‘I love to watch you dive,’ she said, her gaze roaming his lithe, tanned body. ‘I’ll film your dive and your swim to the reef.’ She gestured to where the coral began about 50 metres away. ‘I’ll post the video to FaceBook, make everyone jealous.’
Rob drew up his shoulders, pulled in his flat stomach. ‘Great idea.’
‘Go on then.’ She held the phone up.
He dived a perfect dive, and swum towards the reef. But it wasn’t caught on camera.
Sally was preoccupied with starting the boat’s engine and revving it out to sea.
The honeymoon was over.
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As he stared at the barrel of the rifle pointed at his chest, Bolivian president Escuardo Perenzo knew the honeymoon was over.
For several years, ever since he was elected to power, he had enjoyed the love and confidence of his people who absolutely idolised him.
And, at first, he had tried to do everything he had promised to accomplish during the lead up to the election.
More schools, a better health system, improved sanitation, the list was endless.
The reality was so very different. It was too easy to encourage the cartels, the drug runners, the low-life criminals feeding off the system – all the while becoming rich on the proceeds.
Too easy to enjoy the luxury trappings of villas, yachts, fast cars – and even faster women – that the position of president brought with it.
Now, here Eduardo was, cornered in his enormous palace dining room by the very rebels he had promised his people he would eliminate.
‘You can only promise so much,” he thought, “before it all catches up with you.”
Tired of his betrayals, the army generals had deserted him and, with no armed guards for protection, the palace grounds were a feeding ground for the scavengers keen to overthrow their government.
“Will you not believe me?” he asks the gun bearer. “I can offer you more riches than you have ever dreamed of,” he continued.
“I don’t want your riches,” the man said, lifting the rifle a fraction higher to aim at Eduardo’s head. “I want justice for my people – and I don’t see that coming from you.”
The president knew he was doomed. Only 43, with a beautiful wife and two young children, he thought I am never going to see them again.
He closed his eyes and waited for the end. A shot rang out. Eduardo squinted, surprised to find himself still in the land of the living, and saw his aggressor prostrate and unmoving on the floor.
One his generals – one who had been particularly loyal to Eduardo ever since he was elected to office – stood over the man a pistol pointed at his head.
“Thank god,” cried Eduardo. “You have come to my rescue. I am forever in your debt.”
“Not at all,” said the general. “I didn’t want him to get all the glory. I wanted it for myself.” And he advanced menacingly towards him, pistol raised once more.
Great ending!
I don’t think it’s just the honeymoon. Seems to me like the marriage might be a bit of a problem, too!!
You reckon?