Chapter 8

Written by: Sumanda Maritz

Nadeem’s whole breakdown played itself over and over in my mind. How am I supposed to get satisfaction from vanquishing a squishy crying tomato! Or should I consider my revenge against this buffoon completed? 

***

I did, however, come up with the perfect ad campaign for the tomato sauce: 

A lovely cartoon advertisement of bouncing happy tomatoes that get squashed and slashed by evil minded little kids giggling as the tomatoes turned into tomato sauce. If there was one thing I know for a fact, it’s that children love violence as much as tomato sauce. It would be a killer ad. Some days I could giggle myself silly over my exceptional wit.

***

While I let that little conundrum play at the back of my mind, I went over my list again. I looked over each detailed entry again. Some of those injustices no longer seemed as important. More to the point is that after all the effort that I had put in to destroy Nadeem, I didn’t have the energy to execute all of them. With a black marker, I scratched out the ones that seemed too much effort to pursue. Was I going to have the same disappointment with every one of them?

I wanted satisfaction for the wrongs they had done me. I didn’t want to sit and feel sorry for those people. Could it be that I took the build-up to Nadeem’s fall too far? Would all of them be unworthy of my attention?

I spent the whole weekend going over every single photograph I had taken of Nadeem. I wanted to see if I could spot where I had pushed him over the edge. If I could learn to see the edge approach I could adjust the plan. Then I would get the satisfaction due to me.

***

Monday morning I woke with gritty eyes still unaware of where I went wrong. There was a nagging little fear in the back of my mind that my approach might be wrong. But if I started with the “what if’s” I would never end.

I felt that dull ache at the top of my head again as my anger burned higher. What was wrong with these people? Can’t they give me the satisfaction that I needed more than air?

***

I woke up in the hospital again! Bloody bullfrogs! What happened this time? The last thing I remembered was going up to eat breakfast that was a stuff-up as usual. Rotten tomato slices all oily from being fried! I told her I didn’t like tomatoes. What was wrong with her? Why can’t she remember that?

I raised my head to see what I’ve hurt this time. Except for the pain in my head nothing else seemed to be wrong. But I was strapped down. Arms, hands, legs and only my pale feet stuck out. 

It took me a few moments to understand that my left wrist was encircled in a handcuff!