The Belgian Beast Read online

  “Your mother invited them,” Nina’s mother was quick to point out.

  “That I did. This is a time for family and Nina as well as her wonderful husband are family,” her grandmother asserted for everyone to hear.

  “Maybe Marc and I should go,” Nina surrendered as she glanced up at me, I squeezed her shoulder ready to do whatever she wanted.

  “Nonsense,” her grandmother shot. “I won’t see my granddaughter run out of here simply because she pursued her happiness. Maybe she didn’t go about it the traditional way, but she found the one person who gives her joy and they are going to have a child. Her child is innocent, and he deserves to be welcomed into this family as every other child. I don’t want any more of this nonsense. We will enjoy this meal together as a family. Do you hear me?”

  “Oui, maman,” Nina’s father reluctantly answered before he turned out the room.

  “The goat has arrived, and we’ll eat soon,” her grandmother told me happily. “First, the Iftar.”

  “What’s that?” I asked genuinely wanting to know everything.

  “We will eat dates to respect Muhammad's practice of breaking the fast with three dates. We will then pray and eat,” Nina explained to me expertly. I loved learning from her. It was part of our dynamic, learning from one another.

  It wasn’t long before Nina’s father returned with a platter stacked with dates. He handed them out to everyone and came to us. He shook his head as he looked Nina over with her large pregnant belly.

  After eating the dates, the family dispersed to find places to pray. Nina and I stayed put in the living room. Nina said her prayers while I watched. Her dedication to her faith was mesmerizing. I only went to church a few times a year and to watch someone like Nina who took her faith seriously was dazzling in a new way.

  Minutes later, the family shuffled into an outdoor veranda area where a long table was set up for the feast. Nina and I took a seat with her grandmother and Ayo. Sitting directly across from me was Jaheem, Nina’s brother. Before tonight, I hadn’t seen him since the hospital.

  As the food was served, one of Nina’s cousins struck up a conversation with her. I could see why Nina wanted to have her family around, they were lively and when all together they filled the room with joy. Axel deserved to enjoy the diversity of our two families combined.

  “How can you all sit here like this is normal?” Jaheem suddenly outburst. “You’re breaking bread with the man who took advantage of Nina.”

  “Jaheem, please,” Nina’s grandmother begged.

  “Please nothing. She brings this sale blanc into our family home on this holy day,” Jaheem stood from his chair to make his point and I stood as well. I wouldn’t put up with his nasty words. “You’ve tainted my sister and now you sit with my family.”

  “You don’t want to continue down this path,” I warned him sternly a deep growl erupting from my throat.

  “Marc, love,” Nina’s quiet voice came as she placed a hand on my arm in hopes of calming me down, but I was already heated.

  “You’ve tricked my sister, you’ve raped her, you’ve defiled her,” Jaheem continued his taunting.

  “Just a weak pussy,” my father’s voice added into the fray. I’d gone so long without it’s taunting and now it was triggered back into my mind.

  “Shut up,” I growled.

  “Rapist,” he spat.

  “You’re not a man. You can never be a man,” my father slurred as he did when he yelled his insults in my direction.

  The only thing I saw before my eyes was the color red as I leapt over the table in one swift motion. I took Jaheem to the floor. My fists laying into him with everything. It wasn’t just Jaheem I was fighting but my father. The years of his words, beating, and abuse all seemed to come to a head, and I couldn’t stop. I could barely hear the screams around me as I fought people off me until I heard the scream of Nina’s name.

  “Someone call 112,” I heard a woman scream.

  “Nina, Nina, are you okay?” I heard her mother’s voice question.

  I stopped instantly and jumped off her brother before I turned in the direction of the voices. Nina was against the wall, sitting on the floor, her hands holding her belly as she cried out in agony.

  “Nina!” I jumped in her direction but was stopped easily by her mother’s hand pressing to my chest and keeping me from reaching my wife.

  “Don’t you dare,” she snapped. “This is because of you. Don’t you dare go near my daughter. I won’t have you hurt her again.”

  “Hurt her?” I questioned easily confused to what I’d done. I’d never touched her. I would never hurt Nina intentionally, ever.

  With a hand on my shoulder, I turned to see Ayo who only gave me a nod. I didn’t understand. What had happened? I glanced to Nina who was still crying out and gasping at the pain she was experiencing.

  “She tried to get you off Jaheem,” Ayo told me. I shook my head not remembering Nina coming to me at all. “You practically tossed her across the room, and she hit the wall.”

  “No,” I gasped unable to believe I’d physically hurt my wife. Not my wife. I’d never hurt her. I loved her too much to even think about anything so terrible. “Nina, ma petite danseuse.” I couldn’t even try to step in her direction as she was surrounded by the women who tried to keep her calm.

  In the distance, I already heard the sounds of the ambulance coming. My heart pounded intensely as I thought of not just Nina but our son. I’d never hurt them, never, but knowing I had was hard to think about. I quickly wiped away the tears that began to prickle the corner of my eyes.

  It wasn’t long before we were joined with paramedics, and policemen. I recognized the two policemen from the hospital before. They spoke to Nina’s family as both Nina and her brother were placed onto gurneys. The policemen approached me with handcuffs, and I understood why. I wanted to go to the hospital with Nina, but I knew that wouldn’t be happening.

  “I’m sorry, ma petite danseuse,” I said to her as she was rolled past me. “I’m so sorry.” I sobbed watching her leave the room knowing I might never be welcomed into her life again. I could have very well lost her, forever.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Nina

  My heart refused to stop thumping wildly even after the doctors pumping in multiple medications into me to calm me down. I couldn’t be calm when I’d witnessed and experienced the man I loved become the monster I feared inside of him.

  Sitting next to me, my mother gripped my hand as I laid in the labor and delivery unit. The force of Marc knocking me into the wall with my emotional distress had caused me to go into preterm labor. At that moment, my contractions were gone as the doctors gave me medications by injection to stop them.

  “I don’t see any more contractions on the screen,” my mother mentioned as she stared at one of the machines I was hooked to.

  “No, I’m not feeling any,” I told her as I placed my hand on my belly. Axel kicked at my hand and I smiled knowing that my little boy was perfectly okay.

  My night was dramatic with doctors rushing around in hopes of stopping my labor and calming me down. I was hysterical and inside I could still feel it with my rapidly beating heart.

  “Nina, ma petite, I’m so sorry with how everything has happened. I wish I could take this all back. I should have supported you. I really should have,” my mom cried with tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Maman,” I sighed as I squeezed her hand. “Don’t apologize. I understand. I only wished I never had to keep secrets and I could have been open from the beginning. I’m now just a little lost on what I should do. Marc has been good to me, but he has this part inside him that I’ve only seen come out once before and that part scares me.”

  “You are always welcome home. You and the baby can live with me and your father. I’m here to support you from now on. I can’t nearly lose my daughter again.” I saw it in my mother’s eyes. She meant every word. She was ready to put it behind us, but I wasn’t sure about
my father. He would tolerate me around, but he would still be difficult.

  “I need to talk to Marc. He's not that violent man. I know he’s not,” I insisted. I knew he wasn’t that monster. He wasn’t really his persona. They may have called him the Belgian Beast, but Marc wasn’t a beast, he was my husband who’d gone through trauma. It was time he no longer fought it away but truly worked through it.

  “He was at the police station, but Ayo says his trainer picked him up this morning,” my mom told me. I nodded. Knowing Marc would’ve wanted to come directly to the hospital but I’m sure he was cautious and didn’t come because my family would be around. “If you’ll be happy, I am willing to accept him into our lives. He’s clearly made you happy and loves you, but I worry.”

  “I do too. But that man you saw last night, that’s not Marc. Marc is kind, he’s gentle, and loving. He has a temper when provoked. Jaheem was also in the wrong for what he said to Marc. He should have never called him those things, especially a rapist. Marc never forced me into anything. My love for him has always been consensual.” I had to make sure she wouldn’t take sides in the matter. I loved my brother, but Jaheem deserved what he got. You don’t poke a bear and expect to not be mauled.

  “Jaheem was completely wrong. He ruined our night.” My mom shook her head. “I’m so disappointed. Before it though, you and Marc seemed to be having a good time. He was so attentive to you.”

  “Always,” I gushed as I thought of my husband who never let a moment pass without him paying complete attention to my needs.

  “What shocked me the most was how willing this white man was to know our customs and our faith. I would have never expected that ever, especially in the past few years with the attacks and all. Around Belgium and the world everyone in the Muslim faith has been put under this microscope. We’ve been branded as terrorists and outsiders, not part of the larger community. It’s already hard enough for us being black, but here is this white man in our family home who is willing to learn from you in order to love you.”

  I grinned at how my mother realized our differences could bring us together. Marc cared enough about me to accept every part of me, even my persecuted religion. We were all alike. We all lived our lives, no matter who we were or where we came from. Straight or Gay, Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or Atheist, man or woman, black or white, brown or yellow. We all lived out these incredibly beautiful and electrified lives that none of us should be persecuted for. We all loved the same. I loved Marc no matter our circumstances and dramatic differences.

  “He’s good for you and I think you’re good for him,” she noted.

  “He is. My life will never be the same. I’m a different woman now,” I easily declared because I was different. My story began with me living in this cycle of depression. Now I felt like the chains had been broken.

  “I do have something else to apologize for. Your father and I should have never filed that complaint saying Marc had taken advantage of you. We were in the wrong for that one. I hate I played a part in hurting my own child. I don’t know if I can forgive myself for that one.” I knew my mom meant what she said. I still had a hard time accepting they’d done it, but they had. I reflected on it a lot during Ramadan and I was willing to accept her apology as we were in a season of healing. “It was disgusting of us.”

  “It was. I agree with that. I think that hurt the most. You could have disowned me and been done with me but instead you chose to hurt me and the man I love. I am willing to put it behind us. I really am if we can all work together to create a happy and loving environment for my son.” That was my only condition. Axel would enter the world to two families that loved him and were willing to work together for him.

  “I can completely agree to that, ma petite. I won’t say that means I accept Marc without fault right now. He did land both my children in the hospital. I’m cautious, but I won’t intervene in your relationship. Your son does need his father but I’m wary.” My mother expressed her concerns.

  “Understandable. Very understandable. I told you though, Marc isn’t that man. He’s the attentive man you saw who loves me and our son,” I explained to her.

  “I need to see more of that but right now I can’t completely let him in.”

  I nodded in response as I understood, and I knew I couldn’t force it. The relationship had to grow naturally. “Je t’aime,” she said rubbing my arm.

  “Je t’aime, maman.”

  * * *

  Unlocking the door to the apartment I shared with Marc, I didn’t know what to expect. I’d spoken to Marc over text message but that was it. He was remorseful for the situation and had even sought professional help for his anger issues. He had to face his day in court for the assault on my brother and we awaited the outcome of it.

  Marc stood up as I entered the living room after my parents dropped me off at home. I was under doctor’s orders to take it easy after spending a week in the hospital.

  I saw the sorry in his eyes as I approached him. He took my hands into his as we sat together on the couch. I didn’t know where to start with him.

  “How are you feeling today?” He anxiously asked as he stroked the back of my hand with his thumb.

  “Better. I’m glad to be out of the hospital. I think Axel is ready to have some slightly better food,” I joked lightly, pulling a smile from Marc.

  “I missed you and your spirit around here,” he told me as he swept one of my braids behind my ear. “I saw my therapist this morning. It was a good session. We’re going to work on ways I can de-escalate my anger before it gets the best of me.”

  “I’m proud of you,” I said truthfully. It wasn’t something men were the most willing to do. Therapy was a big step and I appreciated the fact that Marc, this big muscular man, was willing to admit his flaws and seek the help available.

  My fingers traced the tattoos on his arms as we sat together in the home we’d been working to get ready to bring a baby to.

  “I’m still hurt though. You broke your promise. You’d promised I’d never have to see that monster again and I did. This time I was collateral damage. That hurt like hell not just physically but mentally. I felt like I’d made this grave mistake, being with you and I hated that feeling because I know it wasn’t a mistake. We aren’t a mistake,” I concluded with him.

  Marc nodded in agreeance.

  “We aren’t but I made one. Yes, I broke my explicit promise to you. I never wanted to be that monster around you, and I promise I won’t. This time my promise is real and binding. My fight next month will be my last. I’m going to retire. Jean has offered me a job training fighters in the gym. I want to be here and present with you and Axel. I think giving up the fight will help keep the monster under wraps and maybe get rid of him for good.”

  I was in shock Marc would ever give up his career but at the same time I knew it was time. He’d eclipsed any expectations and would go down in the history books. He’d forever be the Belgian Beast and now it was time to pass that legacy on.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I leaned toward him and kissed him gently. It was time to fight for our love and fight for our family.

  “Anything for you and this little guy.” He rubbed my stomach. “And future little guys and girls.”

  “I like the sound of that. Our own little tribe,” I smiled as I leaned into his arms and allowed him to envelope me with his strength.

  “I’m going to raise my children as a man should. I’m going to love the hell out of them, and they are never going to have empty stomachs and never fear the monster. My father helped grow the monster in me and it is time to let him go the same way I let the man go.” Marc had his work cut out for him, but I was in it with him. We were a family until the end.

  “Just promise me one thing,” I said as I peered up at him.

  “Anything.”

  “Just be here and keep being the man I fell in love with. The compassionate man who saw me suffering and pulled me out of that. I’m here to do the same for you
whenever you need it.”

  “Always, ma petite danseuse, always.”

  Epilogue

  Marc

  Watching her on stage never got old. The way her body gracefully moved across the stage was the most mesmerizing thing I’d ever witnessed. Nina was captivating and there was no doubt she was where she belonged when performing and as prima ballerina.

  After three children, she was still a wonder and her return to the opera house had been anticipated by dance aficionados worldwide. The show was sold out. It reminded me of some of my best fights when there wasn’t an empty seat in the house and as she and the other ballerinas took their bows, we all stood and applauded loudly. I tossed a bouquet of pink peonies on stage, the same flowers she carried the day we married.

  Leaving the building, I stalked around the side as I used to do when Nina and I first met, and I’d pick her up after performances. My heart would beat faster and faster every time the side door opened until she emerged with her bag over her shoulder, looking like the beautiful woman she’d always been to me.

  “Let me get that for you,” I took her bag from her shoulder and threw it over my own. I bent to her lips and gave her a gentle kiss. Our kisses still reminded me of our first months together. They were just as fresh and just as new even in our chaotic world. “You did great tonight.”

  “Thanks, love,” she leaned into my arms as we began to walk together toward the garage I’d parked our car in. “I feel like I could have done better but I always say that. How are the kids?”

  “Your mom texted me,” I told her as I pulled my phone from my pocket. “The kids are fast asleep. Natasha was a little fussy, but your mom eventually got her to sleep, too.”

  Axel was about three months old when Nina’s mother finally accepted me. She could see the man I really was. I wasn’t a monster and I loved the hell out of her daughter and grandson. The catalyst was Nina had returned to the stage and I was alone with Axel who screamed for his mother constantly. I didn’t know what to do but with Nina’s parents living near as we’d only just moved, I caved and called her mother for help.