Her Damage

Tamara brushed her shoulder length hair while humming in the mirror. She was alternating between humming, mumbling, and singing H.E.R.’s latest hit “Damage.”

If I let you, you’ll take me for granted, yeah

you, you, you

ooooooooooo

You could do damage…

She had spent all last night packing up her bags. Swimsuit, check. Makeup, check, stiletto heels for late night salsa dancing, check. It was her first time going to Puerto Rico. Her husband, Bruce, had booked her a surprise vacation for them to celebrate. After four long years of all-nighters, coffee binges, four-hour tests, and a barrage of legal case studies, she had graduated finally from law school. Bruce wanted to help her clear her mind before she had to take the bar exam. He planned the trip all by himself – they were to head up to the El Yunque rainforest for a hike and some Instagram worthy shots in the waterfalls, go horseback riding on the beach, and salsa lessons.

“I’m so ready to celebrate with you,” Bruce said as he watched Tamara in the mirror.

He hugged her from behind and started rocking out with Tamara to the song she was singing.

She turned around and kissed him and said, “Thank you for all your support. I couldn’t have graduated without you.”

She glanced at the Cartier watch that Bruce had got her for her birthday.

“It’s time to go! We’ve got two hours before we take off… and you know everything is extra hectic with COVID-19… make sure you have your mask. I’ll be damned if they send us back home,” she snarked.

Bruce grabbed his mask and their luggage and headed out the door.

He opened the door of the suburban for her, closed it, and then proceeded to put the bags in the trunk. Bruce was exceptionally gentleman-like today, maybe because it was Valentine’s Day or maybe he was just that proud. Bruce was a skilled carpenter and architect by trade. In fact, he designed and built their massive five-bedroom, three-bathroom home all by himself. Imagine modern meets Victorian treehouse tucked away in the serene forests of Loxahatchee. He designed such a big house for the two of them because Tamara promised that after law school they could start working on their family. He hoped to put it down and get started in Puerto Rico.

H.E.R. Damage was playing on the car radio.

“Geez, we just heard this song,” Bruce said.

“Let it ride,” Tamara said. “I love this part.”

Loving me right
Giving me life
All night
You could be

Bruce grabbed her hand and said, “We’re gonna make magic happen on this trip.”

After jamming out to their travel playlist, they arrived at Fort Lauderdale Airport with just an hour to spare. They got a frozen margarita at Chili’s and boarded their flight. The flight was short, thank God. When they got off the plane, San Juan welcomed them with its beautiful sun and warm winds. The locals were friendly and tried their best to speak English to accommodate the two. An Uber driver took them to their room in Viejo San Juan. It was a modest room in a historic home with black and white checkered floors, turquoise walls, and a bay window that looked over the cobblestone streets.

“This is so romantic,” Tamara pined. “You did good babe!”

Bruce was preoccupied with portrait on the wall. The frame had a unique shape. He could tell by its carving that there was a history to it. It was made out a dark mahogany wood and it had crudely carved lines on the bottom of the frame. It was as if someone was keeping count of something with the markings. The picture itself was a beautiful watercolor painting of a mother and child. It had to be centuries old, but it was so well-preserved.

Bruce’s fascination was interrupted, “I hope you enjoy your stay,” Giancarlo, the AirBnB host said. “Oh, I see you’ve taken an interest in that picture. It was painted by my grandfather before he left for the mainland. He took it with him to America to keep his family close to his heart. The woman is my grandmama and the child is my mother. He told me he used to kiss the picture every day. When he got enough money to bring the rest of the family over to America, a tragedy happened. My father moved back and never was the same, but he keeps the picture to remind guests to keep their family close… Oh now I am talking too much.”

Tamara shrugged and sat on the couch.

“Thanks for the history,” she said and rolled her eyes.

Giancarlo closed the door and Tamara smiled slyly at her husband, while shaking her hips like a seductive goddess. She crept up to Bruce slowly and kissed his neck and rubbed his leg.

“I’ma go shower,” she said. “Ler me take some stress off of you.”

She hurried to the shower. Bruce could hear the water running. Underneath the hum of the shower, he could hear a song. “You could do damage”

WTF, why couldn’t he get the song out of his head.

He locked eyes with the beautiful woman in the portrait. Was he trippin’? Her mouth was open now. It seemed like she was singing the song. His eyes couldn’t move. All he could see was the beautiful woman’s mouth. Now he was certain, she was talking to him.

“You could do damage…”

Suddenly, Bruce got undressed, ready to meet his wife in the shower. Tamara picked up the song where the woman in the portrait left off. Bruce grabbed Tamara from behind and hugged her gently. She sang louder, she knew he loved her singing. His hands creeped up her back and caressed the nape of her neck.

“You could do damage…”

Bruce could feel his body tensing up, he could hear his wife singing, but he couldn’t control the urge. The power surged to his hands and Tamara’s voice grew fainter. She was wiggling and gyrating, clawing at the door and the burly hands around her neck. Bruce only pushed harder until Tamara fell to the floor. She wasn’t breathing anymore, but the song was still playing.

“You could do damage…”