Chapter Six
The decision to move in with Carl proved to be an easy one, made all the more easy by my Santa Rosa employer offering me remote contract work without batting an eye, ensuring I did not have to commute — or resign. The most immediate complication was my apartment lease. I didn't want to bag out on it and end up with any legal mess. Although Carl offered to pay it off and be done with the commitment, I felt uncomfortable with him simply taking care of it for me. I did not want to be one of the people in his life who depended on him financially. I wanted to pay my own way — at least at the level I could pay — while also respecting the salary differences between us and allowing him to bear the brunt of an expense because he could.
The weekend I packed my things, I called my cousin Rita. Her wedding was in a month and I needed to make travel arrangements. Besides, we needed to plan a bachelorette party. I was thinking we'd all go to a club, maybe one of those male stripper places. Rita would definitely be up for that, as would most of our New York girlfriends. Rita's phone rang and rang, until she finally picked up. I could tell something was amiss the moment she slurred hello.
"Rita? Why are you drunk already on a Sunday?" Morning drinking was a bad, bad sign in my book, a world-is-surely-ending sign.
"Gabriel fucking Capellani boned that slut Maria Espinoza — remember her from sixth grade? — then fell hopelessly in love with the bitch. And now...." Rita's voice fell silent and I could tell she was swallowing her tears.
"Now what?" I prompted, guessing Rita had probably kicked the bastard out.
Sniffing loudly my cousin continued. "Now he's broken our engagement off and shitfire, Jacks, it hurts like a motherfucker." Rita broke down in sobs, something I'd never heard despite knowing the woman my entire life.
Three thousand miles away, all I could do was listen. My cousin was like a sister to me. We'd gone to school together and spent every summer together for as long as I could remember. Her mother and mine had been close sisters and we'd lived in the same neighborhood and attended the same schools our entire childhood.
"Fucker," I muttered, thinking Gabriel Capellani deserved to have his ball sack kicked up his rectum. Maybe I could get my brother Ernie to track him down and do the dirty deed.
"Damn right." Rita flicked her lighter, then took a drag off her cigarette.
"Did you tell your mom?" I cringed as I asked the question, suspecting Rita hadn't — because if she had I would certainly have heard the news by now. The woman would go ballistic when she found out her daughter had been practically left at the altar.
"Nope."
"Are you kicking him out?"
"Didn't have to. He left. Moved in with Maria as a matter of fact." Rita firmed her voice. "I can't stay here in this apartment, Jackie. I just don't have it in me." The tears came again, softer this time. "I just wish I knew why...you know, why I had to fall in love with the wrong guy...."
I listened to my cousin cry, feeling angry and protective. She'd fallen hard for Gabe and I knew the betrayal was ripping her lungs out. This wasn't something Rita would bounce back from easily as she had her other boyfriends.
"Sometimes there is no explanation, honey. We love who we love." Helplessly I wracked my brain for something comforting to say, a part of me knowing nothing would take the deep hurt away. But getting Rita away from town for a while might help her gain some perspective.
"Just fucking leave," I blurted. "Get out of New York. A change of scenery might—"
"And go where, Jacks? I don't have the energy for it." The characteristic fizzing of a beer bottle popping open accompanied the flat statement.
"Come to Santa Rosa."
"And live with you? Yeah, sure. I'd drive you crazy and you know it."
Rita was right. We'd tried living together one summer as teenagers at our grandparents cottage on Cape Cod. She was the messiest housekeeper I knew. Her disorder made me want to scream. But I wouldn't be in Santa Rosa long.
"I'm moving to Santa Cruz with Carl," I said, keeping my voice casual. "You'd be doing me a favor if you'd consider subleasing my apartment. Until you figure out what you're doing. I could leave it fully furnished. All you'd have to do is bring yourself and a suitcase or two."
"Yeah?"
I let the idea percolate, giving my cousin time to think. Pushing Rita to do anything always backfired. I had to let her get used to the idea first, then deliver the deciding blow.
"I dunno, Jackie...."
"What else you gonna do with all that wedding cash you saved up working at Filene's? Might as well take some time off and figure out some things, right? Fuck Gabe. You ain't gonna moon around Queens with everyone whispering behind your back. Just leave it all behind in your rearview mirror. You got better things to do."
"Fucking right I got better things to do," Rita rasped. "Fuck Gabe. Fuck Maria. Fuck the whole damn nosy neighborhood. Maybe I should just up and leave." The last sentence sounded determined, more like the Rita I knew.
"Do it, Rita. Just... do it. You'll be glad you did. Call me when you book your flight," I said, pushing the idea a bit now that it sounded like my cousin might actually take my advice. "I'll pick you up at the airport. You don't have to stay forever. Just for a while. Until you're ready to go back." Of course, there was always the possibility that, like me, Rita might never go back. But that was a subject for another conversation.
"I'll call the airline today, Jacks. I promise I will. And...you know, thanks." With that my cousin hung up the phone, hopefully to bite the bullet and tell everyone the wedding was cancelled. No one in our family would be happy to hear she was leaving — they hadn't been too keen when I left five years ago with Jim either — but sometimes getting away from an old life was the only way to create a new one.
Rita arrived a week later with three oversize suitcases in tow — I guess she thought she might stay a while. After playing tour guide and showing my cousin the San Francisco Bay Area for a week, I departed, leaving the apartment in her care. I hoped she'd embrace a new start, but it wasn't something I could do for her.
Chapter Seven
I refurbished the Glen Canyon house as Carl and I planned, embracing the project as a blank canvas. The empty walls became life-size murals, depicting flowering garden scenes, with stone doorways slightly ajar showing a slice of a mystical mythical world beyond. Unbeknownst to me, Carl photographed my work and placed it in his San Jose office suite, where the pieces gained substantial interest. So I became a mural painter for the Silicon Valley nouveau rich, while working alongside Carl every so often as a graphic artist to help his clients' side-businesses.
My transition to Santa Cruz was easier than I dared imagine. I made friends with some of the musicians and artists in the area, folks who appreciated my differentness and didn't expect me to present a posh and polished exterior. Rita visited every other month without fail, lounging by my refurbished pool and helping me paint walls or pick out bathroom fixtures or weed the rose garden — willing to do whatever was needed and bringing her characteristic caustic charm. Jim and Timothy passed through occasionally when Jim was playing in Santa Cruz, an opportunity for them to leave behind the bustling crowds of the city music scene and enjoy the peace and beauty of the canyon.
My relationship with Carl unfolded into a harmonious life filled with remarkable ease, our disagreements few and far between, mostly borne out of creative differences at work when our opinions clashed — although rarely for long. Carl's daughters visited every few months despite their mother's best attempts to block the established visitation arrangement. The girls loved the upstairs bedroom I'd designed for them with rainbow-colored fairies and bright flowers and pony-sized dragonflies on the walls. Victoria's law firm dragged the divorce agreement out, countering every proposal, demanding more money, and finally insisting on custody hearings presided over by a judge, rather than an arbitrator. Eventually, since the parties absolutely could not agree, the matter was finally forced onto a court docket to determine alimony and child support payment
s.
Long story short: now that I was in the picture, Victoria wanted a boatload of cash and Carl had reached the end of his patience. And his savings.
He and I couldn't marry until his divorce was finalized of course, and although I felt I was already married to the man in many ways, Carl desperately wanted things settled. The frustration with Victoria's lawyers and the ridiculous delays had him at his wit's end. No matter how often I assured him I was with him for the long haul and that we simply needed to wait it out, he still got quite upset over it periodically. He wanted us to be married, for our relationship to be official. Recognized. Legal. I did too, but nothing he'd tried could get Victoria to budge. So we simply waited.
Almost a year later on Christmas Eve, we decided to go to brunch to celebrate the holiday season and discuss the most recent legal developments. I'd been feeling a bit off, tired and achy as if a cold was brewing, but Carl very much wanted to do something special, so I dressed and we headed to the Santa Cruz waterfront.
Our favorite restaurant boasted ocean views from every table. Although busy, the wait staff knew us and treated us like royalty.
"So, what adventure should we go on tomorrow? Fisherman's Wharf? Maybe the beach?" Smiling, I attempted to weave some holiday cheer into a conversation I knew might become frustrating when he caught me up on the details of Victoria's latest demands.
Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Carl avoided my eyes. "There's been a lot of pressure for me to spend Christmas with the girls this year. My lawyer said there was a good chance that if I didn't, Victoria would use that as the final bit of leverage to prove I was an uninterested parent and therefore undeserving of any joint custody arrangement."
"That's ridiculous! The girls are in Vail with your parents taking ski lessons every day and having the time of their lives. On your dime! You're flying out to collect them over the weekend, right? Are you thinking you should go a few days sooner?"
"I — I do, actually." Carl placed his warm hand atop mine, his thumb rubbing my emerald engagement ring. "Except...well...I'm thinking I should go this afternoon. You know, surprise them Christmas Eve."
"I see," I said, the picture becoming clear. "But I'm not invited, am I?" The question was rhetorical and we both knew it. Carl was choosing his family over me — they were, of course, his darling daughters. But on Christmas Eve on a moment's notice, leaving me alone for the holiday? That really took the proverbial cake. Carl was speaking again, offering yet another apology and justification, the same old story I'd heard a thousand times.
"I'm sorry Jacks...you'll of course join us next year after the divorce is final. With the settlement so close, I just don't want to upset the applecart."
"Of course." My voice became sarcastic. "Victoria is still running your life. No, actually, she's running our life. I'm tired of this, Carl — this game where you and I are jerked all over the place because of her demands."
I was actually beyond tired. I was absolutely sick of it. Carl's decision to placate her expectations and abandon me on Christmas hit me in a place that stung like crazy. I could barely contain my anger. I wanted to scream at him and rant. But I didn't. Because we were in a public place. Which is exactly how Carl planned it. Chicken-shit ass-hat.
Determined to end the discussion and our brunch, I stood and calmly said my piece. "In fact, I'm not only tired of the game, I'm forfeiting the match." Then I walked from the restaurant, seething.
Outside, I nodded for the valet to fetch the car. Carl appeared at my side, as I suspected he would.
"Jacqueline," he murmured, "Please. I—" He placed his hand lightly on my forearm.
"Don't," I warned, my voice an angry growl. "Just don't...."
The valet pulled the BMW to the curb and I stepped forward, my palm against Carl's chest. "Call a cab to take you to the airport," I instructed, my serious eyes meeting his. "We'll talk about things when you return. I'm not going to do anything rash...I just need some space." Then I squared my shoulders and walked away. When I stomped on the gas, the BMW responded quickly, tires squealing in protest.
I didn't look back until it was almost too late to see Carl wave goodbye.
Chapter Eight
My old apartment looked much the same as I'd left it. Rita had kept my furniture, but decorated the walls with the artwork she preferred: mostly ocean scenes, seals and dolphins, colorful underwater landscapes. I turned on the Tiffany stained glass lamp in the living room and stowed my luggage beneath the kitchen table. Given the fact it was Christmas Eve, my cousin was out, probably enjoying the evening with her new beau. No matter. She wouldn't care if I made myself at home.
Knowing Carl would head back to the house to pack before leaving, I drove immediately to San Jose and stopped at a mall to augment my wardrobe. The new wheeled leather luggage cost me an arm and a leg, but I figured that's what credit cards were for. I placed the case of Heineken I'd purchased in Rita's refrigerator, where I tore open a corner and extricated a pleasantly cold green bottle.
Merry fucking Christmas, I thought, popping the top and taking a gulp.
Beer in hand, I headed toward the living room couch, when the door suddenly flew open and crashed against the wall. The sound frightened me out of my wits, but that was the least of my worries. Into the room jumped a woman in a black leather coat, fishnet stockings and high heels, screaming like a banshee. The banshee's face was twisted into a fierce grin, teeth bared as she howled like a madwoman, her hands curled into fists.
I threw the beer bottle in her direction and leaped for the couch where my purse sat holding the only weapon I could think of on short notice — a bottle of pepper spray. Fortunately the banshee came to her senses before I could extricate the weapon and use it.
"Jackie?" the woman said, staring at me.
"God damn it, Rita. You scared the crap out of me." Indignant, I stomped into the kitchen to grab a towel to sop up the beer spill.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She stumbled to a kitchen chair and leaned her head in her hands on the glass tabletop as if to hold it on her neck.
"I could ask you the same thing." I studied the crinkled bow on my cousin's head and the fishnet stockings. "Looks like you were on your way to one hot party. What happened? You look a mess, girlfriend."
"Look who's talking," Rita said, nodding at my wrinkled silk dress. "You drive up this afternoon?"
"Damn right I did," I bristled. "Son of a bitch springs the news on me at brunch today. No big deal. He's flying out to spend Christmas with his daughters in Vail. Skiing. 'Sorry Jacks...of course you'll join us next year after my divorce is final...' Fucking asshole." I retrieved two fresh beers from the refrigerator and motioned toward the sofa. "Care to join me getting shitfaced drunk?"
"Don't mind if I do," Rita said, stripping the hairclip and rumpled golden bow off her head. "Meet you on the couch after I put on something decent." She kicked off her black high heels, one skittering across the kitchen linoleum.
"Who was he, Reets?" I asked, understanding that something had gone quite wrong for Rita to be home on Christmas Eve.
"Nobody important," she scoffed, and turned away. "Not anymore."
The following morning I emerged from the shower to hear Rita yell goodbye and slam the phone receiver down to convince herself she meant it.
"I guess you told him," I said, leaning against the hallway doorframe with a towel wrapped around my torso.
"Yup. My turn to hit the shower. Coffee's in the cabinet above the stove."
An hour later the two of us sat sipping our second cup of coffee together in the living room. Despite the fact we looked like a million bucks, beneath the veneer we were both heartbroken, ready to cry at a moment's notice.
"So, what are you going to do, Jacks?"
Rita's question jogged me out of my pathetic reverie. What was I going to do? A delicious thought bloomed in my brain. "I think I am booking a ticket to Vail, Colorado to take ski lessons from one of those handsome former Olympians."
/> "Brilliant." Rita smiled. "And I wonder who you might see there?"
"Don't matter," I shrugged, smiling to myself. "You think with all the partying Christmas crowd I'm going to be spending too much time all by my lonesome? My friend Virginia offered me a bunk in her condo, and she and her fiancé aren't staying more than a few days, so I'll have the place to myself and whoever I decide to play with."
"You are an evil woman, Jackie." Rita nodded her approval, painted eyebrows raised.
"Let's see what the cards say about that, shall we?" I jumped to my feet and headed toward the spare room, my new red rayon pantsuit rustling. "I'll have to do something about this stuff you're storing for me one of these days, Reets. Do you mind if it stays for now?"
"I don't use that room, so it's fine to leave it. But my lease expires in July, so we should talk before then in case I decide to move."
"Here they are." I returned to the living room and opened the colorful box.
"Tarot?" Rita asked, curious.
"Yeah. I stumbled on it when Jim and I first moved out to California. Everyone seemed very into getting readings at the time. Maybe it was just a fad, but I found I really liked it. Like the cards spoke to me in some way. An old neighbor gave me her deck when she moved." I shuffled the cards, stilling my mind and silently speaking the prayer I always said when preparing for a reading: May the unknown become known. May I be a clear messenger. May I be in service to the divine.
"So how do you do a reading then?" Rita leaned forward with interest.
"There's a lot to Tarot. I could go on about the history and symbology, but some of it is really quite simple. Me, I run with the first feeling or image I see in the card, allowing the reading to unfold as it will. Today I'll do a short four-card reading to answer a specific question I have in mind. In this case, whether to go to Vail."
Cutting the cards into three piles, I assembled the deck in a different order, then placed four cards face down: the past, present, challenge, and outcome cards, each to be read in order left to right.
Never Say No to Love (Sonoma Summers Book 2) Page 4
