by Miasha
“What are you tryin’ to say, Carlos?”
“Are you listening? I DON’T KNOW WHAT RITA IS OVER THERE TELLIN’ YOU, BUT I DIDN’T CHEAT ON YOU, AND I’M NOT CHEATING ON YOU!” Carlos shouted.
“Don’t put Rita in this. She’s not the reason for this. If anything, she’s on your side.” Monica retorted.
“Then where in the hell are you getting this shit from?” Carlos asked, frustrated.
Monica started to cry, “She sent me her diary. Carlos, just tell me why,” Monica sobbed, “we were happy, weren’t we?”
“Baby, we are happy. This must be a misunderstanding. I don’t know what you are talking about. A diary? Baby, I’m just as confused as you. I don’t wanna argue like this anymore. Come home,” Carlos said.
Monica pulled the phone away from her ear and let it dangle in her hand for a moment. She shook her head from left to right slowly as she wiped her eyes with her spare hand. Meanwhile Rita sat on the couch watching Monica’s every move. Monica spoke into the phone once again.
“Okay,” Monica whispered softly in between sniffling.
“We’ll straighten everything out when you get here,” Carlos said, sounding a bit satisfied.
“All right,” Monica said.
“I love you, you hear me?” Carlos assured his wife.
“I love you too,” Monica sighed.
“Come home,” Carlos repeated.
“Okay,” Monica said as she hung up.
“You want me to take you home?” Rita asked, sensing Monica wanted to reconcile.
Monica shook her head no and said, “I can’t, Rita, not until I know everything.”
Rita stood up and walked over to her friend. She hugged her. Monica’s body sank into Rita’s arms as she wept.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” Rita said, consoling Monica. “I’m here for you,” she added.
Chapter 7
Rita was sitting on the couch eating a turkey sandwich and listening to her sister, Beverly, talk about the fun she was having at her cookout.
“Mom and Dad over here getting tipsy. And Johnny brought one of those blow-up bouncer things for the kids. They lovin’ it. I wish you were here. I need some help in this kitchen,” Beverly ran down.
“What you cookin’?” Rita asked.
“Honey, I’m fryin’ me some salmon—”
“Fryin’ salmon?”
“Yeah, girl, with that deep fryer Johnny bought me last Valentine’s Day. They taste good too. Almost like mackerel cakes.”
“You gotta put me up a plate,” Rita said, taking a bite out of her sandwich. The sun had moved from her side of the street to the other, and she was somewhat disappointed in how her day had ended up. She had planned to be at Beverly’s for their family’s cookout. And she would have loved to be the taste tester of that fried salmon. But since Rita was Monica’s only best friend and confidante, she felt obligated to stay in the house consoling her. Besides, if the shoe were on the other foot, she knew Monica would have done the same.
Dear Diary, Monica began to read to herself.
I smiled today for the first time in a long time. I was hesitant, but I called Carlos. He still had the same number. He didn’t answer. He was with his wife, obviously, because he never answered blocked calls whenever he was with her. But he responded to the brief message I left. He was surprised to hear from me. He thought I had moved on with my life. I told him I’d thought we could use some time apart. We were getting too wrapped in each other, and it was causing us problems. He agreed. We spoke for a short time and made plans for the weekend. He told me to meet him at the airport with enough clothes for three days. I was shocked but enthused. I couldn’t wait to see what Carlos had planned. I wondered where he was taking me. But I didn’t ask questions. I just rode with the plan.
Dear Diary,
Never in a million years did I expect the surprise Carlos had for me. I met him at the airport on Friday morning at ten A.M. as planned. We grabbed a quick bite for breakfast and got on our eleven fifteen flight. We arrived at Miami International Airport at about one thirty.
“The son of a bitch,” Monica said under her breath as she proceeded to read.
There was a rented stretch Hummer waiting for us. During our drive, he told me that he didn’t call me in all these past six months because he was so ashamed of himself for putting his hands on me. He said he was going to try hard to make up for that night. We drove to a café for lunch. Miami was gorgeous and so were all of its residents. I felt like I was in Hollywood—everybody looked like a model, men and women. Carlos and myself fit right in. We made a cute couple, I thought. His Latino background produced some strong features, and his career assured his physical fitness. I think that’s one of the reasons we clicked so well. We had a lot in common. He was a personal trainer, and I was very much into working out and staying physically fit. We could benefit from each other and complement each other at the same time. We ate and talked and reminisced about old times. I didn’t ask about his wife or their relationship status, even though I wanted to. I didn’t want to spoil the mood. We drove some miles to Fort Lauderdale.
“They went to see his mom. And I bet that evil lady was happy to see him with someone else,” Monica said angrily.
Carlos’s mom was surprised to see us. She wasn’t expecting a visit from her son, and she was especially surprised to see him with me. I was surprised, myself. Carlos didn’t tell me that we were visiting his mother. I guess he knew that I would have had a problem with that. I mean, I was the man’s mistress. It wasn’t my place to meet his mom. I was flattered, though. And she was pretty nice to me, so I didn’t feel too uncomfortable. We stayed with her for a little while, enough time for Carlos to prepare dinner. I had no idea Carlos could cook like that. He was a gourmet chef. He made some grilled chicken, cinnamon mashed carrots, and dirty rice. I was enjoying myself. But the best was yet to come. After dinner and dessert Carlos and I got in the Hummer and were driven the two hours to Marco Island, where Carlos had rented a house. It was a three-story villa positioned right on the beach. I was in awe. Carlos was winning my heart all over again. For a minute I felt like Mrs. Carlos Vasquez. Monica who?
“OH MY GOD, RITA,” Monica shouted. “He took the bitch to Marco Island where he just took me for our anniversary!”
Rita looked over at Monica and quickly brought her conversation with her sister to an end. “Bev, let me call you back. Tell the kids auntie’ll be over, and tell Mom and Dad hey. All right. ’Bye.” Rita hung up the phone. “No the fuck he didn’t,” Rita said to Monica right after pressing the off button on her cordless phone.
“Yes, he did. He had the stretch Hummer and everything. I just read it. After they left his mom’s.”
“I don’t know, Monica. This doesn’t sound like Carlos. To take another woman around his mom.”
“Well, how would she know about this? How would she know where his mother lives? And the Marco Island trip? We just got back. How would she know about that unless he took her. This motherfucker done lost his mind. Taking her to see his mom and shit,” Monica snapped.
“All right, enough is enough. I haven’t heard you cuss this much since junior high. Close that damn book. You know all you need to know. Now, she’s got you right where she wants you, all mad and heartbroken. Don’t you know, misery loves company. She wants your husband, and you are about to grant her that wish by falling out over this damn diary,” Rita explained.
“I could care less! I don’t even want Carlos after all of this. At this point I just wanna know everything. The more shit he did, the more shit I can get his ass for in divorce court,” Monica said, finding the place where she left off in the diary.
“Well, you got a point there,” Rita said before disappearing into her kitchen. Monica read silently.
The next morning Carlos woke me up to breakfast in bed. The sun had risen and the seagulls were squawking. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore was so soothing. I ate the cheese omelet a
nd side of sausage and drank the cappuccino. I had it all. A good-looking man and a good cook. All that was missing was the good sex but that wasn’t for long. That evening I fulfilled a fantasy of mine. Carlos and I made love on the beach. There’s nothing in the world more passionate.
“Rita, take me home please!” Monica shouted as she shut the diary.
Rita reentered the living room. She looked at Monica, not knowing what to say or do. Go home, stay away. Monica was so volatile, Rita didn’t know whether she was coming or going.
“They had sex on the beach,” Monica whined. “Can you imagine, Rita? You’re home taking care of a man’s children while he’s sticking his dick in some stranger.”
“Um, Monica, I don’t know what to tell you, honey,” Rita said, not knowing how to help her friend.
“There’s nothing you can tell me, Rita, I’m going to go home and beat the shit out of Carlos,” Monica said, beginning to cry again. “How could he go so low?” she asked, wailing.
Ring! Ring!
Rita looked at her cordless phone before answering.
“It’s Carlos,” she said calmly.
“Tell him I’m not coming home. Tell him don’t even think about me coming home ’cause it’s not going to happen,” Monica demanded.
“Hello,” Rita answered.
“Rita, it’s Carlos. Has Monica left yet?”
“Carlos, Monica said she isn’t ready to go home. Just give her some time, okay?” Rita said, sounding tired.
Frustrated, Carlos asked, “What is going on, Rita? What are you over there telling her?”
“I’m not telling her anything. She’s reading it all in that stupid diary.”
“What’s this diary she’s talking about?” Carlos asked, his voice desperate.
“The diary she told you about earlier. The diary of your mistress,” Rita said with an attitude.
There was a long silence. Carlos was putting two and two together. The first thought that came to his head was Angela.
“Rita,” Carlos said with urgency, “you have to get that diary from her. You can’t let her keep reading it! It’s all lies!”
“Carlos, I’ve been trying to tell her that since she first told me about it. I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to keep reading the damn thing either. But she read some stuff that sounds pretty official. And she’s not going to put it down until she’s read the last page,” Rita explained.
“I’m telling you, Rita, it’s all bullshit. Tell my wife to come home and I’ll explain it all to her—the truth,” Carlos pleaded.
“What is he still on the phone for? Tell him I’ll be home when I’m ready to be home!” Monica shouted loud enough for Carlos to hear her in the background.
“You heard her?” Rita asked Carlos.
“Hang up the phone, Rita!” Monica shouted again.
“You heard her. I have to go,” Rita said to Carlos, and hung up in his ear.
Monica turned to Rita and asked, “What the hell does he care if I read the rest of the diary for? It can’t get any worse.”
“What good is it doing you, though? Some things are better left unknown, don’t you think?” Rita asked, trying again to get Monica to stop reading.
“Rita, if you had a husband and a woman sent you something like this, you would read the whole thing too, maybe even twice. Yeah, it hurts like hell to find out so much and in such detail, but as a woman, as a wife, you would just want to know everything, especially if you never suspected anything,” Monica explained.
Rita accepted Monica’s explanation and gave up trying to get her to close the diary. “Well, can I get you something? Some water?” Rita asked.
“Yes, a glass of water, please,” Monica said as she reopened the diary.
Dear Diary,
I didn’t think I would be visiting Florida again so soon. But when Carlos asked me for moral support, I had to attend his mother’s funeral. I must admit, I was jealous. Carlos sat up front with his wife and their sons. They looked like a happy family, and the way Carlos was with his sons made me wish he had chosen to be that way with our child. Hell, he didn’t even know we had a child. He thought I aborted the baby. I sat in the back of the funeral home and paid my respects quietly. I didn’t go up to view the body. I was just there for Carlos. I couldn’t understand his logic for wanting me there while his wife was there, but I was so deeply in love with him that it didn’t even matter. If he wanted me somewhere, I was going to be there. I just wondered if he felt the same way. Anyway, after the funeral, Carlos and his family went to their hotel. Carlos had set it up for me to have a room a few floors up from them. Although I was the third leg, I found it quite exciting. He came up to my room in the middle of the night. He had told his wife that he went out for drinks with his brother. I wondered if he felt any guilt. I was beginning to peel away the bullshit with Carlos. When we first got together, he convinced me that he was so unhappy with her that he was seeking a divorce. But that was damn near four years ago, and his ass still hasn’t signed no papers. Plus, I can tell that he’s happy with his wife just by the way he looked at her at the funeral. It’s like they just met when he looks at her. So I tried not to think of a future with Carlos like I did in the past. I tried to convince myself that our relationship was much better and much more fun with no strings attached. I tried to hold back my feelings and just look at my affair with Carlos as a roller-coaster ride. It would be thrilling. It would be a bit bumpy. It would be fun. And it would be brief.
Rita placed a glass of water on the end table beside Monica.
“Rita, do you remember any women at Carlos’s mother’s funeral who were alone?” Monica quizzed as she sipped the water.
Rita frowned as she thought back to the funeral.
“I hardly remember anybody at that funeral. That was over a year ago, why?”
“She was there,” Monica said calmly as she continued reading.
The sun was going down. The staff members at Taylor’s had their hands full with condiments and leftover food as they led the residents inside the building.
“I had so much fun,” Angela told Vanessa as they walked side by side through the automatic doors.
“It was fun, wasn’t it,” Vanessa agreed. “I ain’t partied that hard since my college days.”
“You and me both. I needed that. I feel like a whole new woman,” Angela said.
“That’s good. Hopefully the judge will let you go home tomorrow.”
“Wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake,” Angela said.
Vanessa nodded her head and exhaled as the elevator approached their floor. The group of about seven poured off the elevator and followed the shift leader through the door of their unit. Vanessa went straight to her station and gathered her belongings.
“Well, good night everybody. I had a good time today. I’ll see y’all tomorrow,” Vanessa said.
Angela stopped Vanessa with a hug.
“Just in case I’m not here when you come in tomorrow, thank you so much for everything. You really made this past week easy on me. I don’t know how I would have kept it together without you.”
Vanessa smiled and told Angela to take care of herself. She wished her luck and continued out the door.
Angela walked down the hall and into her room. She sat down on her bed and stared at the stark white wall. Her thoughts instantly went to Carlos. I wonder what Carlos is doing right now. Is Monica going upside his head yet? Did she leave the house and go to her mom’s? If so, I hope she took the boys. I don’t want Carlos to have any excuses when I tell him I want to see him tomorrow. I hope he doesn’t get mad at me right away. He shouldn’t. He should understand that I did what I did to be with him. And he should appreciate the fact that I made it easier for him to get a divorce. He’ll probably be crying when I call him. I hope so. I will tell him to meet me at my house so we can talk about it. When he gets there, I’ll have candles lit, dinner ready, and be in my sexiest outfit. He’ll forget all about Monica, and when she
serves him those papers, he’ll sign without hesitating. Oh God, I can’t wait.
Angela knelt down on the floor and put her elbows on her bed. She bowed her head and prayed: Thank you, God, for all of your true and wonderful blessings. Thank you for a good day. Thank you for getting me through this week. Dear God, please let everything go my way tomorrow. Please let my sister and Dr. Whitaker be there. Please let the panel recognize that I have changed. Please let them see my improvement, and please let them discharge me. Please let Carlos take my calls. I need to see him. I need to hear his voice. I need to be near him. God, you know, I’ve never loved a man like I love Carlos. Please, God, make him see that and make him love me back. Amen.
Chapter 8
Rita pressed the guide button on her TV remote. The time in the left-hand corner said nine thirty-five. Monica had been at Rita’s house all day long, reading, eating, crying, arguing with Carlos, and occasionally venting to Rita, who had grown exhausted.
“I’m going to put on my pajamas. You want me to bring you down something to put on?” Rita asked as she stood up from the couch and stretched.
“No, I’m okay,” Monica mumbled without looking up from the diary.
“You want a blanket, a pillow, anything?” Rita asked.
“No, I’ll be fine,” Monica said, turning another page.
Dear Diary,
