Diary of a Mistress

by Miasha

  “Hey, sis, you ’sleep?” Ashley asked.

  “Oh, hi, Ashley. Yeah, I was knocked out. What time is it?”

  “A little after nine. What, you had a late night?” Ashley asked, her tone filled with suspicion. Ever since Angela had been home, Ashley been checking on her, and any time Angela sounded off, overslept, or didn’t want to be bothered, Ashley couldn’t help but wonder if she’d fallen back into a depression. That was one of the reasons Ashley preferred Angela to be in Taylor’s.

  Angela sighed and responded, “No, actually, I went to bed early last night. I just forgot to set my alarm.”

  “Well, are you going to work today?”

  “Yeah. I’m about to drag my butt out this bed.”

  “Well, I’ll call you later to check on you. And don’t forget, I have a plate here for you.”

  “From Christmas? Girl, please, you might as well throw that out.”

  “It was only four days ago. I froze it.”

  “No, thank you.”

  Ashley sucked her teeth and said, “Well, I’ll eat it then, shit.”

  “No offense. I just had so much of my own food left over from Christmas. I’m tired of turkey and macaroni and cheese.”

  “Oh. Well, go get ready for work. You’re already late,” Ashley said, ending their chat.

  “Okay. Thanks for calling and checking on me.”

  “No problem. Talk to you later.”

  “All right. ’Bye.”

  Angela pressed the end button on her phone and let it drop to the floor. Her television was still on from the night before. The news was on, but the volume was turned down. Angela started feeling around for the remote.

  “I wonder what the weather is going to be,” she mumbled to herself as she turned the TV up.

  “A bizarre turn of events leaves Monica Vasquez just days away from freedom. Vasquez was tried and convicted of attempted murder after having stabbed her husband nearly to death back in September. She would have had to serve a minimum of ten years, but it looks like she’ll be out after having served only three months. According to a letter Vasquez received while in prison, the supposed mistress of her husband, Carlos Vasquez, was not his mistress at all. Instead, she was just a student of his who had become obsessed with him and had fabricated a diary to cause turmoil in his marriage. This information, along with a petition started by Carlos Vasquez himself, led the judge to overturning Monica Vasquez’s conviction. She’ll be returned to the county until the proper paperwork is received, then released. Police are not providing any details regarding the deranged woman who made up the diary that began this whole ordeal, except that she has been in and out of mental institutions following her own divorce. It’s been a roller-coaster ride for Vasquez and her family, who are relieved at the outcome.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned!” Angela said. “That damn Vanessa!”

  Angela sat up on the couch and reached down to grab the phone again. She dialed some numbers.

  “Hello, can you connect me to Vanessa Cooke?” Angela asked with attitude.

  “Hello, this is Vanessa,” Vanessa’s voice cheerfully greeted Angela.

  “Vanessa, it’s Angela.”

  “Angela, how are you?”

  “Vanessa, I told you not to say anything about that diary situation, and you go and write her a letter all about it. What’s up with that?” Angela said straight out.

  “Angela…” Vanessa was caught off guard. She didn’t know what to say. For one, she was at work, which was not the appropriate place for her to get into it with Angela.

  “Don’t you know you can lose your job for that? Isn’t that like a part of your confidentiality code, not to discuss shit that your patients told you? If I can’t trust a motherfucker at Taylor’s, who the hell can I trust? That’s the one place I’m supposed to be able to pour my guts out to people, and the minute I do, shit like this happens. And y’all expect a motherfucker to get better. I was doing good!”

  “Angela—” Vanessa tried to butt in.

  “I was doin’ so good!” Angela continued, not letting Vanessa speak. “I spent Christmas by myself, all alone eatin’ a big-ass home-cooked meal at the table by myself, and not once did I take a pill or sip some wine. I didn’t even cry, Vanessa. As bad as I wanted to, I told myself that it would only lead to me feeling sorry for myself and wanting to take my life. So I fought those tears. Because I was determined to turn over a new leaf! But every time I think I’m doing good, somebody throws salt in my game!”

  “Angela, I didn’t mean for it to hurt you in any way,” Vanessa managed to squeeze in.

  “WELL, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT FOR? NOW, THEY TALKIN’ ABOUT ME ON THE NEWS AS SOME DERANGED WOMAN WHO BEEN IN AND OUT OF MENTAL INSTITUTIONS!”

  “They’re not allowed to mention your name,” Vanessa said, remaining calm for the sake of the patients and staff just outside her office.

  “SO WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”

  “Nobody knows who they’re talking about.”

  “I DO! YOU THINK I NEED TO BE REMINDED THAT I’M A DERANGED MENTAL PATIENT WHEN I TURN ON THE NEWS?”

  Vanessa huffed and said, “Angela, I will talk to you later about this. I really didn’t mean any harm. I just couldn’t keep something like that in. It was really eating at me. I’m sorry.”

  “VANESSA, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND? THEM DAMN NEWSPEOPLE ARE GOING TO DIG AND PRY UNTIL THEY FIND OUT WHO I AM, AND I’M GOING TO LOOK UP AND IT’S GOING TO BE CAMERAS EVERYWHERE. THE MINUTE I WALK OUT MY DOOR. AT MY JOB!”

  “I can’t talk about this right now. I really can’t,” Vanessa said, then hung up.

  Angela heard the click and grew more irate. She felt a migraine coming on as she started flicking through the channels, turning on every news broadcast. As she suspected, each one talked about the Monica Vasquez case and the crazy woman who lied about being her husband’s mistress. She started pacing her apartment. Angela was furious. The last time she was that angry was the day Carlos had stood her up. Much like that day, she started having flashbacks to other times when people had hurt her. Her migraine kicked in, and she was losing her ability to cope with the pain she was feeling both physically and mentally. It wasn’t long before she was running to her medicine cabinet.

  She dialed numbers on the phone again.

  “Vanessa Cooke, please.”

  “This is Vanessa,” Vanessa said, slightly annoyed.

  “I’ma kill myself, bitch, and it’ll be on your watch. Now, how will that eat at you?”

  Click.

  Monica’s body looked frail stretched out across her bunk. She had a box in one hand, and with the other she was snatching Christmas cards and drawings down off the concrete wall. She smiled as she took down pictures of her children and placed them neatly in the box. She came across the last of her wall décor and then stopped. She stood up.

  “Come down here and give me a hug,” Monica said, looking up at Annette, who had been lying on her bunk reading a book.

  Annette hesitated at first, and then she put the book aside and leaned over toward Monica. With tears in her eyes she extended her arms out and brought Monica into her.

  “I’m going to miss you too, Annette,” Monica said.

  “I wish I was walkin’ out dis bitch behind ju,” Annette said, squeezing Monica tight.

  “I wish you were too,” Monica replied sincerely.

  The two of them had gotten close during the course of time they had been cellmates. Monica had become a mother figure to Annette. And Annette looked out for Monica in her own way. Even though she had an attitude with Monica all the time and came off rude to her, she made sure no other inmates messed with Monica. She vouched for her in the prison.

  “I’ll write you all the time,” Monica said as she pulled away from Annette. “You won’t be wanting to sleep through mail again,” she added.

  Annette’s face lit up, but only for a moment.

  “Dat’s wassup,” Annette said, letting go of Monica.

 
“Let’s go, Vasquez,” the CO called out.

  Monica left the prison cell and proceeded down the corridor accompanied by two correctional officers. She didn’t smile, even though her insides were glowing. She didn’t want to upset the other inmates. She was doing something some of them would never do—she was getting out.

  Chapter 18

  Monica’s case had been the talk of the nation. It had been aired on all the major news broadcasts and printed in all the major newspapers. There were cameras and reporters everywhere outside the county prison on the day of her release.

  “Mrs. Vasquez, how does it feel to be free? Mrs. Vasquez, what would you say to the woman who sent you the false diary? Are you nervous about seeing your husband?” were just a few of the questions Monica dodged before she reached her car.

  Carlos was in the driver’s seat when Monica got in. They fell into each other’s arms instantly. Cameras flickering and all, they sat in the car hugging for minutes before they finally drove away.

  “Oh God, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Monica said as she squeezed Carlos’s free hand. “There’s so much I have to do today. I have to go to Rita’s and thank her for writing me back and accepting my apology. Then I have to go see my dad. All I thought about was what if he passed while I was in there,” Monica said as tears gathered in her eyes. “And then we can go to my mom’s. I think I want us all to spend the night there with her. I just want us all to be together my first night out.”

  “Anything you want,” Carlos said, freeing his hand from his wife’s hold and using it to wipe a tear from her eye. “But first, we have to talk about this,” he added, pulling a bunch of mail from the glove compartment while keeping his other hand on the steering wheel.

  “What’s all this?” Monica asked.

  “Publishers have been sending all kinds of mail. They told your mom they want to write your story, and wait until you see how much of an advance they’re offering,” Carlos told Monica with a smile.

  Monica began opening the mail and skimming the pages.

  “Oh my God, for real? Five hundred thousand dollars?” Monica said, holding her hand over her mouth.

  “So, what do you think?” Carlos asked, bouncing his eyes back and forth between Monica and the road.

  “I-I don’t know. This is so sudden. Why didn’t you and Mom tell me sooner? When did you first hear about this?”

  “Your mom thought it would be best to wait until you were out,” Carlos explained.

  Monica let out a scream, and she and Carlos both chuckled.

  “Well?” Carlos asked.

  Monica took a deep breath. “Well, it could give me a chance to set some facts straight. And God knows we could use the money. What do you think?” She turned to her husband.

  Carlos glanced at Monica and answered, “The whole thing is already out in the public. So I say, Why not. You never know where it can take you.”

  “Well, that’s it. I’ll do it!” Monica said, wiping tears of joy from her face.

  A half-hour later Carlos and Monica pulled onto Rita’s street and parked right behind her Jeep. Monica anxiously waited for Rita to open the door after she rang the bell.

  “Arrrhh!” Rita screamed, happy to see Monica.

  Monica threw herself into Rita’s arms, and the two of them hugged. Again, Monica started crying tears of joy.

  “Rita, you are truly a friend. On some of those days you were the only one who kept me going with those silly jokes you wrote me. Thank you so much for forgiving me.”

  Rita shook her head and said, “That’s what friends are for. You were going through some hard shit. And it wasn’t your fault. You were misled.”

  “That’s why I love you,” Monica said.

  “Aww, I love you too,” Rita said, hugging Monica again. “I’m so glad you’re home. I know the twins must have flipped out when they saw you.”

  “They haven’t seen me yet,” Monica corrected Rita. “I came here first.”

  “What? Girl, you better get on home to your boys.”

  “I know. I’m going. I just had to come see you first. Once I get with them, that’s it. I won’t be seeing anybody for a few days,” Monica explained.

  “I know that’s right. Well, I’ll be by there to see you after you spend some time with the family.”

  “All right, Rita,” Monica said, heading back to the car.

  “See you,” Rita said, waving to Monica.

  Carlos beeped the horn as he and Monica drove off.

  Next, Monica went to see her father in the nursing home where he stayed. He didn’t really comprehend Monica’s ordeal due to his suffering from Alzheimer’s. But Monica wasn’t expecting anything from him during her visit anyway. She just wanted to see him and tell him that she loved him.

  After making their stops, Carlos and Monica reached Monica’s mom’s house just in time for dinner. One of Monica’s favorite dishes was waiting for her, spaghetti with shrimp, crabmeat, and Italian sausage in the sauce.

  “Oh, Mom,” Monica gasped as she ran into her mother’s arms.

  “Mom-my!” Chris and C.J. shouted together, and they ran out of the kitchen toward Monica.

  Monica immediately broke down in tears as she dropped to her knees and grabbed her sons.

  “Oh, babies, Mommy missed you so much,” she cried. “I am so sorry you had to go through so much. I promise I will make it up to you. If it takes the rest of my life, I will make sure you two end up all right. You hear me? Mommy is so sorry. You hear me? I never meant to hurt you or your father. And your daddy and me are going to be just fine. Just fine.”

  Carlos and Monica’s mother stood together weeping as they watched Monica hold the twins. Meanwhile, Monica continued to talk to her boys, kissing them on their heads and faces.

  Monica didn’t want to let her sons go. Even during dinner one sat on each of her legs. She was overwhelmed emotionally, finally able to experience the unconditional love of her kids.

  Chapter 19

  Monica was sitting on her front steps watching her sons shoot hoops in their driveway. It was a nice June day, and she was enjoying the weather, but she couldn’t wait for Rita to arrive so they could be on their way to her first book signing. She eagerly watched every car that turned the corner, praying it was her best friend. Finally, Rita’s red Jeep appeared.

  “Chris and C.J., come on. Aunt Rita’s here. Mommy’s about to go,” Monica said as she stood up.

  “Hi, boys!” Rita yelled as she pulled into Monica’s driveway. “Monica, sorry I’m late. That damn sister of mine wouldn’t let me off the phone.”

  “It’s okay,” Monica said as she led the twins inside.

  “Gimme kiss,” Monica said, holding her cheek out toward her sons.

  “Oh, Ma,” they said, kissing their mother’s cheeks simultaneously.

  “Honey, Rita’s here!” Monica shouted as she grabbed her pocketbook off the couch and headed out the front door. “You and the kids be there in about an hour, okay!” she added.

  “We’ll be there, don’t worry. Just go, you’re running late!” Carlos yelled from the bathroom.

  “All right, I’m leaving! Love you! See you later!” Monica said before she walked out the door.

  “How you got me late to my own book signing?” Monica asked sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry,” Rita whined playfully.

  Rita backed out of Monica’s driveway, and the two of them were on their way downtown.

  “I can’t believe all of this,” Monica said as she fixed her hair in the passenger’s-side mirror. “Who would have ever thought something so bad would turn into something so good,” she added.

  “Well, be blessed,” Rita said, her eyes glued to the traffic.

  “Oh, I’m definitely blessed,” Monica confirmed. “I was ten seconds away from losing my husband and then was about to have to spend the rest of my life in prison behind it. And fighting with you like that. It was all so crazy,” Monica babbled. “And I’m still so sor
ry for that,” she added.

  “Don’t worry about it. It ain’t like you whipped my ass,” Rita said.

  “I did whip ya ass,” Monica said.

  “What fight was you watchin’? I whipped ya ass,” Rita corrected her.

  “I whipped ya ass,” Monica shot back.

  “Bitch, please,” Rita said, refusing to give up.

  “Oh, a mailbox, pull over,” Monica said, pausing their little spat.

  Rita abruptly pulled her Jeep over and maneuvered it along the curb.

  “We don’t have time for stopping. We’re late as it is,” Rita just had to say.

  Monica ignored her friend. She pulled a letter addressed to her old cellmate, Annette, from her pocketbook and stepped out of the car. She jogged briskly to the mailbox, dropped the letter in the slot, and returned to the passenger seat.

  When Rita and Monica arrived at the book signing in the Gallery, it was packed. There was a long line of people, mostly women, waiting with their books in hand. Some were munching on refreshments. Others were chatting with one another while the rest just stood quietly, looking around the mall.

  “Have a seat right here, Mrs. Vasquez,” the event promoter said as he quickly pulled out Monica’s chair.

  Monica sat down and got comfortable. She put on a big smile as she prepared to sign autographs. This was her moment, and she knew she would savor it forever.

  “Move, got damnit! Oh! God, these people can’t drive!” Angela shouted as she zipped through traffic. “They act like they don’t have anywhere to go!”

  “Your love’s got me lookin’ so crazy right now. Your touch got me hopin’ you page me right now.”

  Angela heard her cell phone’s ring tone and slowed down.

  “Oh, shit, that’s where my phone’s been all this time,” she said to herself as she reached down on the side of the passenger seat to retrieve the ringing phone.

  “Yes,” Angela answered, loud and agitated.

  “Angela, where have you been? I have been calling you for like a month! You had me scared to death!” Ashley blurted out.