Raquel's Abel

by Leigh Barbour

  I'd tried those matchmaker websites and I'd met a few guys for drinks. Unfortunately, the men looking to date obese women were hardly interesting, and those that didn't actually request to meet a large woman usually left after the first few minutes, if they showed up at all. Judging by the number of times I was stood up, I suspected some scoped me from the front door then snuck out before I caught a glimpse of them.

  Admittedly, Abel had been the first man with substance who had shown any interest in me. Just my luck he was flesh and bone for only moments, frustrating moments that left me longing for so much more.

  What was it that Grandmother said? If he were more secure about our relationship, he'd be able to spend more time with me? I seriously doubted that. He felt plenty comfortable with me, so comfortable he played tricks on me. Actually I missed those tricks. Lately, he'd been horribly quiet. When he hid my things, at least I knew he was around and still thinking of me.

  Why was that so important?

  Mitch came to the door in a camel-colored turtleneck and dark brown trousers with stiff pleats down the front. I wore a dark orange jacket and slacks with gold threads and a matching blouse underneath. He gave me a broad smile as I opened the door. “You look great.”

  “Thanks,” I said shyly. If things got intimate at some point, how would he react to the extra skin I had tucked tightly under my clothes?

  “Ready for the Jefferson?” He said as he shut the car door behind me.

  “I haven't been there in years.” This regal old hotel that featured a five-star restaurant was rumored to be the place where Scarlett O'Hara had fallen down the steps in Gone with the Wind. In actuality, Scarlett had fallen down the stairs on a movie set in Culver City, California, not even in the South.

  “I made the reservations a week ago and they were almost booked up then.”

  I watched Mitch steer the car down Cary Street. As we rounded a bend and I took in the skyline, I thought how Richmond's downtown had experienced periods of growth, decline, decay, and then regrowth. It was hardly the downtown of my childhood. I could still remember my mother and I putting on white gloves and hats to go shopping at Miller & Rhoads and Thalhimer's, Richmond's competing department stores. I always looked forward to the tearoom where we enjoyed sandwiches the size of quarters and fashion shows where local girls modeled the latest trends. Life had been good before Regina.

  As we zipped down in his smooth-riding car, he turned to me. “Hey, I made my pitch for my new novel.” Mitch raised his eyebrows that caused his nose to arch slightly.

  “How was it received?”

  “They loved it.” He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt as if shining them. He looked at me ready for praise.

  “I would love to have your self-confidence.”

  “Read some of my books and you'll have all the self-confidence in the world.” He winked.

  We pulled up to the Jefferson and I looked up to see the famous cupola rising above the rest of the pale brick structure. The hotel had been built in 1895 and had been one of Richmond’s most popular attractions since then. Our car doors were opened for us and we walked through the lobby where we both laughed at the fountain containing a concrete replica of an alligator.

  “My father used to talk about the real alligator that had lived in the fountain years ago.”

  “Really?”

  “As anybody would have guessed, the reptile got way too aggressive and actually tried to bite someone.”

  “No kidding.”

  “It’s true. They had to get rid of him.”

  “Yeah, this place is true class,” Mitch said as we walked through the rotunda where an alabaster statue of Thomas Jefferson towered over us.

  I thought of Abel and how absurd I'd look going to dinner with him—walking around alone talking to myself.

  Mitch pointed upward at the stained glass located at the pinnacle of the rotunda. “Glad I made reservations here.”

  “It's beautiful,” I responded as he took my elbow and pointed.

  “There's the dining room.” We walked to the entrance where we were behind some other people waiting for a table. “Don't worry. I insisted they give us a really good table,” he whispered in my ear as he stared at some people that had come up behind us in line.

  I was busy looking around at the chandelier that deflected yellowish light around the marble columns and roman arches that surrounded the dining area.

  After the other customers were seated, we were taken to a nice table with dark pink tulips in the center. “This is beautiful,” I said.

  “Yeah, and are we lucky we got a table before those two.” He used his thumb to gesture at the people who had been standing behind us in line.

  I turned my head and saw a man and a woman that were about the same size I had been. “How so?” I asked him afraid of the answer.

  “Hey, after those two, there'll be no food left.” He raised his eyebrows at me as if he knew I'd be in agreement.

  “I'm sure they have tried to do something about their weight problem,” I said diplomatically as I felt my heart sink.

  “All they need to do is push.”

  I thought I'd heard every fat joke there was. “Push? Like push ups?” Most people thought all you had to do was exercise a little and you'd get rid of those extra pounds.

  “No, like push yourself away from the food.” He imitated pushing himself back from the table then banged his fist silently as he shook with laughter.

  I closed the menu and laid it on the table. “You know, Mitch, when I ran into you at the meeting, that wasn't the first time I'd met you.” I tried to keep my face calm.

  “I met you before and didn't remember you?” His eyes scrunched up as he studied my features. “Nah, I'd have remembered you.” He winked.

  “Oh yes, you even sat next to me before, but I was considerably…” I lowered my head and looked into his eyes. “larger.”

  He swallowed hard. “Larger? How much larger?”

  I spread my lips out in a straight-lipped smile.

  He looked down at the table. “Oh no. Maybe I do remember.” He took a deep breath. “You were that big...” He shook his head. “How did you lose all that weight?”

  “By having a life-threatening operation.”

  Mitch, who never seemed to be without words, was speechless. He just looked at me, unable to respond.

  Someone without a lifelong weight problem would have been surprised at his attitude, but I knew better than to be shocked or appalled. There were so many people out there with attitudes like Mitch's. Then there were people like Abel.

  What was I doing here?

  “Mitch, thank you for the invitation, but I've lost my appetite. I think I'll be running along home.”

  “Can I...?” He made an insincere attempt to get up out of his chair.

  “No, no.” I stood up. “I'll get a ride.” Triumphantly I walked out of the restaurant feeling like I’d done the right thing. I was way too good for him.

  I hurried through the enormous lobby, trying to get as far away as I could from the restaurant. I dug my hand down into my purse. I really hoped Abel hadn't taken my cell phone. Finally I felt the little rubbery buttons. I grabbed it and dialed. I hoped Owen wasn't working tonight.

  A little while later, I was riding in Owen's dilapidated old truck listening to its strange creaks and rattles. It sure was nicer than Mitch's BMW.

  “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “Never even met the guy, but I didn't like the way he sounded.”

  I recognized his black slacks and the white shirt he usually wore to work. “You didn't have to blow off work just for me,” I tried to sound convincing, but I was really glad he was here with me.

  “I got a guy to cover from me. I'm sick of that place anyway.”

  “You should have your own restaurant. Then you'd be more motivated.”

  “Yeah, and I should just go on and fly my little old self to the moon,” he drawled in his mountain twang.

 
“You'd have a great restaurant with the way you cook and with your business sense.”

  “No, no, you're just trying to change the subject. I'm here because you had a date worse than walking barefoot through a brier patch.”

  “It wasn't all that bad. I just suddenly saw him in a different light.”

  “Sounds like you saw him in the light of day—glaring, overhead, flaw-revealing light.” He laughed as we pulled into the same greasy spoon as the last time.

  We walked in and took a seat in the same booth as before. Owen didn't even look at the menu before ordering the same sinful hamburger and french fries. I got a grilled chicken sandwich.

  After the waitress walked away, I said, “And it makes me realize how much I like Abel.” Just saying his name made me feel bad. He probably was really worried about me going out with Mitch.

  “Your ghost friend?” He let his jaw drop with his mouth closed so his chin dimpled. “And I thought I was bad.”

  “Don't laugh. He's the nicest man I've ever met.” And would ever hope to meet. “But he is a ghost.” I twisted one of the saltshakers around. “A ghost. Can you believe it?”

  “Doesn't sound so bad to me.”

  “He's a ghost. Like nobody else can see him, like he doesn't really exist.”

  “You have feelings for him, so obviously he exists.” He looked at me. “And, believe me, the way he threw me down that day? He exists.” He nodded his head emphatically.

  “But how can I have a relationship with a person that nobody else can see?”

  He leaned over the table, resting on his elbows. “You're bellyaching about people not being able to see your lover to a gay guy?” He let his mouth hang open for effect. “Listen, all the crap you hear about everybody being open about being gay these days. Don't believe it, honey. Tons of us opt for lovers that aren't out in the open.”

  “You're suggesting that I let myself fall in love with a phantom?”

  The waitress brought his hamburger and fries. He stuffed one in his mouth before she'd even left. With it still in his mouth, he began to talk. “Listen, if I had a chance at real love,” he chewed some more, “I'd go for it. I don't care if he's Count Dracula or Willie the Werewolf.”

  I took the bread off the chicken and began to take small bites. “That's easy for you to say. You don't know the frustration of having a man that's whole for just a little while and then he vanishes.” I remembered him turning into thin air while still in my arms.

  “He didn't vanish on you. Believe me, I know about the vanishing kind. He was there. You just couldn't see him. That's not vanishing.”

  That was true. I never had truly felt alone when Abel and I were getting along and even the arguments we'd had were about him caring too much for my grandmother and me.

  “If I were you, I'd go for that ghost. Screw the rest of the world.”

  When Owen brought me home, it was just a little past nine. I walked in the door and saw Abel standing right in the middle of the foyer in his Top hat and tails.

  “Such a vision of loveliness.” He bent over and slid his hat off his head.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but it felt so good to see him again.

  He raised back up. “Home so early. You must have tired of your friend Mitch's witty conversation.”

  Could he have followed me on this date, too? No, if he had he would have walloped Mitch. That would have been an interesting sight.

  “You're here just to gloat,” I accused.

  “Not so.” He focused on me. “You look like the air's been let out of your tires.” He puffed his chest out. “What has he done to you?” He stepped toward me, his shiny leather shoes making a tapping sound as he walked.

  My shoulders sagged. “Nothing.” I laid my purse down on a small table.

  “If he has done something to you,” he raised his white-gloved hand and extended his index finger, “he will learn the wrath of Abel Rollins.”

  “Relax. He only brought me back to reality.”

  “And what is reality?” His forehead was wrinkled and his lips pinched as if he were suffering seeing me unhappy.

  Reality? What was it? I didn’t want to know what reality was. I liked what I saw right in front of me. “I think I'm struggling with that.”

  “I don't like seeing you struggle.” He stepped so close I caught the faint fragrance of cedar that emanated from his clothes.

  “I'll be all right.” I looked into his eyes. The dark color of his pupils always reminded me of pure milk chocolate. I stepped toward him.

  “Raquel, I hope you can forgive me for…”

  I moved my hands forward and slipped them between his biceps and his chest. He wound his arms around me and once again I felt whole. What had I seen in Mitch?

  His lips descended onto mine and I dug my tongue into his mouth wanting him like a real man.

  “Señorita.”

  We pulled away from each other to see Maria Elena running down the stairs, her arms flailing and her nightgown jiggling around her.

  “Señorita Raquel, your grandmother making sick.”

  “What?” My stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor.

  Abel wrapped a protective arm around my shoulders.

  “What's the matter?” I squeaked out.

  Maria Elena stepped onto the floor in her bare feet making a sliding sound. “She grabbing her chest and much in pain.”

  I slipped my heels off and charged upstairs. I stopped. “Maria Elena. Call 911 and then call her doctor.”

  “Si, I calling.” She ran out of the foyer and I ran upstairs.

  Was she in pain? What was the last thing I said to her? I couldn't think about that right now.

  When I got to her, Grandmother was laying very still in the bed looking at the ceiling.

  “Grandmother, speak to me.”

  “Raquel.” She slid her hand toward me.

  I grasped it and shuddered at how cool it was.

  “Don’t let them take me.”

  “Everything’s all right. We called 911 so the paramedics will be here soon.”

  Muscles tightened around her eyes. “Don’t let them take me.”

  “They’ll just check you out, give you oxygen probably, and get you to the hospital.”

  I heard the front door open. “Up here,” I screamed.

  Footsteps sounded on the circular staircase and then the sound of wheels and clanging metal. They were probably bringing the stretcher with them.

  Grandmother’s finger tightened around mine. “Bolsheviks.” She gasped for air. “I always knew they’d come for me.”

  “Bolsheviks?” They were the ones who killed Rasputin and the Russian royal family.

  “Relax, there are no Bolsheviks in this country.” I turned my head to see a man in a blue jacket with EMT printed on one side. “I think she had a heart attack.”

  “Raquel, they’re here to take me away.”

  “No, Grandmother. They’re here to help you. They’re American.”

  She feebly pulled the sheet to her chin. “No, they’ll do to me what they did to Mama and Papa.”

  The EMT pulled out a stethoscope and bent over Grandmother.

  “No, please, Raquel, don’t let this Bolshevik man touch me.” Her voice was surprisingly strong, but her skin was still very pale. She held her hand up to keep the man away.

  The EMT vanished into the hallway.

  “Grandmother, you need medical attention.” My voice turned hard as if reprimanding a child.

  “What happening?” Maria Elena entered the room. “The EMT people looking at me funny.”

  “Don’t worry. Dr. Blake is on his way.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I stayed with Grandmother while the EMTs waited. “Dr. Blake will be here soon.”

  She feigned a smile then attempted to raise her head but couldn’t.

  “Just relax.” I put my head on her shoulder then stood up to adjust her pillows.

  “The j-j-jewels,” she raspily whis
pered.

  The door opened and white-haired Dr. Blake walked in with his little black bag. He was the same doctor who had treated my father and my grandfather. I didn’t know his age, but he got around in spite of a stoop and a limp that somehow made him appear more dignified.

  Without even looking at my grandmother, he turned to me. “Raquel, your grandmother’s heart is weak.”

  He’d shown me her EKG results months ago, but I’d put that bad news out of my mind until now. I nodded and walked to the door, knowing he was trying to prepare me.

  “Mrs. Blankenship, how are you this evening?” He sat down on the bed and pulled out his stethoscope.

  “I’ll be right outside if you need me,” I said, but he didn’t turn around. He was already listening to Grandmother’s chest. I stepped out into the hall.

  “Don’t tell me she worse.” Maria Elena’s eyes were red as if she’d been crying.

  “No, I don’t think she’s worse.” I wasn’t sure if that were the truth.

  “I no knowing what I do if she die.” She wrung her hands as if she were Lady MacBeth.

  “Don’t worry. I don’t want to live in this big place by myself.” I assumed she was worried about where she’d go if she didn’t have my grandmother to take care of.

  Her head fell into her hands. “Your grandmother only family I having.”

  “Don’t be silly. You have family back in Ecuador.”

  “My family no want me. Your grandmother making me feeling good like my real grandmother used to.”

  It pulled at my heartstrings that she cared so much about Grandmother. “You should visit your family more often.” She’d never taken any kind of vacation in all the years she worked for me.

  “No. I can’t. My father never forgive me, and he say my mother and grandmother no can talk to me.”

  I gulped. “Your father actually said your mother couldn’t talk to her own daughter?”