Clouds In My Coffee

by ANDREA SMITH

  Erik stands up, handing the diary back to Marco. “Please do, Agent Trevani. Something’s always bothered me about that night. I mean, aside from the fact that I felt guilty as hell because she was on her way to see my band play when she had the…accident, there were just too many unanswered questions in my mind.”

  “Like what?” I ask, ignoring the pull from Marco.

  “Like what happened to the ring I gave her for Christmas? It wasn’t on her finger at the funeral home. Her mom said she couldn’t find it in her room. And then the fact that she supposedly had been eating sopers before she crashed. No way. Not Cece.”

  “Are you saying that Cece didn’t get high?” Marco asks, “Because I seem to recall some entries in her diary that say otherwise.”

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong, Agent. Cece and I both got high—me more than her, you know, smoking pot and stuff. Hell, I did some acid, some downers, that kind of shit, but not her. No, Cece used to jump in my shit about doing pills. No way was she doing them. I just couldn’t see that at all.”

  We finally leave and, on the way to the car, I have to listen to Marco rant about my trying to take over the questioning of a potential witness.

  Finally, I couldn’t resist. “Get over it, Marco. You weren’t asking the right questions.”

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “I mean, I asked some questions that hopefully will fill in the gaps of what isn’t in that diary. For example, Angie’s pregnancy?”

  “That,” he replies smugly, “remains to be seen. First off we have Cece’s exhumation to deal with, then will work on Angie’s.”

  “What?”

  “That’s correct, mia caro, I got a text message while we were in there. The petition has been approved and a judge has signed the order.”

  Mia caro. That’s what Dad called Karlie.

  “Good work,” I reply, settling myself into the passenger seat of his car and fastening the seat belt.

  “You’re welcome,” he replies, giving me a hint of a smile.

  Chapter 30

  I didn’t hear from Marco (or Ryan) for the next few days. Something inside my gut is unsettled and I’m not sure if it is because the thought of not hearing from Marco has taken precedence over not hearing from Ryan.

  In my mind, I argue it is because I am used to not hearing from Ryan for days, sometimes weeks on end, and it is totally different anyway. The sooner this business in Wyoming is finished, the sooner I can get back home to New York and to Ryan as his assignment should be finishing up soon.

  I’m sprawled out on the sofa in the living room; not paying attention to whatever it is that’s on the television. I pick up my cell and call Mom.

  “Parrish, is everything alright?”

  “That’s how you answer the phone, Mom?”

  “It’s just kind of late and all.”

  Damn, I hadn’t thought about the time difference before I called. “Oh, sorry,” I reply, “Just wanted to hear a familiar voice, I guess. No, everything here is okay. In fact, I’m gonna be flying home tomorrow. Just need to spend a few days in New York. It’s too quiet here in the mountains. Can make a person crazy.”

  She’s silent on the other end. Maternal concern has kicked in; I know the signs by now.

  “How’s Ryan?”

  “Good question.”

  “Wh—”

  Then I hear a man’s voice, it’s kind of muffled, but there’s no denying that it’s male. “Jeannie, is everything okay?”

  “Mom?”

  “Ah...yes?”

  “Do you have company?” And I can’t help smiling because all I can think is that it’s about damn time! I know she’s squirming at the moment. “Tell Roger I said ‘hi’ and I’ll call you in a few days. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Parrish.”

  I’m still smiling when my father comes into the living room and sits down across from me. “Is something funny?” he asks, giving me a rare smile.

  “Oh, it’s just Mom,” I reply, chuckling. “She...uh, she has a boyfriend.”

  “I see.”

  “Well, it’s just that this is the first time she’s ever had a boyfriend since—oh, never mind. I’m just happy for her, that’s all.”

  “I’m glad to see you smile,” he replies, now some fatherly concern washing over him.

  Geez. What is this?

  “Dad, I’m going to be flying home tomorrow. I’ve already made reservations. I need to see Ryan when he’s back from assignment and, well, I just need to be in New York for a bit.”

  He frowns and then says, “What about this project you’ve got going with Cece?”

  “I think I’ve pretty much done what I needed to do,” I reply, trying Ryan’s cell again. I get his voicemail and leave a message. Dad hasn’t budged.

  “So, has Marco proven helpful?” he asks.

  “Marco,” I reply, “has proven to be a royal pain in the ass. Is his father that arrogant?”

  Dad smiles and shakes his head. “I think Marco’s arrogance is a cover for something else.”

  I raise a brow and look over at him questioningly. “A cover for what?”

  “I suspect Marco’s struggling to stay focused.”

  He has lost me. “Not following.”

  “Surely you’re aware of your appeal, daughter?”

  “Oh Dad,” I whine, “Marco looks like he should be in front of the camera more than me.”

  He nods in agreement. “It’s the Italian curse, I’m afraid.”

  Rewind—what?

  “Do I want to know what that is?” I ask.

  And then my father does something so totally out of character that I’m taken aback. He laughs deeply and I immediately see he’s teasing me. But why?

  I form a pout and he stops, but a grin is plastered on his face. “I’m sorry, Bambolina, I’m referring to his good looks and...stamina. You see, Marco has a bit of a reputation with the ladies, I’m told. His father was also quite the player back in the day, that is, until he met his wife Julia. She tamed him fairly quickly. I think young Marco has yet to meet his match. I understand he recently broke off a three-year engagement.”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I reply, busily texting Ryan to ask him where the fuck he’s been. “We don’t discuss personal things; in fact, I try to minimize the amount of dialogue as much as possible. I think I get on his nerves.”

  “Oh, I doubt that,” my father replies with a bit of a smirk. “But still, you haven’t filled me in on your progress.”

  I shrug after sending the text. “Marco got authorization for the exhumation of Cece’s body. That will provide forensic evidence that supports her diary entries. It will also prove she was poisoned with something. He has all of the information from my notes. I’m finished here.”

  “I see.” And I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “It’s not like I won’t be back, Dad. But, it’s been a couple of weeks now. I didn’t pack to stay this long. I need to get back to New York and handle...well, my stuff.”

  “I understand, Parrish. You have a career to focus on as well.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not sure it’s the career I want anymore. I need to focus on my relationship with Ryan, you know? See where I fit in?”

  His gaze is one of concern. “Why are you the one that must fit in? Wouldn’t you both want to accommodate one another?”

  “It’s not that simple, Dad. Ryan’s career trumps mine. That’s just the way it is and I’m fine with it.”

  “I see.”

  I can tell that he doesn’t, but I’m not going to debate it. “So, can you give me a ride to the airport tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” he replies, getting up. “I’ll let Sheila know.”

  I can tell he’s saddened by my leaving, but I’m determined to get my future plans in order first; then I can plan subsequent trips here to visit. All I know is that I’m done with modeling. I need something more. I’m not content with continuing a long distance relationsh
ip either. The past two weeks have proven that, with Ryan traveling and me being stationery, I realize just how much I want to be grounded.

  My work here is finished for now…but, even I know that isn’t the truth.

  Chapter 31

  I’m waiting for my luggage at one of the carousels at JFK when my cell beeps. I glance down.

  Finally!

  A text from Ryan.

  Sorry I’ve been MIA, babe. Been in a remote area of the Canadian Rockies. Got some great footage to show you when I get home. Enjoy the time with your dad. I won’t be back in NYC until next Thursday. I’ll call you this evening. Hope you’re enjoying the slopes! XOXO

  Well, as usual, timing is everything. If I’d gotten his text last night, I’d have stayed put in Utah. I start to text him back, letting him know just that when I spot my suitcase coming around towards me. I slip my cell into my purse in order to grab it.

  I wait in line for a cab and once inside, I sit back, taking in the hustle and bustle that is New York. The snow is gray and tinged black, stacked in dirty piles along the curbs of the city streets. Horns blaring, one-fingered salutes from pissed off motorists, panhandlers on the corners wrapped in layers of clothing as they await a handout from passersby.

  It’s good to be home. I will have a few days to catch up on my mail, make some calls, go to the market and get the apartment cleaned for Ryan’s return. Maybe even buy some new sexy lingerie for a celebratory welcome home party.

  The cab pulls up in front of our building. I pay the fare, give the guy a generous tip and trudge through the sloppy slush of winter left on the pavement out front.

  I love our loft. The ancient brick building before me now houses ten loft apartments, having been remodeled years ago from a meat packing plant. I check our mail slot and see that it’s empty.

  Strange.

  Maybe Ryan has had the mail stopped while we were out.

  I pull my wheeled luggage into the freight elevator and lower the fenced door down, pushing the button for the third floor. As soon as I’m out, heading towards our apartment, I fumble in my purse for the keys and realize there is music coming from inside our apartment.

  The fuck?

  I’m momentarily frozen. Surely, if burglars are inside, they wouldn’t need music to ransack by, right? It dawns on me that Ryan might’ve left the music on for the very purpose of thwarting would-be robbers since we don’t have a doorman.

  I slide the key in and push my luggage through the doorway. Immediately the aroma of coffee hits me.

  “Ryan?” I call out, closing the door behind me.

  Down the hallway, to the left, a female head pops out of the kitchen. Her face has a look of surprise on it, but I’m betting it doesn’t come close to matching mine. The rest of her slips out into the hallway and I see she’s wearing one of my short, silky robes. It’s the emerald green one. Ryan gave it to me on my last birthday.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  She steps backward a few paces and I walk closer to her. She’s blond and willowy. Not as tall as me and, at the moment, her face is wearing a mask of fear and I realize it’s because I’m closing in on her.

  “Uh...I’m Cassie?”

  “Is that a question or am I supposed to know you, Cassie?”

  “I...I work with Ryan. I’m a photo journalist too.”

  “What the fuck are you doing in our apartment while he’s gone?” I ask, totally freaking out at the moment.

  “He...uh, he’ll be right back. He just went out for...bagels.”

  “Bagels?”

  And why I zone in on that particular word when there are so many others I should’ve been spewing is fucking beyond me.

  Liar.

  Cheater.

  Fucking asshat.

  “I see. Well, I think we’ll be skipping coffee and bagels this morning,” I reply, trying to sound civilized when what I really want to do is rip my robe from her quivering body and toss the bitch out on her perky ass. “Now Cassie, why don’t you get the fuck out of my robe and out of my home,” I say with a hiss.

  She scurries into the bedroom and comes out in less than a minute, wearing her own jeans and a sweater and grabs her shoulder bag from the sofa. “I’m...I uh...I’m really sorry,” she mumbles, stumbling down the hallway towards the front door.

  “Get the fuck out!”

  She struggles with the door, finally wrenching it open to allow her frantic exit. I follow behind her, slamming the door shut and flipping all of the locks into place, including the chain lock, which will prevent the lying son-of-a-bitch back in with his fucking bagels!

  Twenty minutes later, I’ve packed the bulk of my clothing, jewelry, shoes and pieces of my heart in the rest of our luggage. The emerald green robe lays shredded across our bed. The same bed that Ryan’s been fucking Cassie in for who knows how long!

  I hear him using his keys in the locks. The door stops as the chain restrains it. “Parrish, let me explain, babe. Please?”

  Explain? What’s to explain?

  “Ryan, I’ve called a cab. I want you out of my sight when it gets here. I’ll make arrangements to get the rest of my stuff in the next couple of weeks.”

  “Wait…wait, Parrish! We need to talk about this.” His voice is pleading and all it does is make me wanna puke. How can he possibly think that there’s anything left to say? He’s betrayed me in the worst way possible. How do I know Cassie was even the first? How many fucking times has he made a mockery of us? My mind is in a thick fog.

  “There’s nothing to talk about, Ryan. You’re a liar and a cheater and we’re done.”

  “Look,” he pleads from the hallway, “I was gonna tell you about Cassie when you got back. I just...I just didn’t think you’d be back this soon. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

  And now I’m totally devastated. He isn’t going to beg me to stay? He’s not sorry for cheating?

  Fuck no!

  He’s only sorry for the way that I found out about his cheating.

  He doesn’t want me anymore.

  He wants Cassie.

  “I had to find out some way, Ryan. Why not the worst possible way, huh?” I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks because it’s not fair. This pain he’s inflicted is not fair. He’s moving on to someone else.

  I’m just moving out.

  “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says.

  I so fucking hate that line!

  “It’s just that well—Cass and I have so much more in common. I mean, we’ve spent a lot of time together on assignments and…shit it just happened, that’s all.”

  “Stop!” I shriek, covering my ears with my hands like some petulant child. “I don’t want to hear any of this! No matter what, there’s no excuse for being an asshat and that’s what you are to me now! I want you to leave the building until I’m out of here, Ryan. I mean it!”

  There’s a long silent pause.

  “Okay,” he says, “I’ll leave for a while. But, hey, Parrish? I really want to try and explain this to you. I never meant for this to happen, I swear. Maybe once you’ve calmed down a bit, I can call you? I owe you an explanation . . . please?”

  Bastard!

  “Just leave!” I scream hysterically. “Now!”

  Over my sniffling, I can hear his footsteps retreat towards the elevator. I hear the whine of the pulleys and know that he’s gone down to the ground floor. Down to where Cassie waits for him, no doubt, with his bag of bagels.

  I wipe my eyes, trying to make the wet streaks on my skin disappear. I put my coat on and then hurry to the front window to peer outside. Ryan is walking out of the building and there’s Cassie, standing a half-block down waiting for him. He takes her by the arm and they duck into ‘Pop’s Delicatessen’.

  My cab pulls up out front. I hurry to my stacked luggage, pulling it down the hall behind me. I unlock the door, taking one last glance behind before I close it and leave this part of my life behind forever.

  Once my luggage is lo
aded into the cab, I climb into the backseat.

  “Where to, lady?”

  Where to?

  Great question.

  Where the fuck should I go now?

  “Lady?”

  “JFK,” I reply. “Take me to JFK.”

  Chapter 32

  I’ve been at Mom’s for three days now. I’ve probably only spoken a hundred words to her in total. I can’t talk about it. I simply bought an airline ticket to Richmond and showed up on her doorstep.

  I’m pretty sure that my red puffy eyes and runny nose told her most of the story, along with my choking sobs, “Ryan. Me. Over. Can’t talk about it.”

  And so she had done what mothers are supposed to do when their grown children show up unexpectedly with shattered hearts. She put me to bed; brought me hot cocoa with marshmallows, grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. And she didn’t press me for anymore than that.

  I love my mother.

  Both of them.

  On the third night here, I got a surprise visit from Ma, in my dreams, of course. This particular dream has Ryan in it...and me. We’re in a beautiful meadow on a spring day, backpacking while we study nature. We’re walking hand-in-hand towards a bubbling stream and, as we get closer to the water, I can see that Cassie is there on the bank picking daisies. Ryan drops my hand and rushes over towards her. They embrace and then both turn to look at me with smiles on their faces.

  I stop and pull a gun out of my backpack, taking careful aim at his crotch. Just then, a hand reaches out from beside me and pushes the gun down towards the ground.

  “Dreams like this are bad karma, Parrish. Don’t waste karma on that cheating bastard.”

  “Ma?”

  “Of course it’s me. Who else?”

  “Wh—why are you here?”

  “I think I’m needed,” she says, taking a seat on the soft grass in my dream, patting the ground beside her so that I will follow suit. I crumple down beside her, burying my face in my hands.

  “I just can’t believe he did this to me,” I wail. “I thought I knew him. Turns out, I didn’t know him at all.”

  She rubs my back. “Sometimes these things are a blessing in disguise.”