by Adalina Mae
After the formalities of the church ceremony followed by the photo sessions, Naomi wanted to make a final stop on the way to the reception. She wanted to surprise her grandmother at the hospital in her wedding gown.
It was an extraordinary scene in the hospital, with patients and visitors cheering and clapping as the bride and groom and bridal party walked down the hospital corridor. The videographer filmed the whole thing. We approached Mom’s room on tiptoes, so she wouldn’t hear us. We didn’t want to ruin Naomi’s wonderful surprise. I peeked through the door and saw Mom lying in bed awake watching TV.
Naomi and Jack walked in first.
“Oh my God! My darling, oh my God, you look beautiful!” My mother began to cry with joy when she saw her grandchild dressed in her wedding gown, followed by the rest of us.
“Hi Grandma, we wanted to get your blessings and see you before we go to the reception,” Naomi said, and she and Jack kissed her hand. Mother was sobbing with joy.
“Thank you, God bless you, thank you, I’m so happy to see all of you, thank you for including me.” Overwhelmed, Mom blew kisses to everyone in the room.
“We wouldn’t miss this for the world, Grandma. We’re sad you couldn’t come to the wedding, so we brought the wedding party to you. At least we got to see you on this day,” Naomi said.
“Hopefully we’ll see you at our place soon when you’ve recovered and you’re back home,” Jack said to Mom.
The nurses and doctors all came into the room to rejoice with their favorite patient. We had brought special wedding bonbonniere treats to give out to all the patients, nurses, and doctors as a token of appreciation for looking after my mother so well. I was overwhelmed, both by seeing her looking so happy that day, yet so fragile and defenseless in that bed. She was battling a golden staph infection from the hip surgery. As happy as I was to see Naomi celebrate a significant milestone, I felt sad for my mother and the suffering she was enduring.
Mother recovered slowly and was finally discharged from hospital after twelve weeks. She came home with intravenous medication and needed daily nursing visits. She had already been through a few failed hip replacement surgeries and suffered constant infections. Her cancer had completely cleared but unfortunately, her battle now was with the infections from her hip surgeries.
Chapter 30
The Spaniard
USA 2005
The personal trainer who was working out in the corner of the gym kept looking at me in the mirror. It was late, and I was working on my kung-fu forms. The forms were slow and flowed like water, so they had no impact on my spine. The trainer had an amazing muscular physique. Eventually, he approached me.
“Hi, I’m Leandro,” he said, “I’m interested in what you’re practicing.”
I mentioned I couldn’t train aggressively because of my spine and asked him if there were some exercises he could show me to help with my recovery. I was more interested in those biceps than in any exercises he might show me. I already knew what my restrictions in training were.
We agreed on an exchange. I would show him forms in martial arts and he would train me to strengthen my back. I thought it was a great deal. He was extremely professional and skilled at personal training, so I had to pick up on my teaching skills to give him the same in return. He was originally from Spain, but lived and worked in LA. Many of his clients were LA celebrities, and he often traveled the world with his VIP clients.
We planned to meet the following day at the gym to work out again and after our session ended, we decided to go for dinner. We became friends very quickly.
We spoke about his life, my life, and our passions. He said how much he looked forward to getting married one day and having children. He had a passion for being a father and was waiting for the right partner to marry so he could start a family. I could tell from his personal questions he had some interest in me. We were both single, both had no children, he was thirty-six and I was thirty-three, we both had a passion for training, and we both lived independently and responsibly. We were compatible in many ways.
USA 2006
Our relationship progressed into a strong friendship. Although I could tell he had developed feelings for me, at that stage he was my close friend and someone I enjoyed training with.
He loved to ride his bike and join peloton groups on long-distance rides. I even bought a bike and got into cycling. My whole family bought bikes and got into cycling.
As for me, it wasn’t with a peloton group, just on the local tracks where I could stop for coffee along the way whenever I felt like it, which was often.
My family and I went out in a large group some weekends, riding the tracks like professionals. They were wonderful times for all of us. My back pain had eased slightly, and I was able to bike ride for at least two hours. However, I missed my martial arts training and desperately wanted to get back into it. Unfortunately, no club would take me on once they learnt of my back injury. They did not want the responsibility. However, I was grateful for my health and focused on the enjoyment of what I was able to do. I took up Pilates and yoga to keep my workout routine challenging, and specially to keep me from getting bored.
Business was booming, and everything seemed to be going well. Mom’s health was improving. I was happy, and I had a healthy family, eleven beautiful nieces and nephews who all loved one another. My family had always been close and we all understood that family came first, no matter what.
I am grateful for the children my siblings brought into this world. Our age difference was compensated for by my nephews and nieces, bridging the gap I’d felt growing up. However, even with that, I still felt alone because I did not fit in easily. I was a decade younger and a decade older than everyone. I was the odd one in the middle.
Even though everything was going well, the nightmares of my father and flashing images of my childhood molestation remained part of my life that I could not escape, nor share with anyone. That was my cross to bear.
Many times, when Leandro and I were training at the gym, girls would walk up to him and flirt with him. He would innocently flirt back just to get at me and see how I would react. I never showed my reaction, I even took off to the ladies at times telling him that as he had company I’d give him space. I could tell he hated that, the lack of jealousy or concern from my end. Let me tell you, it made me pissed, I just didn’t show him. There was some form of attachment to him, like a claim of some sort, even though we were not a couple.
One day we were mock sparring and he dropped me to the floor and pinned me down. He locked his body in a seated position on me and strapped my arms above my head so I could not move. I could have easily pushed him off, I was trained to do that, but I didn’t. I enjoyed his seductive look and those bulging biceps around me.
We were both silent, breathing heavily from our training. He was staring at me seductively and I knew I was in trouble. Thoughts were racing through my head, what if he tries to kiss me, am I going to fight him, or will I kiss him back? What are you going to do, Zara?
His lock became stronger, and the moment I felt a sign of weakness and couldn’t match his strength, I reacted aggressively. I felt entrapped, the same feeling I’d had when I was molested. I swiftly pushed myself up and kicked him off me so hard he tumbled off.
“Get away from me!” I screamed.
“What on earth is the matter with you, woman?” he retaliated. “Are you serious?” He knew something wasn’t right with my reaction. I was hyperventilating, aggressive, and ready to attack him. I’d lost control of my actions and my senses. Something had come over me, almost like the monster Dad had been battling to escape. I knew at the point I had a serious problem.
“Calm down, Zara, it’s me, I wasn’t going to hurt you. What’s going on with you?” Leandro didn’t know anything about my past. In fact, no one knew.
I slowly regained control and came back to the reality of where I was. Tears built up in my eyes. I couldn’t even explain my reaction.
“
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I need to get out of here.” I ran out as fast as I could and drove home, crying with rage. I went straight to bed. I couldn’t deal with myself and needed to escape. I thought sleeping it off was the answer; well, I was wrong, I woke up from that dreadful nightmare again.
The following day, Leandro called me. I was still in bed, exhausted, feeling almost sick and unable to get out of bed.
“Hey, you ok?” he asked gently.
“I don’t know what to say, Leandro, I’m sorry for reacting like that.”
“There is usually more to it with a reaction like that, Zara. What happened to you? You can tell me.”
“I’m ok, I don’t want to talk about it to be honest, I’m not feeling too well”.
“Fair enough, I’m not letting this conversation pass over so easily though, okay? You will talk to me eventually, that’s the least you can do, woman, you nearly broke my back with your move.”
I chuckled, knowing he was right. I had used all my force and I was a strong woman.
Days went by without seeing him. I was embarrassed to face him, until one evening he knocked on my door unannounced. I opened the door and there he was holding up Chinese takeout and flowers.
“I figured if you’re not feeling well, you need both.” He smiled and walked in.
“Is that Chinese? You champion, just what I feel like,” I replied, and closed the door after him.
He helped himself to plates and set up the table easily as if he lived there. I liked that about him, he was easygoing and it was no effort to be around him. We sat down and began to eat. He kept looking at me, waiting for me to start the conversation. I gave in.
“Did I hurt you?” I asked politely.
“Yes, you broke my heart.”
“Haha, I mean did I hurt you physically when I pushed you off?”
“I am not joking, you broke my heart, I hated seeing you like that, I have never seen you or anyone for that matter carry so much pain and rage inside them. I know something happened to you, Zara, I’m not stupid, so yes, you broke my heart.”
I was overwhelmed by his response and by how considerate he was. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I mean, how could I? I think anyone witnessing my pain and rage that day would be heartbroken, especially when I knew he had feelings for me.
“It’s nothing really, I just hate being held down forcefully like that, it aggravates me.” I couldn’t tell him, I couldn’t open up to him or to anyone about my past. It was my cross to bear. “Leandro, I’m fine, it’s from my training, I’ve had almost twenty years of training and incidents, I know myself, I hate being strapped and losing control, to me it’s a sign of weakness and that really aggravates me.” He didn’t buy it.
“Do I really look as dumb as a doorknob to you?” he replied, while eating his dinner and ignoring everything I had just said.
“Can we talk about something else? Pleeeeeeease?” I asked innocently.
“Sure, but do know that I’m not buying what you said. If you don’t feel comfortable telling me now, just remember I am here for you when you are ready, okay? Promise me.”
I nodded. He honored my wishes and changed the subject. It was a pleasant evening having him over, and we ended up watching a Bruce Lee movie. We both loved Bruce Lee.
When it was time for him to leave and we were standing at the door, it was awkward. Especially when nothing was in the open and neither of us knew what move the other was going to make.
He turned around before he walked out, reached out his hand, put it on my cheek, and stared at me provocatively. “You are killing me, Zara, you are killing me. I’ll see you tomorrow night at the gym?” I nodded yes looking everywhere except in his eyes. He sighed deeply and then walked out.
I knew what he meant. I knew he was yearning for me and for my love. Conflicting feelings and thoughts were suffocating me. I wanted him, but at the same time, I didn’t. My heart had been blocked for years. With Jamal, Sebastian, William, Livio, and now this wonderful, gorgeous, sexy Spaniard, Leandro.
Why couldn’t I love freely? What was wrong with me?
The following morning, I walked into the gym’s private room where we usually trained, only to find a gorgeous young blonde girl in her mid-twenties flirting with him. How do I handle that? I wondered. I had no claim over him. Just before I walked up to them, she leant close to him and kissed him on the lips. He didn’t respond, nor did he take part in it, he just stood there shocked by her action.
I coughed silently to distract them. Once he noticed I was standing there, he quickly stepped away from her. I stared at him emotionlessly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, gorgeous.” The blondie smirked and passed me.
“Zara, that wasn’t me, I swear, I didn’t make the move,” he tried to justify himself.
“Even if it was your move, I don’t care, I’m sorry I interrupted you.” I shrugged him off.
He stood there in silence, took a few breaths, and lashed out at me.
“You don’t care? You don’t care, is that how you really feel, Zara? You don’t care that some other girl just kissed me? Let me repeat that she kissed me, okay? I don’t believe you, I don’t believe that cold heart of yours.” He sounded frustrated.
“What do you want me to say, Leandro?” I shouted back.
“It’s not what I want you to say, it’s how you should feel,” he said, and walked toward me, grabbed my hand, and put it on his heart.
“This is how you should be feeling now. Can you feel my heart beating for you?” His heart was racing. He then put his other hand on my heart and felt my heart beating uncontrollably like his. He looked into my eyes with uncertainty, hoping I felt the same desire. He paused and said, “Fuck it!” then leapt toward me, grabbed my head, and kissed me passionately. I gave in, feeling the same and needing to kiss him. His lips moved down my neck and back up to my lips. He shoved me to the wall, pressing his body against mine. Our passionate kiss continued until he gently moved his head inches away from mine and with our faces almost touching, he looked deeply into my eyes and said, “I love you, I love you Zara, please tell me you love me?”
Oh my God, what a lustful moment that was. I couldn’t respond, I kept reaching out to kiss him to avoid replying, but he kept moving back, teasing and persisting. “Tell me you love me, tell me you love me, Zara,” whispering and breathing into my neck erotically.
If I wasn’t a genuine person, I would have said I loved him a thousand times the way I was feeling in that moment of weakness. But I knew my heart was blocked and I couldn’t trust my emotions. I didn’t want to hurt him or lead him on. I couldn’t say it. I ignored him and closed my eyes.
He stepped away calmly, waiting for some reaction from me. All I was able to say was, “Please don’t ruin what we have, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Ruin what we have, are you fucking kidding me, Zara? I just poured my heart out to you and told you I love you, and this is what you have to say to me? Don’t ruin what we have? I am crazy about you, I want to be with you, I want to make love to you, I can’t be your friend, Zara, you’re killing me, you’re breaking my heart.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t, I can’t do this. I am sorry.” I began to cry and walked out of the room, leaving him helplessly brokenhearted, standing there looking down at the floor.
What was wrong with me? Why did I have so much hatred in my heart? Why did I block love from entering my life? Was I tormented by betrayal? Was I still suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder? Why couldn’t my heart open up and love anymore?
Was it…Jamal?
Thoughts began to wander through my mind.
Am I cursed not to find happiness because Jamal and I were meant to be together? Did I ignore the signs of what the universe wanted for me? Should I have accepted his proposal when we met in the park, before I married that miserable cheating Tariq, and saved myself the heartache I have been enduring the past decade? The only one I have loved purely is Jamal, the love of my l
ife. I lost him for what? Religion? Because he wasn’t a Christian, a faith I am beginning to doubt.
For days after that, I tried to call Leandro. I needed to have closure with him and I missed my friend. I couldn’t have us end like that. I genuinely cared for him, loved him in an awkward way, as my friend above all. You might wonder how I could love him as a friend and yet kiss him so passionately. Let me tell you, sometimes that moment of lust overshadows the importance of what people mean to you. Yes, I kissed him and yes, I was aroused by the sex on legs standing in front of me, as anyone would if they were looking at what I was looking at. But above all, I genuinely loved him as my friend.
His phone was switched off, or perhaps he had just blocked my number. Whenever I went to the gym to look for him, he was never there. Eventually, after a couple of weeks I built up my courage to go to his house, only to learn he had moved out. No one knew where he had moved to. I tried everything to find him. He disappeared out of my life, just like that.
I missed my friend.
Chapter 31
On a new mission
Europe 2007
In early January 2007 before I returned to work, I woke up one morning with that nightmare about my father again. The trauma of that dreadful night repeated in this nightmare as if it was happening all over again. I woke up screaming and sweating and with a palpitating heart. Why was I constantly dreaming about that night? It was torture for me to relive that moment every time I woke up from the nightmare. I found myself becoming angrier each time.
Going back to work, I no longer felt motivated. I had never felt that way before and knew it was time to move on.
