Falling for Her

by A. C. Meyer

  Striding purposefully toward her room, I open the door, blinking and focusing my eyes so that they get used to the darkness. Looking at the bed, I see Mari, completely covered by a black blanket. Lying there, groaning in her sleep, as if she’s in pain. My heart breaks into a thousand little pieces when I see her like that, but mostly, it breaks because I doubted her honesty. I go to the kitchen, fill a kettle with some water, and put it to boil while I search for the tea box in the cabinets. I have no idea if she’s taken something, but some hot tea would help ease the pain.

  My mother used to force us to drink tea whenever we felt ill. Whether it was a heartache or a headache, she said it comforted the soul. I look inside the tea box I brought here to check what kinds of tea she has, but all I can find is lemon and ginger. Damn it. Ginger tea sucks. But it’ll have to do.

  I finish making the tea and take it to her. I turn on the lights in the hall before I enter the room, to bring a little light into it without disturbing her. I put the tea cup on her nightstand and sit beside her, pulling down the blanket. What I see breaks my heart even more. Still in a troubled sleep, her face is twisted in a frown of pain, wet and flushed, as if she had cried herself to sleep.

  I run my fingers through her hair, caressing her softly, while I use my free hand to wipe away her tears. Slowly, I wake her up by calling her name in a soft voice. She opens her eyes, blinking a few times, and frowns, seeming surprised to see me there.

  “I’m sorry to wake you, pretty. But I made you some tea, to help with your headache,” I say, still caressing her dark hair.

  “Thanks,” she murmurs, licking her lips. “But I don’t like tea.” She makes a face, as if the thought itself was disgusting to her.

  “I know, but it’s important. Drink just a little. Then you can go back to sleep. Have you taken anything?” I ask worriedly.

  “I took a painkiller, but it didn’t help,” she answers, and I think that I’d do anything to keep her from suffering like this. I help her sit up and fluff the pillows for her, handing her the hot cup.

  “Take care, it’s hot,” I warn her and she nods. While she looks at the cup with a disgusted face, I start untying my tie and taking off my suit. She takes a sip and her frown deepens.

  “It’s disgusting,” she complains, and I can’t help but smile.

  “Yeah, I know. But it’ll help you feel better.”

  “Jesus. I don’t want it.”

  “Take another sip, pretty.” I sit beside her for support. “I thought I’d make you fennel tea or something tastier. But I need to buy more tea. Our box is nearly empty.”

  “Not ours. Yours. Unless you let me keep my espresso pods inside that box too,” she jokes and smiles, sipping the tea. Her frown reappears.

  “You can keep whatever you want in it, angel.” I kiss the top of her head and smile. “It’s our box.”

  While she slowly sips the tea, I get up and go to the bathroom for a quick shower. I need to work out some of the tension in my shoulders to be able to help her properly. After the shower, I put on some clean boxers and a T-shirt that I keep here, dry my hair with the towel, and return to the bedroom. She’s holding the cup, almost empty now, with her eyes closed and her head resting on the wall.

  “I don’t want it anymore,” she says, and I take the cup from her hands, placing it on the nightstand. I go to the hall and turn off the lights, then return to the bedroom and help her lie down again, lying behind her. I pull the blanket to cover both of us, then pull her to my chest, holding her fondly. I think of how much I love her and, in a second, we’re both sleeping.

  Mari

  After that traumatic afternoon, things went back to normal. I didn’t run into Cadu’s brother, which was great, but I also couldn’t bring myself to tell him or anyone about the horrible things I had to hear. We were in the final week of the old Hollywood’s glamour inspired collection project and today was the photo shoot for the next issue, which would be on sale in a couple of weeks.

  I arrived early at work. Cadu had gone straight to the studio to watch the photo shoot, while I would work from the office, getting things ready.

  I rarely run into my coworkers now, since we are getting busier and busier. We would get there way early, around seven o’clock, and would always be the last ones to leave, going straight to his apartment in Leblon. We were both exhausted, but he was so happy with the editorial that he promised to make it up to me when everything was set, running away to our refuge in the mountains, where we would lie down on lounge chairs the whole day, feeling the sun warm our bodies in the cold weather of Itaipava. But today, my usually silent path was interrupted by nasty Roberta, the personal assistant who hated me for “taking” her job.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t Ms. Nobody arriving early at work!” she says, studying me. “There’s no point being a suck up, Free Willy,” she snaps referencing the whale movie, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. “Your hot boss would never be with someone like you.” She’s so full of poison and so wrong in her thoughts that I can’t help but laugh out loud. I laugh so hard that I get tears in my eyes. Roberta just stands there staring at me, probably because she didn’t see it coming.

  When I can catch my breath again, I answer, “Oh, Roberta. Thank you for your compliment. Yes, darling, it is a compliment to me. I’d rather be a whale than a mermaid like you. And you know why?” She shakes her head no, still too scared with my laughter to answer. “Google them and see the difference.” I then proceed to my office, still laughing at her childish words.

  When I leave the office it’s almost ten o’clock. I’m exhausted, my hair tied up in a messy bun. The white shirt and the dark pants I was wearing were pretty wrinkled. I wanted to take a shower and go to bed. And, of course, I wanted my boyfriend with me, who I knew was pretty tired himself.

  I take my bag and a few documents he had asked me to take home and turn off the lights in my office, taking the key from my bag to lock the door. The floor is almost completely dark, and the only light comes from the emergency lamps. I’m about to lock the door when a voice nearly scares me to death.

  “Oh, Mari, Mariana . . .” Miguel says quietly near me, and I shake.

  “Oh, dear God! You almost scared me to death!” I lift a hand to my chest, keeping a firm hold on my bag and the documents with the other one.

  “I’m sorry, peach, I didn’t mean to,” he says, getting closer. I step back while he slowly advances on me, and before I notice, he’s pressing me against the door. His arm is leaning on the door near my face, and I start feeling claustrophobic with his close proximity.

  “Miguel, please, let me through,” I say, pushing him a bit. “I need to go home.”

  I realize that I’m probably all alone with him, and that even if I screamed, there would be no one to help me. He smiles and my body shakes from fear.

  “Easy there, peach. We could go out for dinner. What do you think?”

  “No, thanks. I really need to go home.”

  “Oh, Mari, Mariana . . . You make it so hard on me. I wanted to protect you . . . But you won’t let me, peach.” He’s babbling nonsense, his eyes seem a bit glassy like maybe he’s high. I take advantage of his distraction and push him harder, managing to pass under his arm.

  “Well, thanks for the invitation. Good night,” I say, and nearly run out of the office, taking the time to call Cadu to inform him I’m leaving. “Hey, baby. I’m leaving the office, okay? Of course, I will . . . See you . . . Me too.” I turn off my cell phone after I answer his loving words, and quickly get into the elevator, before Miguel can follow me. Downstairs, the night doorman calls me a cab and I go to Leblon. And into the arms of the man I love.

  I was really looking forward to her arrival. We had finally finished the work on Angèle’s new collection in partnership with Be. While we said it was inspired by classic Hollywood divas, in truth, my inspiration was a sweet girl, wit
h expressive brown eyes and a seductive and soft body. We took the last photos, and after the photographer sent them to me and to Mari, I ran home with her gifts, as anxious as a kid on Christmas Eve.

  After she called me to let me know she was coming, I turned the stereo on and put on an old CD by Leoni to play. She walks in looking tired but even more beautiful, leaving me breathless.

  “Hey,” she says simply, and smiles.

  “Hey, pretty,” I open my arms to hold her. She jumps on me, her perfume clouding all my senses and making me want to just drag her to bed at once. A deep sigh catches my attention. “What happened? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah . . .” she murmurs, still leaning against my chest. “I’m just tired.” I kiss the top of her head and step away.

  “Come. Let’s take a bath.”

  “Bath?” She looks at me and smiles. “Together?” I smile even more, just like her, and I can’t help but give in to my desires.

  “Yeah, pretty. Together.”

  We spent a long time in the tub, filled with bath oil and bubbles. She leaned on me while we talked about the day. I sensed she was tense and preoccupied, but she said it was just exhaustion. After I massaged her shoulders, the touching got even more sensual, until we couldn’t control our desire and gave in to the passion. When the water was almost cold, we wrapped ourselves in soft towels and went to the bedroom.

  “I’ve got something for you.”

  “For me? But it’s not my birthday,” she answers, and I smile.

  “First, open this.” I hand her a big white box. She unties the knot on the top and when she opens it, I smile even more. “This dress is yours. It’s one of the main pieces of the collection and it’s named after you. In French,” I say laughing, and point at the embroidered tag in the dress where it reads Le Marianne. Her eyes bulge and there is an unmistakable hint of tears in them when she notices the tribute.

  “Wow, Cadu! It’s so beautiful!” she says, taking the dress out of the box to see it better. It’s long with a deep neckline, halter style. The dress is a dark red color that contrasts with her pale skin and her dark eyes and hair, and it has a black stripe with a thin rhinestone belt just above the waistline. The straps, as black as the stripe, make the model even prettier. “I don’t even know where to wear it, baby. It’s . . . it’s too much.”

  “You’re going to wear it at the party we’re going to have to celebrate the next issue. This one is exclusive. It’s only yours, pretty. And you’re coming to the party as my date.”

  “Oh . . .” She looks at me, still shocked, and I’m glad to be able to spoil and surprise my girl.

  “And that’s not all. I was waiting for this to arrive. I ordered it especially for you.”

  I hand her the blue box. She looks at me suspiciously, but when she opens the box, her eyes shine even more as she sees what’s inside.

  “It’s so beautiful.” she whispers, lifting up the beautiful hardcover copy of The Little Prince with its blue pages. Her fingers caress the book almost in reverence, and then she looks at me, tears finally streaming down her face, making us both a little emotional.

  “I love you, pretty. All I want is to make you happy,” I say, wiping her tears.

  “I don’t have anything to give you . . .” She lowers her eyes, sad for a moment.

  “The greatest gift I could ever want, I already have, Mari. That’s you.” I kiss her passionately, showing her just how important that present is to me.

  Mari

  I always thought that extremely happy moments preceded extremely sad moments. It was almost a way to justify all the happiness that a person was allowed to feel. I knew life was made of ups and downs, and that it was impossible to be happy all the time. I just couldn’t imagine the turn my life was about to take.

  I went to work with Cadu after an unforgettable night. After our bath together and the marvelous gifts he gave me, we were twisted in bed the whole night, making love, talking, and enjoying each other’s company. While he drove to the office, I opened my magnificent copy of The Little Prince and started to reread the book I knew so intimately already. After a while, my mind started wandering, thinking about this relationship that has been the best thing that has ever happened to me. We were practically living together, but we never got tired of each other. We’ve been together for a few months and every now and then I still wonder if this is really happening. Suddenly, I feel his hand squeezing mine and I raise my eyes to see his slightly tense expression.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask worried. His face, ever so easy to read, has a preoccupied frown that wasn’t there before.

  “I don’t know. I’m a little anxious. I’m tired, I guess. These last few days have been hard. Besides, today the new issue of Style comes out. I’m always nervous when their issue comes out, you know.”

  Style is our competitor and its issue comes out four days before Be’s.

  “It’ll be all right. I’m dying to see the photo shoot,” I say with a smile, and he smiles back. We go on, talking about the collection until we reach the parking lot in the building.

  We go all the way up to our floor, and have barely left the elevator when that witch Roberta approaches us.

  “Carlos Eduardo, the director of Angèle’s has called a couple of times. He seemed upset.” She looks down on me. “It seems that something isn’t right.”

  I see Cadu growing pale by my side. Nothing can go wrong this close to the new issue, or all his hard work will have been in vain.

  “Thank you, Roberta.” We walk toward his office and I see him breathing deeply a few times, seeming quite tense.

  “Are you okay?” I ask quietly, worried about him.

  “I don’t know. This phone call doesn’t strike me as a good omen,” he answers me, adjusting his tie as if it’s choking him.

  When we reach the conference room, it’s like a natural disaster has occurred. Miguel, Zeca, accompanied by his wife, plus many executives from Moraes Publishing Group, are caught up in a heated discussion with a magazine in their hands. Oh, my God. It doesn’t look good.

  “Can I ask what’s going on here?” Cadu asks, and Zeca gets up and throws a magazine at him.

  “Considering that Style has a collection that is practically a copy of our own, I should be asking you what’s going on here!” Cadu trembles and takes the magazine. I open my mouth, shocked when I see the cover:

  Lynn, the hateful model, is on the cover, wearing a dress which looks just like Le Marianne, but with its colors all changed.

  “Oh—” I murmur, and Cadu looks at the cover in disbelief. He opens the magazine and it’s almost all there. On every new page, I see the pictures which seem to be the live version of every sketch he showed me a couple of weeks ago. I feel my throat tightening and tears flooding my eyes, but I breathe in deep so I won’t let all my anguish show in front of all these people.

  “Gentlemen, please, calm down,” Cadu says, taking control of the situation. “I’ll check into what’s happened and I’ll call a meeting later today.”

  “I knew Dad was out of his mind when he let you run Be. You’re still a kid. You treat this magazine as if it was a joke. Your irresponsibility may cost us the whole group!” Zeca screams at him, pointing a finger in his direction. “I’ll call in a meeting with the shareholders today to ask Be to come back to my hands.” Cadu takes a step back as if he’s been slapped.

  Zeca manages the business and economy magazines in the group. I have never seen my boyfriend as beaten up, and all I can think about is how I can possibly help him.

  “Zeca, we’ll talk about this later,” he says, shaking away his shock. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” He turns toward his office, taking the magazine with him.

  “Carlos, excuse me, but I need to speak with you.” Miguel stops him, and he shakes his head no. “Please, it’s important, and I think it might shed some ligh
t onto what happened today.” Cadu nods, and turns to me.

  “Mariana, will you please hold all my calls and don’t let anyone interrupt my meeting,” he says, shooting an angry glance at his brother.

  “I will,” I answer, and he nods, going into his office with Miguel. When the door is closed behind them, the men start walking out of the conference room, while I go to my office, sit down and start organizing my stuff to get to work. Zeca is the last one to leave.

  “You’ll be sorry you ever got in the way of my family,” he tells me angrily. My jaw drops, and I face him scared. “Stupid girl.” His look is full of hatred and his words are like a punch, and I have no reaction. Then he leaves, slamming the door once again.

  I hear my cell phone alert and I open the Messenger to answer.

  I hit send, then answer the first of many calls I pick up over the next hour.

  I walk into my office with Miguel and I just can’t believe what’s happening. I sit down and open Style, looking through each page, seeing all my months of work published by another magazine. It’s going to be a huge problem. The collection in Style was by Mix Fashion, Angèle’s biggest competitor.

  “Cadu, man, I need to talk to you. You may be upset, but when you know what I know, I think you’ll forgive me.”

  “Miguel, right now I’m more concerned about finding out how my collection, which only a handful of people knew about, ended up in my competitor’s hands.”

  “I know who did it.” Miguel drops the bomb.

  “Then say it, man!” he’s got my full attention and I’m ready to snap the neck of whoever screwed this up.

  “Mariana did it. I don’t know who helped her, but I’ll find out,” Miguel says quietly, and I keep still for a few seconds, staring at him, not believing a word he’s saying.