“Not that I know of.”
“Did your parents fight often?”
Carla’s face crumbles. “Why are you asking these questions? Didn’t you just say it looked like a carjacking and a robbery?”
“Yes, it looked like that’s what it could be. But that doesn’t mean we don’t try and find out exactly what happened that night.”
The detective and Carla talk for a few more minutes before he departs, leaving her with his business card. He needs to speak with her mother and is giving Carla a chance to break the news to her first. Carla will need to head out soon. The shock of his visit leaves both of us quiet. Striving for some semblance of normalcy, I venture into the kitchen to make coffee. It takes me a few minutes to find everything and get it going. Carla doesn’t get up to help and I’m inclined to leave her to collect her thoughts. Very soon I’ve got a hot cup ready and hand it to Carla who’s still sitting on the couch, frozen in place.
She takes a small sip of the fresh brew, her eyes meeting mine. “I don’t know what the hell I should be doing right now. This feels surreal.”
I take a seat next to her and wrap my free arm around her hunched shoulders. “I think you’ll need to call in to work and then arrange transportation to her house.”
A shudder runs through her frame. “You’re right. I’ll call into work. There’s no way I can tell her this over the phone. I’ll have to drive up.” Her hand shakes as she sets her coffee down. “I don’t even have a car. I’ll have to rent one.”
Immediately I think of my sister’s car. “I can call Andrea and see if she can lend me hers. Do you want me to go with you or would you prefer to go alone?”
She turns to me, her dark blue eyes looking lost and empty. “Thank you for the offer, but I think this is something I need to do by myself. My mom…” her voice trails off. She takes a deep breath and tries again. “My mom can be difficult and I have a feeling she isn’t going to take this well.”
Chapter Nineteen
Carla
Pounding spring rain pours down as I drive a rented sedan through the dreary morning to my mom’s. The roads are slick and the traffic crawls. What would normally be a ninety-minute drive is already taking over two hours.
My cell rings on the passenger seat. One glance reveals it’s Andy calling. I click answer and immediately switch the phone to speaker option, setting it on the console between the seats.
“Hi Andy.”
“Hey. Are you at your mom’s yet?”
“Almost there. The rain has slowed everyone down.” Apprehension swirls in my middle, the rhythmic beat of the steady wipers doing nothing to calm me. “I’m so not looking forward to this.”
“I don’t blame you.” A sigh echoes over the phone. “I’m sorry about the things I said about your dad last night. I had no right.”
His thoughtfulness helps to stem the twisting in my gut. “Not your fault. I was right there thinking the worst of him myself.” I stop at a light close to my mom’s house, wondering how I’m going to break the news to her. “Of course, that was because we all thought he’d left. God, what a mess.”
The light turns green and I make a left into her housing development. She bought one of the smaller townhouses two years after I graduated college when she only had Julie visiting sporadically on weekends.
“I feel awful you’re dealing with this on your own. Are you going to be okay on the trip back alone? I could come up if you need a driver.”
I smile, despite the awfulness of the day. “Thank you for the offer. I’ll be fine.” I’ve finally found a guy I want to spend more than one night with and I can’t believe I’m pushing him away. But it’s important to me that I handle this family business alone. I need to clear the air with my mom on a lot of emotional baggage and have waited too long to do so. Would I really want a new lover hearing all our dirty laundry?
“Okay, as long as you’re sure. Call me when you’re heading home. The weather is bad and you know how New York drivers are.” I hear a touch of humor in his last words, as if he’s trying to lighten the situation a little. What an amazing guy. And to think I almost missed him due to my own issues.
I use my left turn indicator when her street approaches, driving slower than normal due to the rain. “Alright, I will.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up, seconds before I turn into an empty space in front of her place. The pale cream siding looks drab in the grey light of late morning. A lamp from an upper story illuminates the small front bedroom overlooking the parking area.
I didn’t call ahead, worried it would start an avalanche of questions I was unprepared to answer. My mom works from home, telecommuting for a medical billing company. I know she’s there, where the light is, working in the bedroom she uses as an office.
I take a deep breath and pull the hood up on my light raincoat. Waiting won’t make it any easier, so without further contemplation I grab my purse and race into the rain, then up her steps to the front door.
Apprehension fills me once again as I ring the bell and wait for her to answer. God, maybe I should have asked the cop to come. Would that have been easier or harder?
Depends on how you look at it. Easier because you wouldn’t have had to be the one to tell her.
No. This might be hard, but it’s the right thing to do.
After a few minutes my mom opens the door, her face creasing in surprise when she sees it’s me.
“Carla! Come in, come in.” She steps to the side and ushers me with one arm out of the rain. “I didn’t know you were coming.” Her eyebrows creep up her lined forehead. “Did you call and I missed the message?”
I shake my head no and remove my coat. She takes the dripping garment, her eyes traveling over my casual jeans and t-shirt without comment, and quickly hangs the raincoat in the attached garage so the water can fall off in there. When she turns back to me, worry creases her brow.
“Are you okay, dear? It’s not like you to drive here unannounced—especially on a work day.” Comprehension blossoms across her face. “Oh my God—did you get fired? I’m so sorry, honey.”
“No mom, nothing like that. Can we go sit down and talk?”
“Sure.” She heads down the entry hall to the kitchen, the small living room opening up to my right as I follow her. “Would you like some coffee? I can put on a fresh pot.”
The coffee I had this morning went down like acid, bubbling and churning during the first half of my drive. “No, thanks.”
“I’m going to nuke mine. Want to talk at the table?”
Not sure where a good place would be to drop this ball of news, I agree, “Yeah. That’s fine.”
My voice sounds wooden to my own ears. Perhaps it’s the shock of knowing what I know, I’m not certain. One thing is for sure, I’m not looking forward to the next few minutes.
I take a seat and patiently wait while she heats up her coffee, adding a bit more milk to the mug before joining me.
“Well, you’ve got my attention,” she says with a small smile. “What’s up?” Her face lights with shock. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Mom!” Indignation flashes over my face. So typical of her to think the worst of me. “No, I’m not pregnant. It’s nothing about me.” My eyes dart away from her, to the large window overlooking the woods behind her townhouse, then back when I muster the courage to speak. “I had an early morning visitor.”
She sips from her mug, nodding that she’s following me.
“It was a police detective.”
Her face loses all color and her body stiffens. “Did something happen to your sister? Is she okay? Is she at a hospital? Why didn’t you call me?”
My hands come up in a reassuring gesture, meant to stem that flow of thought. “It wasn’t about Julie.” She sags a little in her chair, the instant tension gone. “It was about Dad.”
She purses her lips, tilting her head to the side in question. “What about your father? A detective you say?”
I nod.
God, this is harder than I thought.
She takes another sip of coffee, looking a little flustered but not like she’s going to flip out, more like she’s trying to work through the why. “Was it a development in the missing person’s case I filed long ago?”
“Kind of.” I look away again, my gut clenching.
“Carla honey, just spit it out.”
“He’s dead, Mom. They found his body while excavating to expand a road.”
She sets her mug down with a heavy clunk. “What happened to him?” Her face hardens as she tries to control her emotions. “Did he die in a car wreck—maybe while living his new life with someone else?”
I shake my head and reach across the table to grab her hand. “No, Mom. The coroner thinks he might have died very close to the time he was reported missing.”
Her mouth drops open and she pulls her hand back from mine to cover her mouth. Guilt races across her face, the emotion unmistakable, before disappearing under the red of anger. “That’s impossible. The investigating officer told me he thought David left us, that he’d seen it happen time and time again to families in…” She stops mid-thought, but I caught the slip.
“ ‘Families in’ what, Mom? What were you about to say?”
“There must be some mistake. It’s not David.” She bolts up and stalks from the table, turning when she reaches the counter and leans back against it, arms wrapped around her middle.
I stay seated and watch her carefully. Why was she looking guilty a moment ago? Could she have had something to do with his disappearance? The moment the traitorous thought arrives I squelch it. My mother might be a bitch at times, but she’d never have killed my father. It doesn’t add up to her behavior in the past fifteen years.
“It’s not a mistake. The coroner confirmed it was Dad by dental records with the original missing person’s file.”
“No! It can’t be right! He’s out there somewhere, I know it! He just…”
“Abandoned us high and dry fifteen years ago?” I stand, my own anger getting the better of me. “Why is that option more appealing to you? Does that sound like the man you married? The man who had two children with you?”
“Yes! I mean, no. But the officer was so sure he’d left. I believed him.”
“Did you, Mom? Or did you want to? You looked guilty a moment ago.” Her eyes widen and she averts her attention to the floor. “What is it you haven’t told me all these years?” I step closer, my proximity forcing her to meet my gaze. “What are you leaving out that made you so readily accept the man you’d known for so long would up and desert his family?”
She says nothing, her mouth a thin line.
“Answer me!”
My mother flinches and then crumbles, her shoulders sagging forward. Her voice comes out soft and broken. “We fought that night—about money, bills, you name it. He packed a bag and took off, saying he was going to visit a client and would do his best to dig us out of the financial mess our lives had become.” Tears trail down her checks. “The weather was bad, like today—slick roads and a downpour. I yelled at him and practically chased him out of the house, furious with our situation.”
I reach out and touch her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me any of that? Couples fight all the time. It’s normal, especially when times are bad.”
“Because the officer looked at me as if it were my fault. Like I’d driven David away.” A thought occurs to her and her face shatters, sobs spilling forth. “Oh my God, did he die in a car accident from the bad weather? Did I actually chase him to his death that night?”
“No, Mom! Get that thought out of your head. The detective told me he was found alone, no car accident. It looked like he was robbed and hit on the head. They were speculating it could have been a carjacking.” I wrap my arms around the woman I’ve held myself emotionally distant from for over a decade and give myself over to the play of emotions swirling inside me.
Tears trickle down my cheeks as she hugs me. Her voice sounds close to my ear, disbelief coloring the whispered tone. “All these years, and I didn’t drive him away.”
The simple statement clicks everything into place for me. She felt so awful about what she perceived to be her part in his leaving, that she turned the guilt into anger. Anger at a dead man she thought didn’t love her enough to come back and fight through the hard times for her and their children.
Would I have reacted any differently? Would the presumed betrayal have crushed any spark of love inside me, too?
I run a hand down her back. “Let it all go, Mom. Don’t let any more anger ruin the rest of your life.”
My mother sobs in my arms, the shudders wracking her body as she finally allows her body to grieve for what was and what could have been. Pretty soon I’m crying with her and we’re apologizing for all the times we’ve pushed each other away.
After a while we wash up in separate bathrooms and meet back in the kitchen. I tell her the detective will be here soon and he has some questions for her.
She asks me to stay, saying she’d rather not face him alone. I nod while my heart swells. I never would’ve expected my father’s death to bring us closer, to bridge the gap we’ve slowly allowed to expand over the years—but strangely enough, it has.
Chapter Twenty
Andrew
“Thanks for filling me in on your call with the doctor. We’ve always known Mom was a fighter. Maybe her time isn’t as close as they think.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, worry for my mom and Carla causing a slow headache to build.
“I’m so torn—and feeling guilty as hell because of it,” my sister says. “I don’t want her to suffer needlessly, but I’m not ready for her to go, either.”
“The doctor said they’re doing everything they can to make her comfortable, so either way it’s out of our hands.”
A heavy sigh reaches me and I picture my sibling throwing herself on her couch while we talk. “I know. Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty.”
“Think about what Carla’s family is going through. I’d rather we know what’s going on than left hanging for years like they were.”
“God, you’re right. That would be so much worse.”
My phone beeps, indicating another call is coming through. A glance at the screen has me hustling my sister off the line. “Hey, Carla is calling. I’ll catch up with you later.”
We say a quick goodbye and I click over to Carla. “How are you holding up?”
“Not bad.” Her voice sounds rough from old tears.
“Are you on the road home yet? The storm has petered out.”
“It’s still coming down pretty hard here. I’m going to spend the night. Make sure my mom is okay.”
I nod, realize she can’t see me and say, “That’s a good idea. Have either of you told your sister yet?”
“No. I called and asked her to come over in the morning so we could chat. Just told her it was family business when she badgered me for more info.”
“Smart. How did things go with the detective?”
“Okay, I guess. It’s all kind of a blur really. He was polite and didn’t push when my mom cried. I think he was ruling her out as a suspect as well as digging for any possible leads.”
“Do you think their conclusion is right, a carjacking?”
Her breath expels in a whoosh and her exhaustion comes over the line clearly. “I don’t know. And honestly, after fifteen years, does it matter? He’s gone and he never intended to leave. That’s the only detail that’s important to us.”
We wrap up our call and I settle on the couch, nursing a beer. In about thirty minutes there’s a knock at my door. It’s Rocko, holding up a six-pack.
“Want to watch the game?”
I let him in. “Beats sitting here stewing.”
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good.”
I shrug and flop back on the couch.
He cracks open a beer and eases down into an armchair nearby. “How’d your date last night go?”
&nb
sp; As we watch the game together I proceed to fill him in on all that’s happened. I don’t go into details about our night together after the restaurant, but the news of Carla’s missing father dominates our speculation most of the evening. Her family history explains so much about why she initially acted the way she did with me, hell, with all guys. I’m glad her family has the closure it needs to thrive.
*****
It’s been over a week since the detective knocked on Carla’s door and changed her family’s life forever. The three women agreed not to do a memorial service, as his parents passed away a few years ago and all the couple’s mutual friends fell to the wayside little by little over time.
I’ve seen Carla almost every night, even if I don’t stay over. One evening we went to the movies, on Saturday afternoon I helped her at Dress for Success again, and Sunday we went to the Bronx Zoo.
That’s where I learned she has a deep-seated interest in bears. I bought her a stuffed black bear from the zoo’s gift shop, despite her protests that a grown woman doesn’t need a fluffy toy animal. Every night I’ve stayed at her house she’s had that cute little bear snuggled under one arm while she sleeps. I’ve resisted teasing her simply because it’s so sweet—like she’s allowing herself to relax in a relationship and be herself for the first time.
Each day with her is like an adventure where I learn something new about the transforming woman. She’s always been strong, sexy, and confident enough for ten women, but when it’s just the two of us, I get to see she has a softer side, too.
A side that’s fun to explore, whether with a blindfold, a silk tie, or a can of whip cream. She flips all my buttons without even trying. My prickly fruit has certainly turned into a delicacy to be savored.
As I sit here at my desk, my crackberry burns with another suggestive snippet from my co-worker.
Do you think your piano would hold my weight if we had fun on it?
She’s giving me a boner under my desk and driving me wild with distraction.
Maybe, I type back. As long as we didn’t make it a marathon session.
Contemporary Nights Volume One Page 12
