by Marsh Brooks
##
Earlier that day, when Phil woke up in the morning, all of his self-doubt was gone. He took a quick shower and headed to the office. His company was a short twenty-minute drive from his house in South Miami. However, with the slow Miami traffic at its peak in the morning, it took him more than one hour to get there. Phil, who took French and Spanish classes in college, was listening to a Spanish ballad called “Rosa” in his car by Italian singer Nicola Di Bari, when he reached his office in Coral Gables.
“Hi Boss. Everyone is in the conference room. Meeting starts in five minutes,” Myra, Phil's secretary, said as he entered the office.
The building was an old, Spanish style, one story house converted into an office building. The top of the front door and each of the windows was curved like an arch with painted glass that seemed to belong more to a church than an office building. The interior of the building was completely remodeled with the lobby being at the center, and the rooms and offices forming a circle around the lobby. Except for the size differences, each of the individual offices was a two-room suite with the same design: a sitting room at the front with the secretarial desk facing the sofas for the guests, and an interior office for each individual expert in the back. In a few short years, Phil's company had grown from a one-man shop to a staff of fifteen, with experts from different professional backgrounds, ranging from Accident Reconstruction to Evidence Evaluation and Jury Consulting. The weekly meeting was to provide updates on the firm's cases. It lasted about an hour.
The building had two conference rooms and the meeting was held in the larger one, which was adjacent to Phil's office suite. After the meeting, Phil went straight to his office. As he passed by his secretary's desk, Myra stopped him and said, “Stacy called.”
Myra knew about Stacy. Myra had been with Phil's firm before Phil ever met Stacy. During her years at the firm, Myra had seen and talked to Stacy on several occasions, including at the many office and holiday parties that Phil's company had thrown.
“What did she say?” Phil asked.
“She left a number for you to call her.”
“Did she say why?”
“No, Boss.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Stacy asked me how you were doing and I said that you had begun wearing these ugly medical boots. That's all.”
Myra's last statement caused Phil to smile.
“I didn't know that they were supposed to be fashionable. Remind me to tell the doctor to change the color for you,” Phil said as he opened the door to his office.
“Boss? One last thing,” Myra interrupted.
“Yes. What is it?” Phil asked, turning slightly to look at her.
“Stacy asked me not to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“She is coming to Miami and wanted me to help her with something.”
“Did she say why?”
“No.”
“Great,” Phil mumbled as he entered his office.
Afterwards, Phil then spent the whole morning preparing and reviewing final expert reports that he and his staff had prepared for some of the law firms in town. By the time that Phil finished his work, it was early afternoon. He was getting ready to leave, when his secretary buzzed him.
“You have a call, boss.”
“Who is it?”
“It's Stacy. She is on the other line.”
“OK, put her through,” Phil said, wondering what she wanted.
“Yes, Boss.”
A few seconds later, Stacy's voice came through on the phone. It was as jovial as Phil remembered it.
“Michelle told me about your accident. I wanted to know how you were doing,” Stacy said. She was talking as if she had never left him and as if the heartbreak and pain that he had suffered never happened.
“Well, I'm fine. You?”
“I am OK. Why didn't you return my calls? I left several messages for you at home on your answering machine,” Stacy asked.
“I was going to,” Phil lied. “I have been very busy at work and with therapy.”
“I also emailed you. But you never responded,” Stacy said.
“I didn't get your email. It might have been my spam filter,” Phil answered. “But I did receive something from a Stacy Marshall last week. I didn’t know who it was, so I deleted it.” It was a second lie. In fact, Phil had read in some magazine a few years ago that Stacy was briefly married to an actor whose last name was Marshall, and that she had kept his last name after the divorce.
“That was me. My last name is Marshall now.”
“Congratulations, Stacy. It's been about three years since I've heard from you. What do you want from me now?”
“I admit that I made mistakes and I feel bad about it. That doesn't mean I don't care about what happens to you,” she replied.
“No need to worry about me. I'm fine,” Phil said before adding, “Someone is waiting for me. I have to go.”
“Wait,” he heard Stacy say as he hung up.
It was unlike Phil to hang up on someone, and he regretted it as soon as he realized what he had done. He made a mental note to apologize to Stacy if they ever talked again. But he hoped they never would.
Stacy looked at her Iphone and wondered if Phil had heard her before he hung up. She had so much to tell him and wondered if he would ever give her the chance to explain. Did she have any regrets for what she did to him? Absolutely, after all, she was in love with him when she left. Did she have any remorse? Not at all. Love is not everything. When she left Miami, she was a model hoping to get a shot at fame. When she finally found fame as a model, with the help of her director/lover, she was able to get into acting, which had led to movie production. Thinking back now, leaving Phil was the right career move. Success doesn't have any place for remorse.
Prior to calling Phil, Stacy had spent the whole morning reading a screenplay for a television movie that she was going to produce. Now that she had spoken to Phil, she realized even more that she missed something in her life. Since Phil, she had had her share of lovers. But she was always suspicious about their true motives, and for good reason. Sometimes she discovered they were with her for money, or for a glossy picture with her on the red carpet, or simply for connections. With Phil, she knew she was loved for herself. She missed the kind of love that Phil gave her. Phil deeply loved her when she didn’t have any money and wasn’t famous. Since Phil, she had never found that kind of love again.
She had a plan to get Phil back. When the voice came from the airport's speakers announcing that boarding had started for her long flight to Miami, she smiled. She knew that her plan was already in motion.
Chapter Seven
Isabel's therapy sessions consisted mostly of two hours of daily grueling exercises, which her therapists call “locomotor training”. The training consisted of Isabel's body being suspended in a harness over a treadmill, while the therapists helped her move her legs. Now that she was back in her wheelchair this afternoon, she felt exhausted. She was only by the lake for few minutes when Phil came. She was so absorbed by the view of the ducklings playing in the water, that she didn’t hear him come.
“Beautiful sight, isn't it?” Phil said as he sat on the bench.
“Yes, it is,” Isabel replied. She was shaking inside. Why did she have to feel that way every time she was around him? She asked herself. She wasn't a teenager anymore.
“After you left yesterday, I asked your aunt when you were going to be here. I'm sorry about that,” Phil said. Both of them were talking while still watching the ducks in the water.
“Are you?” Isabel asked, turning her head to look at Phil. Sensing Isabel's stare, Phil turned. These eyes can melt a glacier, Phil thought before replying.
“I didn't have any choice. I wanted to see you again. You seemed upset when you left yesterday.”
As Phil spoke, Isabel kept reminding herself that she was engaged to be married and not to let the feelings she had for Phil interfere with her r
elationship with Richard. “Why did you want to see me again?.”
“Isn't it obvious? Since I met you, it's like a spell. I can't get you out of my mind and feel like a happy kid at the prospect of seeing you again,” Phil said, surprising even himself for being so open with her about his feelings.
“Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?” Phil asked, incredulous at the question.
“You've only known me for just a couple of weeks and now you are telling me about your feelings for me. How do you think I should respond?”
“I know it's very soon. I don't go around falling for women I just met. But that's what happened to me with you and I was hoping that you would agree to see me again,” Phil said. When he had met Stacy, he could not help but to admire Stacy's body molding jeans, her shapely legs. With Isabel, it wasn't about her legs, it wasn't even about Isabel's pretty face. Beauty fades. It was about everything about her.
It took a few seconds for Isabel to respond, which to Phil seemed an eternity. When Isabel responded, it was as if Phil had been punched in the stomach.
“I am sorry to disappoint you. I am engaged to be married to a wonderful man. You and I have known each other only for a short period, while I've been with Richard for years. I hope you get over your feelings for me, but I can't see you again.” Isabel tried to sound as icy as possible and was hoping that Phil would not be able to read through her. She wanted to see Phil, and dreamed about being in Phil’s arms. However, that would not be fair to Richard. When she met Richard, there was no denying her attraction to him. However, the way she felt about Phil was different. It was more than a simple physical attraction. She wanted to be with Phil, wanted to share breakfast, lunch and dinner with him. But although she wanted to share her life with Phil, she knew that would not be fair to Richard. She never broke her promises.
“But you have been engaged for three years. That tells me that neither of you is sure. Me, I would have married you on the spot,” Phil insisted.
“Please don't read anything into my relationship with Richard. You don't even know him.”
“Isabel, all I am asking is for a chance to show you that we are made for each other. I am sure that you have feelings for me too,” Phil implored.
“It's very arrogant of you to tell me how I feel,” Isabel quipped. “I don't know what made you think that. I only have feelings for Richard,” Isabel lied. Keep your promises to Richard. Fight your feelings for Phil.
“I was hoping that you would give me a chance,” Phil finally said.
“Well, you were wrong. I don't think we should talk to each other again.”
“Well it looks like I've taken too much of your time,” a resigned Phil said. He felt that he was starring in a bad romance movie. In a romance movie, there was always one person that was left out. The character that the star of the movie didn't love or left for his or her real love. Phil felt he was such a character and wanted get away as soon as possible.
Phil got up and Isabel said, “Good Bye Phil.”
As Phil was leaving, tears flowed down Isabel's cheeks. She was devastated. She remembered the story told at church of a big flood and the drowning person declining all help, including a boat, in the belief that she would be saved by God. In the story, the person died only to find out in the afterlife that the help that she declined came from God. Had Isabel just thrown out her only chance of happiness? Had she refused the lifeline of love? She would never know, because Phil had already left the building.
##
It was late in the evening when Phil finally reached home, having stopped at the nearby bar for some shots of whiskey. “Whoever said that alcohol lessened someone's pain was lying,” he said to himself. He was still crushed when he left the bar. Isabel was right. It was arrogant of him to think he had a chance at happiness with her. He wondered what he would do if he came across her and Richard at the Center. Would Richard laugh at him? He had no doubt that Isabel would tell him. Then in a flash, he knew what he needed to do. He made a decision that he thought would be best for all three of them.
##
After Phil's departure, Isabel went to see her aunt. As she entered Marcia's office, Marcia, who was reading some kind of medical book, looked up with alarm and said, “You look a mess Isabel. Have you been crying?”
Ignoring the question, Isabel said, “I just wanted to talk to you about your niece.”
“You mean, your sister,” Marcia reminded her. She knew that something must have happened between Isabel and Rebecca for Isabel to refer her sister like this.
“If you say so.”
“So what's wrong with Rebecca? Is she OK?” Marcia asked. Isabel could read the concern on her aunt's face.
“She’s pregnant.”
For one moment, Marcia looked as if she was going to pass out at the news. “How did this happen?”
“Stupidity, I guess.”
“Is Mark the father?”
“Yes,” Isabel replied.
“Does he know?”
“Yes, he wants Rebecca to have an abortion.”
“That creep,” Marcia said. “Who else knows about it?”
“No one else. Apparently, neither one wants to get married because they think they are too young.”
“They should have thought about that before engaging in sexual escapades,” Marcia said.
“That's what I said,” Isabel agreed. “What do you think I should do? I talked to Rebecca about how stupid she was and I want her to take responsibility for her own actions.”
“It's understandable. What does Rebecca want? Did she say she wanted to have an abortion?”
“No. She wants to keep the baby.”
“Good. How many months?” Marcia asked.
“Rebecca said three. I also placed a call to Mark's parents, I'm not sure where that will go,” Isabel said. “Mark is not even working and Rebecca's part-time job barely covers gas for her car.”
“We'll help for sure. But they're going to have to get real jobs. After all, they're going to be parents.”
“I told Rebecca that too.” Isabel said, nodding her head.
Her aunt then paused pensively for one moment, and then said, “I'll tell you what. I am free this Saturday. Why don't we see if we can invite Mark's parents to lunch? Then we can talk to them about this.”
“Thank you, Tia Marcia. I would like you to be there. I am so upset right now about the whole thing.”
“Don't worry. She'll be OK,” Marcia added.
“I know,” Isabel replied. She felt guilty for leaving Marcia with the impression that her problems were solely related to Rebecca. Then again, how could she tell her aunt that she had fallen for a man she barely knew?
“Her aunt didn't need to know,” she said to herself. After what happened between Phil and her today, Isabel doubted that Phil would ever talk to her again, let alone talk to Marcia about her.
##
Stacy's flight from Los Angeles to Miami was noisy. Being in first class doesn’t shield you from crying babies, annoying passengers, and incompetent flight attendants who dared to call themselves stewardesses. It was these six hours of hell that finally convinced Stacy that she needed to buy her own private plane. No one recognized her. Good thing. She did not model or act anymore because, to her, that was not where the money was. Who would want to be an actress when you could be the executive movie producer who hires the actress? Who would want to be an employee when you could be the boss? In California, financial success had come quickly to Stacy. Only two years after her move from Miami, she had moved from acting and investing with the movie-director-ex-boyfriend in low budget television miniseries, to investing now in big screen movies. Although she abhorred violence, she carved a niche for herself in gore and splatter B movies. To her, that was where the money was. Less investment, less risk, dedicated fans and great rewards. All in all, Stacy had been right in her choices. The horror films that she had produced had had great success, both in theaters and in video
sales. Her love life had suffered greatly, but it was a choice she had to make.
As Stacy's limousine navigated the Miami traffic jam, she picked up the phone to call Phil's secretary. Although Stacy had asked Phil's secretary not to tell Phil that she was coming to Miami, Stacy knew that she would tell Phil. As Myra picked up the phone, Stacy could not help but smile at how her plan to get Phil back was developing perfectly. Stacy was well aware of her own beauty and the effect that she had on men and even women. What people failed to notice, however, was her intelligence. When she first moved to California, a lot of men prejudged her as another brainless pretty model. Their mistake had cost them dearly, including her last husband that she married right before he signed the biggest movie contract of his career. Divorce came quickly afterward. Gone was also half of the money he made from the movie. Now with Phil, Stacy's genius was again at work. Getting Phil back was to her like choosing which movie to produce. There had to be a good script. She knew she had the right script for Phil. She had written it.
##
“Boss?” Although it was not unusual for Phil's secretary to call Phil at home, it was unusual for her to call him after work, on Skype, a popular video and voice communication service that Phil sometimes used when he was in front of his computer.
“Are you OK, Myra?” Phil asked, as her face blanketed his computer screen.
“Stacy just called me.”
“At home?”
“Yes.”
“What did she want?”
“She said she was going to be in town tomorrow and wanted to know if I could work for her part-time, in the evenings, as her personal secretary.”
“Can you?”
“Yes. She said she would pay for the babysitter for the kids.”
“I hope she is paying you enough.”
“She is paying me four times more than what I make at work.”
“Wow. Great.” Phil said, while hoping that Stacy would leave him alone.
“Are you OK with it, Boss?”
“As long as it doesn't interfere with your work at the office.”
“Thank you boss. I really can use the extra money.”
