Has Cupid Gone Mad?: War Of Hearts

by Belinda Elkaim

  Neither feels talkative and remains silent throughout breakfast. Karina disappears into the guest room and Taylor cleans up after breakfast.

  “How boring!” Taylor mumbles while putting the dishes into the dishwasher, “I need a spruce!” she heads over to her office and picks up her phone. With Ivan’s business card in hand she dials his number,

  “Ivan Solovich please.” She asks the receptionist and is put on hold over pop music.

  After an engaging and interesting conversation Taylor disconnects with a smile on her face. Ivan’s lighthearted humor warmed up her morning and she no longer feels angry. Heading over to the shower to get ready for their meeting this afternoon, she stops and opens the closet door in the hallway, picks out a baseball cap and hangs that on the doorknob of the guest room. Karina would appreciate that.

  ******** In search of a challenging and exhilarating adventure to distract her from an otherwise uninteresting day, Taylor arrives at the office of Miami Life Magazine in downtown Miami and is shown to Ivan’s office almost immediately, “Mr. Solovich is expecting you” the receptionist shows Taylor to Ivan’s office at the far end of a huge open floor plan.

  Politely Ivan stands up to greet Taylor and gestures her to sit across his desk. Dressed conservatively in a pale blue button down Polo shirt, he protrudes an aura of a serious and experienced editor who knows his trade and is passionate in what he does.

  She perceives him as highly competitive however predictable; cautiously she selects her words “Nice office.” she smiles casually from across his desk.

  Ivan can almost see the invisible words “Challenge Me.” inscribed across Taylor’s forehead and smiles back, “some of Miami’s best writers works for this office, are you one of them?” he leans back in his leather chair and rocks it subtly while studying her. “In my book the word ‘best’ is entirely subjective, wouldn’t you agree?” Taylor expresses her perspective without hesitation.

  Not getting a simple affirmation as expected, Ivan leans forward towards Taylor “Well, the readers of our publications seem to subjectively agree with the Editor, so I am confident to say we are the best,” he pauses for a moment “and you, Taylor Gibbons, can be one of them if you simplify your thought processing.”

  “Are you implying that I am complicated?” Taylor defends herself “You do not even know me so that is an unfair statement. Are you stereotyping based upon the way I look?”

  “Not at all. I said that because you answered my questions with questions rather than with straight answers.” He studies her body language from across his desk “your answers could have been simply ‘Yes I am one of the best writers’ and ‘No I am not complicated’, but yet you have not given me any clear indications. Do you like ambiguity and enjoy word play?”

  “Isn’t life more fun that way?” Taylor hides behind her own insecurities. “You did it again.” Ivan throws his hands in the air. “Ambiguity is good, it triggers the imagination but messages can get lost within the context of perception. So it depends on what type of fun you seek Taylor. Would you want to be subjected to discretion and be misconceived? Or would you rather be concisely understood?”

  “I want to be concise but unpredictable.” Taylor turns serious. “Much better. Now I have your words and can understand you. ‘Miami Heroes’ a five pages article each month that covers anyone you deem heroic. Are you capable of impressing me with credible contents that are exciting, concise and unpredictable?”

  Taylor accepts the challenge “when is the submission deadline?”

  “Will I ever get straight answers from you?” Ivan laughs.

  “Never.” Taylor laughs lightheartedly. “In that case, I should never ask you out, should I?” Ivan teases her then stands up before Taylor has a chance to answer “I will introduce you to the rest of the resident writers and support staff.”

  Taylor follows Ivan for a quick tour of the office and her thoughts ponder for a moment. Her interest in him is ignited by their intellectual exchange and she would say yes if he asks her out.

  While shaking hands with the creative director of the magazine, Taylor hears a signal of an incoming text message. Politely she excuses herself, reaches into her bag and pulls out her phone to check the message:

  Karina: “Thank you so much for putting up with me for the past few days. I am ready to go home.”

  Occupied and unable to respond to her text message immediately, Taylor focuses on her surroundings and the action around her. She looks out the window momentarily, gazes upon the Heaven and says a silent prayer for Karina.

  Chapter Seven. Wearing Taylor’s red baseball cap and a pair of large rim sunglasses, Karina walks up the corridor and turns to face the door of her apartment. With keys in her hand, she pauses and stares at the door as if she is afraid to enter.

  Nervous and strained, she inserts the key slowly into the keyhole and turns the door knob unhurriedly to open just a crack to peek in. Trying her impossible to control her own emotions, she pushes the door gently and opens it gradually as if frightened to awaken the memories of all that she is trying to forget.

  With the door open wide she stares into the apartment, takes a deep breath shivering then exhales while taking small steps forward. The mess is tidied up and boxes of memories are gone; everything that belongs to Alex is no longer in sight and Karina feels stripped naked.

  Three years of her life have just been deleted from her world and she does not even know why. She closes the door behind her and leans against it, tilts and bangs the back of her head against it until the physical pain supersedes her emotional turmoil.

  “What have I done to deserve this?” she bangs her head against the door to inflict more pain and tries to numb the hurt that Alex has caused in her life.

  She feels betrayed, wounded and belittled to the size of nothingness. The man whom she loves and who claims to have adored her for the past three years, has disappeared from her life without explanations and is treating her as if she does not exist. She deserves to know.

  Sobbing again Karina stumbles to her bedroom and climbs into bed, removes the baseball cap then curls into a fetal position. Unable to fall asleep, she tosses and turns until she drifts off just to wake from a terrifying nightmare. In her dream, she sees a beautiful woman with devils horns, laughing wickedly she has Alex cuffed and chained to his knees and is about to pierce through his heart with a spike of fire.

  Covered in cold sweat Karina screams and sits up abruptly. Startled and frightened she feels nauseous, races to the bathroom and vomits as she cries.

  She manages to calm down after a splash of icy cold water on her face, pats dry with a towel and walks to the kitchen where she feels more at ease. Feeling a little hungry she opens the pantry door and is further startled by the loud noise of tubes of acrylic paint and paintbrushes tumbling and falling onto the floor. Her scream turns into laughter that quiets into deafening silence. As if propelled by an unknown force, she stares at the fallen clutter around her feet and bends down to gather them.

  With an armful of paint and a handful of brushes, Karina walks over to the living room and sinks into a chair that faces a large bare wall at the back of the apartment. Motionlessly still, she gazes into the bare wall for moments that feel like eternity and sees vivid yet faint images flashing in front of her eyes.

  As if guided she walks towards the wall and puts the paint onto the floor. She places her hands against the wall and feels a powerful energy, a pure energy that is clean, forceful and of light and love. Karina closes her eyes and whispers to herself,

  “I forgive you.”

  ******** Amber appears to be disoriented. Sitting on her antique chaise by the bay window, she fixates her stare at the cityscape of Miami. Feeling awkward she senses that something appalling is about to happen. She tries to relieve herself from this uncomfortable feeling and is startled by a sharp knock on her door. Turning around abruptly she accidentally knocks over a gorgeous porcelain statue that stands on a small table next to the c
haise.

  She can almost see the statue falling onto the floor in slow motion while a flashback of her ex-husband cuts into her mind. She remembers the smile on his face when he bought her that Iladro porcelain doll when they were on vacation in Spain. With a loud splatter the porcelain doll hits the floor and scatters into fractions before her eyes.

  Amber raises an eyebrow and stares at the broken pieces of the statue on the marble floor. She tightens her hand into a fist and bites onto the side of her index finger. She senses an appalling vibration and begins to feel apprehensive.

  “This is not good.” She mumbles while answering the door. The door opens to an overly cheerful and bright smile “Hello Amber I am Lizzie your new voice student.”

  “You are early.” Amber shows her in.

  “Hope it is okay with you” Lizzie smiles as she enters. “Of course.” Amber reciprocates her sweetness and gestures her to head towards the piano where she gives all her voice lessons “why don’t you warm up your vocals and I will be with you in a few minutes.”

  Amber heads towards the kitchen and while pouring two glasses of water, she listens to Lizzie’s vocals climbing up and down the scale, one octave, then two, then stretches to three full octaves. She tilts her head, listens intently to her voice and is impressed by the strength of the vocals and the precision of the pitch.

  With two glasses of water in her hands, Amber struts slowly to the piano, puts the glasses of water on a small table and sits down on the bench. Looking at Lizzie, “Did you bring your favorite sheet music for today?”

  Lizzie pulls out the sheets for “Memories” from the Broadway show ‘Cats’, a number that Amber knows altogether too well. Surprised that Lizzie is ready for a vocal challenge, Amber starts playing the song on her baby grand and each note brings back her own set of memories of her glorious days on Broadway.

  Her sentiments are disrupted by Lizzie’s vocals as she begins singing the tune. Playing the song by heart Amber is magnetized and drawn into Lizzie’s mesmerizing delivery. Tone sharp and audibly precise, Lizzie sings from her soul and captivates Amber’s full attention throughout.

  By the end of the song Amber sighs out loud,

  “Lizzie” she begins “Please tell me why you are here today. You do not need vocal lessons and I think you know that.”

  They hold each other’s gaze over a pause of silence, then Lizzie reaches into her bag and pulls out an old program flyer of a Broadway show with Amber on the cover.

  “I was six years old when my parents took me to this show. It is because of you that I started singing.” Lizzie smiles and hands the flyer to Amber, “I have not stopped singing since that day. I look up to you Amber, you are my idol and when I saw your photo on the advertising for vocal lessons, I had to come meet you.”

  Amber stares at the flyer in disbelief, “and you kept this flyer for twelve years?”

  “I have other newspaper clippings too. My mom and I are both Broadway fans and were sad to see you retire so early. But you found the man of your dreams, got married and moved away, we were happy for you.” Lizzie smiles as Amber chokes and hides her true emotions “regardless, I am happy to have a chance to meet you in person.”

  “Lizzie,” overwhelmed with sentiments Amber pauses “thank you.” With all sincerity she stands up and gives Lizzie a warm hug, “don’t ever stop singing, your voice is angelic.”

  “Coming from you Amber, it means a world to me. Thank you for your words of encouragement.”

  Gathering herself “I do not think you need any more voice lessons.” “Oh yes I do” argues Lizzie, “Amber please help me get ready for auditions. I will probably never come close to being as successful as you were, but with your help, I might have a chance to make it. Please show me how.”

  Amber looks straight into Lizzie’s eyes and sees her own reflection, “Rule number one, never say never. Rule number two, always look forward. Rule number three, own the stage. If you can abide by these three simple rules I will help you, but your fate is in your own hands and do not depend on anyone to make it happen for you. You must fight your own way as I did for mine. Believe in yourself or nobody else will believe in you.” Amber pauses and allows Lizzie to digest her words. “Now Lizzie, are you a Broadway star?”

  Confidently with chin up high Lizzie affirms her determination, “Yes I am.” The rest of the voice lesson goes beautifully smooth and as Amber watches Lizzie walk out of her high rise condo, she recollects her days on Broadway and walks towards the chaise by the bay window to collect the larger pieces of the broken Lladro porcelain doll. Lizzie’s words have warmed her heart and she begins to miss the lime light of her past glory.

  Had she not fallen in love and retired after her marriage to Nathan, she could have become a mega star on Broadway and her life would have been an entirely different journey. Traveling down memory lane she misses her celebrity status and her thoughts drift towards her then-manager and producer Conrad, who indirectly contributed to her success.

  Tossing the pieces of broken porcelain into the garbage bin in the kitchen, she decides to give Conrad a call and hopes that he has not changed his number through all these years.

  A deep sultry voice answers her call and sounds pleasantly surprised, “Amber? Impossible! Is this really Amber Winters calling?”

  “Oh my God” Amber speaks slowly into the phone “you mean you have kept my number through all these years and you never called me once?” Amber laughs.

  “Well, angel face, after what your husband told me, I did not dare dial your number. I still remember his exact words, that he would slaughter me if I dare call you again.”

  “Impossible! When did he say that to you? Oh Conrad how come you never told me?”

  “It was backstage at your farewell performance. He said it was a unanimous decision that I should leave you alone and never to call you again.”

  Amber freezes to a still and her focus collapses as she sees pitch black darkness flash before her eyes.

  “Conrad it was not a unanimous decision. All along I thought you were angry at me because I wasted your time and efforts over my short lived career. That is what I was told and I trusted his words.”

  “What are you talking about? Whose words were those?”

  “Those were the words from the man who destroyed me. My EX-husband.” As if a revelation has just been revealed, Amber is stunned to discover Nathan’s conniving action and pauses to digest Conrad’s words.

  Silence is heard over the phone. Both drift into their own thoughts and finally realize that the misconceived truth is merely a manipulation of a possessive man.

  Amber rubs her temple with her finger tips to soothe her emerging headache until Conrad breaks the silence, “You left your toe shoes backstage and I kept them over the years. Do you want them back?”

  Consumed by overwhelming sentiments Amber feels betrayed and is near tears, “I moved to Miami. I will text you my address if you do not mind sending them from New York.”

  She hears Conrad laugh over the phone. “Angel face, I do not know what triggered your decision to call me after a decade” Conrad sounds extremely happy, “but I do not have to send it to you, I can actually drive them over to you. I moved to Miami a year ago.”

  “Conrad” Amber pauses “I do not believe in coincidence. Perhaps it is time for us to catch up. It is Friday night anyway, why don’t we meet somewhere downtown tonight.”

  “Yes. Amber and her toe shoes must be reunited. It is time for me to return them to its rightful owner.”

  ******** Her stiletto heels click on the concrete pavement between 11th and 12th on Collins. It is little past midnight and she is already drunk. Staggering forward and trying not to fall, she holds her arms up as if trying to balance on a tight rope.

  He exits the bistro and turns his head from left to right to look for her. Seeing her staggering up the street he calls out,

  “Yvette! Wait up!” Tipsy and drunk, she does not hear Jean calling out for her and atte
mpts to cross the street to get to her Bentley. Paying no attention to the SUV that is speeding up the Avenue, she steps onto the open road and sees the blinding headlights of the SUV. Unable to react, she freezes to a still and shuts her eyes as the SUV honks loudly and tries to halt. The sounds of the skidding tires screech loudly as the driver brakes as hard as he could. He is driving way over city limits and is unable to avoid hitting Yvette.

  By the grace of God he manages to slow down but inevitably hits Yvette with reduced momentum.

  Jean sprints as fast as he could, reaches the scene and watches Yvette fall backwards. As if he can see everything happen in slow motion, he watches Yvette fall backwards and her head hits the concrete road, “Yvette!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he screams and runs over to woman that he loves, who now lays unconscious on the road.

  Chapter Eight. On chapter sixteen of her novel, Taylor focuses on her writing and disregards an incoming text message. As she captures the ever so vivid memories of traumatic episodes of her childhood, the signal continues to beep for another four times. “Shut up!” she yells at her phone on the far side of her desk, slides a book across and knocks it onto the floor. Continued efforts to capture her memories halt as the phone rings.

  She saves her work and walks over to the other side of her desk, bends down to pick up her phone and answers,

  Annoyed by the interruption she pays no attention to the caller id and answers rudely, “What?”

  “Taylor?” Ivan is surprised by her irritated tone “is this a good time to call you?”

  Realizing the call is from Ivan, she feels foolish and delicately apologizes for the bad mannerism, “Oh I am sorry, of course.” Taylor tries to relax.

  Approaching the editorial deadline, Ivan reminds her and offers his help if she desires it.

  “Editorial deadline is tomorrow and I have not heard from you, just want to see if you need any help.”

  “Ah” Taylor smiles proudly “the article is ready and I was planning to drop it at your office this afternoon instead of emailing to you. Will you be in the office?”