One Night Stand (New Yorker III)

by M. O. Kenyan

  Chapter Four

  Catalella watched Rich as he watched her. His fingers doodled on her back and she could tell he was waiting for something. Probably for her to spill her guts, but she couldn’t handle any signs of pity.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she mumbled.

  “I’m sad but I’m not going to pity you. I can’t stand it when someone pities me, so I wouldn’t subject you to that.” He pushed her hair away from her face. “You want to tell me what happened?”

  “I was eighteen and in love. So I married Michael. Four months later I found out I had leukemia. The drugs fried my eggs and any chance of me becoming a mother, the end,” she spat out.

  “I want the long version,” Rich insisted.

  Catalella sighed in defeat. She turned around and lay on her back, avoiding his eyes. She pulled the sheets over her breasts and felt the bed dip as he also shifted. What would be the harm in telling him? “I had to have a bone marrow transplant and my sister volunteered. Everything seemed to be going great. I was in remission and everything seemed to go back to normal. But I barely made it a year before it was back, this time with a vengeance. The treatments became more aggressive and I was getting sicker and weaker each day. That was when I noticed that Michael had started growing tired of the whole thing. The doctors asked if I wanted to freeze my eggs and have Michael fertilize them but he said no.”

  Catalella dug her fingers into her hair as a tear rolled down her temple. “He wasn’t interested in making any more plans with me. He thought I was going to die anyway, so why bother? My brother finally returned from his ‘saving the world’ trip to save his little sister, but Michael dumped me before the transplant and I decided to kill myself.”

  She felt his body tense and waited for him to give her the same sermon she had heard a million times. But he said nothing. “Anyway, I got the transplant and I decided to live my life for me. I poured myself into law school and became the youngest senior partner in the firm. They gave me a fifty percent chance of living, a one percent chance of conceiving a baby and that gave me a zero percent chance of ever finding an emotional connection. I avoided any sort of relationship and now, after six years of no sex, here you are in my bed.”

  * * * *

  What was Rich supposed to say to that? This girl was in no frame of mind for any sort of relationship. She had to work on whatever demons she carried around in her head and heart first. He noticed the scar next to her armpit and pressed his finger on it.

  “That was where they had the chemo-port,” she said. “After weeks of poking and prodding, my veins were too weak for anything so they administered all my medication through a tube they put in there.”

  “Did it hurt?” Stupid question he chastised himself.

  “Every single second of every single day.” She laughed. “But the pain reminded me that I was alive. Sometimes the pain was the only reason I let myself fall asleep.”

  “So if you were so afraid of dying, why did you try to slit your wrists?” he asked, surprisingly angry.

  “I didn’t slit my wrists. I’m too much of a coward for that.” She cleared her throat, and he knew she was trying to rid herself of the emotion that was there. “I took an overdose because I thought it would have been better for everyone if I wasn’t around to hold them back.”

  “You’re an idiot,” he barked out.

  “So I’ve been told.” She chuckled once more.

  “I think that is what you should tattoo on your scar,” Rich said. He had always tried to find meaning in everything. Maybe he could get her to do the same thing. “Or you could write something like ‘I survived’.”

  Catalella turned to face him. She had tears in her eyes. Rich opened his arms and she moved into them. He held her as tight as he could. His heart wrenched as he listened to her sobs and her hitched breathing. He wanted to squash the pain away with a single kiss, or stomp out the ferocity of the hurt that she lived with each day, but he knew he didn’t have that power. All he could do now was hold her.

  “I can’t do that because it would be a lie.” She gasped. “I try to make everyone think that I’m all right. That I’ve moved on, but every single day I feel like I’m trapped in that weak body at the mercy of some disease, at the mercy of Michael’s hatred. I haven’t survived. I’m further from being alive now than I was when I almost killed myself.”

  “Hush,” Rich said, unsure of how much of the pain he would be able to take.

  Rich woke up hours later when the sun came up. Catalella had cried for what seemed like a solid hour. He felt sore all over…his body, his arms, and mostly his heart. Rich wanted to stay with her but he knew all too well what grief could do to a person. So many years had passed and she was still at the beginning. He watched as she slept. She felt so natural in his arms but, as much as he told himself he should stay, he knew that he should leave. She needed time to heal, and being in a relationship that she wasn’t ready to accept would only hurt them.

  He quickly pulled his clothes on and looked for a piece of paper and a pen. Rich scribbled a note, hoping that she would forgive him, and she would see that he wasn’t abandoning her. He was giving her time to heal. Alone.

  * * * *

  Alone.

  That’s how Catalella woke up when the afternoon rays broke in through her curtains. Her hands reached out for Rich, expecting to find him there beside her, but her hand came up empty. His side of the bed was cool, giving her the impression that he’d been gone for a long time. She pulled the sheets around her and peeked into her bathroom. It was empty and so were the kitchen and the living room. His clothes were also gone, every single sign of him disappeared.

  Catalella leaned against the wall and let her body slide to the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest as she rocked herself back and forth. She was alone once again, and what had possessed her the previous night wouldn't change anything. Her head rose just in time to see a piece of paper fly across the room, pushed by the slight wind coming from her open window. She dove for the piece of paper and held onto it for dear life.

  She wiped the tears from her eyes and begun to read.

  My little orchid,

  I love watching you sleep. I could wake up next to you every single day of my life, knowing the first thing I would see is your face. But you have too much pain inside you. I can’t help you with that, only you can do that. Don’t give up on yourself.

  Survive.

  Survive! How was she supposed to do that? It wasn’t like he had left a survival guide by her bedside table. Rich was gone and he hadn’t even left his number, just a stupid note that asked her to survive.

  Catalella swiped the tears from her cheeks and she hardened her heart. She wasn’t going to let him get to her. It was a one night stand and nothing else. But, if she ever needed him, she knew where to find him. Plus he knew where she lived. But there was this gnawing pain in her heart that told her he wasn’t coming back. She had scared him off, given him too much information too soon. Just as she made her resolve the phone rang. Hoping against all hope she dove for it, her landing not as graceful as a gazelle, and hit her head against the bed post.

  “Hello! Hello.” She wished she could hide the desperation in her voice, but she couldn’t.

  “Catalella, is something wrong?”

  Catalella fell back on the bed when she heard her sister’s voice. “Nothing is wrong, Lisette. What’s up?”

  “What’s up is that it’s almost one o’clock and you aren’t here yet.” Her sister’s reprimanding voice pierced through the phone. Catalella held it a few inches away from her ear. “You are supposed to be bringing Mama’s flowers and making the tortilla’s. Por favor, Catalella, you promised to stop using work as an excuse for coming late. The weekends are for your family, remember.”

  “Si hermanita lo siento. I’m sorry, Lisette. I’m on my way.” Catalella hung up before Lisette said anything else.

  Catalella shoved some clothes in a bag. She had already ordered the flow
ers and they would be delivered to her apartment. She took a quick shower and donned a simple pair of shorts and T-shirt. She stood in front of the mirror and groaned—a bruise had started to form on her cheek and she didn’t have time to cover it up, so instead she put on her sunglasses. She put a head band on her head to hold back her wild hair. There was no time to tame it.

  She thanked God that her father had left his SUV behind. She hadn’t taken her BMW to be serviced yet and the last thing she wanted were more delays. She met the florist at the door. He had brought the bouquet of daisies for her mother and roses for Lisette too.

  She drove to the Hamptons, pushing the car as fast as it would go without breaking any limits. By the time she got to the estate everyone but Catalella seemed to have already arrived. Even her doctor brother had managed to save a life and get there in time for her family luncheon.

  As usual, her mother met her at the door with a blessing and a kiss.

  “What is this?” Her mother pressed her finger on the bruise and Catalella jumped back with a yelp. “Did someone hit you? Have you been fighting?”

  “That’s your other daughter, Mama.” Catalella said with a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “I bumped my head on the bedpost when Lisette called.”

  “What were you doing sleeping until this hour, mija?”

  Here come the twenty-one questions. Catalella thought up her best lie. It hurt to lie to her mother but she didn’t think dear Rosalinda Ross would want to know what her youngest child had been up to the previous night.

  “Rosa.” Catalella smiled when she heard her father’s deep voice. “Can you interrogate the girl when she’s inside the house?”

  “Yeah, Mama, it’s not like she was having sex.” Lisette snickered.

  “Papa!” Catalella hadn’t seen her sister and hadn’t anticipated her attack.

  “Lisette,” her father said sternly.

  “What, Papa? All she does is work,” Lisette said as she winked at Catalella.

  Catalella groaned in frustration as she stomped into her father’s waiting arms. It was like they were kids again. Lisette would pick on her and their father would intervene. Adrian Ross was over six foot three with dark chocolate skin. AJ, her brother, was the only one who resembled him, while Lisette resembled their mother. Lisette and AJ were both children from different marriages and it was Catalella who brought the family together. She looked like both her father and mother. She often wondered how her parents had been able to merge this family, especially with AJ, who was six at the time, and Lisette, five, being so headstrong.

  “Peanut.” Catalella chuckled when her brother’s booming voice bounced off the walls of the house. He was the only one who called her that, because she was apparently the smallest baby he had ever seen. That included his nephew and niece, both from Lisette.

  “If it isn’t the soon-to-be groom.” Catalella let her brother pick her up off the floor. “Where is the unlucky lady?”

  “In the back with Lisette’s unlucky husband,” he chuckled.

  “I need to tell you something.” Lisette’s face took on an odd expression of regret.

  Catalella could almost hear the words her sister was about to say. She braced herself for the painful punch in the gut they were about to administer. You would think having gone through this twice before she would have gotten used to it. But soon AJ would be announcing the birth of his own children and she would have to go through the pain of that too. She needed a stronger backbone.

  “Catalella.” Lisette began tearing up. It was harder for her to say the words than it was for Catalella to hear them. “I’m pregnant.”

  “Of course you are.” She hated how hateful that sounded. Catalella smiled to hide her pain. “When are you ever going to take a break?”

  “This is my last one. If Reno wants more babies he’ll have to carry them himself.” Lisette laughed, wiping away the tears.

  “Come on, group hug.” Catalella bit back the tears as she waved in her family. “When is the unlucky one joining this terrible family?”

  “About eight months.”

  Catalella felt her bottom lip tremble and they tightened the circle to give each other hugs. She could feel her mother and her sister’s pain and to some extent their pity. She bit down on her jaw to keep herself from crying out and cursing the world at how unfair it had been. Instead, she let the her family's arms hold her up as if they knew that all she wanted was to collapse on the floor, broken. She had been broken every single day of her life.

  Survive. Those words were imprinted in her mind.

  She pulled out of the embrace. “Tortilla’s for the pregnant woman.”

  As soon as she could, Catalella escaped into the bathroom and let out the gut-wrenching pain she felt in her heart. I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant…Lisette’s voice echoed in her ear, reminding her of how inadequate she was. Catalella was a failure, and barely a woman. The realization that she would never feel that kind of closeness to another human being, that she would never utter those words, made her glad that Rich had left when he did. The last thing she wanted was to go through another rejection.

  * * * *

  Monday morning met Catalella with the same problems. She couldn’t get rid of the baby blues but at least the bruise on her cheek was fading. She had used her make-up to cover it up, as well as the black rims under her eyes. When she got back home on Sunday all she did was cry. There was no way that she could survive, not now. She found herself needing Rich but she promised herself not to return to De Alma. She wasn’t going to give him the pleasure of seeing how crushed he had left her.

  A knock on the door brought Catalella back to the present. “What’s up, Darcy?”

  “What happened with tall, blond and handsome?” There was a cheeky, excited look on Darcy’s face and Catalella wished that she could share it.

  “He came, he saw, he conquered, then he left,” Catalella summarized.

  “But you are going to see him again, right?” Hopefully. Catalella saw the word Darcy left out in the expression on her face.

  “Nope. Apparently I’m too damaged for him.”

  “Did he say that or are you assuming?”

  “He didn’t say those exact words.” She didn’t feel comfortable giving Darcy the note. It was private, plus she didn’t want to look desperate since she carried it everywhere with her.

  “Survive!” Darcy bellowed. “What the hell is wrong with this guy?”

  “He might be right,” Catalella confessed. “On Saturday my sister told me she was pregnant and I haven’t stopped crying.”

  Catalella dabbed the tears starting to form in her eyes. The look of pity Darcy gave her broke her heart. It usually enraged her but this time it just broke her heart.

  * * * *

  “Keep it together.” Catalella leaned over the bathroom sink. This was her third trip here. Throwing up and cleaning up. She didn’t like how exhausted she looked or felt. It was like her body was repelling everything she ate for the past week. Catalella felt a tremble in her hand and bit back a gasp. She didn’t want to think the worst, but how could she not?

  The meeting with the McCrery representative was today. She only had to get through her meeting, do her best, then later on she would go see her doctor.

  She walked out of the bathroom and to her office, determined that the morning would go on without a hitch. She stopped at Darcy’s desk, then said. “Call doctor…” She stuttered—just saying his name gave her a chill, a premonition of what was to come. “Call Doctor Caplain, and don’t tell anyone else.”

  A startled Darcy stared at her, her hand covering her mouth as she tried to hide her gasp. “Your oncologist? Why do you want to talk to your oncologist?”

  Catalella stared back at her, silent. She didn’t have an answer. She didn’t want an answer. Dennis escorted an older man to the boardroom and, to her dismay, Michael Mathews followed behind the two men. Catalella’s hand reached for the chair next to her. The shock seemed to ha
ve rendered her legs useless. From now on she had Michael to remind her of how unworthy she was as a woman. There was no escaping from it now. There was a reason she worked to the wee hours of the night, to keep her mind occupied with work. She wanted to keep busy so that her mind wouldn’t wander to what was wrong with her life. But now Michael was a visual reminder.

  * * * *

  “Survive!” Rich hissed. “How stupid could I be?” He sat in his limo, imprisoned by his latest decision.

  Rich hadn’t seen Catalella in two months and it was harder to let her go than he'd thought. It had taken him five different business trips out of the continent to keep himself away from her. But now that he was so close, all he wanted to do was rush into the building and take her into his arms. He could still remember how small she felt in his arms, the gentle touch of her soft skin against his. How she whispered and shrieked his name in the throes of passion. He wanted to be with Catalella again…she seemed to have bewitched him. Rich hadn’t been able to go out with any other girl and he was living his life in total seclusion.

  When they had arrived at the law firm, Ross and Kent, Rich remembered that Catalella had said that she worked there. He had already been away for so long he didn’t want to barge into her life once again. Besides, he knew how hard she had worked for that account and seeing him in that boardroom would only set her off the rails. He chose to stay in the limo, feigning fatigue. His uncle didn’t argue because Rich had dedicated his life to being the man he wanted to be, a responsible grown up.

  He smiled when his uncle asked: “What brought on this sudden change?”

  And he said: “A special woman told me to be the best for myself and no one else.”