Book Three_A Codependent Love Story

by Paloma Meir

  “... I’ve never been away from them before. It’s my first time off the island in all these years... but my mother, she wanted me to be here for her surgery...”

  “Your Mom? Is she okay, Zelda?” I popped back up, focusing on her and her dark coffee-colored eyes.

  “Weren’t you listening to me?” She smiled and laughed lightly, leaning back in her chair and put the phone back in her bag, “She had a facelift. She’s fine... Maybe I’ll bring her here for lunch to see if Antoine approves.”

  “I’m sure he would,” I nodded my head vigorously.

  “I’m joking, Serge... I’m not going to bring her for a smarmy opinion poll.” She looked at me again, almost as if she were seeing inside to my very soul, and lightly bit her lip, “Tell me about yourself, Carolina keeps me updated but...”

  “Carolina... don’t talk to her much.” Flustered is how I felt. Focus I forced myself, “You know Zelda, you look great, pushed out three kids, years go by, all that sun you live in... I imagined you leathery, matronly, and here you are, the same.” I smiled thinking I had said something kind, expressed myself well. That’s how far away I had grown away from myself.

  “You imagined me leathery? Matronly?” She squinted her eyes, and I knew my words were wrong, but I couldn’t see how.

  “But you’re not Zelda, a few lines around your eyes is all I can see of you aging.” She squinted deeper with a subtle shake of her head.

  “My point is you look great,” I reached my hand across the table and patted hers. She pulled her hand away and sat stiffly in her chair.

  “Tongue tied Zelda, that’s all.” I knew it was true but still couldn’t point my finger to the offence. “I’m a lawyer, but you knew that, switched to personal injury a few months after I left you, I mean came back home,” I guffawed, and I can honestly say I’ve never done that before. Her severe expression and posture did not shift.

  “More money, a lot Zelda, within two years I met my goal. All thanks to a self-medicating obstetrician, or maybe I should thank the Gillespie twins. They were born with...”

  “I don’t want to hear about it, Serge.” She shifted her position, crossed her legs, reached into her purse and took her phone out again. A look of I would say disgust passed over her face.

  “Gruesome stuff, Zelda. We’ll skip that...”

  “Weren’t you going to quit when you reached your financial goal? Travel the world?” Back to staring at me, or through me might be a better way to describe it.

  “Child’s dreams, Zelda... We both got travel in, didn’t we?” I smiled, and she relaxed for a blink of an eye.

  “Anyway, the big case, The Gillespie’s... Well forget about that. I moved to the Marina. It's a condo, big, top floor overlooking the beach. I’m a single man, don’t need a house, all the best things...”

  I felt my mouth moving describing in detail all the best things in my life, down to the washing machines. I watched her as I spoke. In truth, the tiny loss of the youthful fat in her face made her beauty more striking, the cheekbones a work of art, her eyes wider more expressive, a wise aura surrounded her. Her years of living abroad, her entire life forming her into what sat before me. A woman of strong mind, a beauty unlike any other.

  “What was I saying Zelda?” She played with her phone distracting me from whatever I had been saying to her.

  “You were telling me about the valet. How he damaged your car? How you set him straight on that?”

  “I was?” I didn’t know why I would tell her that, even in the moment I knew my behavior was of a bully.

  “Yes, you were,” Her mouth, the pouty lips were held in a straight line, beyond tense, clear she was exercising great patience, “But tell me Serge, I haven’t been here in years. Are the valets not... Never mind... Omar’s here.”

  She stood up, purse at her side, phone gripped tightly in her hand, “Good-bye.” Out of the restaurant she glided, a regal beauty, an angry disgusted one but her royal status intact.

  Out of the restaurant I ran, bumping up against people, shocking them. To the valet stand I went, profusely apologized to the one I had berated earlier. I begged him to get my car, saying something about an emergency and placed a hundred dollar bill in his hand that he would not accept.

  Down the hill he ran, my key gripped in his hand. I knew the moments waiting for him to bring it up top would be too much. Running again, in my over tailored suit that felt like a straight jacket, I followed him down the hill into the parking lot.

  Out of breath, because my exercise regime was not what it once been, I caught up with him. A lot of arm pats, a lot of apologies came pouring out of my mouth, as if his forgiveness would right my wrongs. The forgiveness was given as I hopped in the front seat, but it was with a pity, not something I wanted, but in all fairness accurately deserved.

  I did not look at Danny’s family home as I raced recklessly up the hill, eyes on the road, aware of how dangerous I was with the families and children that still wandered up and down the canyon road. Much less than when I was kid. Most of the homes now had tall gates, a lot of security, less of a neighborhood, but still kids did make short journeys to one another’s homes.

  I skidded into a spot in front of her house, leaving marks on the road behind me. I slammed the door as I jumped out of the car and tore my jacket off. The fabric that had been the finest of the wools, felt like a medieval hairshirt.

  “Zelda,“ I yelled out as I ran to her front door. No answer. I turned the ornate door handle. It did not open. “Zelda” I screamed out again pacing back and forth. Nothing.

  Her window, I would break through if she would not let me in. I took a step towards the side of the house, but thankfully Maria came to the door speaking a greeting, happy to see me. I pushed past her apologizing. I may have told her she looked great, so used to my sleazy lawyer talk, I didn’t even hear myself anymore.

  “Zelda,” I threw open the door to her room without knocking to find her sitting on the bed. Her face was red as if she were angry at whomever she was talking to on her phone. But no it was me she was angry with.

  “I have to go Carolina, for some reason your brother is standing in front of me, invading my home, and my privacy,” she paused and glared at me, “No, I’m fine. I’ll call you back soon.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I fell to my knees and tried to take her hands in mine. She swatted them away.

  “Get up, Serge. In fact, just get out.” She abruptly stood up, almost knocking me to the ground. “Carolina would tell me you’ve changed. I didn’t believe her, I thought... I don’t... just get out.” She banged one hand against the wall causing the curtain rod to shake, and with her other hand pointed at the door, “Go now.”

  “This isn’t me... I can’t explain it. I don’t question why I do these things, why I act this way. I don’t know... It works Zelda, that’s why. Everything I wanted and the cheapness of it all, how easily everything’s bought, is accepted if you pay the price... browbeat and buy things...”

  “I don’t know what you mean, and I don’t want to know. You chose this over...” She covered her hand with her mouth, shutting out the word I could have said for her.

  “Please just go... How could I not have believed Carolina? I thought she was being mean, unfair... but she always loved you so much, never a bad word about you. She wasn’t trying to save my feelings.”

  “Now I don’t know what you mean. I don’t talk to her. I don’t talk to anyone. You, Danny, my sister... I haven’t exchanged more than a few emails with Brendan or Arturo in three years.”

  “Just go,” she waved her hand again towards the door.

  “No.”

  “What do you want from me?” she asked in a very low tone of voice that was more frightening than any scream I had ever heard.

  “I don’t know.” I walked to the opposite side of her room and sat down on the chair in front of her vanity, looking away from the mirror onto the floor, wishing for a wormhole to open so I could go bac
k and do one right thing.

  Silently, she stood looking out the window. Her fingers pulled at a lock of her hair, no deep breaths were taken. This surprised me.

  “Serge...” She looked my way, a faraway look in her eyes, “My phone, it’s on the bed. Pick it up and call Carolina. Make it right.”

  “It was her that made it wrong,” I practically spit at her.

  “Everything she did, I did, we all did was done with the best of intentions. There are no villains in this story, Serge.”

  “What Danny did, what Danny said, tell me Zelda.” The dark sarcasm in my voice, the self- pitying nature of it sickened me, but I could not control it, “Was that done with “the best intentions”?”

  “Oh my, Serge...” She walked across to the room and placed my head against her chest as if I were one of her children, “You never worked through any of this... You’ve been all alone...”

  She ran her fingers through my hair, as I broke open, tears pouring down my face, shaking in her arms. “This is what we’re going to do, well first things first... You’re going to call your sister.” She leaned across me and retrieved her phone, putting it into my hand, “I’ll be upstairs with my mother. Talk to her, Serge. Be real. Come upstairs when you’re done. My mother will be so happy to see you.” She kissed the top of my head, again like a mother not a lover and tiptoed out of the room.

  I stared at the phone catching my breath, wiping my face on my shirtsleeve. I didn’t know what to say to my sister. We communicated via email, and then only about our parents, basic information, more of a courtesy. She would let me know when she would be in town. I used that information to avoid her.

  I threw down the phone. Nothing to say her. I would go home, and not say good-bye to Zelda. I hadn’t seen her mother in years, no need to reacquaint myself with her while she was recuperating or ever.

  Across the room I walked, heading towards the door, feeling righteous in my decision. If only I hadn’t looked at her bookshelf I would have made a clean get away. It was not that kind of day.

  In the center shelf lay a line of mother of pearl picture frames I had seen a million times growing up. In those frames were pictures of the three of us, riding ponies at Griffith Park, at Travel Town, all around Los Angeles. I don’t know if she ran out of picture frames, or lost interest in framing photos, but our ages abruptly stopped at eleven years old.

  I randomly picked one up. A picture of me pushing Zelda on a swing at a park I couldn’t remember ever being at. Carolina by my side caught mid-jump as if she were excited, a happy expression on her face that was usually so serious. I turned around, back to the bed, picked up the phone and called my sister.

  A little over an hour later, I hung up the phone. We didn’t talk about Zelda, or any of the problems that led to my silence over the years. It was more as if we picked up where we left off, catching up, light jokes that only we could understand having grown up together. I promised to call her later in the week. It was a promise I did keep.

  Up the stairs I trudged, not eager to see Zelda’s mother. I wanted to go home, take a nap, a nap to end all naps. A nap that would be an endless sleep, or at least until the sun shined through my windows early the following morning.

  Zelda stood up from the chair beside her mother who lay on the bed propped up on pillows, bandages over her what looked to be her very swollen face. “Shhhh,” she whispered, finger over her mouth.

  “Come on let’s go,” she said as she approached the doorway I stood in. “I have a plan, Serge. It’s a good one, so don’t worry.” Down the stairs we walked, slowly, lightly, not wanting our footsteps on the wooden floor to wake her mother.

  “I’m assuming your call to Carolina went well?” She did not pause before saying “Good” with a very Danny-like nod of her head. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ve made the arrangements already on my phone.” She held it up as if it were the most miraculous invention, making me smile.

  “I booked a flight for us that leaves in three hours. To LAX we go. My bag is packed. Let’s go. You’re coming home with me.”

  “Thanks Zelda, but no.”

  “You accomplished what you set out to do. You’re done. Time to start over. This is what we’re doing Serge.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t added a “buddy” to that statement, Zelda. Is it you or Danny I’m talking to?” I erupted into a very un-manly style giggle fit as she glared at me with her hands on her hips.

  My laughter inflamed her, and she carried on, something about my depraved mind and amoral center, much more Zelda-like in the flights of fancy her mind was taking.

  “Okay Zelda, you win.” I held up my hands in surrender. I did not tell her it was her Danny-like order and not her impassioned speech that changed my mind. I missed my friend, and I wanted to see him.

  “But we’re going to stop by my condo, it’s on the way to the airport... I’m going to pack a bag, okay?”

  “You will?” She seemed mildly surprised, “Of course, a bag, although you could just wear Danny’s clothes... never mind. They might be too small on you.”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?” I hadn’t laughed as hard in years, “Have I put on weight, Zelda? Danny was always a little bigger than me, in the shoulders at least.”

  “Oh no, no.” She put her hand over her mouth because she was adorable, “You just look a little soft.” And apparently, incapable of a lie.

  “Soft...” I righted myself, stifling my laughter, “Maybe that’s fair.” I patted my stomach that was not as rock-like as it was the last time I saw her. “Let’s go.”

  I picked up her bag, and we walked out of her house as we had done so many times together in our life. Other than her mild disgust at the color I had picked for my brand new car, yellow, the drive across town was quiet with her playing on her miracle phone.

  We arrived at her home a little before midnight. The ride in the long black town car a quiet one with her nap that she took on the plane continuing. The girl, the woman I suppose could sleep like no one else.

  Walking through the large wooden gate and up the scattered stone path I could see not much had changed beyond adding a pool and another cottage bringing the total to three. There were ramps everywhere. I assumed the ramps were for Danny’s father and his wheelchair, and that he must be a frequent visitor.

  I felt a small pang hit my calloused heart when I saw our picnic area, the spot we had spent our last day on, was planted with Plumeria bushes. All too quickly we were on the porch at her front door. My hand she held was dropped as she opened the door. She stood with me, but apart as we stared into the living room that had not changed.

  “Baby, you’re home,” Danny, my friend, stood up arms out, a golden God he was. His dark hair, sun bleached and a little longer than he had ever worn it before. His skin a deeper bronze than it had ever been when we lived in Malibu. A glowing man he was, strong, broader everywhere, at peace.

  Zelda ran into his open arms leaving me frozen by the door, her bag and mine across my shoulders.

  “Baby,” he kissed her forehead, “You didn’t tell me you were coming home early.” He turned to his friends, I hadn’t noticed, “Early night dudes, out,” He laughed.

  He glanced my way, and then back at his friend sitting on the armchair across from the sofa, “Larkin, I don’t know where my wallet is. Do you have a twenty for the driver?”

  “You can just leave the bags there. Thanks for bringing my baby home.” Back to kissing her forehead and squeezing her. My larynx was frozen. Correcting his mistake was not an option.

  “Danny... that’s not the driver...” Zelda interjected as Larkin, who as he stood in the light I recognized as an English actor, more of a movie star really who specialized in every man can’t take it anymore vigilant films. Impressive friends you’ve made I thought but did not say.

  “Here Danny,” he stood and handed him a twenty he had fished out of his pocket, “Good to see you, Zelda. How was the mainland...? I have to go ba
ck in a few weeks for pre-production, not looking forward to it...”

  Larkin carried on turning his question about Zelda’s trip into a story about himself as Danny looked at me. It was as if he couldn’t place me, or perhaps the unexpectedness was too much to absorb.

  “Serge, buddy...” He dropped his grip on Zelda and approached me. A questioning look in his eyes that had previously been filled with the joy of seeing Zelda.

  “Miko, Larkin, time to go...” His voice serious, his eyes not leaving mine, “This is Serge. Serge, Larkin and Miko.” He added as an afterthought, his well-mannered way not eluding him, even in the moment that was seemingly causing him a difficulty in comprehension.

  A lot of polite good-byes were exchanged with Larkin telling Zelda that his wife, also a well-known actress although she had become more of a humanitarian with a gaggle of kids in recent years, would be calling her in the morning. Danny was on autopilot from what I could see, and nobody outside of Brendan and Zelda knew him as well as I did. The familiarity, even if it was becoming a tense situation in his eyes, was comforting to me.