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. I do know 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 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 nods and 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 M
om 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?”
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.
Ping!
Well, that’s really up to you isn’t it? ;-)
I unleashed a sexual monster lurking behind her soft blue eyes, and I couldn’t be
happier. When I suggested last Friday that we tell HR about us dating, she agreed.
Turns out those memos and such sent around were intended to discourage interoffice
romances, but when it comes right down to it, they don’t want to lose two good employees
over something happening after hours.
We had to sign disclosures that released the firm from liability, and of course, neither
one of us admitted to the during work hours naughtiness we had participated in. It’s a tentative start in the right
direction, which is big for Carla.
A low chime pulls my eyes to the glowing screen lying near my coffee cup.
Have you noticed Barry’s biceps?
What the—? Did she mean for that one to come to me? Should I be noticing his biceps?
She types back quickly, I was just thinking of him pinning me down on the conference table and doing me hard.
The arms made a nice visual.
A slow burn begins in my gut. Does she think we’re in an open relationship and she
can be with other guys in the office? Seeing her with some jerk I have to face day
after day would drive me insane.
Not funny, Carla.
Oh? It’s okay for you to experiment and tease me beyond all sense of self, but not
for me to experiment on another man?
Before I can think of a calm, non-sociopathic rejoinder that will not send her running
from me, she calls out over her cubicle partition, “Barry, have you been working out?”
I stand up, a nasty look smeared across my face, to see my lover leaning over her
wall batting her eyelashes and smiling sweetly at the accountant across from her.
Poor Barry stumbles in his response. “Er… I … umm. Yeah, I work out.” I bet he’s never
fielded interest from a woman as good-looking as Carla.
The slow burn works its way up and I see red. Carla notices my expression and slips
down the aisle, scampering away. I can’t believe after our past week together that
she’d play with me like this. Slamming my chair into my desk, I stalk after her, determined
to confront her and hash it out.
She takes the stairwell and three other co-workers get there before I do. We all head
down to the underground parking garage. The three veer to the right while the curvy
Avoiding Mr. Right Page 15
