Fire In His Eyes (21 page)

“No judge would take away your rights because you are in the military,” I shook my head at that. 
I felt for this man, this man I loved even though he was breaking my heart, had already broken it.  But, I had to know, and he hadn’t answered my question. “Victor, you still didn’t answer my question.” He looked in my eyes. “Do you still want to be with your wife?”  Silent tears streamed down my cheeks.

He looked down and away.
“For my daughter . . . ,” he cried.

I got up from the table. 
I heard his intake of breath. I turned from him.

“I can’t
be the other woman.  I love you, Victor.”  I saw him wince in pain. “You know I do. But, I can’t.”  I cried into my hands.

I heard his chair move and
I felt him behind me then.  He grasped my shoulders and pulled me close and even though every sense of my moral fortitude went against it, I leaned back into him to feel him one last time.  He turned me around and wrapped his arms around me, “God knows, I don’t want to, I didn’t want to Monica, but I love you. I love you, too.” He took my face in his hands and kissed my breath away.  He kissed me until the tears stopped and dried on my face, He held me close, so close that I felt every long lean inch of him pressed up against me.  He held me like that for what seemed an eternity and we clung to each other because we both knew we were losing something so precious.  We clung to each other because we knew that our happiness was lost. We clung to each other because we knew our love was doomed.

I hate to admit it now, but we did make love that n
ight.  Knowing he was married, knowing he wanted to keep that marriage, knowing he had a daughter whom he loved above everything else, I didn’t try to stop him when he swept me into his arms and carried me to my room. I was broken, and only this, being with him could mend the pieces. I told myself, it was just one last time.  Our swan song.  Our goodbye.

He lay me down on the bed, and climbed in beside me.  It started out as comfort only, me crying and him tryi
ng to soothe me.  Then, it was one kiss, and another.  Then it was a touch. A caress.  Then our clothes started to come off; the need to touch each other, feel each other just one more time consumed both of us. We needed to be one.  It was slow, and sad, and painful.  He sat up and scooped me onto his lap when we were both naked, and we kissed and he held me like a child.  I straddled him, and slid slowly down.  We clung to one another and caressed, and stroked and touched, and loved, and I rocked on top of him, and he helped me with the motion.  We made love just like that, in that position, and we rode the crest together, and neither one of us cried out our release, we just kept hanging on to each other never wanting to let go.

I don’t know
when and how I fell asleep, but I did and when I woke he was gone.  I was alone with my heart break, and he presumably with his.

He did leave a note
though.  It read;

I
wish I had met you, all those years ago.  I’ll love you forever, Victor

And that was it.  I didn’t hear from him for a very
, very long time.

Summer, flew by, and I licked my wounds, wounds that wouldn’t heal.  I threw myself into my workouts, spending hours running, and biking, just so I didn’t have to think about Victor.  My sister helped, tried to give me hope.  Maybe he will realize one day, and surely he will come to see that you are what is best for him, she would say.  Or, damn those Italian’s and their pride.

I had
dreams and fantasies about him every night.  Sometimes I would dream that I hadn’t been on the pill all these months and had gotten pregnant and had a child, to have at least a part of him always.  I dreamed he would come for me telling me it had been a joke, or that he would divorce his wife for me.  Other times it was that we had met up years later, and we would rekindle our love, or he would see me somewhere we both had gone, a chance meeting, and he would run to me, and tell me everything I wanted to hear.  It was hard.  The dreams made me happy when I had them, but sad in the light of day because I knew they would never come true.  It was hard.

When, summer was over
it got a little easier because I had work to occupy my mind for a great part of the day.  But the nights were still torture.  I forgot to eat.  I lost weight.  Too much.  My sister was starting to worry.  My birthday came and went and October arrived with cooler nights.  It started to get dark earlier and that made me sad too, and lonely.  But the change in the seasons also snapped me out of my depression.  I spent more time outside trying to be active and keep my thoughts off of Victor.  I puttered in my garden; I painted the trim on my house.  I kept myself occupied.  I had wasted so many years being afraid, and I didn’t want to spend years being sad.  So, I started going out with my friends to a movie here and there. I played cards with my mom and Tom when they were in town. I had coffee with my sister and I even went to a theme park her and Teddy for Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios in Orlando sometime in mid-October. 

That was a fun night. 
We had fun with zombies jumping out of the bush, and chasing us.  We laughed like crazy when one zombie jumped out of a garbage can and Teddy screamed like a girl.  It was so fucking hilarious I almost peed myself. The haunted houses were terrifying.  We stayed out pretty late that night.  Before leaving the park at two o’clock, we all decided to have a cup of coffee at Cinnabon’s before the two-hour drive home to keep us awake and alert.  We chatted like old times in the car.  She and Teddy teased one another mercilessly.  She complained about his driving and he complained about her choice in music.  She liked him a lot, it was obvious.  She more than liked him.  He had a good heart.  He was honest.  I could tell.  What you saw was what you got with him, and she too, who had been lied to, humiliated and hurt would find that very that refreshing.

The song by
Alicia Keys called “If I Ain’t Got You” came on the radio.  I liked her songs a lot.  I sang the words to her song softly in the back seat of the car.  Even though the lyrics of the song epitomized my feelings for Victor, I didn’t cry, even though I wanted to.  Alicia sang of a life not worth living without her man, and even though Victor was lost to me I did not feel that way.  I was happy with the memories we had made.  I was happy that I didn’t cry. It was a step, I thought.  Maybe two.

When, I got home at four thirty in the morning, ready to crash and sleep until noon I was met by the flashing light of my answering machine.

I lay down, closed my eyes, and hit play, just in case it was from
my mom or dad.  My eyes popped open when I heard his voice.  It was Victor.  I sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake my heart hammering in my chest.  I hadn’t heard his voice in three months.

“Hi, Monica.  I just saw you.  Actually, I am
at Universal, and I am watching you right now.  You lost a lot of weight, babe- . . . a lot of weight. You look happy, though.  You and your sister and her boyfriend are talking and having coffee and it looks like you are having a good time.  I just wanted to let you know I’m happy that you’re okay.  I was worried about you.  I’m better too, so don’t worry about me.  Okay, well bye.  I don’t want . . . just . . . be happy, okay?”

He had seen me, watched me at Universal
Studios.  He didn’t come to say hello. Two steps forward, I thought, one step back.  And, I was crying again.  Until I slept.

I called my sister as soon as I woke up.  I woke her up.

“Please, come over as soon as you can,” I begged.  “I got a message from Victor.  I want you to hear it, and tell me what you think.”

“Arggh, really.
”  I heard her grumble something to Teddy.  “Okay, give me an hour, sweetie.  I’ll be there soon as I can.” And then, she hung up.

She listened to the message twice before she would say anything; it was my tenth time hearing it.

“Well,”
she said, “he definitely sounds sad, but happy to see you are doing better.  He did love you, Mon.  It probably killed him to leave you like that and wonder how you were doing, if you were coping.  Maybe it’s closure for him.  He knows you’re okay, so now he can move on, but . . .” she trailed off looking away from my eyes.

“But, what?”  I was grasping at straws
, trying to read between the lines, looking for clues, anything that would tell me he was happy, he had moved on, or he still wanted me and was willing to give up trying to hang on to a woman who didn’t want him and probably didn’t love him anymore.

“He was watching us when he called.  He called when
he knew you wouldn’t answer,” she stated. What could that have meant, I thought.

“Why?  Why do you think that is important, Ana tell me?”  I begged wringing my hands together.

“He has probably wanted to call you a thousand times, Mon, but was afraid to hurt you when he made contact or be rejected.  Calling you when you are not home is safe.  He can’t be rejected, yet he can still reach out,” she stated.  Sure, I thought, that made sense.  He felt bad, and wanted me to know he has worried, that his feelings were real.  Ana interrupted my thoughts, and continued in a rush. “I think you should call him, Mon.  Find out what he means by ‘he is in a better place.’  You need closure, too. But, do like he did and leave a message. Call when you know he wouldn’t usually answer. It’s worth a shot, baby girl.”

Was it worth the shot?  Or was I just setting myself up for more heartbreak.  I mulled over it for days.  Then one lonely Thursday night, after midnight when I knew he would have his phone turned off for the night I called.

This is what I said;

“Hi Victor.  It’s me, Monica.  Thanks for checking up on me.  I am . . . better.  I am glad you are too. . . .”
  And, then I hung up.  Chicken shit! It hadn’t been what I had planned to say it all.  I wanted to wish him happiness, and to let him know that I hoped he would get what he wanted, his family back, and to not worry about me and that I would move on. I wanted to wish him well.  I just hadn’t been able to form the words.

When I got home from work I ran to my bedroom.  The machine was flashing, there was another message waiting for me.  I hit play.  It was him.

“Hi Monica.  I am really glad you’re better, not sick
, I hope.  You have lost a lot of weight. That worried me. I wanted you to know that I am back in the military, I went back early, and they took me back.  I hated that job in construction, you knew that.  Well, it was nice to hear your voice.  Be happy, and healthy, too,”
he laughed a little at the end but it came out hollow sounding.

It was Friday night and I was alone, and I listened to my messages from Victor over and over again, and got rip roaring drunk all by myself on stale Pinot Grigio I had in the refrigerator.  I waited until after midnight, and called him.

“Hey, it’s Monica . . . hiccup . . . healthy as a horse over here no fricking worries buddy. 
Run eight miles every day now, more ‘n you do.  Haha.  Glad to hear you are back where you belong, great friends in the military and you need that.  Gotta go.  Bye.”
  The message sounded better in my head.

I didn’t get any messages on Saturday or Sunday from Victor probably because he expected me to be home and was afraid I would answer.  I went for a hike with some friends from work
on Saturday along the Withalacoochee Trail, graded some papers on Sunday to kill the time, and tried not to remember my drunken message. It really did sound better in my head.

On Monday, there was a message from Victor.  He said;

“Hey, Monica.  You must have been out with the girls or your sister.  Sounds like you were lit pretty good.
”
He laughed while saying that
.  “I am glad you are getting out, really. You must be training something fierce, but you have lost too much weight.  You need to eat more carbs if you are doing that kind of running. You’re a pole. It will eat away at your muscle mass. Are you training for a marathon or something?  You always said you wanted to do that.  And, yes, the guys are glad I am back to work and they are the best.  It is nice to be around guys you respect, and respect you.  How is work this year?  Hope you have good students?  Okay gotta go. Bye.”

At midnight I called and left him this message;