On the Other Side (11 page)

“That's exactly what he said. You know what's even more fucked up than what he's done? I actually still love him. Sure, the smart, logical part of me knows that I have to leave, but there's another part of me that is hoping he can change.”

“Let me help clear your mind, sweetie. Men like that never truly change. He may even come back here after rehab looking like every bit the
knight-in-shining-armor
that you married. But, I can assure you, it's all smoke and mirrors. A leopard doesn't change its spots.”

“You're right. I really do need to get it together, but I need some time for all of this to sink in.”

“Dee, you do know there is a bright side to all of this?”

“What on earth could that be?”

“Some women have to wait a lot longer than two weeks before a man shows his true colors.”

“Lucky me. I didn't even have to wait a week. The first time he hit me was on our wedding night.”

“I'm so sorry, Damita. You don't know how much I wish I was wrong about him.”

“I feel like I haven't had a moment of happiness since I said I do. This is the first time I've felt like myself. I don't want to talk about him anymore. I don't want him to ruin my night even when he's not here. We should pig out, watch some television and guzzle whipped cream straight out the can.”

“Don't forget the spirits.”

“I could definitely go for some
spirits
. I've got some Patrón. Is that to your liking, chica?”

“Hell yeah!”

•  •  •

Damita and Carmella behaved like teenagers all night. It was exactly what Damita needed. For a moment she forgot her troubles.

“You wanna spend the night?” Damita asked.

“Fine time to ask, after I've already had several shots.”

“You already knew your ass was staying after the third shot. You've never been able to hold your liquor.”

“Look who's talking. Aren't you the same girl who took off her shoes and threw up in them the night of our senior prom?”

“Yuck! Did you have to remind me of that? What an attractive memory that is.”

“I can't believe you actually remember it. We were all so drunk that night.”

“Speaking of drunk, I'm going to bed. I don't think Patrón mixes well with pain-killers,” Damita said.

“Me too. Between the funeral and the Patrón I'm whipped.”

“Don't remind me. I still can't wrap my head around the fact that Brandon is gone. I keep waiting for him to walk in the room and put us both in a yoke like he always did. I'm gonna miss him so damn much.”

Before Damita and Carmella went to sleep, they spent at least an hour reminiscing about Brandon and all the good times they had through the years.

D
amita and Carmella had stayed up so late drinking and having fun that they both slept practically to noon. The phone woke them both sometime around eleven forty-five a.m. Damita answered the phone.

“Hello.”

“Why is she there?” Neal asked.

“Neal?”

“Yes, it's Neal. Who did you expect?”

“What is Carmella doing there?”

“That's him?” Carmella mouthed silently.

Damita nodded yes in response to Carmella.

“She stopped by after Brandon's funeral yesterday. We had a few drinks so I told her she should stay over instead of traveling last night. Wait a minute. How did you know Carmella was here? I thought you were in rehab.”

“I am in rehab.”

Damita's face echoed the irritation she was feeling. “So how would you know Carmella is here?”

“I heard her voice.”

“But you asked me why she was here before she even said anything. How could you know?”

“I must've heard her say something. Otherwise, how would I know? Anyway, that's not important.”

“I didn't know you were allowed to use the telephone in rehab.”

“They take all the cell phones, but there are pay phones here. We're allowed to use them during designated times.”

“You just got there. They're letting you use the phone already?”

“Not technically. I was able to convince them to let me use the phone sooner than I was supposed to.”

If Damita questioned how she could have been so easily fooled by Neal, it was conversations like this one that reminded her. He was a charmer. When they were dating it was appealing and fascinating to watch. Now, it was one more mark of the characteristics of a sociopath.

“How is it going in there?” she asked.

“It's going fine. I should be home before you know it.”

“Is that what they're saying at the facility?”

“No. That's my own assessment.”

“Oh.”

“Neal, I had my office messenger over some files so I could work at home. He's downstairs,” she lied.

“Okay, I'll let you go. Damita, how long is Carmella staying?”

“She'll probably leave as soon as she gets dressed.”

“I'm sure it goes without saying, but our problems should remain between the two of us. There's no reason to get your friends and family involved in our issues. Am I right?”

“Absolutely,” she agreed.

After hanging up the phone, Damita looked upward and exhaled heavily before lying back down on the bed. Carmella sat down on the bed next to her.

“What did he have to say? Is he really in rehab?” Carmella asked.

“He says that's where he is.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don't know what to believe. He tells me he's in rehab, but he's already phoning. From what I've heard about rehab, the people there are not allowed to use the phone as soon as they arrive.”

“You're right. I've known a few people who have gone to drug and alcohol rehab and typically phones are not allowed right away.” She paused. “He might be lying. He probably said he would go to keep you from leaving.”

“You might be right.”

“Damita, after everything that's happened, do you still believe him?”

“I don't know. I don't know what to believe anymore.”

“Damita, please pack a bag and come with me right now.”

“I'm not going to leave, but there is something you can do for me. Call your friend.”

“You mean Derrick?”

“He might be able to help. He probably has access to information most people don't. If I could talk to him, off the record, maybe I could get some answers.”

“What do you mean by off the record?”

“I don't want to go to the police and file a report or anything; at least not yet. But it would be nice to get an idea of what I'm dealing with, if I can.”

“I don't know how much help Derrick can be or if he'll agree to help you off the record, but I'll talk to him.”

“It's best if I talk to him on my own.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“I'll call him now.”

“Do me a favor, Carmella, and don't call until you've left.”

“Do I have time to take a shower or is the man of the house going to come busting in?”

“The rehab facility is in New Jersey.”

“That's if he's really there.”

“I can check that right now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Star sixty-nine,” Damita said.

She quickly hung up.

“Is he where he said he is?” Carmella asked.

“Yes. It's a place called Sunlight Village.”

“Did I hear you right when you were on the phone earlier? Are you really expecting some files so you can work at home?”

“Yes.”

“Don't you think you should be resting?”

“Under the circumstances, I need to do all I can to make sure I have a job when all of this is over. Somehow, I don't think Neal and I are going to live happily ever after. The last thing I need is to be divorced
and
unemployed.”

“I know that's right. I'm going to take a quick shower and then I'll be out of your hair.”

As Carmella turned and walked away, Damita realized she wasn't alone and was glad she had been honest with Carmella.

“Carmella?”

Carmella turned around.

“Thank you,” Damita said.

“No problem. You know I got your back.”

“Yes, I know.”

•  •  •

About an hour after Carmella had left, the messenger showed up with Damita's files. She opened up the box and inside was a get-well card, signed by everyone in the office. She wondered what
they would all think if they knew what had really happened to her.

She was still in pain from the broken rib and instead of sitting at her desk, decided to work from her bed with the aid of her laptop. Unfortunately, even that was uncomfortable.

One of the things Damita enjoyed most about her position as an investment banker was interacting with her clients. She had a reputation for being at the top of the game when it came to pitching to clients and winning the deal. Her ability to come up with the best strategies was what built her career. Unfortunately, because she was home nursing her injuries, Underhill had suggested she use the time to run research and screens on a list of companies to help identify where there might be opportunities for new deals and transactions. It was a necessary component of their business, but it was the least favorite part of what Damita did. As far as she was concerned, it was grunt work. More than anything she wanted to be back at one hundred percent, so she could interact with her clients. Instead she was doing research and compiling pitch books. After putting together what she thought would be an impressive list of potential companies to do business with, she turned her attention to her S.W.O.T. analysis, which analyzed strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats. Next she would tackle the Comparable Company Analysis.

The other downside to working from home was that her assistant, Carol, wasn't there to help her put together the PowerPoint presentation she was working on. Just when she thought the pain from her broken rib couldn't get much worse and her eyes were about to cross from compiling data, she got a reprieve when the doorbell rang.

“Open up, miss. It's your mother.”

“Mom!”

“I want you to know that the only reason I didn't come by here yesterday, right after the funeral, is because I knew Carmella was going to beat me to it.”

“And, here I thought you talked her into coming,” Damita said.

“I was going to, but I knew I didn't have to.” She glanced around as she walked in. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. Neal's going to be away for a few weeks.”

“Is he now? Let me guess. Rehab?”

“Wow, how do you do that?”

“I'm going to tell you the same thing I used to tell you when you were a little girl; it's because I'm old that I know so much, not in spite of it. Everything you kids are doing, I've experienced, in one way or another, throughout my lifetime.”

“You don't have to tell me how wise you are. I already know.”

“And, don't try to butter me up either. I came over here to talk some damn sense into you. I can't believe that my intelligent, resourceful daughter is letting some man put his hands on her. Your father and I raised you to have more strength and courage than that. You're going to pack your bags right now and come home with me.”

“Mom, I will, but not yet. You have to trust that I know what I'm doing, okay?”

“All I know is that one of your best friends died and instead of all of us being together to comfort each other you were here hiding out. I knew as soon as you walked in the funeral home what was going on. Let me see.”

No makeup to hide her bruises, Karen took her daughter's face in her hands and touched all the places where Neal had left his mark. “This makes me so mad. I want to knock the shit out of that crazy motherfucker.”

“Mom!”

Damita hadn't heard her mother use profanity often. When she was a kid she knew if her mother was using four-letter words it was time to step back.

“Don't you
Mom
me. I'm glad your father is not here to see this. He would have been over here with
Betsy
ready to open a can of whoop-ass.”

As much as she wanted to keep her mother's knowledge of her beating confined to the bruises on her face, she couldn't help but laugh at what her mother had said and that's when she grabbed her torso.

She immediately lifted her daughter's shirt, to which Damita jumped.

“Baby, what did he do to you? Oh my God! Have you been to the hospital? Your ribs could be broken.”

“I've been to the hospital,” she lied.

It was the first time, as an adult, that she had ever lied to her mother. She hoped it would be the last.

A
fter weeks of recuperation and boredom, Damita finally returned to work. When she walked through the doors of the World Trade Center, she had the most overwhelming feeling of an imposter in her own life. Something as simple as coming to work seemed so foreign. She felt it immediately upon her return. She was little more than a shell of her old self. One of her colleagues, Wendy, noticed it immediately.

“Hey, Superstar!” Wendy greeted Damita, on her first day back.

“Hey!”

She gazed at Damita quizzically. “You okay?” Wendy asked.

“Me? Sure, I'm fine.”

“Okay.”

Wendy decided to leave it alone. She wasn't sure if it was the car accident, getting married, her return to work or a combination of all three, but she had worked with her long enough to know she wasn't okay.

“I'm so glad to see you. If you had taken another week I would have gone completely insane. This old boy network is even more intolerable without you here.”

“Does that mean you missed me?” Damita responded.

“Hell, yes, I missed you.”