Carlos: A Zambrano Family Novel

by Deici, Olivia

  Pain I couldn't help except for strong medication.

  “I want to leave here. I don't want to die here. I want to be beside the only person I’ve ever loved. Not machines. Not nurses or doctors. But my little sister, who’s always been my world.”

  An animalistic sound came from my throat as I leaned down and rested my head on our joined hands.

  I couldn't deny him anything. I couldn't deny him his last weeks…his last wish.

  I breathed in an effort to regain some composure. After a few minutes, still with my head down because I wouldn't be able to speak if I looked into his pained eyes, I agreed.

  “Ok, monkey,” I began with my pet name for him. His favorite food was bananas when we were younger. We’d have to sneak those, too. I used to take extra from the kitchen for him.

  His laugh was weak but warm.

  “I'm going to take an extended leave from work and -”

  “No, Cari.”

  I squeezed his hands. I still couldn't look up at him.

  “Please. Let me finish. You can't have everything your way. You have to let me win sometimes. And since you're not going to let me have my way with treatment, it's my turn to win.”

  He laughed again; it was an inside joke. As a kid, I'd always begged him to let me win sometimes at cards and board games. At the very least, tell him that we needed to take turns winning.

  “So, I'm going to take medical leave. And we’re going to veg out on the couch, eat bananas, popcorn and soda, and watch our favorite TV shows and movies.”

  He laughed, and having calmed down a bit, I smiled and looked up.

  The smile fell from my face.

  “Mom?”

  The horror in my voice made her eyes open and look at me with pained eyes. Her skin was red and charred. I looked down at my hands and saw that I grasped hers and felt the heat. I pulled away, my skin burned as if I'd touched fire itself.

  “Mom?”

  Only this time when I looked up again, the person lying in the bed was Carlos.

  “Carlos?”

  I was confused. What was going on? I felt like I'd lived through this already.

  “Just let me go, caramelo. I'll be ok. You'll be ok. I love you.”

  A scream tore from my throat and my eyes opened. I sat up in bed, sheets sticking to me from a full-body sweat. My breathing was harsh and I focused on calming that down. Looking over, I saw that Carlos hadn't arrived home yet. Picking up my phone, I saw that it was 2:17AM.

  He'd said he would be late, that he'd had a family meeting, but this was really late.

  What if something had happened to him? His family was well-guarded, but shit happened all the time.

  My mind started racing.

  Like NASCAR.

  Fuck. It was happening again.

  I ran to my purse in Carlos’ living room and grabbed it. Oh, God. I didn't have a Xanax. I went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. Opening it quickly and accidentally sloshing water to the floor, I drank the cold water. When I was done, I rested the cold bottle against my forehead.

  Thirty minutes.

  It usually took that long for a panic attack to pass on its own.

  I slid down the wall to the floor and waited. The racing thoughts were crushing me.

  Carlos dead.

  Was he dead?

  Did he have gunshot wounds?

  Bleeding knife wounds?

  Was he bleeding out?

  Where was he?

  Chris.

  I could've saved him. I let him down.

  My mother- I couldn't help her.

  My patients, can I save them?

  What if something happens to Carlos?

  And Iza. Is she safe?

  I rested my forehead on my knees.

  It had been over a year and a half since I'd experienced a panic attack this bad. It had taken a while for me to get them under control after Chris died.

  I looked at the clock on the wall, and a half hour had come and gone, but the racing thoughts continued.

  I can't do this.

  There's no way.

  I can't lose another person I love.

  Can you save him?

  You didn't save Chris.

  The racing thoughts taunted me.

  Cruelly.

  “I can't lose someone else. No. I can't. I just can't.”

  I pushed off the floor and marched to our, no- his- room, and grabbed my overnight bag that I'd used to bring things to and from his penthouse. I began throwing clothes inside. I veered towards the bathroom to get my toiletries.

  Death.

  Another funeral.

  What if he was shot?

  What if he was lying somewhere without help?

  What am I going to do?

  Do I call him?

  Do I call his family?

  Focus. Focus.

  Pack.

  Focus.

  Pack.

  My eyes continued to bleed tears.

  Fuck. When would it pass?

  Pack.

  Pack, Cari. We can't do this. It's not for us.

  Leave.

  Can't lose someone else.

  Carlos- do you think he was shot?

  Is he ok?

  I closed my eyes as my head spun. Breathing deeply a few times, I continued to pack haphazardly trying to think through the debilitating, crushing, unreasonable onslaught of racing thoughts.

  I had my purse and weekend bag on my shoulders, and headed towards the front door when it opened.

  &Run, Sir Sly

  38

  Cari

  Scars,

  Papa Roach

  Carlos’ face registered shock.

  “Cari, is everything ok? What's wrong, baby?”

  He threw his wallet on the same entryway table from that night that felt like so long ago. His steps were purposeful as they ate the distance between us.

  I held a hand up.

  “Stop. Please.”

  He looked confused.

  “Are you angry? The meeting took longer than anticipated but I told you I'd be late.”

  I shook my head. “I need to leave.”

  Carlos exhaled. “Ok. Give me a moment and I'll pack a few of my things.”

  I shook my head again. “No. I need to leave, as in just me.”

  He stopped for a moment, studying me.

  “Wait here.”

  He hurriedly went to his room and came back after a few minutes.

  “You packed your stuff. All of your things?”

  I nodded my head.

  “Toothbrush, too?”

  I couldn't meet his eyes.

  “You were leaving. Without talking to me. Without waiting for me.”

  I stayed quiet and unmoving. I couldn't say anything.

  Everything he said was true.

  “You're breaking up with me? Without even talking to me? Sneaking out like you did the night we first met?”

  Tears were falling down my face as I heard the pain in his voice.

  “Answer me!”

  My spine straightened and I finally looked at him.

  And it almost crumbled what was left of my resolve.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  His voice was hollow.

  “I was leaving.”

  He swallowed. “And you were going to what? Call me to break up? Or send a letter or email? Change your Facebook status and have me find out that way?”

  I stayed quiet.

  “Well?”

  I shook my head unable to answer. I hadn't gotten that far in my thinking. I'd only known that I'd have to break it off.

  “After all that we've been through, Caridad? You were going to leave without talking to me and telling me what's wrong? Without discussing it like two adults in a mature relationship?”

  I took a minute to compose myself and try to control the damn racing thoughts.

  We gotta go, Cari.

  Don't change your mind.


  We can't go through more loss.

  He’ll reject you when he sees the real you.

  I'm scared.

  I'm scared.

  “I tried to make this work, but I can't. I can't do this.”

  “Why? If you're going to walk out of my life when we’re fucking in love, when you own my goddamn heart, you owe me that much. An explanation. Why?”

  The room started to spin.

  The racing thoughts were zooming by.

  Leave.

  Leave.

  GO!

  Don't let him convince you to stay.

  Goddamn it.

  “I just can't. I can't do this. I'm not cut out for relationships.”

  His groan was angry.

  “You can do it. You just don't want to do the work to make it successful. You're a runner, Cari. You avoid anything that may cause you to feel.”

  “How dare you! You think it's easy for me?”

  “No! I've never thought it was. But I did think that I'd at least be worth you trying to overcome your knee jerk reaction.”

  I gasped.

  I knew this was hard and he was hurt, but so was I! And I was in the middle of a damn anxiety attack.

  “You push everything and everyone away if you even get a whiff of strong emotions.”

  Have to go.

  Let's go.

  Don't lose your resolve.

  Go.

  “Cari!”

  I looked at him.

  “What's wrong?”

  He genuinely looked concerned.

  Go!!

  Leave.

  Grab your shit.

  I can't lose someone else.

  I don't want to leave him.

  He’ll reject you eventually. They all do, except for Chris.

  I want to try.

  No. Run.

  “Cari?”

  His pensive eyes captured mine.

  “Are you having a panic attack?”

  Fucking. Leave!

  I don't want to go. We can do this.

  I can't do this. I can't lose another person.

  GO.

  “I'm tired of this, Cari. This hot-cold shit going on here. Just tell me the truth. I don't need to be with someone who doesn't want to be with me.”

  Breathe.

  LEAVE!

  Get your stuff and LEAVE!

  "I'm scared. I've never let anyone in like this."

  I saw him calm down immediately.

  The words slipped through my clenched teeth and tight lips.

  It was like two beings warring inside of me.

  "It's ok. It'll be ok. What are you scared of, caramelo?"

  My breath came out in pants as the internal struggle continued.

  One voice wanting me to try.

  The other wanting me to run.

  "That you'll see how fucked up I am. That I'll open myself up to hope that someone will love me and then they'll see the real me and reject me. That you'll run because I'm not enough. Because I'm not deserving."

  My breath heaved on a sob.

  "Only two people have seen that broken part of me and one's dead. The other is going to marry your brother."

  I backed up further away although emotionally, I'm the furthest from him that I’ve ever been.

  I looked at him again.

  "I'm scared! Of losing you! Losing Iza. Losing everything I love. If you reject me…if something happens to you. Another loss will break me.”

  My voice broke in the end.

  “So you're running.”

  “I tried. I just can't.”

  His sigh ended on a groan.

  “You designed your whole life to avoid attachments, of course you're terrified.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He groaned.

  “You have one close friend. It took me chipping away a thousand layers to get through to you. You don't even have a pet or a plant, Cari.”

  “Give me a break. I'm not that bad.”

  At least this argument was doing some good. My racing thoughts paved the way for my anger to come through.

  “No? You're an oncologist.”

  “That destroys your argument. I deal with loss all the time.”

  “And in the process, you can’t form permanent attachments. You're in a medical specialty that has high incidents of death.”

  “What? Are you a psychologist now?”

  “No. But maybe I should've insisted that you see one.”

  “How dare you!”

  “You can't handle loving or being loved. You're scared.”

  “I love you!!”

  “But not enough to stay. You love and leave, right, Cari? Before the one you love leaves you first? Loving from afar is easier than getting into the thick of things and feeling.”

  “It's true. It's not something I can deny. But you don't have to be cruel.”

  “You need to hear it. You have a need to be perfect and in control. You can't control everything, Cari. Before me, you'd never made love. Have you asked yourself why?”

  I looked at him silently.

  “Because it was easier to give your body but not your heart, mind, or soul.”

  “You make me sound like a whore or a slut.”

  “I'm sorry. That's not what I meant because you're none of those things. But you have a drive to be perfect so that you can try to prevent people from leaving you, yet when you get too close to them, you destroy the relationship you formed and run anyway. Don't you see? As a child, going from foster home to foster home, if you were perfect, then maybe they’d keep you. You're perfect as you are, Caridad, faults and all. You're perfect to me.”

  It was taking everything in me not to sob, remembering that poor, lost little girl after my mother died.

  “You want to have relationships but you're scared. It's ok, baby. We all are. But what you're doing is not living. You're pushing me away, a man who loves you for all that you are, because you're scared of losing me. How does that make any sense, Cari?”

  Tears kept running down my cheeks.

  “It doesn't. You don't think I know that? I’m not in denial about who I am. I'm broken. I can't be fixed. No. Stay there.” I raised my hand again to stay him.

  “I can't love and I can't be loved. I don't want to be hurt. Not again. I'm doing what I can, Carlos. To breathe. To survive.”

  “Forget surviving, baby. You need to LIVE!”

  “I don't know what to do. I don't know what you want from me." I heard the pleading tone in my voice.

  “We can take this slow, Cari. Maybe things have been too fast for you. We can go slower, baby.”

  “To a what? Crawl? Except for the sex, I can barely tell you I love you without breaking into a cold sweat.”

  “You're worth it. You're worth whatever I have to go through. The question is, am I?”

  I looked away from him. I had no more words.

  I'd been having that nightmare now for weeks. And it was too much.

  They were reminders of what I'd lost, and what I've left to lose.

  “So this is it, then? I'm not worth fighting your instinct to run, or worth you fighting your fear of loss? I’m not worth that fight? Not even for the years of happiness we'd have in comparison to the unlikelihood of early death? You'd rather not have me than have me and risk losing me?”

  I couldn't look at him.

  “Ok, Caridad. I'm not worth it. Leave, then. I don't take lovers as hostages. You don't want to be here, you don't want to be with me, then go. I won't stop you. I love you, Caridad. I hope that you live the life you want to live and are happy, baby, even if it's without me.”

  He walked away towards our- his- bedroom.

  Leave.

  Let's go.

  Let him go.

  At least we won't have to live through his death.

  My chest felt tight. I reached for my purse and overnight bag, opened the door, and walked away from the man I love.

  Someone You Loved, Lewis Capaldi
/>
  39

  Cari

  New Rules,

  Dua Lipa

  It took me a few days to buckle down and get myself straight.

  But I did.

  It was for the best.

  I was working sixteen-hour days, seven days a week.

  And with that schedule I only thought of him 524 times.

  I did something extra- I began seeing a psychologist. Someone not known to me so that I wouldn't fear him/her seeing me differently. Sure, we were all professionals, but I just wanted that extra buffer of not mixing a few of my worlds- my professional one, my personal one, and my past.

  I'd had two appointments so far, and they had been helpful. Talking about your feeling is immensely beneficial, and I found myself feeling a bit lighter. Naturally, improvement would not be overnight, but I was satisfied so far with the progress I felt inside.

  I'd been burying so many things for so damn long, that the proverbial dust under the carpet had become a scrap piece of fabric over a mountain.

  My thoughts never strayed far from Carlos. I missed him so damn much. Getting real for a minute, though, what kind of future could we have together if I kept being shackled by my past?

  If we were going to have any future- that is, if he still wanted one with me- I had to deal with the skeletons in my closet.

  Ok, it was more like a burial ground, but you get my meaning.

  “Hey, Doc. I'm leaving.”

  Luis was at the door to my office, his voice snapping me away from my thoughts.

  “Ok. Goodnight. I'll lock up.”

  “It's not safe staying here so late.”

  “It's alright. I won't be staying much longer. I just have two more charts to go over.”

  “You're looking a bit pale. Coming down with something?”

  I shrugged. I hadn't been feeling well, but I'd been under an enormous amount of stress.

  Our vacation gone awry.

  Carlos’ disappearance and recovery.

  My own fears eating away at me.

  And of course- that bastard, Manny’s, reappearance.

  “Doc?”

  I looked up again and smiled.

  “Just stress.”

  “Maybe you should take another vacation.”

  I laughed. “Yea, no. I think I'll wait awhile before going on vacation considering how the last one ended.”