by Jade Onyx
How could she find him? He left no way of contacting him, changed all his numbers, and relocated to another office abroad.
Jessica. His sister.
Jessica often came to visit Jeremy in the Buenos Aires office and met them when Jeremy and Natalia started seeing each other. Whenever Jessica came to visit Jeremy, Jessica and Natalia had latched onto each other as sisters they each never had and had enjoyed countless girls nights.
Sisters? Right. That bond of sisterhood they created was probably in question after Natalia declined Jeremy's proposal.
Jessica would probably still honor their friendship, though. Jessica, her one friend overseas. Jessica, who would probably tell her how to find Jeremy after he left for the United States.
She checked the time. Seattle was four hours behind. It was probably around Jessica's dinner time. Perfect.
Natalia picked up her cell phone and dialed out.
3. Overseas Friends
“Jessica Wyatt,” a smooth crisp voice answered.
“Jessica!” she said breathlessly. “It's Natalia from Argentina.”
“Natalia! Hi! How are you?” she squealed.
“I'm doing fine.” A lie. A bourgeois habit she adopted over time. “I'm looking for Jeremy and I don't have his number.”
“Oh.” Jessica grew quiet.
Natalia held her breath.
“Why do you want to find him?” Jessica asked slowly.
“Some unfinished business,” Natalia said.
“It's finished,” Jessica said definitively. No doubt in defense of her brother.
“Jessica, I value our friendship and I'm sorry I haven't been keeping in touch these past two years since...since Jeremy left. I've been—”
“You mean, since you dumped him,” Jessica said.
“Yes, well, I'm s—”
“You don't have to apologize to me again. If you need to apologize to anybody, then that person is him.”
“Do you have his number?” Natalia asked.
“You should apologize in person,” Jessica said without hesitation. Did Jessica want them to make up or did she want Jeremy to exact revenge? No, Jessica was sweet.
The call was turning out to be even better than Natalia had hoped. “Do you have his address?” She held her breath.
“I can give you his work address,” Jessica offered.
Jessica must have wanted to keep the face-to-face apology formal, if she was only giving Natalia Jeremy's work address. No matter. All Natalia needed was a foot in the door.
“You ready?” Jessica prompted.
“Yes.” Natalia wrote down the information, then asked, “Can I come and see you anyway before I meet with him?” They could catch up and maybe Natalia could pry for some more information about Jeremy before she met with him.
“Sure, just call me when you get here.”
“You're still in Seattle then?”
“Yup. The night life here is a tad easier to handle.” Jessica chuckled.
“You mean, there's less machismo,” Natalia laughed.
Jessica groaned. “Don't remind me of that guy who stalked me out of nowhere, flushed me against the wall on my way to the restroom, and kept saying 'You're coming home with me tonight' while he groped for some skin! If I ever visit you again in Buenos Aires, you're coming with me to every club to keep me clear of those idiots!”
Natalia was delighted to catch up with Jessica and end the call on a happier note. This was the Jessica she knew, the last and only friend she had before becoming a politician's wife who had no friends at all.
4. Visitation
“Mateo?” She swallowed hard. Her gut wrenched at the sight of him. His black hair was no longer slicked back but ruffled. His brown eyes were dark. His cheeks and chin were haggard. His shoulders drooped.
She owed him this much—a visit in prison, before she went forward with her trip. It was easy for her to concoct plans to meet Jeremy when she was home alone, but facing Mateo made her heart break.
“Don't worry, Natalia,” Mateo said. “This detainment will only last for a month or so.”
“You said days before. Now it's more? You make this all sound simple, easy.” She choked back tears and shook her head. “Are they at least treating you right?”
“They are courteous.” He leaned forward. “I heard from your father this morning.”
She glanced at him sharply. Did Papá betray her? In a guarded manner, she said, “Yes, I called him last night and broke the news.”
“What else did you tell him?”
Her mouth went dry. “N-Nothing.”
“Natalia, if I were in my own home, I'd let you get away with that answer. For days, even months,” Mateo said. “I'm in prison and I only have eight more minutes with you. Spill it.”
“I don't—”
“Yes, you do,” Mateo countered with a challenge. “The way your eyes dart around, the way your color drains from your cheeks, the way you look away even now—you do know and you do have something to say.”
She gulped, not daring to say anything.
Mateo waited.
She didn't budge. Knots formed in her stomach.
“I watch you, Natalia, even when you don't think I'm watching.” His voice was low, barely audible. “Even when you close your eyes and pretend you like it when we make love.”
She stared down at her fingernails. Her cheeks flamed.
“I know you better than you think, more than I let you see,” he continued. “Do you know what I regret about last night?”
She looked up.
Mateo did not have regrets. If he did, he never shared them. Was this another tactic he was trying to get her to talk?
Natalia shook her head, still not trusting her voice.
“That we didn't enjoy the night together, before the PFA showed up. That I let you get away again; I conceded, just like I did so many times before in so many ways.” He shook his head. “I thought you needed time; that you needed to get to know me more after we married. I know we only saw each other for about three months before we tied the knot.”
Natalia sighed. “Mateo, let's face it. Our marriage was basically arranged by our fathers. I know I don't please you. I'm unfit to be anyone's wife.”
But Jeremy's. Oh, god, Jeremy knew her. He took her. He understood her sexual needs.
“Natalia.” His voice was soft. He reached out and rested his hands on hers.
“It's driving me crazy,” she growled. “This life. This pretense. I'm losing myself. I can't. I can't keep doing this. I'm running on empty.”
“Stop it,” Mateo ordered. “Stop it now.”
Natalia looked up sharply. Other than Papá, he was her confidante, someone who listened and comforted. He had always been gentle with her, like a friend. Could prison change people, harden them? Overnight?
“Natalia, I'm not going to sit here and watch you belittle yourself while you fall into a pit of distress. I married you two years ago because I saw your strength, your strong will, your ability to achieve whatever you set out to do.”
“No, Mateo.” She shook her head. “I'm not as strong as you think.” It was borrowed strength. Mateo made her strong. The thought of him coming home and sharing the challenges of an isolating political life kept her strong.
“There you go again, berating yourself.” He stood up and leaned close to her. “I need you strong out there, hold the fort down while I'm gone.”
“I'm not Evita.” Natalia stood up and left without glancing back. If there was life beyond being a politician's wife, she wanted to find it and claim it back. Big time.
Solo. She needed to leave solo. She wasn't going to let Mateo or his men know what she was up to now nor let them find her until she was well out of the country.
5. Escape
Natalia looked at the address Jessica gave her. It was now or never. This was her chance to have a life again. This time, she was going to do something about it before she could change her mind. She turned on the c
omputer and searched for flights.
She wanted to see Jessica first not only because she was a good friend, but also because she wanted to pry and get more information about Jeremy. Perhaps that would be useful by the time she met up with him.
She was ready for a new life. She tucked her house keys and her cell phone under a pile of notepads, placing them deep into the back of her nightstand drawer. She wouldn't need her keys anymore. Nor would she need her phone, since she knew Mateo and his men would track her phone to find where she was. She needed time and space from the political life. She didn't know how much time she needed, only that she didn't want her time to be interrupted by being found. She knew she could always get another phone when she got to the U.S.
She smiled. It would take Mateo and his men forever to track her down. She had her own bank account and charge card after all—all e-statements from the unmarried life she had before at the tourist agency. It was a good thing that ever since they married, Mateo had supported her financially and had given her a monthly allowance as well. With the e-statements, no one would be able to trace where she was spending her money.
Donning a baseball cap on her head made her look like a foreigner. No need for make-up, perfume, or a sophisticated bun today. She checked her reflection and mussed her hair, letting several strands fall from her cap. Dressed in an oversize T-shirt and baggy jeans, she touted a backpack with a few changes of clothes and neared the door.
She waited there to spy on Mateo's men, the security guards he left behind at their posts to ensure she was safe. You can't take chances with your life in politics, he had said. That meant her life had to be safe, too.
The “safety” she experienced for the two years of her marriage now seemed more like imprisonment. The time had come for her to flee.
When she heard the security guard leave his post for the restroom, she slipped out quietly. When she got to the lobby, she saw the other guard sitting cross-legged on the couch, enjoying the latest skin magazine. She hid a smirk and sauntered out of the building.
Catching the first cab she saw outside, she made her way toward freedom.
6. Taking Flight
The breathtaking view departing her homeland and arriving in the United States was so beautiful that Natalia wished she brought her cell phone along to take pictures. Why didn't she think of bringing her camera? She had taken it everywhere when she worked with the tourist agency.
Oh, yeah, she got married and the job ended because Mateo wanted her home with the kids they were preparing to have. Two years of boring domestic life and diplomatic events sprinkled throughout was what she settled for, and the trappings of class took over.
Several layovers and mile-high movies later, she was in Seattle. She spent the days touring and drinking in the sights, sounds, smells and tastes of a new land, one in which she had not been before. The nights she spent catching up with Jessica.
Then she checked in one morning at the train station for a twenty-three hour ride south. The views along the coast were just as beautiful as the view from above. She snapped countless pictures with her new phone.
She arrived at the Ferry Building on Saturday morning and checked in to a hotel. She figured she could take advantage of the weekend as a tourist before dropping by Jeremy's workplace on Monday morning. She picked up a host of brochures at the hotel and signed up for some tours.
On Sunday evening, she walked along the waterfront and gazed at the LED display on the Bay Bridge. The big red bow and arrow lodged nearby made her think of Jeremy.
Cupido. Her chest constricted. What was that song? Who left their heart here? It didn't matter. She left hers in San Francisco, with Jeremy.
7. Old Flame
He's not seeing anybody, not that I know of.
Those were Jessica's words one night after a few flutes of wine. Jessica had been tight-lipped before. Natalia remembered that Jessica's tongue got loose after wine. The siblings were close in age and confided in each other often.
So Jeremy must be available then.
Monday morning finally arrived. Natalia changed into a sleeveless black dress, put her long brown hair in a bun, dabbed a drop of perfume behind each ear lobe and put on her make-up. She put a dress coat on top, clutched her purse, and walked to Jeremy's office building.
Once there, she flipped through a news magazines in the waiting room to calm her belly jitters before a lady called her in to Jeremy's office.
Natalia opened the door. Her breath caught.
Was it possible he could get more handsome with time? His jet black hair had a dash of wind, unlike the greased combed hair on men she often saw in Argentina. His bright green eyes sparkled like morning sun on dewy grass. His cheekbones and jawline jutted out, as if he actually got more fit in the past two years. Must be all the mountain-climbing. She wistfully recalled the numerous expedition sites she rattled off to him when he first asked her at the tourist agency.
You've never been on an airplane before, even though you work here? Jeremy had eyed her then with a raised eyebrow. The view from the mountaintop is the closest thing to being airborne, only your feet get to touch the ground.
Take me there, Jeremy. In her mind's eye, she wanted to be on top of a mountain, spreading her arms open wide like the wings of the ancient Argentavis. She remembered thinking then, This man will set me free. I want to be free.
She ached to touch him then and there in his office, behind his desk. She wanted to take off his grey Armani suit, strip off his black and silver pinstripe tie, and tug off his black shirt. His suit only highlighted the piercing verdure of his eyes. She had to stop ogling him. Looking at him made her think about how much she lost in the past two years.
She closed her eyes. If only she had kept the ring... She had no right to him. Not really. So civil must she remain.
He motioned to the seat in front of his desk. “Please.”
She set her purse down, seated herself and looked around. She marveled at the series of black-and-white photographs on the wall depicting several close-ups of nature and the sinuous polished wooden sculpture in the corner near the window. Even though she didn't pursue teaching fine arts after completing her program, she never regretted her degree. She appreciated art.
“What brings you here?” His voice had an edge she found unbearable.
“You left,” she murmured.
“No, you left.” He sounded harsh.
“You left no messages. Nothing.” She blinked. “No way to contact you.”
“A enemigo que huye, puente de plata,” he said. A Spanish proverb—get rid of your enemies with a silver bridge. Basically, make it easy for them to leave.
She flinched. Was that how he saw them—as enemies?
“You sent me packing on the bridgeway out,” he said. “I obliged and burned it. How did you even know where to find me?”
“Your sister,” she answered.
He sighed. “Why now?”
“Mateo is in jail on trumped-up charges,” she began. “The investigation will go on for awhile. This was the best time.”
“To seek alliances? To seek support? What do you want, Natalia?”
“I've had a lot of time these past two years to think about us.”
“What was us.”
She blinked back a tear. “I'm sorry. I know I should have reached out sooner.”
“You didn't.” His jaw looked tight. “And that was a good thing.”
“Why are you making this hard?” She looked down.
“Natalia.” His voice softened. “I think you need to ask yourself why this is hard for you.”
“It's not everyday that I get to talk to an ex-fiancé.” A lump was forming in her throat.
“An ex,” he corrected.
No matter. It was all semantics. “I realized that I caved in, first to my dad and then to my husband.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I've never been free.” She searched his eyes for the warmth and understanding she used to see. “I was never free like
I was with you.”
His eyes stayed guarded.
“And you won't be,” he cut in, “if you keep on thinking about someone other than the person you married.”
“But I want to be free.” She leaned forward and released her bun, letting her hair down. She shook her locks free. “How can I make it up to you, Jeremy?”
“Is this how you repay your husband, who has supported you for over two years?” He was not making this easy at all. Why did he have to mention Mateo? “When he needs you, your support, you run off to be with another guy?”
She leaned back and shrank into her chair. “I know I can't erase these last two years and bring back what we had before.”
“No, you can't. Neither can you fetch the ring you threw into oblivion.”
She held her breath. Invading her mind's eye was the image of the ring she possessed for a short time to “think about it” and the moment it disappeared into a speck amongst the raging waters.
“I'm sorry, Jeremy,” she muttered.
“I'm not, Natalia.” He stood up. “You need to move on.”
“Mr. Wyatt,” the intercom sounded, “Mr. Burns is here to see you.”
He pressed the intercom button. “Thank you, Carol. Send him in.” Then he moved to the door, opening it for her. “Good-bye, Natalia.”
He was so distant, so cold. He did not sound like the Jeremy she knew. She wanted to touch him, make sure he was real and what he said was real.
She collected her purse and hugged him. She felt a faint stir in his pelvic area and smiled secretly. He wasn't immune to her after all. While his words said one thing, his body said another.