Diary of a Mistress

by Miasha

  “Because, ladies and gentlemen, it’s simple. Monica Vasquez did not intend to badly injure or kill her husband. She didn’t even intend to argue with him that night. But, as we all know, some things in life don’t always go as we intend. And this is the case at hand. Monica Vasquez found herself in a position that went extremely out of the way of her intentions. She found herself caught up in a bad accident. A temporary state of incompetence, unconsciousness, mental letdown. She wasn’t herself at the moment. She wasn’t aware at the moment. She wasn’t alert at that moment. All we know is that she was present at the moment. A moment, a brief moment that would change her life forever. A moment that she would come to regret instantaneously. A moment she will have to carry with her throughout her life. A moment during which she did harm her husband. But a moment she definitely did not intend!

  “Your Honor, I rest my case.”

  Chapter 14

  Taylor’s was quiet for a Saturday afternoon. A few residents sat in the lounge playing checkers, reading, and talking among themselves. The television was on, but no one was watching it. Three of the four staff members on duty were in the office watching the residents through the Plexiglas. The fourth staff member was sitting in the lounge area with the patients. Vanessa was inside her station with her door open. She was doing a crossword puzzle.

  “Monica Vasquez was found guilty of attempted murder yesterday after stabbing her husband repeatedly when she found out about his long-term affair after reading a diary sent to her by his mistress. She could face ten to twenty years in a women’s maximum-security prison. Her attorney had this to say…” a woman’s voice droned on from the television speakers.

  Vanessa stopped what she was doing and turned her attention to the TV screen. Monica Vasquez, she thought. Why does that sound familiar? Vanessa put her crossword puzzle down and locked up the medicine cabinets. She left her station and walked down the hall to Angela’s room.

  Angela was in her bathroom vomiting when Vanessa knocked on her door.

  “Angela, it’s Vanessa.”

  “Here I come,” Angela called out as she wiped her mouth with a washcloth. She flushed her toilet and opened her door. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, and again she was in her pajamas. Her hair was all over her head. The polish on her nails was chipped, and her hands looked rough and ashy.

  “Oh, Angela, this isn’t like you,” Vanessa said, looking her over. “You have got to get it together, hon. This has been going on too long now. What is it? What’s bothering you?”

  Angela shook her head as if to say nothing, then suddenly ran back into her bathroom. She had to vomit again.

  Vanessa sat on Angela’s bed, and her eyes scanned the room. She wanted to make sure there were no harmful items around.

  “Are you okay?” Vanessa shouted out.

  The toilet flushed, the water ran, and Angela was out of the bathroom once more.

  “Angela, is there anything you wanna talk to me about? You have been moping around here for a couple of months now. And they’re planing to up your meds. And you know what that means. They up your meds, they lengthen your time. Now, I suggest you get whatever it is on your chest off because that’s the only way you’ll start making some improvements around here.”

  Angela rested her head in her hands. She didn’t say anything, but she wanted to. Vanessa was right. There was something weighing on her, tearing her down, and it was something much bigger than her losing control and acting out of character at court and being hit with sixty days.

  Vanessa asked, “Is it Vasquez?”

  Angela lifted her head out of her hands and looked at Vanessa in amazement.

  Vanessa continued, “I saw it on the news. Angela, you told me you were sending that diary to a friend.”

  Angela eyes widened. “What did you see on the news?”

  “The woman, Monica Vasquez, who you had me mail that diary to. They said she tried to kill her husband over that diary, and now she’s goin’ to jail for ten to twenty years behind it all,” Vanessa explained.

  Tears immediately gathered in Angela’s eyes. “Did they say whether or not he was all right?”

  “Who? The husband?” Vanessa asked.

  “Yeah. Carlos.”

  “They didn’t say. Well, then again, I wouldn’t know ’cause as soon as I heard her name and realized where I recognized it from, I stopped watching and came down here. Now you need to tell me what’s going on,” Vanessa demanded.

  Tears fell from Angela’s eyes. “Vanessa, I messed up. I messed up so bad.”

  “You can talk to me, Angela,” Vanessa said in a comforting tone.

  “Vanessa, you have to swear on your life you won’t say anything to anybody.”

  “I cross my heart and hope to die,” Vanessa said, making a cross with her fingers.

  Angela took a deep breath and wiped her tears. She turned to face Vanessa and began, “Back in August of 2000, shortly after my divorce, I signed up for a body-toning class. Carlos Vasquez was my instructor. Well, I was attracted to him right away, but it was nothing serious. Besides, I was there to relieve stress, not retrieve it. Getting involved with another man was the last thing on my mind. But we took a liking to each other. We connected. Brief conversations after class led to lunches and even dinners. He was so articulate when it came to physical fitness. He had every aspect of it covered, and so I would go to him for tips—workout tips. Then as time passed I started turning to Carlos for advice…you know, about men and things that were going on in my personal life.

  “It was early November, I told Carlos all my business. He had an hour before his next class, and I had called off work, so we decided to have brunch at this diner called Silk City. I don’t know what it was about that day that made me feel the need to pour my heart out to Carlos. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

  “My divorce took a lot out of me. I’m a changed girl since. I’m messing with a married man, David. I guess it’s my way of getting even with my ex and his mistress,” I told Carlos as I took a breath. “But every time I’m with David, I’m reminded of all the things my husband did behind my back while we were married, and it makes me sick,” I said. “I find myself spending yet another night taking straight shots of Jack Daniel’s and popping Vicodin after Vicodin. Then the next thing I know, I’m in Taylor’s seeing a shrink and taking meds.”

  “Taylor’s? What’s that?” Carlos asked.

  I looked down in embarrassment. I didn’t know if I should have shared so much information with him. I didn’t want to scare him away. But after all, he was a friend, and, hell, I had no one else to confide in.

  “A behavioral health…well, a mental institution,” I said, cutting through the bullshit.

  Carlos’s eyebrows rose. “You would never strike me as someone who had been in a mental institution before,” he said.

  “Well, try three times in the last year.” I shook my head and sipped my hot chocolate. “My husband really messed me up. But every day gets better, especially now that I’m taking your class. My last doctor told me it would be a good idea to work out—you know, to divert the negative energy, to relieve all the stress and tension.”

  “Yeah, that’s true. Working out is beneficial for many things,” Carlos said, nodding his head in agreement.

  “Just that small talk alone had left me feeling so free. I felt like a burden had been lifted off of my shoulders. I had found someone I could talk to about anything, and it felt good.

  “My class with Carlos ended too quickly, in my opinion. So I signed up for his January through May class. We had gotten a whole lot closer over those next four months. He began to confide in me as well. He told me everything, everything about his wife and kids. Every day it was something about them—sometimes good, sometimes bad—but they were all he ever talked about.

  “He told me when his wife got sick, when his mom died, when he caught crabs at the gym and accidentally gave them to his wife and sons. He was devastated about that. It took him
forever to forgive himself, even though he hadn’t done anything wrong. He loved the hell out of his family. He told me about the time he went to San Diego for two months to do a workout video. He told me about the time he lied to his wife about having to work because he didn’t want to go to her family reunion in Texas. He was being spiteful because she never wanted to go to Florida to see his mom. He told me everything. We were real friends. We had exchanged numbers and everything. We called each other only when necessary, though, and it was agreed upon that I would call him only during business hours, never too late at night, you know, out of respect for his wife. I found myself signing up for all his classes. Months soon turned into years, and they were good years, you know. I hadn’t attempted suicide, and I hadn’t been in here since I met Carlos—well, up until now. But as far as I was concerned, anyone who could keep me out of this place was to be cherished. He was probably my only reason for living at one point. I mean, I credited him with saving my life. Shoot, once he really did save my life.

  “One day I called Carlos before he left for his evening class. I was going through something with David that had to be straightened out, and I was going to be late for class.”

  “I’m coming to tonight’s class, but I’ll be a little late,” I told Carlos over the phone.

  “All right. I’ll see you when you get there, but don’t be too late. We’re going to be learning some good stuff,” Carlos said.

  “Well, I probably won’t be able to do any new exercises. I’ll tell you about that later—after I meet with David this evening.”

  “Is everything all right?” Carlos asked, his voice filled with concern.

  “For now,” I told him. “I’ll talk to you about it when I see you.”

  “That could have been the last time I ever spoke to Carlos. That night David met me at my apartment. Dealing with him, I got caught up and wound up getting pregnant. Of course David wanted me to get an abortion, and it wasn’t because he was afraid his wife would find out. He just didn’t want to pay child support. I didn’t want to get an abortion. First of all, I don’t believe in them, and second, I wasn’t about to get rid of a baby just because his trifling ass didn’t want to pay for it.

  “We got into a big argument over the whole thing. The next thing I knew, I was being choked to death. Right before I felt myself passing out, my phone rang. It was Carlos. He had left a message: ‘Hey, it’s me, I’m ending class early tonight. My wife called, and one of my sons has a fever, so I’m going home. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Hope everything went well during your meeting with David.’

  “David immediately loosened his grip. I guess he was smart enough to figure out that if he did kill me, it would get out that he was the last person I was with and he would eventually get caught. He gave me a disgusted look while I was gasping for air, like he didn’t just try to kill me. Then, without saying a word, he just got up and left. I was thankful for Carlos’s wife that night. If she hadn’t called Carlos and asked him to come home, he wouldn’t have called me and left that message, and I probably wouldn’t be here to talk about this.

  “Anyway, I decided to keep the baby. For six months I stayed clear of Carlos. I was big and pregnant, and I didn’t want him to see me like that. I had the baby in April 2003. It was a girl. I named her Carla Sabrina and I gave her up for adoption. That was the hardest thing I had to do in my life. I never told anybody about it. I was ashamed. I just got back to my life. I contacted Carlos and started his classes again. He was like my savior. Everything got better whenever I was with him. I was falling for him, but I kept my feelings to myself. I respected his marriage and the fact that he was so in love with his wife. I really did.

  “But one day after class he was telling me about a surprise he was planning for his wife. Their ten-year anniversary was coming up, and he wanted to do something extra-special. He was planning to rent a beachfront villa on Marco Island for them to stay a week. He even wanted to rent a limousine to pick them up from the airport and take them to the island. I suggested a stretch Porsche. Then out of nowhere, I blurted out, ‘I wish my name was Monica.’ I realized my mistake when Carlos looked at me funny. I could tell he was uncomfortable, probably even offended. From then on he started distancing himself. Slowly but surely, the lunches stopped. The long talks after class got shorter, and I knew I was losing him. I was hurt. I wanted things to go back to the way they were, so I asked if we could meet one day and talk. After hesitating, he told me yeah. So I took off work and pumped myself up to tell him exactly how I felt. I wanted him so bad, and I’m not talking about as a friend. I wanted him to be my man, my significant other. I knew he was married and happy, but it’s been almost four years that we’ve been friends—going out, talking, confiding in each other, and mind you, he hadn’t told his wife a single thing about me. He told me he didn’t want her to worry about something that was nothing. But I thought it was something. You know how you can tell when somebody likes you? I thought that he was just scared to step out on his wife. At least that’s the type of vibe I got from him. But now when I think back, it could have just been me wanting him that bad that gave me those vibes. I fell for him hard, Vanessa.

  “He was supposed to call me and let me know where we could meet. It was supposed to be early in the afternoon. Well, he never called, and when I finally called him, he treated me like I was just some strange chick off the street, like I was a nobody. He cursed me out. He had an attitude and everything. He acted like he barely knew me, like we never had a friendship or anything. I was hurt. I started thinking about all the bullshit my husband put me through. I started thinking about David and my baby. I felt betrayed for some reason. Like Carlos had let me down. Like all the drama I had been through was all his fault. I really felt like he had broke my heart. I remember opening the bottle of Merlot that I had bought specifically for our meeting, and I remember getting the Vicodin from the medicine cabinet. After that, all I remember is my sister coming to my house with the police. Next thing I know, here I was again, staring at these bright walls and lights. Doing the meds, seeing the doctors, and listening to the staff thing all over again. I was devastated, Vanessa.

  “Do you know how it feels to believe you are well and then find yourself sick again, starting over from scratch to rebuild happiness that took so long to gain? I was fed up with being miserable and getting the short end of the stick all the time. I was desperate to get that happiness back again. So when Dr. Whitaker suggested I start a diary, something clicked in my head. I thought I had the perfect plan to win Carlos back. And really I just wanted his friendship back—at the least. But I knew there would have to be some friction between him and Monica before he would give me the time of day again. So I made up the diary. Well, actually, I just replaced David’s name with Carlos’s and used all the information I got from Carlos over the years to make it sound believable.”

  Vanessa kept quiet, in part because she was at a loss for words and also because she didn’t want to say anything that would discourage Angela from confiding in her again. She just sat quietly and nodded understandingly at Angela.

  “I had you send it to his wife. But I thought she would just leave him. I figured he would need a shoulder to cry on or somebody to talk to, and I would be right there. And possibly we could have become a couple, but truthfully, I would have been happy just being friends again. I never meant for it to come to this. When I saw that article in the newspaper about him almost being killed, I lost it. That’s why they committed me again. I lost it in front of everybody. Because I knew that it was my fault.

  “He could be dead because of me, Vanessa.” Angela began to cry. “And now his wife is about to spend all those years in jail, away from him and away from their children. He’s really going to hate me now. I am hopeless. I did all this to get him, and all I did was make matters worse. I know how much he loved his wife and his family. And I took that away from him. There is no way in hell he will ever want anything to do with me after this. What was I thinking? Va
nessa, I feel so sick with myself. Ever since I found out the consequences of what I did, I haven’t been able to eat or sleep. I’m always throwing up. God works in mysterious ways, though. Because if I would have never seen that article before court, they would have discharged me, and I swear, the minute I found out what had happened to Carlos, I would have killed myself.”

  Vanessa let out a breath as she processed all of what Angela had confessed. “Oh, boy, Angela, that’s a lot to digest,” she said, breaking her silence. “I mean, if I had known this beforehand, I would not have put that diary in the mail.”

  “Vanessa, I didn’t just tell you all of that for you to start feeling guilty,” Angela said.

  “Well, I don’t know what you expect from me. I mean, this woman’s life is in shambles now, and I had a part to play in it.”

  “Vanessa, you only acted as a friend. I was the one who messed up. Not you. I deceived you just like I deceived Monica. I have to live with this, not you,” Angela explained, continuing to cry.

  Vanessa shook her head in disgust. “Angela, I’m glad you’re still here. You really do need help, and I pray that one day you get it,” Vanessa said, and she stood up and walked out of Angela’s room.

  Monica was sitting on a prison bus staring out the gate-covered windows. She was in an orange jumpsuit, and her wrists were in handcuffs. She was being transferred from PICC to Muncy prison upstate. She was trying with all she had to keep from crying, but it was extremely hard. She could not believe her fate. Her entire life had changed instantly. She flashed back to the Marco Island trip she and Carlos had taken just a couple short months earlier. If someone had told her then that she would be headed to jail to serve a ten- to twenty-year sentence for almost killing her husband she would have just laughed. Now, here she was in shackles, on a prison bus with two armed policemen watching her and the other women like dogs. Her children would grow up without their mother. Her husband was in the hospital fighting for his life without his wife. And an entire public knew Monica Vasquez as a jealous wife who tried to kill her husband over an affair. How could this be? Monica thought. What did I do to deserve this? Monica was dying on the inside as she tried to make sense of the tragedy that hit her family.