Broken Obsession - Part Two

by Trisha Fuentes

  He walked tediously up the staircase and opened up his bedroom door to find Mrs. Lopez and the dog by Amber’s bedside. She was curled up in a fetal position and crying uncontrollably. Patience wagged his tail within seeing Eduardo enter and Mrs. Lopez grabbed him by his collar and headed out the door silenced by Eduardo’s ruined expression.

  Eduardo stood at the foot of the bed, staring at his wife with horrible, unimaginable, vile thoughts flooding through his principles.

  He couldn’t believe his wife couldn’t stay sober enough to watch her own son! How could he ever forgive her? Oh dear God, he hated her at that moment. He wanted to beat her senseless, punch someone unconscious. He walked over to the floor length mirror and shoved his fist through the glass. Blood ripped through scrapes on his knuckles at once. He stood static, his chest slicing open from the sheer suffering and fell to his knees and buried his face in his blood soaked hands. A loud wail finally escaped his grief stricken mouth; terror so all consuming invaded his cry. “Why!” He shouted at her now, “Just tell me why!”

  Amber opened her eyes at last and noticed Eduardo crotched down crying like a baby. Blood dripping from one of his hands—Good Lord, what did he do? She didn’t realize the sound of glass shattering was the cause of him hitting the mirror with his fist. Amber thought it was just part of this recurring nightmare. She was at a loss for words. No possible logical explanation for any of it—her constant paranoia? Believing in her heart that her husband was attracted to another female, therefore, it was merited for her continued drunkenness? Were those good reasons for neglecting a child? It was a horrible mistake and accident—an irreversible act. Incomprehensible and preposterous, how could a mother be that careless and selfish? There really wasn’t one excuse she could come up with—to place the blame on him? If he weren’t so distant lately, so mysterious in his guise, so preoccupied with something, Amber wouldn’t be so crazy to find out what was exhausting all his attention. “You’re just as much to blame.”

  Eduardo remained squatting and wiped the blood on his expensive suit repeatedly. “I’m to blame?” He sourly expressed in a nauseated tone.

  “If you had just admitted the truth in the beginning then maybe I wouldn’t have required being numb half the day!”

  Eduardo sat there with his mouth wide open. He wanted to attack her. He undesired her now. She became repulsive and sickening. He didn’t even want to be in the same room with her! Enraged, he stood up and went to the closet to retrieve a single suitcase from the corner. He grabbed suits, shoes, ties, shirts and piled them high on a nearby stool. He flung a couple shoes clear across the room in a sudden fit of wrath. “I have not been unfaithful to you once!”

  “Liar!” She screamed back at him, sitting straight up in the bed now. “Lusting after another woman other than your wife is cheating! And I know you,” she laughed ironically, “I know your nature, you’re a sexual predator, Eduardo and it was only a matter of time you bastard when you would have committed adultery...you’ve done it before!”

  Eduardo stood defenseless. It was all true. Every single solitary bit of her accusation. He had been lusting after Stacey; at work, at home, Stacey depleted all his thoughts. He used to be a manic playboy, dating and bedding women left and right—and adultery? Oh, he couldn’t deny that either; Amber was the woman he had the affair with.

  They stared at each other for the longest time—Amber suspended in her justification—Eduardo draped in his condemnation.

  Eduardo assaulted his clothes once more and shoved the bundle into his suitcase. “I’m staying at a hotel,” he quietly mouthed heading out the doorway. “I’ll let Mrs. Lopez give you the information at the funeral.”

  Peyton Enrique Sanchez, age four, had been buried at Forest Lawn in West Los Angeles. Death of a loved one is hard to grasp; the loss of a relative even more so, but to outlive your child—to lose a child to a tragic, violent death—was incomprehensible, even for Amber and Eduardo Sanchez.

  Amber was in a daze; her perception hovered over her body like a cloud in the sky. Staring at the small coffin in the center of the aisle piled high with exquisite sprays of orchids and roses, Amber tried to imagine what it was like to be in that box. This might have been her destiny; a funeral, a coffin, her mother and sister weeping. This should have been her. This wasn’t happening! It was all a demented monstrosity. She was going to wake up any moment now and feel her little boy within her arms again!

  Wake up dammit!

  Wake the hell up!

  Eduardo sat on the opposite side of the pew along with his mother, and more surprisingly, his father and brother. He wanted no part of his wife at the moment, no part, but the little part that they had created.

  Amber had been surrounded by her mother and sister while unfamiliar mourners passed her by to whisper their condolences. She heard nothing, but nodded her head as if she did and continued to stare eerily at the casket…Her little boy lying inside. He didn’t belong there. He didn’t mean to die! Oh Good Lord, he couldn’t breathe! Oh God, Peyton was inside that box. Oh Good Lord, he couldn’t breathe!

  Amber sprang from her seat and hurled her body toward the chest. Anxiously, like a deranged lunatic she tried to unbolt the box. Gasps and shocks were heard throughout the congregation. The priest as well was in utter shock at the sight of the mother hurling the arrangement of flowers on top of the casket that skidded jarringly onto the tiled floor.

  Eduardo immediately reacted to her exploit and yanked her body away before she unlocked one of the latches. He naturally pulled her body close to his and Amber impelled his comfort away. They stood center stage now—a pair in agony, a couple divided and that’s when Amber slapped Eduardo across his face.

  “Get the fuck away from me!” She bawled, pushing his body into another direction.

  Sheila, Molly and Madge all swarmed Amber at that moment and guided her outside of the church.

  Eduardo turned around and then sadly eyed all the patrons all staring back at him. Some of them bowed their heads, others shook them, but most of the mourners just grabbed hold of his heartache and grieved alongside with him. He turned to look at the coffin one more time and then stepped into his son to lay both hands on the wood as if he could heal him and cause him to rise. Feeling grief he never experienced before or after, at that moment he let go of his misery in front of all to witness.

  Chapter SEVENTEEN

  Eduardo moved out of the house temporarily and into a hotel. Observing Amber drink herself into oblivion daily was not his idea of comfort. He’d rather remove himself from view than continue to scrutinize his wife as she withdrew from life. The child that they thought joined them together was now gone, therefore, what linked them mutually had vanished. It was do-or-die time. All or nothing, but how do you keep the music playing when all you keep hearing is a child’s cry?

  One o’clock in the morning and Amber was still up. How could she sleep when she knew her child was dead? The Vodka wasn’t helping at all. One entire bottle tackled and she wasn’t even drunk yet. Oh, she was numb to a degree, but in order for her to pass out, she required at least two full bottles dissipated.

  She got up from bed and headed downstairs to the kitchen to fetch herself another decanter. She was just about to turn the kitchen light on when the doorbell rang. One o’clock in the morning and there was someone at the door?

  Amber walked around the corner to the kitchen and down the long hallway that led to the front entry. There were iron gates surrounding the entire property, how in the hell did someone get in?

  Good Lord, Amber thought, as she finished looking through the peephole. She opened up the door to find her husband tired and lost. “What are you doing here?” Amber asked, speaking to him through a crack in the doorway.

  “I’m here to talk. Can I come in?”

  Amber gazed down at the ground and then slowly up to survey his attire. Eduardo was still dressed in his best suit apparel, long black camel coat and silk tie and looked as if he had just come from
work.

  She opened up the door to let him in. “Our situation hasn’t changed,” she said under her breath.

  Eduardo removed his coat and then laid it on a chair near the doorway. His demeanor appeared as if he were about to stay awhile. He inspected his wife, she was wearing lavender silk pajamas and the pink tone in her face hadn’t gone away yet, therefore, she hadn’t drunk herself into forgetfulness. “Can we go upstairs?”

  Amber’s heart sunk. The innuendo in her husband’s eyes said it all. He desired her. He deliberately came over at one o’clock in the morning to make love to her? It had been eight months since they last kissed, eight long meticulous months since he was within.

  Amber took hold of his hand and led him upstairs to their bedroom. Once there, Eduardo closed the door and began to unravel his tie. Amber closed the space between them and ran her hands up his chest. Oh how she missed his hard physique! Her breathing became more erratic as she gazed up into his eyes to grab hold of his stare and his parted lips. She knew he wanted to devour her but he held back.

  “Come back to me,” he whispered softly to her, kissing her lightly on the lips. Eduardo ran his fingers through her raven tresses and captured the back of her head, pulling her into his tongue and burning passion.

  Amber forged them to bed and Eduardo brought down her silk camisole and exposed her breasts to his outburst and enthusiasm. Amber ran her hands down his bareback to his sinewy buttocks and pressed him against her heat—if he wanted her this badly she wasn’t going to disappoint him. She unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down at last. Amber tore his head away from her nipples and tightly wrapped her arms around his neck and back molding her wide-open mouth to his zeal.

  Eduardo savored every sweet sensation he had with his wife. God, how he loved to make love to her! Her skin so soft, her body welcoming and perfect, and the way she made him feel when he was in her depths, sucking him in deeper and deeper advancing him to an unimaginable orgasm.

  They lolled together unmoving in the slightest; languidly allowing the euphoria to pass. Normally, Eduardo would continue to kiss his wife with further ardor and she would welcome another encounter, but on this night, Eduardo quickly got off her body and lied down next to her staring up at the ceiling with his hand over his forehead.

  Nothing had changed. How could the best of lovers be the best of friends? How do you muddle through the worst of agony and find a slight bit of happiness? Peyton was still gone and Amber still required being drunk half the day and Eduardo hated weakness. Loving each other wasn’t enough for them. Reality ripped through their fantasy world and neither one knew how to make the first move.

  Sex was a momentary diversion. Haunting memories came flooding back in huge tidal waves full of pain and accusations. Eduardo covered himself up with the blanket and decided rest was better now than arguing. He would wait till morning to see if things had changed between them. He rolled over on his side and away from Amber and closed his eyes.

  Amber’s eyes swelled with tears. She wanted to go down to the kitchen to grab another bottle, but then decided not to. She too rolled over to her side of the bed and away from her husband, closing her eyes and silently cried herself to sleep.

  The next morning, Eduardo awoke to sunshine in his face and uneasiness in his system. He sat up and noticed Amber was no longer next to him. He was just about to get out of bed when she appeared in the doorway with a champagne glass full of pink bubbly in her hand. He stared at her for the longest time and then shut his eyes. Good God, she was not willing to bend. “I see you’ve had breakfast,” Eduardo callously stated, whipping the sheet off his naked body and finding his boxer shorts and drawing them up.

  “I woke up this morning and felt...” Amber stopped, feeling her throat close up, “happy for a second. Then I remembered what day it was and that my son wasn’t in his room...I needed a drink to cope with reality.”

  “What happened to us Amber?” He suddenly yelled at her, “Where’s that unbreakable bond we were always talking about?”

  “It died,” she whimpered, “...it’s buried in the ground with our son.”

  Eduardo watched his wife as she poured the liquid down her throat in one quick gulp like it was nothing. All his life he had been a spoiled man, what he usually wanted, he usually got; but what he wanted now was for Amber to stop drinking! She refused to bend and even tomorrow was a day wasted and he couldn’t wait for his wife to get out of her slump. He wanted comfort now and his wife was unable to supply it.

  She physically changed right before his very eyes. When Amber was intoxicated, she became this repulsive individual, her skin tone turned ashy, her hazel eyes turned near black, she slurred, she stumbled until she eventually passed out.

  “Look at you, you’re disgusting,” he disclosed, picking up his clothes off the floor.

  Amber was sloshed and enraged and ran toward the mirror. “For better—or for worse Eduardo, that’s what a marriage is—for better or for worse. Right now I think we’ve officially reached the deep shit of hell,” she exclaimed, grabbing scissors from a nearby drawer. She then raised the scissors to her head and began cutting away her hair and by the time she was done it was totally uneven and straggly all around her face. She looked like dreadful grunge, like some weird Tim Burton character in one of his movies. “I know I don’t look so hot,” she complained, “And maybe I never did,” she broke down, waiving the scissors at her face and neck, “Oh I tried to be your Barbie Doll, I really did, but as much as I tried, I will never be a blond, never be perfect like most of the women you’ve dated—I’ll always be this tall geeky insecure girl, who never felt as if she really fit in.”

  Eduardo was just standing there frozen; his only aspiration for her now was for her to pass out. “Is that what you think I want?” He yelled back at her grabbing the scissors away from her hand and tossing them into the trash. He then stomped over to the closet and yanked his last suitcase out. “I don’t want some perfect woman Amber; I just want my wife back! I want how she used to make me feel, I want how she used to look—”

  “She’s gone,” Amber slurred, beginning to feel lethargic from the alcohol, “she’s gone with Peyton...with her ‘lil boy...that woman is dead. She’s to blame...she’s at fault...she can never forgive herself for not staying sober enough to pay enough attention to him. I can’t stop drinking...I can’t...I won’t because it helps me cope wif’ my pain.”

  Eduardo began to pack his belongings. Suits, ties, shoes, socks and boxers all get thrown into one huge suitcase all over again—the rest of everything—until the closet was bare of any and all male occupation. “I feel grief too Amber and you don’t see me drowning in two bottles of Vodka a day!”

  Amber clutched the empty bottle in her hand and chucked it at her husband’s head. Eduardo’s reflexes act immediately and duck from the sight of the bottle hurling at his face.

  “I want to stay numb,” she whined, “...I want some’ne to freeze me...I no longer want to be strong, I want to sur’ender, I want a divorce.”

  Eduardo didn’t know why but he almost felt relieved. The rope, the bond, the chain that kept them together was suddenly liberated. He wanted to comfort her, coddle her, but she kept pushing him away. “Fine, send the papers.”

  Amber stood by the window now, almost at the brink of her anesthetized slumber, “You’ll be ‘earing from my attorney.”

  Eduardo gripped his suitcases and turned to look at his wife one last time before he left. What happened to them? What became of the great compromise? What took over the love he once felt for her? He felt nothing but suffering; distress from Peyton’s death and mental anguish from Amber’s withdrawal. “You’ll be hearing from mine.”

  Amber turned to look at her husband one last time and could instantly feel Eduardo’s cold heart. The love she used to see through his green eyes alone ... vanished.

  As soon as Eduardo stepped out from Amber’s view, he leaned back against the hallway wall and bent over in torment. Tear
s swarmed his eyes instantly and he felt nothing but remorse and regret.