“Ending–What?” She searched his face, embarrassed. What was he talking about? What did she miss?
For the first time since she sat across from him she thought she glimpsed a flash of the old yearning dart in his eyes. Maybe. He left out a short sigh, and somehow pulled back without really moving from the chair. “Mina,” his tone went up a notch, “I’m breaking up with you. It’s that simple. You’ll think I’m a bad person, and you may even hate me, but it must be done. Time is on your side. You’ll get past this, and you’ll thank me some day. I have to go. The MP will take you back to your car.”
Mina sat, holding her breath. This was a test. This wasn’t happening. She would not make a scene. She would be strong, make him proud. He would tell her it was all a test. And then he would come around the desk and kiss her.
He stood, glanced past her, and motioned to someone behind her, then without looking at her, “And Mina,” his voice low, a familiar sound, “the phone? Dispose of it.” He turned and walked toward a doorway back from the desk.
She didn’t move. Not by choice. She couldn’t feel her knees, and the tremble from her hands had spread to her body. She wanted to run after him, pry open the door he disappeared into. He was gone, and the air she needed to breathe went with him. She gasped, pressed both hands against her chest.
“Miss Calvi.” Someone spoke close to her ear. “Miss Calvi, we should go. Let me help you.” The hand took hold of her arm and propped her up. She recognized the starchy shirt. “This way.” He guided her toward the double door where the young MP still stood. Waiting. The three of them walked back to the jeep, and the older man made sure she buckled up then stepped back. In her sense of bewilderment she watched him pull a handkerchief from a back pocket and pat his forehead with it. She thought how strange, a man and a handkerchief. Then the engine rumbled, and soon Mina was back in her Bug leaving the Marine base behind.
At first she drove in a sense of inner frenzy. Her body wouldn’t stop shaking. She had trouble concentrating on the road and couldn’t remember if she was headed north or south. Every other car on the road passed her. Why? Where was everyone headed? Not only were all the cars passing her, but passengers’ faces seemed to turn and stare. Breathing became harder. Maybe she was having a heart attack. She should stop and rest. Yes, that what she should do, find a quiet place to hide. Quiet and dark, away from cars and snoopy people. Away from people in uniforms wearing fake nametags and breaking a girl’s heart. The car moved along the bicycle path at jogging speed. Where could she park? No way she could make it home. It was difficult to see the markings on the road between the tears. She must stop crying. Deep inside she knew this was just a temporary set back. Diego would change his mind and ask her to forgive him, take him back. It was just a matter of time. He was weird that way, could go months, no years without seeing her, like he did before. Just a matter of time, she would be strong and not cry. Her tire hit the curb, snapping her out of her foggy state. She shifted into park and sat, her hands grasping the steering wheel to stop the shaking. Still she couldn’t breathe. She opened the driver’s door wide, and rested her head against the back. A matter of time…Something chimed at the bottom of her purse. Her heart leaped. In a panic she searched for the phone. Where was the damn phone? Hurry. She dumped the contents of the purse. Random items fell outside the car, but she triumphantly held Diego’s cell in her hand.
“Hello,” she breathed.
“Miss Calvi?”
She didn’t recognize the man’s voice. He sounded so far away.
“Yes…”
“Mina Calvi?”
Come on Diego, enough with the jokes. “You know that’s me what–?”
“We know now.”
The phone went dead.
CHAPTER 10
“Mina, are you still in bed?” Margo’s voice rose from the first floor landing.
Mina didn’t answer. How many hours, days, since Diego left her? She couldn’t remember getting back home. She didn’t remember much after that voice in her ear “We know now.” We? Who called her? How did they know how to reach her? She should have complied with Diego’s instructions to dispose of the phone.
Hope never dies.
Didn’t matter now. She did smash the cell phone against the asphalt, only to get down on her hands and knees trying to salvage the pieces. Too late, the phone, like her heart, could not be put back together again.
A light knock on her bedroom door. “Go away.”
“Oh, you’re alive. That’s good.” She knew Margo was trying the doorknob, but Mina had locked it from inside.
“Open the door, come on. Kathy, your realtor, has been calling. She said something about the house inspection.”
The house. In her need to forget about Diego she blotted out everything and everyone but him. Her infatuation with that cottage on Laguna Canyon had been strictly connected to her fantasy of a life with Diego. What now? The phone on her night table rang–again. Margo would answer.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, it’s Danny Boy, needs to talk to you, very important.”
Danny who? Oh, De Fiore. She pulled the covers over her head and closed her eyes. She ran out of tears a long time ago. Or did she? The pain in her chest felt like a hole, a void she couldn’t fill. She pressed her hands on it in a wishful attempt to contain it. What if De Fiore wanted to talk to her about Diego? They knew each other–maybe Diego was too embarrassed to ask her to forgive him and–stop it.
This time the knocking on her door wasn’t so light. “Stop being stupid, Mina. Get your butt out of bed and answer the freaking phone. I’m not your secretary. You have messages from Kathy, Adams, Paco, and now De Fiore. I don’t know why you are hiding in your bedroom, but whatever it is, it isn’t going to disappear all on its own, so–” The ringing of the phone interrupted Margo’s monologue. “I mean it. Not answering. La-la-la-la…” Her singing faded as she walked away.
Maledizione. She pushed the talk button and then immediately hit end. There.
Her bedroom was dark and hot. She needed to open a window, but the idea of life outside the perimeter of her room frightened her. It was as if Diego took with him her past and her present. She felt that lost. Every word he said she had reexamined again and again. Still it made no sense. Why? Even if he saw her up at the mountain house, that brief instant when she stood by Surowiec, he couldn’t possible hold it against her. She had no idea he was there, and she certainly hadn’t planned on being there. What difference did it make now? Images of the exotic dark haired beauty he kissed kept flashing in her mind’s eye in spite of her denial. Could she be the real reason behind the good bye? “You’ll thank me some day.” He told her. She prayed that day come soon.
She heard voices downstairs. Who was Margo talking to? She hadn’t heard the doorbell…a man, definitely a man’s voice. Her body tensed…whoever the man was, he was coming upstairs. Damn! The steps stopped by her bedroom. She held her breath. Listen.
First came a single light knock. Silence.
Then the knocking came in sequences, like a rhythm. Fingers dancing on her door. She couldn’t help but remember that time, years ago, when she first met Diego, and he came knocking at her condo’s door, his fingers dancing on her door. She had to stop thinking of the past. It only made the present more painful to face.
“Mina.” Paco spoke over the door tapping. “I know you can hear me. I don’t know what’s going on, but a lot of lives are hanging on your signature. You must get dressed and go with me. Everyone is waiting.”
Oh, God. She had forgotten about it. That’s why Adams wanted to talk to her. The guilt slipped in right along with her sense of failure. She forced herself out of bed.
“Mina.” Paco wasn’t going to go away.
“I heard you.” She cleared her throat. “Heard you Paco. Give me five minutes.”
Five minutes? Really? What was she going to do? Show up at Adams’s office in her pajamas? She hadn’t showered in days, and her hair–A glance into the bathroo
m mirror told the story. She should open the drapes at least a little. When she did, rays of the anemic afternoon sun stunned her, bringing a burning sensation to her swollen eyelids. She would fix that. A little make up. The last thing she wanted was people’s pity. She had tasted that dish before. On too many occasions. She worked frantically, without any logic, putting clothes on, taking them off. At some point she managed to be fully dressed. She grabbed her purse and her car keys, changed her mind, and went back to the sink to brush her teeth. Ready.
Paco waited in the small living room. Margo sat on her favorite chair, probably making small talk, thankful someone finally got her roommate out of her locked bedroom. They must have rehearsed what to say because neither asked how she felt, and both avoided direct eye contact. That bad, huh?
“Let’s take my car,” Paco suggested.
She didn’t argue but walked beside him toward the guest parking area.
“I hear you’re buying a house,” he said.
She nodded, bit her lips. If she could find something to concentrate on, anything to keep from crying…she searched her purse for a tissue. Damn you, Diego. Her fingers felt the sharp pieces of the broken phone. “Paco, wait.”
He looked at her, puzzled, “What?”
Quickly she walked to one of the trash bins by the mailboxes and carefully yet deliberately dropped the phone parts in it. One piece at a time, like a religious rite–minus the faith. It was as if her own heart went in the trash at the same time. Gone, forever. She got in Paco’s car, and they headed toward Santa Ana and Adams’s office.
The business part of the meeting must have been over by the time they got there, and people were having drinks. Drinks! Adams had to be ecstatic about the deal. He wasn’t much for celebrations unless it came to pass just the way he had wished. This must be one of those exceptional times.
Her signature was mostly a symbolic gesture. Every detail had been worked out months before while she was in Italy, and the new buyers had already begun remodeling. Her last signature, that little scribble on a line would separate her life from her mother’s business forever. Forever may be the word of the day.
Paco waited until some of the celebratory mood toned down. “You’re coming to see the new offices, right?” he whispered to Mina.
She shrugged. In her state of mind she couldn’t plan an hour from now, forget about the future.
“You have to. You’re going to like what we’re doing.”
We, of course meant him and the new partners. Out with the old, in with the new. Mina was happy for Paco. He deserved all the best. He had been loyal to both her mother and her to the end. He even managed to keep many of the old employees on the payroll. She patted his hand. “You did good, Paco. I’ll come and visit, but not right away.”
He nodded. They understood each other well.
Adams, on the other hand, didn’t seem particularly pleased with her. She suspected his legal mind still questioned her choice of houses. Maybe she should call Kathy and tell her she changed her mind. Do first-time homebuyers do that? Change their mind? Whatever. She would try to sneak out of there before Adams had a chance to catch her alone. She wasn’t up for a speech, no matter how well meaning. It would take as little as one wrong word choice to send her into a new crying marathon. Paco lingered around chatting with his new partners and looking oh so confident and happy. How could she get him to leave? Too late. Adams crossed the room, headed in her direction. Brace yourself, Mina.
“Is everything all right? You look a little tired.”
“I’m, fine. This is an important moment.” She forced herself to smile.
“Yes, Paola would approve. I’m proud of you, Mina. Kathy tells me you chose wisely. She convinced me to go look for myself, and I have to agree, excellent location. The rest we can change to fit your needs, and the price is right. Well done, dear, well done.” He gave her a fatherly hug. Well done? How could she get out of this one if Adams was on the Realtor’s side? All these people were giving her a headache. Come on, Paco, let’s go.
Fifteen minutes later they were in the car, headed back. Paco’s elation was hard to ignore. And presumably so was Mina’s sadness. She sensed Paco glancing her way from time to time. “What did you drop into the trash bin?” he asked out of the blue.
She could have lied…but didn’t. “My heart.”
He didn’t mock her. Instead he reached over and patted her hands folded on her lap. “Relationships are complicated,” he said. “Sort of like buying shoes. They fit perfectly in the store, but it’s another thing when you take them for a jog. Unfortunately, it’s hard to go through life barefoot so we must try more shoes.”
“Did you ever find the perfect fit?”
He chuckled and patted her hand with more gusto. “I did, indeed I did. But you see, once you find the perfect fitting shoe you tend to wear it all the time because it feels good and eases your…walking…then one day you realize you wore it to death.” His tone became serious.
“Are we still talking about shoes?” Mina asked, and somehow she felt a little less sad.
“Mina, do you mind if we stop by a burger place? The drive-through would do. I’ll be quick. Haven’t had any food most of the day. I shouldn’t have had that second beer.”
She didn’t know if he was telling the truth or using a gimmick to get her to eat. “Sure, I don’t care. No one’s waiting for me at home anyhow.”
He spoke to the clown’s face and ordered some chicken nuggets. Really? Maybe he wasn’t that hungry after all. She stared out the car window at the people eating in their parked vehicles, doors open, fast food spread on their laps. Comparing them to her Italian friends back in her little hometown, always so formal even for snacks. Fork and knife to eat pizza… no doubt some day Italians would embrace drive-through, maybe even pizza eaten with your hands. Yes, it was just a matter of time. All of it.
Without much fanfare, Paco sat a cardboard tray between their seats, then handed her a–milkshake?
“What’s this?” she asked.
“I thought you liked milkshakes. It’s chocolate, your favorite.” Sneaky old friend.
She shook her head, but accepted it. A sip and her mind went wandering–the first time she met Brian Starr, her former boyfriend. It was at Coco’s. She went there with Paola…oh, God. Clear your mind. She left Brian when she met Diego. Why revisit that now? Although she and Brian weren’t a good match to start with, she ultimately did to Brian what Diego did to her. Was that poetic justice? Did Brian hurt as bad as she was hurting? If he did, he never let her see it. He respected her wish to move on, go their separate ways. No scenes, no begging. Very dignified. Very…grown up. And here she was making a spectacle of herself, locked in her room ignoring her well-meaning friends. She should follow Brian’s example: be strong, move on. Grow up.
Without thinking about it, she picked a second chicken nugget from the tray and popped it in her mouth.
CHAPTER 11
She let herself in. Margo was upstairs belting out a song from a shampoo commercial. A song about washing that man right of my hair. Those must be the only words Margo knew as she kept repeating them. Who could that man be? Hard to guess with her, when it came to men Margo’s attention span was short, but intense, like a tropical summer storm. Lucky her. What was that saying? Better a day as a lion than…whatever…
She found Margo in the bathroom bent over the sink doing…what?…dying her hair purple? “Margo? What the hell?”
The sound of her voice must have spooked Margo because she jerked her head up, and the plastic bottle of dye squirted out of her hand splattering purple stuff all over the counters. “Damn Mina, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Oh, shit. Look at this mess. Hurry, get some paper towels. This color will leave a stain, and that’ll come out of the security deposit.”
“Honestly, Margo, how do you go from washing that man right out of your hair to losing your security deposit?” While arguing they worked together to wipe up the hair dye. “Why
purple?” Mina asked.
“Why not?” Margo caught a drip from her forehead. “I’m practicing. I’ve given a lot of thought, and I decided to go to school and become a beautician.”
“A what?”
“A beauty operator, beautician, hairdresser–you know…”
“Oh, you want to do people’s hair, work in a salon?”
“That’s what a beautician is.”
“Except, beautician makes it sound like you are–beautifying someone.”
“Exactly.” She threw the last paper towel in the wastebasket.
“I’ve had plenty of hairdressers that made me look bad.”
Margo rolled her eyes. “What did you drink at Adams’s office? You sure came back full of venom.”
“Sorry, trying to understand what your plans are. I have no clue what I’ll do now… now that…” Maledizione. She shook her head to hide her sadness and went into her room.
On her hands and knees, Mina surveyed the four cut-flower boxes she received from Diego. All sat lined up next to each other under her bed. Like small coffins, for imaginary children we’ll never have. The pain in her chest had flatlined, and she knew it would stay that way for years to come. But life must go on, for all the wrong reasons. She let the bed skirt fall to hide the witnesses to her lost love, got up, and went to check on Margo’s beautification progress.
The soft whirl of the hairdryer was lulling her to sleep. Mina forced her eyes to stay open, watching her roommate working on her mane now more eggplant than purple. “What makes you think you need to practice before applying to beauty school? Aren’t you going there and paying good money so you’ll learn?”
“Mina, you don’t understand. It’s the American way.” The American way was to Margo what a Get Out of Jail Free Card was to Monopoly players. “Anyway, I have an appointment to talk to a school counselor and–”
“Wow, you’re serious. Where is this school?”
Ashes of Autumn (Mina's Adventures Book 4) Page 7