Falling Whispers, Love & Curses

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Falling Whispers, Love & Curses Page 4

by Trixie Archer


  In order to resurrect the past, I began to dance about the room finding my way towards the kitchen. One bottle of Merlot, half full was tucked in the corner within the compact refrigerator. I didn’t bother with a glass but kept in step taking an occasional chug as I danced from here to there and back again. I took advantage of having the penthouse suite all to myself.

  While Carmen kept in shape through the discipline of yoga, I on the other hand, preferred a more free styled approach.

  Tossing all inhibition to the wayside, I found myself using the springs of the sofa to jump up and down. My heart beat in a strained patter from the sudden burst of exercise. I wanted to feel high, the same high that Laura, Maya and I shared enjoying the nightlife in Madrid.

  Everything was great during those "girls out" weekends. Laura would typically hook up with the first chiseled face and rippled pecks that approached. I on the other hand, was more aloof. I never had really been all that interested in the men that hung out in such places. Most seemed to have something to prove and they would somehow flock around the most indifferent person to their presence and unfortunately that was often me. It wasn’t me so much they were seeking, but the challenge of an unreachable conquest that I represented.

  I enjoyed being desired without feeling the need to give anything up to them. When Laura and I reached the ripe old age of twenty seven, she announced that she was engaged. Unfortunately soon after she was in a car accident and Stefano lacked the staying power to see her through countless surgeries and medical procedure follow-ups. In truth, it was probably the unsightly scar that outlined her cheekbone that caused him to reconsider.

  Laura took it in stride believing that Stefano was probably not “the one” for her after all. We had looked forward to her receiving a clean bill of health so that we could continue on the great twin adventure, but fate held a different spin with the most permanent of separations.

  Jumping on the furniture proved to be very therapeutic. I darted from the main room and into the master bedroom landing on the king sized mattress with one graceful leap. The firm bed made the most remarkable trampoline. I pushed the automatic open on the draperies and allowed the view from the massive windows to fuel my mood.

  The silk pajamas became cumbersome so I tossed them in a heap onto the floor. In nothing but my chemise and panties I moved in rhythm to the music as it presented itself. A familiar rendition of techno boomed from the adjoining room and many memories flooded my mind. In my own way I was facing the past head on.

  The high ceilings made daring ricochets off the mattress possible. I extended my left hand upwards in an attempt to make contact with the ceiling. I focused my gaze UP as the plaster became near and far from me…over and over again, up and down… bounce after bounce. Because I was not paying attention to my footing, I landed in a shocking thud onto the solid floor twisting my left foot, rolling and then falling flat on my face. What remained of the burgundy wine, discharged as the bottle took flight in my wake. The spray reminded me of the exhaust on a jetliner flying overhead. I could only imagine the charge for the damage I so foolishly caused. Burgundy on white carpet would be impossible to clean, so I assumed the damage would require installing new. I dismissed the cost because money was but a minor consequence to my unique expression of free form dance.

  I pulled myself from the plush carpet, observed the rug burn on my legs and began to weep. In that moment, my body was in equal ruin with my spirit. I sobbed in an uncontrollable outburst, finally releasing the enormity of loss that I had been carrying. I hated to cry. I spent most of my life avoiding such emotion. The sting of tears, the weight in my chest, the dry mouth and fluids seeping from my nose, I did my best to always bury the need deep within collected. With great control, I fought such moments throughout. There was no avoiding it now, the flood gate had opened and I was rolling down stream in the currents of hurt. Maybe I could now find my way through the darkness of grief…maybe now I could erase the numb and feel again.

  Crawling, I made my way onto the bed and curled up into the fetal position. My mind traveled back to the many times Laura and I would lay entwined when we were children. I believed this connection stemmed all the way back to the womb.

  During times of childhood adversity, Laura would lie behind and twist the back of my hair through her fingertips as she sucked her thumb. There was a great soothing in the practice and no matter what the catastrophe, knowing my sister was there made all the difference. Now there was no sister and that in itself was a catastrophe that I would never recover from.

  When our father passed away, we spent three days processing the loss together…we grieved together, we decided what to do with his company together…everything had landed us eventually together and now together we would no longer be.

  I must have dozed off for the light had shifted from the first window all the way to the third in front of me. I noticed footsteps and I suspected the noise of the penthouse door thudding closed is what had awakened me.

  “Are you okay, Dora?” America whispered from the doorway.

  “Carmen….” I said, tapping the bed.

  Without hesitation, America entered the room and perched herself on the edge near me.

  I patted the mattress once again. Carmen leaned downward, resting her head on the opposite side of the enormous pillow. She was now facing me. She pulled her legs up but remained on top of the bedding. I stared at her and she in return stared at me. We both remained there frozen like that, studying each other’s features more closely.

  Carmen’s presence reminded me of another that I at one time held dear to me, Maya. I forced my mind back to the present for the mere thought of Maya was better left abandoned.

  Carmen was a refreshing distraction. Her skin was radiant; her face structure symmetrical. She carried herself as pleasant and was what most would describe as very attractive. Her skin was tanned and her blue eyes crisp and full of life. A slight cleft was apparent in her chin, just offsetting what one would consider a perfect, “girl next door” innocence. Her hair style flattered and accentuated her appearance resting just on her shoulders…but the golden strands were a great mystery to me; seeming both soft and inviting.

  “This is....relaxing.” Carmen whispered pulling me back from absorbing the full enchantment of her.

  I swallowed hard, not responding nor wishing to break the spell. After a few brief moments I spoke, but only in a cautious whisper.

  “When Laura and I had something huge to work through, we’d crawl into bed and she’d weave her fingers through my hair. I’m just missing her something terrible.”

  “Is that why there's wine all over the place…and the music was painfully loud when I returned?”

  “Hey, you turned off the music.” I mumbled with false outrage, with little energy.

  “Yeah…it was a bit much and everyone in range from two floors down could hear it as well.”

  I managed a slight smile at Carmen.

  There was a few breaths of silence as Carmen announced, “Dora, I’m not your sister.”

  “I know.” I replied feeling my heart thud at the probability that she too was feeling a curious spark between us.

  “I’m sorry you’re going through this difficult time.”

  I nodded hoping that my intentions were not that transparent. “America, you’re very beautiful, of course you know that right? Your eyes are as blue as that ocean behind you.”

  Carmen smirked as she began to blush. “My husband didn’t seem to think of me as beautiful. I soon became too antiquated for him. I think he believed that I had lived past my prime and I was no longer worth keeping.”

  “Ex-husband and he obviously is visually….what’s the term? Blind.”

  “My mind knows I’m better off but my heart only seems to remember the romance and how good it was in the beginning.”

  “That will soon pass and then you’ll feel relief.”

  “Christ I hope so.”

  “You never said where you were
from in the states.” I said. “I’m guessing all Hollywood. California, right?”

  Carmen laughed with amusement. “Not even close.”

  “You’re not a potato farmer are you?”

  “Booking the penthouse suite on this island? Unlikely.” Carmen replied flashing her perfectly white grin.

  “Okay, I give up.”

  “Chicago.”

  “Chicago…really?” “The Blues Brother’s, gangsters and the Obama's…”

  “Yes, but not necessarily in that order.”

  We both shared a chuckle.

  I extended my hand and brushed the smooth of Carmen's face. She closed her eyes appreciating the gentleness of human connection. The moment was perfect and in it, there was an implied invitation for future intimacy.

  “I hate feeling so alone,” Carmen admitted.

  Although Carmen rested above the covers, I pulled her into me and embraced her with great tenderness.

  “Me too.” I whispered. “Me too.”

  Chapter 06: America IN Retreat

  When I awoke mid afternoon, I was somewhat nestled-in with Dora, spooning her. A thin layer of blanket stood as a barrier between our bodies but the cloth did not prevent my heart from beating in a wild-looping response.

  With her back to me, the length of her dark hair fanned over my face. I fought the urge to sneeze from the tickle of her locks. As I acclimated myself to my surroundings, I remained frozen, not wishing to disrupt the peaceful rest she had surrendered to. Obtrusive thoughts clouded my senses and I felt an over-all invasion of panic.

  Oh MY. I didn’t have a sister and I wasn’t in need of a sister. I wasn’t twelve years old and this was NO slumber party. This sort of closeness was awkward for me...sharing my personal space with a virtual stranger, a woman none the less, this was HUGE.

  I considered the implications of being in Dora’s bed like that. Had I lost my mind? What did I really know about Dora Alavaro anyway? She could be a bandit, stealing hearts to sell in the international market for open heart transplant. Of course that was a crazy thought; of course it was my own insecurities making me irrational…but still…

  I was vulnerable, down and out, which made the entire situation seem reckless. If anyone were to step in, they would be under the impression that we were lovers. Sure I was drawn to her, sure I had been fighting a “girl crush” that most everyone has felt at one point or another during the course of their lives and yet, I felt an overwhelming sense of confusion. This sort of attraction to…was not me...I wasn't, I simply wasn't....and even with good intentions at comforting her, the situation was greatly outside my grasp of understanding.

  If Dora only knew what was going on in my mind, she would want nothing more to do with me and things would become awkward. I was uncertain if I could handle any further rejection. As it was I was standing alone, as it was I was in dire need of a friend. Dora was a wonderful friend, what we were sharing offered hope to me, hope that I could start again, a hope that I could have friends. I was discovering for the first time that I was worthy of a quality person and that I had something of value to extend in return. I tried to calm myself down, but ultimately the old haunts won over.

  I somehow imagined the scrutiny of my overpowering Aunt Agatha. Her shrill voice reached through time and echoed with great disapproval. I often heard her bashing, especially, during moments of upheaval throughout my adult life which of course included the worst of times with Travis. If only her unkind influence could be purged, if only her lectures could stop overpowering my life.

  What the heck are you doing, Carmen? Have you totally lost your mind? This is YOUR vacation and you're wasting time for which you could be out there enjoying the day. Yes, this woman is going through a difficult stretch but what makes her problems yours to share?

  Did you notice how many men are staying at this resort? IT costs a good bit of money to be here so the pick is in a different caliber….an international “upper crust” pick….you’re divorced, getting older by the minute and where are you? You’re hiding inside this room with a nutcase. Tick, tick, tick, time is ticking…you know what you need to do so move…NOW!

  Listening to what I believed Agatha would say, obedient as usual, I slowly and carefully turned over to inch my way to the edge of the bed. The spring squeaked a bit as I rolled out and onto the floor. Dora breathed deeply and then shifted her body in an opposite direction resting her dainty hand on her forehead. I held my breath hoping she would not awaken and that I would not have to explain my sneaking out in such a way. Her feet which were hanging out from beneath the blanket, twitched as she appeared totally relaxed. Counting to ten, I continued on my path towards escape.

  Instead of standing, I crawled my way to the door. In an instant I was in the hallway, on my feet and sprinting towards my room. Although moving with swiftness, I took great care to tiptoe in deliberate strides. Once inside my room, I grabbed my bag from under the bed and opened the drawers slamming my clothes inside with the only thought being flight.

  I was a deer caught in the headlight and everything that I thought I knew about myself; apparently I didn't...which led to some monumental questions. It was all so confusing, all so confusing. My primal instinct was to run from it and to ask questions later…or maybe not, maybe it was best to run from it and pack the implications away in a suitcase to be left behind and never opened again. I imagined a luggage belt at the airport with my implications turning round and round for all eternity unclaimed. If only such avoidance was possible.

  Was I in denial? No matter how much I tried to stop asking, my mind shifted right back to the reality of the situation. An innocent friendship, NO; it had become something else entirely. The moment I laid eyes on that irate woman yelling at me in Spanish, the truth was, she excited me. I was intrigued before I knew any better. Dora was sophisticated, her accent was sexy, she emitted great confidence, the person she was within was awesome...the considerate nature that was uniquely her, and it didn't hurt that she was breathtakingly beautiful. My eyes could never fill from drinking her in and I needed to mindfully stop myself from trying.

  Sure she was reserved and somewhat guarded but there was a certain vulnerability to her that just added to her charm. I had never met anyone that I would describe as perfect, but somehow she was....and I was inexplicably drawn in. The giant had been awakened within me and the only real option I had was to RUN.

  The next voice I imagined was that of my mother. Long after she had died, I conjured her voice so as to counterbalance the battle ax personality of my Aunt Agatha. If ever a person needed a voice of counterbalance, I did. Somehow inventing such dialogue carried me through the most impossible of times. Imagining my mom, as liberal as she was, made me feel less alone…and what I was struggling with, seemed to warrant a pep talk from my mother.

  Whoa, what’s really going on here Carmen? Why are you in such a hurry to run away from this situation? Just draw a firm line and don’t give it another thought…unless of course you can’t…are you suddenly unsure of yourself where Spain is concerned? After all this time of assuming you really know yourself…maybe not? Is that such a bad thing? Are you confused maybe, confused between what you have been taught as right from wrong by “holier than thou” Agatha does not match up to what you feel is right or wrong according to your own heart?

  I gazed up and caught my troubled reflection in the mirror before me. My eyes were wide and my face drained. My lips had lost all color….and I was having trouble catching my breath. I was having an identity crisis which invited an anxiety attack full throttle. My heart, my heart was beating in panic driven loops as if at any moment I feared I would go into cardiac arrest. I couldn’t breathe and I just knew…I just knew I had to leave.

  Dora touched your face Carmen, I saw…she touched your face and you let her…not only that, you felt something wonderful as she did; I could tell…an unsettled stirring within. She woke something up within you…a need that has gone unrecognized for most of your life...eve
r since Travis was made a partner at his firm and you were cast out like rubbish to the curb.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who really wanted you for a change…someone that saw you instead of looking past you?" My mother's voice became a whisper. "Wouldn't it be nice to experience love again?"

  “Damn!” I said tossing a pillow at my own troubled reflection in the mirror.

  The voice transformed into my very own. The manner for which the inner struggle shifted back and forth made me suspect that if I ever admitted such conversations, that I would be labeled as crazy. Just phone the ambulance and air lift me to the nearest psych ward. I deserved it, I was becoming unhinged and my mind kept shifting here and there and back again, leading to even more panic within.

  Coward! Run away…run, run, run away! Always sitting on the curb, waiting to be picked up by scavengers…always waiting for crumbs instead of delicious cake…always allowing it to be about everyone else first…never willing to try anything new, never willing to grow or expand your horizons.

  Someday you’ll look back with regret, you know this. This island is full of strangers so what are you afraid of by “going there?” Afraid maybe that the other life, the one that is safe, the one that you know as predictable is really not who you are or what you are about after all? Why not live a little? Why not test the waters to see where this may go?

  “This cannot be good." I said aloud.

  Aside from the few toiletries in the bathroom, I gathered all of my things. I rolled my luggage into the closet and shut the door. Without looking back, I rushed to the elevator and depressed the button for the lobby missing the aim and hitting both the button below and above. My objective was to find another room….demand another room, even if it was a small twin bed somewhere off in a corner closet, if it meant distance from Dora, it would be worth the sacrifice. Maybe something will have changed that freed up a room or a suite since my first arrival. I needed to become an assertive ass like Travis, I needed to make the resort accommodate me…I needed a miracle.

 

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