Falling Whispers, Love & Curses

by Trixie Archer

  We both began to laugh hysterically at the silliness of it all.

  All of a sudden, I wanted to move forward from the past, I wanted….I wanted…I wanted to kiss her….I held my breath fighting a good fight of restraint. Under normal circumstances, I would have leaned in and brushed my lips to hers, taking the chance, putting everything that I had been feeling towards her into such expression. However, I somehow sensed that the timing was wrong. My stomach twisted with deep regret too for I wanted to kiss her more than any other person in my entire life. If I did, would she reciprocate or would she run away without ever again looking back?

  If I did not believe she would react poorly, I would have tried, but I knew better…I knew better by how she slithered out from my room earlier that day, by how I watched her experience total panic in her room, pack her clothes and beg to have her room changed at the front desk. In such a state she did not notice me following, but I was in the second elevator, I hid tucked in the shadows arriving moments after, baring witness…I felt mortified that she was blind to what was right in front of her nose...the great wonders of ME. If she were open to it, I believed we could be amazing together, I also realized the harsh reality of the situation…the situation was delicate for Carmen was fragile, she was the thinnest blown glass that any thoughtless breath could shatter.

  However, this was not about what my needs were but instead all about hers. If Laura were here and knew about who I really was, she’d say that I had finally arrived at a turning point; had finally figured out that I was deserving of someone that was free and clear to love me back. She would say that it was about time I let my guard down enough to open my heart for America. Laura of course would be right on target. If only Laura were here alive and well; if only she would have known my truths all along and loved me enough to accept me for who I was.

  Chapter 08: Carmen, ALL Chicago

  I spent most of the night feeling a downward spiral from drinking too much. Boom, boom, boom ricocheted through my mind as my ears rang protesting exposure to the high volume of club music. Adding to my ills, I had drank in variety; so much so my stomach felt as if I were going to wretch. I padded into the kitchen and began searching for soda crackers. Cabinet after cabinet produced an ample supply of empty space. I opened the refrigerator. The shelves contained a single, unopened bottle of Champagne. This wasn’t home and there wasn’t a grocery store just down the block open in wait.

  Beginning with a few glasses of water, I attempted to rehydrate myself.

  I then lifted the phone and punched the number for room service.

  “I’d like some crackers sent up to the penthouse please…oh and some scrambled eggs, a mini loaf of French bread and a few slices of bacon too.”

  “Hold on a minute.” I said.

  I rushed to Dora’s room and placed my ear to her door. A slow rhythm of breaths whispered from the other side. She apparently had no trouble falling asleep. I dared not disturb her so I returned to the phone indicating that the order was complete.

  I hung up the call and moved to the suite’s entrance to unlock and wedge the door so that Dora would not be awakened when the food arrived. I found my way to the enormous sofa and snuggled in. I took a moment to locate the remote. When I did, I clicked the television and the pay-per-view options appeared before me. Nothing seemed worth the additional money so I sped through the satellite channels. I paused on the Spanish movie channel. For a moment I watched the actors speak and was amazed how quickly expressive language spilled from their lips. The words were continuous popcorn, projected with snap and fervor.

  Dora was proficient in English, French and her native language, Spanish. I had always wanted to learn a second language but never took the time. Maybe returning back to school was something I would consider now. I desperately needed to reinvent myself after the divorce and life had settled down. I was set for self discovery and a sense of direction.

  I thought of Travis and how I placed my aspirations for becoming a school teacher on hold so as to help him pay for law school. When he and I first met, I wanted to combine my love for books with the desire to help children. It was my dream to teach the first grade. Until Travis was through with law school, I worked dead end jobs with the only consideration being how much I was paid and the health benefits provided.

  Once Travis passed the bar exam and landed a position as an associate at a small firm, he insisted I quit working to concentrate solely on being a wife and with a little luck, a mother. Unfortunately, I was unable to have children and this hardship became the malignancy in our marriage. He transformed from caring and loving to cold and indifferent.

  I remember the conversation when he convinced me to stop working.

  “There’s no need for you to work any longer so I think you should quit,” he said flashing his capped teeth and gazing at me with his smoky gray eyes.

  “I want to work; I want to help contribute to our household,” I argued.

  “You will and it’ll happen sooner than you think. Just wait until you start popping out those babies…you’ll really appreciate being a stay-at-home mom, believe me.”

  Reluctantly, I caved on the issue and quit my job as a toll booth operator. The babies never arrived, but boredom certainly did.

  Travis couldn’t move past the fact that I was unable to have children. There were fertility experts in the beginning. With each new doctor came a new hope until the attempts failed and then there was the next new doctor all over again…over and over and over. After we both became exhausted from the trying, we set ourselves to patch up the great disappointment through the aid of counseling, but such efforts only lasted about three months. Unfortunately for Travis he had other priorities that stood in the way. There was always a big case that he needed to prepare for. His desire to win in court consumed him.

  Travis began arriving late to sessions until eventually he stopped showing up all together. He finally admitted during that last meeting that he resented me for not giving him children. Although I was in denial, it became obvious there was no hope that our marriage would survive.

  Our therapist took me aside for a frank conversation.

  “I’m not going to sugarcoat this,” Brian Morgan spoke in his calm “I am wise and know all” voice. “A relationship centers around two people being invested in it. One person doing all of the work accomplishes nothing but needless wheel turning, frustration and resentment.”

  “So what are you saying?” I asked him as the walls seemed to be closing in on me.

  Brian shrugged his shoulders, “I’m just going to say it. There’s really no hope in your situation and you need to begin thinking about an exit plan.”

  I was stunned. I had always carried the belief that somehow Travis and I would work through our issues. I should have been angry with Travis for quitting on me, but instead I could only think in terms of how much I was going to miss him and his relatives. They were the family that I never had.

  After a long discussion, Travis admitted that he was no longer in love with me. When he said those words, those ugly truthful words, I felt as if someone had punched me in the chest. I became the unloved, orphan child all over again.

  My mind slid back ironically to when he proposed. A horse and buggy led us around the north side of the loop in downtown Chicago. Under a crescent moon and with the most breathtaking cityscape surrounding us, Travis pulled me into him and kissed my cheek with sweetness.

  “Will you do me the honor of being my wife?” he asked doing his best at being suave.

  Just as I was about to give him an answer, the horse relieved itself on the roadway before us.

  “Talk about a mood kill,” Travis grumbled wrinkling his nose in disgust.

  Ignoring Travis’ comment, I replied “I will,” even though nature was trying to tell me that my future with this man was shit.

  I thought I loved him but maybe I was in love with the idea of being in love with him. Travis offered me a means of moving out and up from my life wi
th my Aunt Agatha. I was desperate and I often wonder if that is exactly what he was searching for; an easy target, someone that would always fall in line for what he wanted.

  Admittedly, it was frustrating being married to Travis. As time began to prove, he was a rigid sort of person that needed every detail to meet with his approval. I suspected that he used my desperate circumstances to argue “look what I took you away from” as leverage to maintain control over every minuscule aspect in our lives. There was a price to pay if I failed to meet his demands. His lip and argument was best avoided since he went into attorney mode in being set to always win. As the years progressed he seemed to become more and more annoyed with me. We fell into a pattern of me trying my absolute best and Travis finding fault with everything I did. In hindsight, it was an unhealthy situation to be in and an act of kindness to end it with a bullet.

  The food arrived. I wish I could say that it was just what I needed to overcome the wave of horrible I felt from drinking, instead it held an opposite effect to where I began a long, long night of purging.

  It was mid morning when I awoke curled on the sofa. The penthouse was quiet as I cautiously stood from my perch and padded down the hallway towards Dora’s room. Despite feeling off, I had it in mind to make the most of the day regardless. I intended to discuss our plans.

  When I arrived at her door, it was jarred open. I believed her to be resting in bed, so I carefully called, “Dora?” I stepped in closer. Her perfume was intense as if she had bathed in it for the day. It wasn’t off putting but instead caused me to feel a great sense of comfort. I stood there a moment in wonder.

  “Dora?” I said nudging her foot except it wasn’t her foot, but one of four pillows woven into the empty blanket. I chucked to myself.

  “DORA???” I managed in a rather loud tone gazing at the stillness about me.

  The penthouse was dead silent. I guessed Dora, out of consideration to the rough night I suffered through, went to breakfast at one of the many options within the resort.

  I stood there in her room glancing about. I imagined her there with me, it was hard not to, her fragrance was lingering just as her influence had proven to be.

  Just as I turned to leave, I felt a wave of dizziness overtake me. Too much purging, not enough hydration…I leaned onto the bed and sat for a moment. I pulled her pillow onto my lap and I hugged it gently. I imagined the soft to be Dora herself.

  I thought of the day when we laid there on her mattress face to face. The feelings I had for Dora were curious to me. Sliding onto the bed now, I pulled the covers up and over me. I held fast to her pillow, tenderly holding it as if it could somehow return me to the day I awoke spooning her.

  I felt a smile purse my lips as I began to drift off. The yielding of the springs, the curves of the pillow, the fragrance all Dora carried me away from reality and into a land that I felt safe, secure and wanted.

  “Are you going to laze around all day?” Dora asked. She was surprisingly accepting of my invasion of Spain and the sleeping in her bed “Goldilocks style.”

  “Come here,” I said extending my arm in her direction. I’m not sure how she moved from where she was to my side and I didn’t notice that everything in the manner for which it was playing out didn’t add up. I just saw what I wanted to see, Dora the beautiful, within reach.

  “Kiss me,” I commanded abandoning all concern. Dora smiled and I felt jittery as she approached. She placed her lips onto mine with gentle intent…and I felt nothing. For as much as I wanted to feel her, the sensation of her lips upon mine escaped me.

  “Come back and let’s try that again.” I pleaded as she began floating towards the door. She began to laugh at me, at my foolishness for thinking of her in that way. I felt great shame and stupidity. She didn’t see me like that; she didn’t want me like that.

  “I can do better this time…I promise. Dora?”

  Was it really Dora I was pleading with or for a second chance with Travis? …or was it neither of them but instead a reflection of the heartache I felt over my part of great failure.

  “Dora?” I said once again, as the draperies pulled back and a rather plump woman stood before me with a duster in hand and a confused expression set on her face.

  I gazed about the room startled. I was nestled in Dora’s bed and had fallen asleep. The rest was all but a dream.

  “Um…” I said realizing how my presence in Dora’s quarters probably appeared. “I must have ended up here after Dora left.” I explained sliding out of bed and to the door sheepishly. I was uncertain as to why I felt I needed to state the truth but I did.

  The woman answered in a foreign tongue, shaking her head as she spoke. Hopefully, she understood but I had my doubts. On the other hand, maybe she understood more than I was willing to admit as true, even to myself.

  Chapter 09: Namaste, I Bow To You

  When I learned as part of my divorce settlement that I was being awarded one week at Whispering Falls, I was thrilled. Early on, those in Travis’ circle had spoken of the resort as a coveted prize. If one found themselves vacationing there, it would be a true indication that they had accomplished something monumental. That appeal was part of the reason Travis had promised me a trip there “someday.”

  The resort was a place that one would strive to afford, but would think twice about parting with the money to make that happen. It was surprising that Travis agreed to send me and even more surprising how he made certain I was booked into the penthouse suite none-the-less.

  My only apprehension was the possibility that I would fall out of routine and in that, start gaining weight again. Each year that I lived after age 27, it seemed much easier to gain and more difficult to lose. That was why being active, practicing yoga and watching my diet was so important to me. When I learned that the resort offered three different opportunities to schedule yoga each day, I was thrilled. Yoga kept me grounded, fit and on track.

  I preferred to practice yoga first thing in the morning. It was something I looked forward to just the same as many who reach for a hot cup of coffee or their pack of cigarettes. My day just wouldn’t be the same without it.

  On that particular morning, I readied myself and joined the yoga group that met ocean side. It was the second day that I participated, so I had all ready met the instructor.

  There was something about it that reminded me of home especially in the way the cluster of mats surrounded the large deck overlook. The layout was very similar to the studio that offered yoga in Lincoln Park. Not every mat was filled with a person, but there were enough present to make the practice worthwhile. I took my normal position as I did in the states, two away from the yogi front row and center.

  Melissa Reynolds introduced herself and welcomed everyone there with warmth and peace. “Namaste,” she said, and then we began.

  Although the routine was a bit behind the physical challenges of what I was accustomed to, it was great to feel in unity with everyone there. I tried to clear my mind of all clutter…of Travis, of my past, of the stress surrounding the trip to the resort, of Dora, of the complex feelings that I was suddenly questioning…all of it. I just breathed, I cleansed, I stretched, I focused, and I meditated.

  It was my hope to obtain a peaceful unity between mind, body and spirit.

  By the end of the practice, I felt better about my life. I felt a sense that all was right in the universe. It had been a perfect recipe; fitness with a pinch of spiritual stirred in.

  As I was helping Yogi Reynolds collect the mats after the practice, I caught sight of two women walking hand and hand along the beach. I felt the air escape my lungs as I realized…I studied the manner for which they seemed so natural, unaffected by how the world was possibly judging them. I couldn’t help but stare; they seemed so happy and sure of themselves.

  From the manner for which they strolled, it was apparent by their body language that they were romantically involved. Their hands were entwined with familiarity and their steps were in synch with one anot
her. On occasion, they exchanged glances and even from a distance, I sensed great love and connection. I couldn’t help but feel jealous of them having something that many of us forever strive for but never quite realize.

  “How sweet,” Melissa said as she slid in near me and grabbed the mat from my grasp to add to the storage cart. I glanced at her as she too was staring.

  “Yes,” I said feeling embarrassed that I was caught spying.

  “They’ve attended my afternoon class in the shade garden a few times now. Good people, they’re from New York.”

  “Ah…” I replied not knowing what more to say.

  Melissa smiled at me, “Would you like me to introduce you and your partner to them?”

  I swallowed hard. “What?” I asked through a wave of shock.

  “I’m sure they’d be up to sharing dinner or something. They asked me if I knew anyone, I assume they’re missing a sense of community.”

  “I um…think you’ve misread my situation,” I said feeling my face flush with embarrassment.

  “Oh?” Melissa paused as she smiled with discomfort. “Sorry, I just thought…and in noticing you with Ms. Alavaro on those jet ski’s and after- when dining at the beach cafe…well…”

  “Dora and I are just sharing accommodations. Honestly, I never met her until this week,” I explained.

  “Really?” Melissa grinned shaking her head in disbelief. “I would’ve guessed you’d been with each other for some time. I’m seldom wrong about such things and seeing you both as I have…you seem well, like them.” Melissa said pointing at the couple as they furthered themselves along the shoreline.

  I stood there dumbfounded.

  “Of course, I mean happy and in love…,” she added.

  I allowed her words to sink in and was unsure of what to say exactly. “I need to be moving along,” I said peering at my watch. “I’m um, running late.”