Book Three_A Codependent Love Story

by Paloma Meir

  “I’m sorry I sent you that letter,” she interrupted me.

  “The letter...” My response was worse, I wanted to say. “It came before the package and card... I’m sorry Zelda, I misread it and my reply, and the ear buds...”

  “I liked the ear buds. I used them on my walks through the parks.” She lifted her head and looked into my eyes with deep sincerity. “And your letter was interesting. I had never considered how cutting the budget for physical education would affect the quality of future athletes, and it helped me with my Spanish, really it did.”

  I melted inside as she tried to turn my childish action into an act of goodness. “You’re wrong...” I wanted to say something funny, something to lighten the mood, but Danny came into the living room, interrupting us, telling her they had to leave. She reminded me to pick her up at 4:00 as he led her out the door. He corrected her instruction. I ignored him and let her know I would be there for her.

  …

  I pulled up outside the hospital on the dot of 4:00 assuming the two of them would be downstairs together, happy, confirming the plan for him to fly out to her in two weeks. Wrong. Her calming nature, the beauty of her had not worked to heal his turbulent mind and heart.

  She walked out at a very quick pace, her overnight bag in hand, to my car without looking behind her. He followed closely, ranting, waving his hands around, ruining his own life for no good reason. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

  “You’re throwing everything away. Stop it,” she screamed at him as she slammed my car door and buried her head on my shoulder, crying hysterically. I flipped Danny off as I drove away.

  “I’ve been crying for days and days now. I’m so sick of it, enough.” I glanced over to see her lightly shake her head. “I don’t understand what happened. Why wouldn’t he listen to me?” She lifted her head off my shoulder and sat upright in her seat.

  “I wish I could tell you. He’s been a madman since the first night you called. Every other word out of mouth has been about him bringing you home.”

  “That’s the funny part. If he had calmed down, he would have heard me. I have to come back here, which by the way I don’t think of as home. I don’t have a choice.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Something his mother said. I don’t mean to be cryptic. I have to work some things out in my head. He was so different when we talked on the phone... He’s lost his mind.”

  “Give him some time, between his father’s stroke and “the great love of his life” coming back into his life, his system overloaded. He’s never been an emotional guy. You know that. He’s all action, always has been.” I patted her hand instead of holding it. I didn’t know our rules anymore.

  “I don’t know that. He’s always been a bundle of love with me.” She said with a touch of haughtiness that would sometimes annoy me as a child, but now warmed me inside. It was hard not to smile.

  “That’s with you. That’s it. Before you came back he went through women... You know that right?” I looked over at her and wondered if I had said too much. “It was a game to him. He was always respectful, never went after the vulnerable, but it meant nothing to him. He was the same way in high school, again before you. You woke him up again. He’s confused.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it anymore... Maybe Paolo was right.”

  “Let me guess. Paolo said something ugly to you before he left or you left or whatever happened. You’re twenty-seven?” I don’t know why I asked her that in a questioning way, our birthdays hadn’t changed. “If I remember correctly you walked away from Danny without a word, so this would be your first break-up?”

  “It would make me very happy if we stopped talking about my problems.”

  I ignored her request because the idea of Paolo, her old fuck professor/boyfriend/father of her child getting in the last cruel word angered me more than Danny’s little breakdown in front of the hospital.

  “As I was saying, that’s what people do when they break-up, say things that only have a kernel of truth or are sometimes outright lies. Let it go. One question and I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

  “Do you have to? I need to get home to Louisa. She’s so far away.”

  “According to Danny’s timetable, you called him a day or two after ending it with your Spaniard. Why? I ask because that wasn’t really fair to either of you. You couldn’t be alone? There’s therapy for that.” I wished I hadn’t mentioned therapy as soon as it came out of my mouth.

  “Believe me, I didn’t want to call him. It didn’t even occur to me that we would get back together this way. You’ll have to trust me on that. I can’t go into it because he doesn’t get it. I’m talking in circles. Tell me about Peru. Tell me anything that isn’t about me. Please.” I had no idea what she was talking about and regretted saying I wouldn’t ask her any more questions.

  I looked over at her to find her staring at me, really looking at me. Her eyes were bright, a slight smile on her face. I couldn’t read her expression. I ignored my urge to pull the car over and spend the rest of the day with her, getting to know her again. She needed to get back to her baby Louisa, so on I drove.

  “I skipped the bar exam this month. I'm going to take it in February and start working in March, a big firm downtown, corporate law. Until then, I’m just living the dream.”

  “Okay “dude”. Why did you come back from Peru?” She said with a perfect “bro” accent, impressing me.

  “Say 'dude' again.” I poked her in the ribs.

  “No.” She laughed.

  “Say it,” I poked her again because spending time with her had turned me into a child.

  “Stop, we’re going to get into an accident.” She poked me and asked in a more serious tone. “Tell me, why did you come back?”

  “There wasn’t much money in playing soccer for a second rate league... Arturo, you remember him, my roommate from college? We went down to visit his family after graduation, and I stayed too long. I loved it. Happy life down there, but it wasn’t ever something I wanted for myself.” I paused, lost in thought. “Money, I want to make a lot of money. It was either law or finance. I chose law because it seemed like more of a challenge.”

  “Really? Money? Money is your goal?”

  “Hey rich girl. Money is freedom. I’ll sue the world then wander off to Madrid the way that you did, or somewhere else, maybe go back to Peru. It’s a big world, Zelda.” I smiled at her as we made the turn into the airport.

  “You’re redeemed. Do something good while you make all of your money. Get an innocent off Death Row, something like that.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do something like that.”

  “I’ve missed you making fun of me.” She poked me in the stomach for the final time of our drive that proved to be far too quick.

  “I’m sad to leave you, Serge.” She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me as we stood together in front of the terminal. In the spirit of behaving like kids, I picked her up and swung her around. I placed her back on the ground, but I didn’t want to let go of her.

  “I’ll miss you too. Lay off the disco and call me if and when you ever come home.” I felt confused as I stepped away from her.

  “I’ll be back by the New Year. I’m putting you back on to my correspondence list. Good-bye Serge and thanks for everything.” She said in an absent-minded way as the skycap took her bag and checked her ticket and passport.

  “Cool. I’ll draw you gnarly pictures of me riding waves instead of writing words.” I really wish I hadn’t said that.

  …

  I was laying on the sofa a couple of hours later reading my Patent Law prep book when I heard the side gate open and what could only be Danny’s footsteps going down the wooden stairs to the beach. I slammed my book shut ready to unleash my wrath upon him.

  My wrath lasted however long it took to walk down the steps and see the pathetic state he was in, lying fully clothed on the beach with his eyes tightly shut. “You done fucking your life
up for the day?” I kicked a pile of sand in his face.

  “Yep.”

  “Cool. But if you’re not, we could go beat up some little kids. You up for that? There are some twelve-year old punks down by the pier. We could go show them who runs the beach.”

  “Funny stuff,” he said as I sat down beside him.

  “If you had shut up and listened to her, you would have heard her say she’s coming home for good in January.”

  “Cool.”

  “That’s it. Nothing to say?”

  “I have a date on Sunday.”

  “Cool.” I gave up, but not before standing up and kicking more sand in his face.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Danny spent his days at the hospital and came home late at night tired. I didn’t see him much of him. When we did see each other the rule seemed to be pretend that Zelda hadn’t been here, and that he hadn’t spent the days before her arrival in a mad obsession.

  That was fine with me until our doorbell rang early the following Sunday morning. Danny was in the shower. I answered it not knowing who to expect with the earliness of the day. I opened the door to find Dr. Berman in front of me, giant surfboard in hand. Dr. Berman was Danny’s date?

  “Good Morning, Dr. Berman.”

  “Sarah, call me Sarah.” She held out her hand. I did not take it.

  “Come on in. Danny’s in the shower.” I moved out of the way to let her in.

  “I love your home, right on the beach.” She walked to the sliding glass doors that opened out onto the balcony overlooking the beach below.

  “Yeah,” I said through gritted teeth practically. “Sorry to be rude. I’m running out... Could you let Danny know I’m heading up to Marianne’s? Tell him I’ll be back in a few days.” I stomped straight into my room, threw my phone, computer, a change of clothes into an old backpack, and headed out the door without a goodbye.

  I floored my fuel efficient, yet slow car all the way up the coast, ranting in my head about Danny. It was one thing to have his parade of vacuous women, the models, the actresses, but Dr. Berman was a real person, a human with feelings. He was in no way emotionally equipped to deal with that, to treat her fairly. His “date” was an act of cruelty. He knew better than that. I didn’t want any part of his act two, the “I hate women” period, in my life.

  I banged on Marianne’s door, hoping she was home because I had not called ahead. She had broken up with her boyfriend a few weeks before, not that I would have cared in that moment. I had come to 'claim her' as Brendan had so brilliantly put it in on our road trip the year before.

  “I own you,” I said as she opened the door and stood before in me in a loose olive cotton shirtdress, her long golden hair in braids with a twinkle in her cat-like eyes. She had put on some weight since the last time I had seen her, and she carried it beautifully. Her figure a perfect hourglass, her bust like high round melons, enticing.

  “Okay Serge,” she laughed and took my hand, “You own me. What are you going to do with your dominion?” she paused. “Did I use the word dominion correctly?”

  “Yes.” I would normally have reassured her intellectual insecurities, but not that day. I had other plans. “I will dominant you with my dominion.” Brendan would be proud.

  “I like you, Serge.” She pulled me into her very cozy apartment that was not too far from the beach.

  “I like you too, Marianne.” And sometimes it feels a lot like lot love, I did not add. I shut the door behind me.

  I took her in a savage way on the floor, a very gentle one, but a savagery all the same. I had an epiphany as I manhandled her with caresses and hard kisses that I used sex, remembering my mini-bacchanal with Caitlin and Brianna, and my first few weeks with Marianne, maybe even my whole relationship with Celena, to heal the turbulent times in my life. I ignored it.

  Up off the floor an hour or so later, we went into her bedroom to continue our indulgence, and that’s where I wanted to stay for the next few days, receiving food deliveries for sustenance. But my sweet ripe plum of a woman, Marianne complained about her weight, saying she didn’t feel good about her body, and she didn’t like her jiggle. She felt people were staring at her for the wrong reasons.

  Nothing I said could persuade her to believe in her unique perfection, the gift of bountiful feminine beauty she possessed. So I took her on a midnight jog. We struck a compromise. I would act as her personal trainer/dietician while I stayed with her, and she would cancel her next four days of work with a local school district, where she worked as a speech therapist, to continue our wanton, lustful activities.

  It worked out pretty well I thought as I drove back down the coast at a reasonable speed back home, relaxed and with a new perspective. Other than our runs and the old-style calisthenics I put her through in the mornings, we had stayed in bed. I was the one, unlike Danny, who hadn’t needed a change of clothes, I thought with a laugh.

  I had reached an emotional distance regarding my situation with Danny I felt as I pulled into our driveway. I was not angry with him. I sympathized with him. I would not be living with him anymore. I planned to pack up my things and move back in with my parents. I would probably sleep on the couch because my room was taken at the moment by Paige, a newly sober make-up artist with long silky black hair and pure white skin much like Zelda’s.

  I would find a new place to live within a few days. I would stay friends with Danny, but at a distance, wait for him to get his tangled head together. A good idea I thought because abandoning him was not an option in my mind. No more letting friends, especially one as good as him, wander off into the past. Zelda, too. I didn’t want to lose her again either.

  I opened the door to our home mentally preparing myself, rehearsing non-judgmental phrases in my head, so as not to alienate him. I would have said them all too, but then this happened.

  “Hey Serge,” Danny looked up from our small dining table with a wave of his hand. He was back in his white bathrobe, happy and calm, not a self-destructive maniac, “How was Marianne’s? Did you surf? Maverick’s rolling big this week.” Maverick’s was a surf spot in Santa Cruz that we liked to pretend that we were strong enough surfers to surf. We were not. The waves could be as high as fifty feet at certain times of the year.

  “Come sit down,” The white bathrobe wearing Sarah said with a huge Danny-worthy smile to me. “Danny made so much food. I’ve never eaten so well before.”

  I stood stunned, unspeaking as I looked at the table with the platters of thick charred New York steaks, sautéed mixed vegetables, roasted potatoes and garlic bread with shreds of fresh parmesan lightly sprinkled, melting on top of the sourdough bread. Inviting, but I could not move. I clamped my mouth shut because it felt like it was hanging open.

  “It’s okay now buddy. It’s good,” he said to me as Sarah looked up at him questioningly. “You up for some steak?” He got up from the table to get me a plate. “Serge is vegan,” he said to Sarah, “but sometimes I can tempt him, isn’t that right buddy?” I wasn’t a vegan, but I didn’t correct him as we sat down together. In fact, I didn’t say anything as he piled my plate with food as if he were my mother.

  And it was “good." Danny had settled himself down without my help while I had been away. I was proud of my friend and happy to continue living with him in his present state. I wouldn’t say he returned the strong, almost vulnerable ardor of the good doctor, but he liked her, enjoyed her company. Active, with surfing, long runs, the two of them were together. The demands of her job kept her away during the day, and sometimes into the night, giving him his space.

  He hired the wife of a film producer down the road from our house to properly decorate our home. He broke the news to me as if I had an emotional connection to our mix-matched frat house design scheme. He told me we had done a good job, but it was time to put the finishing touches on our groundwork. I responded as if I would miss the hodgepodge of found furniture we had thrown together, thinking he would like that.

  The first thing
to go? Our sheets, not the beds, those stayed. Zelda had been a master of comfort, to throw away the beds because of the association to her would have been slicing off his nose to spite his face. But the simplicity of the white sheets, gone. Our beds soon had bedding of dark colors and thin stripes, almost pinstripes. It was an act of rebellion for him. For me it was change in the color scheme.

  He dressed in real clothes. The outfits he had bought to impress Zelda with his adult-like qualities he hadn’t possessed at the time. He skipped our morning surf and no more lounging around doing whatever he did on his computer in between monitoring the real estate market.

  He would visit his father every day. He had been transferred to a rehab facility in Santa Monica to relearn how to walk and work on his slurred speech. I would go with him occasionally and Sarah would meet us to check on his progress.

  Strange thing, his father hated Sarah. He couldn’t voice it, but you could tell from his grunts and the way he would recoil when she would touch him to check his vital signs or muscle elasticity. Danny would reassure her, surprised by his father’s reaction, reminding her that she had told him strokes could sometimes cause personality changes.