Book Three_A Codependent Love Story

by Paloma Meir

  My plan to be a lout, and why I ever thought this was a good plan is beyond me, came to a quick end as Louisa and Leilani sat down beside Veronica. I was already a little intoxicated, but not too far gone. I picked up a slice of the baguette and wobbly smeared a thick coating of butter across it and ate it to sober myself up.

  “Don’t fill up, Serge, many courses will be served.” Zelda whispered into my ear, a bad habit that would have to come to an end, but not that night.

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a big appetite from my hard manual labor,” I said loudly, wanting Veronica to hear across the crowded and loud table. But no, she was engrossed in a fantasy game with Zelda’s daughters who clung to her as if she were a fairy princess come to life. Smart girls.

  “Was this your idea or Danny’s? Either way it was a good one, a nice surprise. Have us all back together again. Like when we were kids, Zelda.” I asked in a lower voice, but I didn’t lean into her creating the cone of the private world we had fostered for most of our lives.

  “The party," She leaned in and quietly spoke, “was my idea, certain aspects of it were Danny’s”

  “You married a smart man.” I stared off at Veronica.

  “We never got married, Serge. You know I don’t believe in that… and stop staring.”

  “I’m a firm believer in marriage,” I yelled out, and Veronica turned to me and raised her eyebrows with a slight disgusted shake of her head.

  “You’re being very rude, Serge.” Zelda said as she leaned back in her chair.

  “I’m sorry,” I turned to her and stuffed an edge of the bread in my mouth, “I can’t spend my life alone…”

  “It hurt me… when you were with her,“ she glanced at Veronica, “I was happy you treated her badly… and I never liked Marianne. You being with her was like a punch to me. She didn’t have any of the qualities you valued, and you chose her…”

  “I didn’t choose her over you.” I leaned close to her and whispered.

  “Everything is as it should be. I wouldn’t want it differently… but it’s hard to let go.”

  “There’s nothing to let go of… just a different view, a different way of being together. Full circle, back to the beginning. Friends.”

  “But…”

  “There is no “but” here Zelda. I’m sorry I hurt you when I was with her, and I’m sorry… about so much.” I leaned back and looked at her, the open expressive eyes, not knowing what her thoughts were and that was a relief.

  “You always were the smart one, so don’t waste your time with regrets. We’ll be friends.”

  My sister excitedly sat down beside me. Her mouth open and busy, starting the longest game of “remember when” I ever played. The food and the company couldn’t have been any better. Well done, Zelda.

  We sat on the lounges by the pool long after the guests left, leaving only the core group of our families and friends. We ate our second servings of the birthday cake. Chocolate, thick dark chocolate buttercream, the richest cake I had ever eaten. The warmth of the summer, and the laughter of those I cared about spurred on the repetitive motion of fork to mouth.

  Brendan had passed out on my lap, popping up now and then saying how we would rule the island the following day. I would pat him on the head, or stroke his hair confirming his plans with a smattering of the Hawaiian patois. He seemed to like that a lot.

  In Veronica’s arms lay a sleeping Leilani while Louisa curled on her father’s lap. A sweet scene for all.

  “Hey Serge… I didn’t tell you,” Danny called out to me, “Arturo’s coming out tomorrow.”

  “Artuuuuro,” Brendan raised his head for the last time and yelled as a battle cry.

  “Jimena, couldn’t make it. Just had the baby, you know?” Danny continued.

  “I didn’t know that… Thanks Danny,” my eyes may have watered from all the thought he had put into the evening. Very humid on the North Shore, I can’t say for sure. “Thanks for everything, buddy.”

  “I didn’t call Marianne…” He looked towards Zelda.

  “Not because of me…” She laughed, “I’m going to take Leilani up to bed.” She reached out and took her daughter from Veronica who didn’t seem to want to let go. The soft conversation of Danny's parents prevented me from hearing what they said to each other.

  “I’m going to go to bed too…” Veronica stood up and stretched her body with a light yawn she quickly covered with her hand. A strong hand, a hand of a peasant on the body of an elegant, wildly sensual woman.

  “See you soon,” I licked the fork in my hand in a way some would consider vulgar and added a wink. My pursuit of her needed work but my ridiculousness did make her laugh in spite of herself. She didn’t respond to me as she walked barefoot like a forest fairy to her cottage that was conveniently close to mine.

  “Night all,” I had counted to thirty slowly in my mind after Veronica left for propriety’s sake before saying my goodnights, “Brendan, Brendan…” I shook my conked out friend to the laughter of the few remaining poolside. I gave up, picked him up in my arms, and carried him back to my cottage. It was fine with me. I had no intention of sleeping there anyway.

  I placed him on the bed, his body quickly moved into a fetal position. He looked how he had as a boy. I leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. A very un-bro like thing to do, but seeing him laying there made me yearn for a son of my own.

  Walking towards the door, I saw my phone on the bedside table. I backtracked, picked it up and texted Caitlin. I would be in Switzerland in no more than two weeks time and was very interested in a look around the facilities. The phone beeped back after I turned to leave, but I didn’t pick it up.

  I stood on Veronica’s porch, my confidence in the game plan I hadn’t worked out in my head faltered for a moment. Didn’t matter. Like Danny, I didn’t lose. Getting lost, yes, taking the long way, the wrong way at times, but lose? No, wasn’t built for it.

  I opened the door to find the lights on. Veronica lay upon the bed, a book in hand I could not see the title of. Her face was clear of make-up, her wild hair loose around her face, the devastating sexiness she had possessed since being a young girl present, and if possible stronger than anytime I had ever seen before.

  “Do you like Switzerland? Have you spent time there?” I stood in front of her bed and asked.

  “It’s the mid-west of Europe, but Geneva is okay. Too many summers spent there with my father growing up…” She lay the book down and stared at me questioningly, “Is there something wrong with you? You’re incredibly vulgar, and your appearance in my room is unwanted.”

  “I’m a day laborer now,” Her lack of anger was a pleasant surprise. I sat on the edge of the bed and flexed my arm, “Hard work makes a man strong.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you drunk? Do you have a head injury? Does Danny even pay you?” She shook her head from side to side as if I were an annoyance.

  “No, he doesn’t,” I hadn’t considered that before, but couldn’t get bogged down in thinking about it. I was a man on a mission, “I owe him.”

  I stood up and walked to her bathroom, a mess is what it was, beauty products everywhere and the dress she had worn earlier, a pile on the floor. It wouldn’t be easy to find what I was looking for, but I wasn’t going to give up.

  “What are you doing?” I glanced back to see her sitting up in the bed, her annoyance with me bordering on disgust, “And what do you owe Danny? You should hear the way they talk about you, like you’re an all-knowing Buddha. I corrected them of course… Please get out of my things… What are you looking for?”

  “All-knowing?” I laughed, “I found it,” I held up her birth control pills, “How long have you been taking these? Too many side-effects. You’re getting older Veronica.” I popped the pills out one by one into the toilet.

  “I’m asking again. Are you drunk? You’re not making any sense, and I don’t appreciate you mocking my age… I have money… I’m not going to age.” She relaxed and g
iggled at her own joke.

  “I’m not drunk, very clear headed, Veronica,” I threw the empty package on the floor and sat back on the foot of her bed, “We’ve lived our lives… It’s time.”

  “Time for what?” She threw herself backwards on the pile of pillows, ran her fingers through her hair and grunted.

  “Time to settle down. I would say… maybe spend another week here, don’t want to miss Arturo, and Brendan’s here. Family time, you should call your parents, have them come out for the week. I’ve only ever met your mother and that was in high school.”

  “Am I drunk?” She threw her arms down to her sides and made another grunting noise. Feisty girl she was, “Go back to your room, Serge.”

  “We’ll be moving to Switzerland, Cern to be exact, close to Geneva, premium shopping for you. Find a home. Get set-up. Quick honeymoon in Paris, or maybe Spain, I hear Barcelona’s nice.”

  “Have you lost your mind? Honeymoon? I don’t even like you.”

  “The glint in your eye speaks a different story.” I reached under the covers and took her feet in my hands and gently rubbed, focusing on her high arches.

  “Be real Serge, this is all so out of the blue. You callously tossed me aside and now I’m your one true love?” She shook her foot away and sat up away from me.

  I looked deep into her blue eyes and took a breath. If real is what my true love wanted, real is what my true love would get, “You’re going to have to bear with me… I’m not used to talking about myself, spent most of my life avoiding it. Pondering others… spent most of my time doing that, trying to help them. You never needed any help.”

  “I still don’t—“

  “I like that about you…” I reached out and took her foot back into my hands. She didn’t pull away this time.

  “Being liked for my independence isn’t the most romantic notion.”

  “You’re just going to have to listen to me.”

  “But—“

  “No buts, Shhhh,” She relaxed, leaning back onto the pillows and I continued, “My mother was an alcoholic… my whole childhood. I didn’t like it Veronica.” I took another breath unsure of where I was going, “There wasn’t much I could do about it. I did try… My friends would try to get me to acknowledge the less than satisfactory times. I resisted. Men don’t crumble Veronica.”

  “Oh Serge…” She climbed across the bed and wrapped her arms around me.

  “I like you close to me like this,” I kissed her forehead, and pulled her closer to me, “But I’m not comfortable using my sad past to draw you in…”

  “You haven’t drawn me in yet,” She nuzzled her head against mine.

  “I need to get this out. You need to know what you’re getting into…”

  “I’m not getting into anything… Think of me as your friend. I’ve known you most of my life. Please continue.”

  I chose not to mention she had once vowed she had never wanted to be my friend, “Where was I? Men don’t crumble… My father never crumbled because he never stood. I’ve lived my life antithetically to his in every way I could. I didn’t even know I was doing it.” I looked deeply into her eyes, “That’s what you’ll be dealing with… A man that can’t see he’s chasing his own tail.”

  “I don’t see you that way.”

  “Well good, wouldn’t want that, but its there.” I shook my head decisively, “You need to know these things. I’m at peace with him now. This island with its repressive mellowness… I labor away on Danny’s construction site… I can’t explain it. I feel like he’s by my side, I sympathize with him. He’s missed so much in life.”

  “Maybe that’s true, I don’t know him,” She ran her hand up and down my arm, “But I spoke with him before dinner and he seems very happy with your mother… You need to separate yourself from him. He’s not you and you’re not him, he may have different expectations from life.”

  “That’s why I need you around,” I laughed lightly, “Talk some sense into me. This soul searching... I’m not used to it”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready or able to take you on… Continue.” She pulled away from me but took my hand in hers.

  “I came to your room to sweep you off your feet with my manly ways and now you have me blubbering about myself,” I squeezed her hand, “Danny… He’s my equal in every way but his decisiveness, Brendan’s like that too… I hero-worshipped both of them for that quality. Before I came back to this island with Zelda, I thought I was living like them… Master of my fate… but I was just another rich jerk. That’s the worst of me Veronica. Can you live with this?”

  “You’ve left out the thread of your entire being,” She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically.

  “Zelda?” I knew better than to laugh. Thread of my being may have been an exaggeration but it wasn’t that far off from how I lived my life.

  “Time has marched on… I was telling her this at dinner… We’re back to where we began, friends again. No more hidden desires, it’s in the past.”

  “You hurt me, Serge… I can’t live in her shadow.”

  Game over, I knew I had won. “Never in Zelda’s shadow, not for a minute of our lives… You haunted me.”

  “Pretty words, but I don’t know what they mean…”

  “It means she never prevented me from being with you. I did that on my own, as I said, you never needed my help. I don’t want to be that man anymore. We have our whole lives to talk about this, but right now…” I pulled her closer to me, gentle pecks across her face.

  She shook away from me, “I’m still not needy… I don’t need to be saved. I will not dissolve into a puddle of tears for you to love me.”

  “I don’t see any tears on your beautiful face, and my love for you is still the very thread of my being.” We fell back upon the bed and I kissed her until the stars burned out of the night sky.

  Trashed

  By

  Paloma Meir

  Chapter One

  It was my first real memory. I have glimpses of times before, my mother brushing my hair, my father pulling a coin out of my ear, but nothing solid. It’s as if my mind always ran at a mad speed, over processing.

  The brush my mother ran through my hair was coarse and scratched my scalp but I didn’t recognize it as painful. It was more a texture to my skin. My father’s cold coin against my skin didn’t cool my aching head full of racing thoughts.

  But this is my first real memory, a linear story that still unfolds in my brain that has calmed over the years. The meaning eludes me, and my many therapists have never shed light upon my screams and actions that day.

  It was when we still lived on Mercer Island in Seattle. We wouldn’t live there much longer. The neighbors would gossip about my parents, asking what was going on our home to cause such behavior in such a pretty little girl like me.

  I was almost eight. The sun shone, after many months of grey rain. My mother, so tired from working at home, minding me after a string of nannies quit.

  She took me to the park, and rested herself on the bench, smiling at me as I played with a little girl my age. Even then I saw the relief in her eyes. I was not a stupid child. I knew I was different. I knew I was trouble, no matter how many times she told me I was her little angel.

  I smiled back as my little friend and I dug a hole in the sand. The little girl wasn’t a creative thinker, and said that we would dig all the way to China. I didn’t tell her she was stupid, just dug alongside her, pretending like my mother that I was okay, that this is the way it would be from this day forward.

  The hole was deep. We could reach our arms all the way in, scooping the bottom. The moist sand and the deep cold earth underneath my fingernails.

  My hand grew numb, traveling up my arm, until I was freezing. That would have been okay if the birds hadn’t flown above squawking, distracting me, making me look up.

  The sun caught my eye. It was large in the sky, and I knew that the sun was hot, and it should warm my body. No clouds were covering i
t.

  I stood up and screamed, “Where is the heat?” over and over again. My new friend wanting to protect me from the sun that refused to provide warmth jumped up, opened her pink corduroy jacket to wrap around me. Laughing as if it were a game, saying she was cold too, that we should have our Moms take us for Hot Chocolate.

  I smacked her head when she touched me with her arm while trying to keep me warm. Nobody ever thought I did it purposely, but the damage was done.

  The little girl flew off head first into the climbing structure, cutting her above the eye. The blood poured down her cherubic face as she screamed louder than I had.

  But I didn’t rush to her. I didn’t offer a helping hand the way she had to me. I just stood there watching, fascinated.

  My Mother took me home. We didn’t go to the park again.

  This is the story of how I got better, and stopped hurting everyone around me.

  Chapter Two

  “Celena,” My mother turned off the engine of her new car, a convertible she had bought to celebrate our move to the golden state of California. The car was a Volvo because she was still a sensible woman who led a minimalist life, as did my father. Both of them too intellectual to take the frills of life seriously. We agreed on that but not much else.

  “Please remember the students are individuals, not stereotypes. No matter how indestructible they may seem to you. They can be broken…” She spoke as we sat in the school parking lot. I wished the top on the car were up, because even though she had a calming voice, it did project.