Love, Lies and Shattered Hearts

by Carol May

  “Mama, I miss you so much. I miss you too Daddy.” With a deep sigh, I continue “I thought I had found someone. He made me really happy. I am living in Miami with Lana, we opened a business.” Slightly nodding my head, I say, “We’re doing well, we’ve got several clients. As a matter of fact, we have a big event coming up next weekend. I am not sure I will be back for it. I don’t know, we’ll see.” Turning around, I lean back against the stone, right in the middle. It reminds me of when I was a little girl. Like all kids, I would crowd in between them in bed when it was storming. My life is like a storm right now, so it feels right to be between them. Closing my eyes and opening my mouth, the words simply tumble out, “I have a serious problem. I love a married man. I didn’t know he was married until I walked into his office and there was a woman. Houston finally told me who she was. The words she’s my wife, crushed me. I am more than broken. My heart is shattered. I am not really sure I can come back from this. Daddy, I did something I’m not proud of, I bought lots of bottles of your favorite whiskey. Remember, how you would have a glass at the end of the week?” With a little laugh lost in memories, I continue, “I would always say that it was nasty. You would laugh, say yep it is but it sure does the trick to wipe away the week. It wiped a whole actual week away for me. I might still be guzzling that whiskey if John hadn’t come and rescued me.”

  I don’t know if I will ever get over all of it but I do know, until I stop deserting my friends and my life, the journey of pain will continue. As I stand I say, “I know what I must do, visit Tyler. This has taken me all these years to realize that I never had the closure that I needed. I am still on a healing journey and that the only way it can end is to make one more stop on this road trip from hell.” Wiping the tears from my face, I take a deep breath. I continue talking to them and by the time I leave it is almost dark. Leaving the cemetery, I head back to Brad’s.

  Arriving back in Salinas I stop to fill up the tank, thinking about the trip I have completed. Lost in those thoughts as I pull out of the gas station, I do a double take at the driver of a car entering it. If I didn’t know any better I would swear it was Nash. Pulling right back into the station, I park behind the dark tinted SUV. I knew it. My mid-west girl is all over this. Slamming the door as I get out, walking to the back of the vehicle, I just stand there. His back is to me since he is pumping gas. I go full force red neck, as I begin tapping my foot with both of my hands on my waist. I wait him out.

  Turning around to close the tank, he glances at me. “OH SHIT!” is all he says.

  “Yes, that would be about right. Where is he? Please don’t tell me in the back of this SUV.” My heart is racing. If he is, I am not sure what I will do. One part of me says, “Oh sister, you so know you would jerk open that door and be on top of him like Nonie would have said, like stink on a dog.” Looking down at his watch, then back up into my hopeful eyes I watch his face change from stone to something just above pity as he replies, “No Mam, it is my guess that right about now he is somewhere over the South China Sea on his way to Sydney.”

  That is like another kick in the stomach. My hands fall from my waist to just hanging by my side. At some time my foot stopped patting and now it is still. “Oh, alright.” Returning to my vehicle in what can only be described as a near state of despair, it finally dawns on me. I stop to look back at him, as I calmly ask, “Nash, why are you in this small little town in Kansas?”

  Replacing the nozzle to the pump, he walks toward me. He gets about four steps away before I hold my hand up to him saying, “stop right there.”

  Stopping, he answers my question with a question of his own, “Why do you think?”

  I really don’t know what to say. Standing looking at him, I have no doubt of the actual reason he is in Salina, Kansas. Looking around for just a second, Nash continues, “three guesses and the first two do not count. Allow me to give you a hint, that reason is 5’6” with black hair.”

  Finally, I speak but barely above a whisper, “me.” Nodding his head, and pointing to the distance between us, “may I?”

  Nodding, I watch him as he walks to me. Stopping about a foot away, he politely asks, “Can we meet to talk? I don’t think this is the place for the conversation we need to have.”

  Exhaling deeply, I look past him to the gas pump. Why the pump I have no idea. It’s probably the first thing my eyes can find. “Be at John’s at six. I have no doubt you know his address since you are here. He is going out tonight and we can have some privacy.” I don’t wait for a response. Turning, I walk back to my vehicle, running my hand along the top of the hood for support I suppose, I am trying to act natural but it is close to impossible as my heart is racing fast enough to beat out of my chest.

  The doorbell is ringing as I walk to the front of the house. Opening the door for Nash to enter, I step aside. To my surprise, so does Nash, Houston steps into my view. I slam the door, just about the time I hear him say, “Ms. Jensen.”

  Flashing back to the night we first visited The Gardens of Biscayne I remember how mad I was. Now, he is knocking, “May I have a word?” Pausing for just a moment, I question which part of my subconscious I should go with. The part that I fictitiously like to call my girls or the part that achingly remembers these past few weeks.

  Do I really need this? If I open this door, am I simply purchasing a ticket for a return trip to hell? I am not sure I can make that trip again, let alone survive another one. Jolting me out of my thoughts, I hear Houston.

  “Charli, I know three things at this moment. I know you are on the other side of this door. I know you can hear me. I know I love you.”

  I just stand here not moving. The thoughts that are spinning through my head have me more than confused. If I don’t open it, will I always regret that decision? If I do open it will I regret it? I know it doesn’t really matter which option I choose there will be regret.

  “Charli, I am not a man that begs, you should know that. I am, however, a man that goes after what he wants. I want you. You must hear me out. I have waited long enough. I’ve intentionally stayed away from you to let you heal, actually to let us both heal. Problem is, I am not healing. What I am is getting impatient, extremely impatient. We both know and understand, this is not a conversation that should be conducted through a door. At this very moment, I am setting the timer on my phone for two minutes. In those two minutes you must decide if this door between us opens or remains closed. If you choose to open it, we will talk. If you choose not to open it, I will walk away. Your decision. Your time begins now.”

  I am leaning against this door with the understanding that the next two minutes are very important to the remainder of my life. My inner voice that represents the values I grew up with asks, “What are we doing? He lied to us. No way can we talk to him.”

  My city girl side that represents what I have worked to become has an equally valid argument. “What would it hurt to hear him out? We should just open the door.” Oh Lord, now my subconscious is having an argument over Houston. The mid-west side asks, “don’t you remember what we just went through? What are you thinking?” Shaking my head, which I seem to do quite a bit, I close my eyes. My decision is made.

  I walk into the kitchen with tears streaming down my face. I can’t go through that again, besides I saw with my own eyes the blonde leaving with him. Then not more than an hour later she was back at the penthouse. No, there is absolutely no way I am going back. I have emerged from my own personal hell. No matter what either of my inner voices say, I know I can’t survive if I make that journey again. So, I open the fridge, pick up a bottle of water, and take a long drink. The house is alarmingly quiet. Between the sobs that are now escaping me, I hear a door close. Not only is it a car door, it is a door to my life with Houston.

  As I stand watching the water bottle fall in slow motion, one part of me is yelling. “What are you doing?” I imagine that the other part is jumping up and down with a huge smile on her face as she says, “Don’t just stand here
. Go!” My eyes dart around the kitchen. I run into the living room, continuing my search. There it is. Where are my keys? To hell with my search and destroy method that I once playful explained to Nash. Quick action is called for, meaning it is dump and find. I can just barely focus my eyes, as I turn my purse upside down. I drop to my knees scattering everything. Zeroing in on the objects that have caused me to create such a mess in the living room floor, I grab my wallet and keys. Jumping up, I jerk open the door and laying on the porch is a familiar piece of paper. It has a smiley face. Picking it up, I run to the car.

  Driving down the road, my city girl is yelling-“drive like you stole it sister. The mid-west side is shaking her head, “better hope we don’t pass a cop.”

  “I can find him. Think! Think! Think! Where would he be?” I look up and there is the answer in front of me. As I turn left, I head toward the little airport here in Salina. Pulling in on what my brothers would say is two wheels, I don’t see any planes taking off. I do see a white jet with a familiar HD logo. Throwing my car into park, I jump out almost at the same time. I look around but I don’t see the SUV Nash was driving. Where is it? Where could he be? “HOUSTON!? HOUSTON! I run up to the plane and just stand there. Wiping my eyes, I shake my head, asking myself, what in the world was I thinking? It is obvious even to someone that never flies that this plane is parked.

  There is no one around. Walking back to the car, I flash back to another man and his plane. Sitting behind the steering wheel, my eyes follow the sleek lines and size of this thing, as they move from the nose to the tail. My heart is beating so fierce that it might possibly pound a hole into my chest.

  My brain knows this is Houston’s plane in front of me but with my mind’s eye what I see is Tyler’s plane. I knew it wasn’t much but looking at what no doubt is a multi-million dollar aircraft in front of me, it sinks in even more that Tyler’s plane was a bucket of bolts with wings. Going back a little further into memories I thought were long forgotten, I can't help but think back to before he bought what I now realize was a flying death trap. He had learned to fly from his father, Philip, who had flown for a commercial airlines. The day he burst into our small little apartment, telling me he had bought a plane, I thought I would die. As my Nonie would say, I was spitting nails mad. The thought of him putting us that far in debt without discussing it with me. Later I found out that

  Smiling at the way we made up, I can almost feel and hear Tyler wrapping his arms around me that morning when he apologized while we were lying in bed. I remember how he pulled me to him, he deepened his voice and said, “Come here woman.” He wrapped his arms tightly around me and began kissing my neck. Slipping his hand onto my breast with a gentle squeeze first a nibble on my ear I heard him whisper, “Trust me, we won’t go very far.” He bit my shoulder just a little. Why I can remember that now I have no idea but I must admit it was more than a nibble but less than a bite. Wiggling into his erection all I could do was moan. Smiling as I remember even more of the morning, he knew exactly what he was doing when he squeezed both of my breasts but let my nipples want for more as he continued his pleasure assault. “It’s like being part of the sky. If you don’t like it we’ll come right back. Say you’ll go up with me.” By the time he was finished driving me to the edge, I would have agreed to just about anything to have him end the burning desire I had. Just as I said yes that morning, my orgasm launched me into another world.

  He was right. It was like being part of the sky. We flew for about an hour to a small airport. Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better we took off to a little lake in an old beat up truck that he had waiting for us. We made love that day for what seemed like hours.

  Drifting further into the past, I focus on the day we were married. How we eloped with our best friends Lana and Keith, as our only witnesses. The sky was a beautiful shade of blue. Smiling, I remember how Lana brought me a bouquet of daisies because she said they made people smile and be happy. She rambled on about how this was going to be one of the happiest days of my life so I should have daisies. She was right, daisies still make me smile.

  Peck, peck, peck. Mam, are you alright? Turning my head to the left, I see a man in a pilot’s uniform and a woman in what I assume is her flight attendant’s uniform. I flip the switch, lower the window and answer, “yes.” That’s when it dawns on me they must work for Houston. Taking a deep breath, I ask, “Are you the flight crew for this plane?”

  “Yes, we are. I’m the pilot. Can I help you with something?”

  “No, why?”

  “Well, you are staring at our plane which I must admit concerns me somewhat.”

  “I know Houston. I mean Mr. Donovan. That is who this plane belongs to isn’t it? I mean the green HD logo for Highland Diversified is on the tail.”

  The pair stand looking at me as if neither actually knows what to say. I take that as my chance so I continue, “He will be here in just a little bit won’t he?”

  Ignoring my question, the pilot stated the obvious, “If you will excuse us Mam but we have a plane to prepare for takeoff. I must ask you to leave the area. I actually have no idea how you got this close to our plane but I must stress you shouldn’t be here.”

  Looking at them, I know deep down they are only doing their job but I have to ask, “Can you tell me where he is? I have a feeling I am the reason you are in Kansas. If I leave this airport without …”

  Somewhere behind me but nearby, I hear a familiar voice. Perking up, I hear Nash question the pilot. “Patrick, why are you not preparing for takeoff?”

  When he walks up to what is now a little group at John’s car, Nash says, “Oh shit! What are you doing here?”

  Opening my door, I exit the car, smile a sassy little grin at him when I answer. “Is oh shit your standard response to me now?”

  Looking at me for just a second with an icy stare, Nash turns to Bradley and speaks. “I would suggest you hold off on takeoff procedures for at least an hour. As a matter of fact,” without looking at me, he says, “it's my guess that we’ll be staying here. You might want to let your families know not to expect you tonight at all.”

  “Alright Nash but I am going to put all the blame on you for this delay if you are wrong and he is upset.” Turning toward the woman, the pilot Bradley says, “Looks like you will miss your red hot date tonight. I hope your prey will understand.” Ignoring his laugh, she looks me up and down, then with a shrug of her shoulders, she turns to walk away but I know I heard her mumble something about, “not getting it” as the pair of them headed toward a building.

  The only response Nash gives him is “alright, I’ll take the blame.” Then he turns and looks at me, “Charli he’s at The Maxwell Inn. Do you know where that is?”

  Shaking my head, “No, I have no idea where that is.”

  “It is an exclusive little inn about five miles out of town. “Before we go any further with this, I have to ask are you sure you want to see him?” Looking at his watch, he says, “you know we were on your porch less than an hour ago. He was on the other side of your door and you let him walk away. What type of game are you trying to play?”

  “I’m not playing any game. I know you were on the porch. I just realized, I screwed up. Okay? I thought I was doing the right thing but when I heard you leave, I realized what a mistake I was making. Then I had to dump my purse to find my keys. Do you remember what it takes to find things in my purse?” Taking a deep breath I continue “Nash, I need to see him one more time at least. I think we both probably need some closure. We ended so bad that I just need to do it right.” He looks at me for just a second, shakes his head and says, “Let me state for the record that there is no way I will ever forget that purse adventure. It is emblazoned into my brain more than likely forever. With that being said, do you want to follow me?” Without giving me an opportunity to answer he says, “Better yet, let’s park your car and I will drive you out there.” My red eyes probably got about twice the size when I realized he was afraid I
would run off somewhere.

  “Will it be safe here? Or should I take it back to my brother’s house?”

  Raising his eyebrow before he speaks, Nash waits just a second before he answers, “It’ll be safe here. If you prefer, you can give me the keys and I’ll have someone drop it off.” I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that he has “someone” even here that can drop if off for me. Looking up at Nash, I am trying to read his facial expression but his sunglasses are protecting the part I really need to see. I am caught up in a dilemma.

  Chapter 9

  What in the world am I doing I ask myself as I get into the front seat of the SUV. Looking over at Nash I say, “Hey, it’s not navy.” Looking at me like I have lost my mind, he simply says, “No.”

  “How has he been?”

  “Alright.”

  “He wasn’t really somewhere over an ocean between China and Australia was he? He was right here the whole time. ”

  “No, he hasn’t been here but a couple of hours. I thought he was on his way to Sydney. I told you the truth or at least what I thought was the truth."

  “You are mad at me aren’t you?”

  “No, I’m not.’

  Looking over at him, “Well, you could fool me. If you remember, I didn’t do anything to you.”

  Stopping at a light, Nash text someone then looks over at me saying, “Look Charli, I don’t just work for him you know that. We are friends. I’ve seen him go through a lot of shit over the years. You left him when he was going through it hip deep. You just didn’t know he was going through it. He’s good that way. Hiding things that he doesn’t want you to know. That’s why he is such a shark in the boardroom.”