Whispers in the Wind

by Veronica Giolli

  Sunny looked down at her hands. “Maybe you’re into him more than he’s into you. Sounds like he’s a user. Maybe you should kick him to the curb.”

  “Mom, I’m not sixteen. I’ll handle it. Okay?”

  “Okay, fine.” Sunny was reluctant to meddle, which was sure to start a fight. They’d been through enough already that day.

  “I looked at the car. A few dents. I have to contact the police. Because it’s a rental it’ll cost me. I can only tell them what I know, which isn’t much.”

  Rita got out of the car. “I want to see what happened.” She looked at the bumper. “It could be worse. We could be the ones who got dented.”

  Sunny nodded. “So true. There’s nothing I can do at this time.” Maybe I’ll try and cheer her up. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “Let’s go have Mexican. Javier’s stays open late.”

  LATE FRIDAY EVENING

  Sunny treated her daughter to dinner at her favorite Mexican restaurant. She loved its ethnic feel, Spanish tiles on the stairs and floor, colorful piñatas hanging from the ceiling. Portraits and pictures framed in red on the yellow walls. The smell of fresh-made corn tortillas, roasted peppers, and chilies filled the room. The waitresses wore long green-and-blue ruffled skirts with snowy-white peasant blouses.

  Sunny ordered the enchilada combo plate, with extra cheese, and fruit-flavored iced tea. Rita had chili rellenos and a glass of sangria. While they waited for their orders they talked about the events of the last few days, also recalling memories of Gina and some of the good times. Sunny mentioned the papers she’d found at Gina’s house.

  “I can’t remember where I put them. I keep moving them to different places.”

  Rita took a drink of her wine. “Why do you think they’re important?”

  “It’s the feeling I got when I saw them.”

  They ate in silence. Sunny was lost in her own thoughts. Why did she have that strange feeling about the papers?

  Finished, Rita talked about how her feelings toward Lee were changing.

  Though Sunny was tired of that topic she listened. She knew her daughter wouldn’t listen to her, though.

  Rita was speaking. “When I stayed at his house, nothing I did was right. He seemed mad at me the whole time. I don’t know what his problem is. I don’t want to put up with his mood swings anymore. I have enough to think about.”

  “Well, you know what I think. But you do what you want. After all, you’re not sixteen.”

  Smiling, Rita stuck her tongue out and crinkled her nose.

  “Ready to go?” Sunny picked up her purse and left the tip.

  When they approached the rental car in the parking lot, Sunny was reminded how lucky they were. The damage was only a couple of dents. It could’ve been so much worse. With Gina gone, she couldn’t imagine something happening to Rita too. She unlocked the car’s doors and made a mental note to call the police when she arrived home. She didn’t know what she could tell them, but at least there’d be a report on file for the rental company.

  Rita got in on the passenger side. “I’ll have to go to the salon tomorrow,” she said. “It’s my day to check supplies and do the paperwork.”

  “That’s okay. I have things I want to work on at home,” said Sunny. “Did I ever tell you how proud I am of you? A business owner at your age!”

  “Well, you remember, if my godmother hadn’t left the hair salon to me, I might not.”

  “Yes, but you’ve kept it going and made a good living from it.” Sunny leaned over and squeezed her daughter’s hand.

  Sunny and Rita were home, relaxing with their shoes off when the ringing started. They stared at each other.

  Rita rushed to answer it. “Mom, it’s Barry.” With a sigh of relief, glad it wasn’t another hang-up, she handed the mouthpiece to Sunny.

  “Hello?”

  “I made it home okay,” Barry answered.

  “Was everything all right?”

  “I don’t know if someone broke into the house, or if a kid threw a ball, but the window in the front bedroom is smashed. Nothing seems to be missing, and everything else looks okay. The rain and wind caused a tree to fall over. It’s small. Maybe caused by the storm. The backyard needs some cleaning. I’ll get it done.”

  “Oh, damn. What else got trashed? Should I come home?”

  “No. I said I’ll do it. I’ve already called the police and our insurance. You don’t have to do everything … Wonder Woman.”

  She grimaced. “Don’t call me that. You know I hate it.” It made her feel as if people viewed her as controlling and bossy. “I’m not in ‘Wonder Woman’ mode. But I need to trust you. Can you do it?”

  “Give me some credit, okay? I can take care of things.”

  “I guess.”

  “See, there you go.”

  She sighed. “Okay, it’s all yours. Call and let me know.”

  Sunny placed the receiver on its hook and turned to Rita. “Do I try to do everything myself?” Not letting her reply, she answered her own question. “It’s only because of the drinking. I can’t depend on him.”

  “Is it possible that you don’t give him a chance? You act like he drinks day and night.” Rita handed Sunny a cup of tea. “He holds down a responsible job, remember. I think he just wants to feel needed or appreciated. Everyone does.”

  “Maybe. We’ll see. When did you get so wise?”

  “Why didn’t you tell him about the car hitting us tonight?”

  “I didn’t want him to worry. We don’t know who hit us or why. It could be kids, old people, a drunk. Even if I think someone did hit us deliberately, what can we do about it now?”

  Rita bit her lower lip. “I know. It’s complicated. I wish we could’ve seen the license or even the color of the car—”

  Sunny butted in. “Or if it was a man or woman. There is probably nothing we can do, except be thankful we weren’t hurt.”

  “Yep.” Rita hugged her mother good night and called Lee. He had her car and she needed it, but there was no answer. Shaking her head, Rita said, “I’m not going to worry about him. Night, Mom.”

  Sunny sat awhile longer. More time passed. She was exhausted. “It’s been a long, hard day. Maybe I’ll have a glass of wine. I deserve it,” she noted. “I’ve gone years without a drink. What would it hurt?” She opened and closed her hands. A desperate need to check out the pantry built inside her. “I fell back on my promise to stay a nonsmoker.” She closed her eyes tight. “I’m not going to do the same with drinking. If it’s not one drink, it will be two, three, four … Besides, Gina needs me now.”

  In the kitchen she stopped and looked at the pantry. The wine bottle and bottles of beer on the shelf beckoned, as if they could somehow save her. “No,” she decided. “No.” She turned off the lights. Empty-handed and sober, she went to bed.

  During the night something shook her bed. Surprised, she sat up. Sitting there as if she were real, on the edge of the bed, was Gina. Her long hair fell over her shoulder, covering half her face.

  Sunny teared up, overwhelmed. “Oh, Gina, why did you do this?” she stammered.

  “I would never leave my boys,” Gina stated.

  Sunny opened her eyes and was surprised to find she was alone, lying on her pillow. Was Gina a dream? It was so real. Gina came to me. Now I know she needs me. Is this a dream now, or am I talking in my sleep?

  She turned onto her stomach and placed the pillow over her head. Sleep wouldn’t come. She was up, tossing and turning, most of the night. She kept thinking about what Gina said. She vaguely remembered her saying that before. Somewhere.

  I would never leave my boys.

  What had Gina meant when she told me that?

  Gina, please come back.

  Sunny wondered if she was sorry she’d done it … or if she hadn’t meant to leave her boys.

  Then why had she done it?

  Damn, I can’t figure it out. She’s drifting.

  CHAP
TER TWENTY-THREE

  SATURDAY MORNING

  Rita was ready to go to work, but Lee still had her car. “Damn it. He knows Saturday is my busy day. I can’t be late.” Annoyed, she called him again. It was both a surprise and a worry when there was no answer. She didn’t want to wake up her mother because when she was up at one o’clock to get a drink of water her mother was engrossed in writing in her notebook. She never looked up.

  Rita called Lee once more. This time he answered, bright and cheerful. “Lee,” she said. “I need the car now. It’s Saturday and I have to get to work. Supplies come in today. Remember, I told you?”

  “Sorry, I’ll be right there.”

  Rita held off asking why he wasn’t home earlier. She wanted to see his reaction. Maybe he’d been in the shower. She blew on her coffee and watched for him out the window. He didn’t take long. She set her cup in the sink and rushed out the door.

  Sliding in the passenger side she smelled perfume. Sweet and flowery. “Why do I smell perfume? Where were you? I tried to call you last night.” Nausea rose in her stomach. Her heart beat hard. She studied his face, watching the vein in his neck throb. Would he tell her the truth? Or was he lying to her?

  “Hey, hold on,” he said. “I was at my friend’s house while he worked on my ride. If you smell anything it’s aftershave.” She tried to identify the smell when a can of WD-40 rolled out from under her seat. She knew that old Indian trick. WD-40 hides perfume. “I don’t care. I told you, I need my car. Now you’ve made me late.”

  He averted his eyes. “Let me use it today. I have some important papers I need to sign. I’m buying a condo,” he said. “I’ll bring it by later. I promise.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? A condo! If you have money to buy a condo why do you need money from me? Never mind. I’m running late. I don’t have time to drive you home. I’ll call you when I’m finished, and be there!”

  In front of her salon she got out and waved at him. He didn’t say goodbye. Shithead. He didn’t kiss her or return her wave. She assumed he was mad because she’d questioned him. She didn’t deserve to be treated like this and would let him know about it.

  Furious, Rita busied herself to keep from screaming, stocking supplies and a few shampoo sets, and then took a break as her employees caught her up on all the gossip. Looking around the reception area, Rita was proud of the changes she’d made in the salon. The walls were a cream color, and she’d added wood-grained stations. The chairs were either turquoise or ivory. Indian prints hung in turquoise frames on the walls.

  The hairstylists wore black pants and black smocks. Rita wore a turquoise smock coat over black pants. She felt good about what she had accomplished. But it was nice to have her mom notice too.

  Later, in the afternoon, ready to leave, she called Lee. Nothing. Sighing, her stomach flipped.

  A few minutes later, one of the girls called her to the front reception desk. “You have a patron.”

  “I don’t have any more appointments.” She walked to the front of the salon.

  Victor was in the reception area. Rita’s gaze rolled over his forest-green sweatshirt. It brought out his seaweed-green eyes. Even though she wasn’t familiar with him, she liked what she saw. “Hi, Victor. This is a surprise.”

  “Hi.” He had a great smile. “Your sign says no appointment needed. Got time for a haircut?”

  “Sure. I was ready to quit, but it won’t take long.”

  He sat in front of the mirror; she put a towel around his neck. He had great shoulders. When she looked in the mirror she also noticed his bow-shaped mouth and cleft chin. With his sleeves pushed up, dark hairs shaded the curve of his forearms. Nice, she thought. Her hands were sweating. Why did she feel nervous around him?

  He winked at her. “Just a little off the top.”

  Rita smiled back. “Half inch?”

  “That’s good.” He glanced around the salon. “Nice place. I like the pictures.”

  “Thank you. Turquoise and cream are my favorite colors. I added the Indian theme to give it authenticity.”

  She looked at his face in the mirror, then away, when her pulse quickened. You have a boyfriend, she scolded herself. Or was he just a stranger who had conned her into buying a condo for?

  “Excuse me a minute. I have to call Lee to pick me up.” Rita left Victor and went to the phone; it rang and rang. She felt sick. Then she sucked it up and returned to her station. Her heart sinking, she tried to sound casual. “He’s not home.”

  Her face in the mirror had lost some color.

  Victor must have noticed. “I’ll give you a lift.”

  Now embarrassment flowed across her face. “Thanks. He should be home by the time I finish.” She picked up the comb and scissors, absorbing herself in her work in order to calm her mind. The snip snip of the scissors was soothing.

  “I didn’t see you at Gina’s sweat,” she said. “Did you go?”

  “No, it didn’t feel right. I did go to her funeral. I sat at the back.”

  Shaking her head, she murmured, “It’s all so sad.” Silence fell.

  Rita finished his haircut. “Okay, done. How’s that?” She gave him a mirror to view the back. “Could you wait a minute? I’ll try to call Lee again.”

  Rita called one more time. No answer. “I guess I’ll take that ride, if you don’t mind.”

  Hanging up her smock, she grabbed her jacket and called out goodbye to everyone.

  Rita thanked Victor as they left the salon. “I could have called my mother to come get me, but she needs to rest. Gina’s death has been too much for her.”

  “It’s fine. I’m off today, and it’s not out of my way.”

  As they walked to his vehicle she remarked how nice his truck was and climbed in. “Isn’t this the new ’85 GMC?”

  “Sure is. Right off the assembly line.” While he was driving they talked about his truck, the weather, mundane things. But soon they were absorbed in conversation. He became animated and wasn’t paying attention to where they were going. He took the wrong exit.

  As soon as they came to the next stoplight Rita spoke up. “We were talking so much, you missed my exit. I missed it too.” She slapped her forehead. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Sorry,” Victor said. “I tend to get gabby. I’ll get us back to the highway, no problem.” He drove steadily in the unfamiliar neighborhood looking for signs back onto the highway. He turned onto the next street. Each block had a row of brown stuccoed apartments or brick duplexes with small clean yards in front.

  Rita tried to help. “I think this road goes to the freeway.”

  He wasn’t so certain. “Feels like I’m driving in a circle. Not as quick and easy as I thought.” He traveled a little farther to find an easy place to turn around.

  Finally, Rita saw a car that looked exactly like her blue Mazda. “Slow down,” she said. She realized she wasn’t the only person in the world with a blue Mazda. When they neared the row of apartments, she looked at the car parked in the carport. Same color. Same everything. “There!” She pointed. “That’s my car! What’s it doing here?”

  Victor turned his attention to her. “Are you sure? Wait. I’ll pull over.”

  She jumped out almost before he came to a stop and ran to the carport. Peering inside the window of the vehicle, she saw an unfamiliar scarf across the front seat. But her favorite to-go cup was in the holder, and her half-finished paperback novel lay on the back seat. Confused, she checked the one telltale sign, the dent by the handle on the driver’s side, and checked the license plate. Maybe she read it wrong? No. Definitely her car. Her heart beat faster.

  Looking at the space number where her car was parked, she matched it up to the corresponding apartment. She located number 121 in black metal numbers next to the door. Rita knocked hard and heard movement inside. Standing tall, with arms down at her sides, her hands drew into fists.

  The door opened and a small, frail, white-haired lady appeared, leaning on a cane. “
May I help you?” the woman asked.

  Rita stood stiff-legged, folded her arms, and stared at her. Flustered, she said, “I saw my car in space number 121 and I want to know what it’s doing here.”

  “Oh dear, I don’t know. The space numbers don’t coordinate with the apartment numbers.” The woman’s hand shook on her cane. “They do that for safety reasons. I’m sorry.”

  Rita stood a minute looking at the closed door, uncertain what to do. She wanted to go bang on all the doors in the complex, but there were too many. Plus, she was with Victor, so she couldn’t search through the area the way she wanted to. Should I leave a note on the windshield? What would I say? In the meantime, she decided to go home and wait for Lee. She’d talk it over with her mother.

  Victor sat in his truck, listening to the radio. “What did you find out?” he asked. “Is that your car?”

  Rita scooted in. “Yeah, I guess this is where Lee has been the last few days. Maybe it’s his friend’s place.” Her voice cracked.

  He asked no more of her. He started the truck and turned it around, to find the right on-ramp and take Rita home.

  He cocked his head and looked at her. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for taking me home. And the little detour that turned out to be a big detour.” She tried to smile.

  They drove on until Victor found his way to the highway. Farther along, she pointed. “This is my exit.”

  Even though her thoughts were jumbled and her stomach in knots due to finding her car in a strange neighborhood, she couldn’t help but stare at Victor from time to time. She hated for their ride to be over. He was so nice. Those dark green eyes seemed to look right into her. She was sure he knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t tell him what she really thought. She was too embarrassed to say, Lee is cheating on me. And even if he wasn’t, she was done. He was too moody, and now she knew for sure that he was using her.

  Victor kept chatting. “I don’t know how I got lost. Sorry. I didn’t have any trouble the other day. It’s strange the way you found your car. I can see you’re worried about it. But we don’t have to talk about it. I just want you to know I care. You’re a friend, Gina’s friend.”