The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse (24 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Carla sat and watched the phone as evening slipped into night. She hadn’t expected it to do anything out of the ordinary—just ring. Whatever patience she’d still possessed had long evaporated. It had been days since she’d left the first message on Richard’s phone to call her. She’d have to be dense not to realize that he wasn’t going to return her call, let alone, meet her for coffee. He obviously didn’t want to have anything to do with her and had moved on.

The notion that Richard no longer cared for her, hurt Carla deeply. Now that she had discovered she loved him and not Martin, she couldn’t fathom how could this happen to her. It was like a nightmare, opening doors that hid waiting monsters, ready to pounce. This was one story she couldn’t write a happy ending to.

No matter what, she wasn’t going to be a coward. It would be easy to remain with Martin and believe that he would be true to her from now on. However, she’d already proven that she could tough things out.

Her weight loss had been the hardest thing she’d ever attempted. The very fact that she met her goal gave her the backbone to leave Martin. She was no longer the naïve woman she’d been before discovering his infidelity and now knew that the woman he’d been having the affair with was not his first. Being the consummate salesman, he was able to lie with a straight face. Perhaps he no longer possessed a conscience, as well.

It didn’t matter at this point. As far as she was concerned, nothing he could say could change her mind. Their marriage was over—kaput. The handsome prince had failed to make the princess happy.

And she’d tell him that night.

* * *

Martin found Carla sitting in the kitchen absent-mindedly nursing a glass of wine. She hadn’t heard him enter. He noticed that she hadn’t even begun dinner, which was odd because she didn’t mention going out. In fact, they hadn’t spoken since the previous night.

Now as he stood there watching her, he felt the wonder of the night before fade like the heat from a corpse. She wasn’t acting like a woman bubbling over with renewed love. Instead she looked miserable as if she’d just received the news of her best friend’s death. What was wrong? Hadn’t she behaved like a woman in love last night?

Carla sensed she was being watched and looked up. Their eyes met and caught. Martin felt the air swoosh out of him as if he were tackled by a linebacker. The expression on her face was not the look of love.

He walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of beer. Twisting off the cap, he sat down at the kitchen table the chair opposite her. He felt her eyes following his every move, yet she hadn’t said a word. That, in itself, was uncharacteristic of Carla. Whatever was bothering her was serious. And he had a distinct feeling he wasn’t going to like it.

The room was so quiet he could hear the seconds ticking away on the wall clock. He took a deep breath before asking, “What’s wrong, Carla?”

“Us,” she replied in a weak voice. “
We’re
all wrong.”

Martin massaged the bridge of his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean? I thought everything was okay—what about last night?” All the words tumbled out of his mouth as if he couldn’t say them fast enough.

“Last night was a mistake. It never should have happened.”

“You’re confusing me, Carla, and I don’t like it.”

“Sorry,” she said and let out a deep sigh. “I’ll make it simple. I don’t love you, anymore Martin.”

Martin felt as if the ceiling had come crashing down on top of him. Nothing could have prepared him for that.

“I want a divorce. We can just split everything down the middle. I don’t care.”

“Whh…why? Is it because I cheated? It was a mistake—and it only happened once. I told you,” he replied, his voiced sounding thin and shrill. “I said I was sorry—”

She cut him off, ignoring his blatant lie. Every time he opened his mouth he lied and his whining was hurting her ears. “That’s only part of it—”

In disbelief, he practically shouted, “There’s more?”

“I’m in love with another man.”

Anger chased away the look of shock on Martin’s face. “Who’s the son-of-a-bitch?
I’ll—”

Carla waved a hand to stop him. “Don’t bother; I doubt if he loves me. Besides, he doesn’t even know how I feel.”

The expression on Martin’s face transformed into one of sheer astonishment. “Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? You’re telling me you’re dumping me because you love someone who has no idea that you love him?”

She nodded.

“And you’re going to throw our marriage away because of it?” His tone was accusatorial and filled with hurt.

Carla knew Martin would try to shift the blame toward her and didn’t care. All she wanted was for him to go. She’d wasted enough time lying to herself that all was well when his love for her had been so shallow. Maybe not in the beginning when they were first married, but definitely now. There was little room for her in his life alongside his ego.

“You’re sure you want to split?” he asked her again.

“Yes. I’d like you to take your things and leave.”

“Now?”

“There’s no use for you to hang around. I won’t change my mind.”

“I can’t believe you’re fucking doing this!” he said, banging the beer bottle down on the table before stomping out of the kitchen.

Carla heard drawers slamming in the bedroom.
Good
, she thought. This meant he was going to leave tonight. She knew this was for the best and what she wanted, fearing that if he stayed she might waiver. It was always easier to try and mend things, but trying to save her marriage would be like putting a Band-aid over a broken heart. She’d wasted enough of her life with a self-centered, selfish man and wouldn’t shed any more tears. It was time to move on.

Martin appeared before her with two bulging suitcases. Knowing Martin, he probably tossed the stuff into the luggage from across the room. “When you come to your senses call me,” he snapped.

Carla said nothing as she looked into his angry blue eyes one last time before he stormed out of the house and hopefully out of her life. All she wanted was for the phone to ring and hear the sound of Richard’s voice.

* * *

Lynne and Haywood had just ordered. They were having a late supper in a quiet, Italian restaurant near her last house showing of the evening. He’d driven over to meet her still feeling the elation of being with her, which he likened to the smell of a new car. Things couldn’t be better for them. After drifting from job to job, he’d finally found one he enjoyed and did well. It was all because of Lynne, who believed in him.

The fact that she loved him was the most fantastic thing to happen to him in a long time. Before she’d entered his life, he’d already reconciled to the fact that he was a loser. Of course the feeling had been nurtured by loving help of his mother. However, that was old history he didn’t want to dwell on —especially now with such a rosy future ahead of him.

He looked at the petite raven-haired woman who had the power to make his heart bubble over with happiness. Though her hazel eyes changed color with her clothing, they were always full of life and insatiable warmth—except when they were making love. Then they glittered like precious jewels. Though she was short and only came up to the middle of his chest, she possessed the love of an Amazon. And she gave all of that love to only him.

“What?” Lynne asked, noticing his stare.

“I love to look at you—but you already know that,” he said reaching over to take her hand in his.

“I’m glad. You’re kinda cute yourself,” was Lynne’s reply, which caused him to blush.

“You’re blushing.”

“I guess you could just about make me do anything.”

Lynne gazed at her watch.

“What’s wrong?” Haywood asked concerned.

“I’m worried about Carla. She must have told Martin she wanted a divorce by now.”

“He’s violent? Seemed like a wuss to me.”

“I’d say somewhere in-between. Either way, he wouldn’t be happy about it.”

“He wouldn’t hurt her, would he?” Haywood frowned.

Lynne shook her head.” I doubt it. Though the blow to his ego would be severe. I doubt he’s ever been rejected by a woman before.”

* * *

Like most cities, downtown Phoenix had a seamy underbelly where drugs and sex were sold. Old abandoned warehouses and factories housed the disenfranchised and misbegotten souls that society had left by the wayside. That night as the prostitutes were plying their trade to score enough to appease their own habits and keep their pimps happy, a step-van pulled behind a vacant lot where a landfill had grown from strewn garbage and rusted car skeletons. Two men got out of the van’s cab and walked toward the back. Each took an end of a large, black plastic bag and carried it to the open trunk of a car. They placed it inside and closed the trunk. Without a word, they got back into the van and drove off. None of the denizens of the night took any notice.

* * *

Richard had fallen into a fitful sleep. At some point he began to dream. In it he was chasing after Carla who was, in turn, chasing after her husband. Around and around they went until someone was hitting a gong ending the round. As the dream receded into the back of his mind, he became aware that the phone was ringing. He turned toward the night stand and lifted the receiver. It was 4:30AM. Who would call him at such an ungodly hour?

As he lifted the receiver, he already knew it wasn’t going to be good news.

“Richie, meet us at General. It’s Mom. Maybe a stroke.” His sister’s voice trembled.

“Be there as soon as I can,” he said, already out of bed.

It was happening all over again. First Dad and now Mom. His father hadn’t survived. As his gut clenched, he’d prayed the outcome with his mother would be different.

* * *

Richard sat by his mother’s bed in intensive care. She’d had a stroke. It had been a bad one that left her entire left side paralyzed. He and his sister, Ellen, had remained in the hospital hoping for the best.

Sam, Ellen’s husband, had gone down to the cafeteria to get something to eat. Neither Richard nor Ellen had an appetite. Instead, they both sat at their mother’s side lost in their own private thoughts and prayers.

Suddenly, Ellen began to sob. “I don’t want to be an orphan.”

Richard got up and put his arms around his older sister and held her close. “Shh, shh. She’s going to be all right.”

“No, she’s not. She’s going die just like Daddy,” she wailed.

“Things are different today. And Mom’s a fighter—way too stubborn to let go,” Richard reassured her, trying to believe his own words. “Besides, she’s not going anywhere until she sees me married.”

Richard watched his mother’s chest slowly rise and fall. Ultimately her fate was now in God’s hands. This was absolutely nothing Richard could do to change the fact he was merely a bystander. In fact the only life he could influence was his own and yet here, too, he was acting as a bystander.

It was time for him to take an active role in his life. There was a lesson in his being in that hospital room. Life could be fickle, but was definitely short. And he was wasting his. He had to stop watching the events of his life unfold from the sidelines. He had to be more proactive.

If he wanted Carla in his life, he had to fight for her. He would do whatever it took to open her eyes to that worthless husband and make her his own. She cared for him and he’d transform that caring into love if it was the last thing he ever did.

* * *

Gilda Stein opened one eye and looked around her. Then she opened the other and tried to focus her eyes. Finally she looked directly at her children. Ellen noticed she was awake and nudged Richard.

“You were right. She is too stubborn to let go,” Ellen said.

Through a lopsided mouth, Gilda said, her speech slurred, “I heard that.”

Both of her children got up and kissed her.

“I want to go home,” Gilda said.

“What else is new, Ma?” Ellen said, tears of joy running down her face.

* * *

Hours later, Richard and Ellen left the hospital laughing. Now that their mother was out of the woods and expected to be okay, she was already driving the staff crazy. All that was left was the assessment of the damage done by the stroke and then rehab.

“I have to go back to work this afternoon. Can you stay with Mom later so she’s not alone?” Richard asked.

Ellen put her hand on his shoulder. “Of course. I know how important that case is. I’ll tell her you’ll be there after dinner.”

“Thanks, sis.”

“Just win the case and make partner. Then Mom can really brag.”

Only Richard’s mind wasn’t on the case. He was thinking of Carla and what he was going to do to make her his.

* * *

Heather’s heart was aflutter as she got out of the cab in front of the St. Regis Grand Hotel.

Driving toward the hotel, her emotions had been stoked by all the old memories from the first time she’d been in the eternal city. How could she ever have forgotten those evening strolls, arm-in-arm with Salvatore to the famed Trevi Fountain into which he’d tossed a coin and she’d made a wish? Then they had climbed the Spanish Steps, a monumental stairway consisting of 138 steps that once linked the Bourbon Spanish Embassy to the Holy See. Salvatore had shown her Rome through a lover’s eyes and she’d kept it hidden within her heart all these years.