BABY FOR MY HONEY

BROKEN

CHAPTER 9

DEVLIN

“Please make sure the plane touches down in NYC, Atlantic aviation at about 9 in the morning of Thursday and leave there at 10. I made an arrangement with Ms. Price to arrive before 10 am.” I heard the pilot’s conformity, with an assurance that he would personally take care of everything, “Thank you, captain.” I ended the call immediately.

Juval, my assistant, and I had finished our meeting earlier than expected and now, we’re headed back to the office, stepping across streets in the city, passing by a few good blocks. I needed this walk more than anything, I wanted to clear my mind of negative thoughts.

“Lemme hear that again?” Juval asked, puzzling over what he heard. If I was in his shoes, I would probably feel the same.

“What?” I narrowed my eyes, pretending I did not understand what he was asking for. Hoping that he would not delve into the topic.

“Dude, what did you say to the captain?”

“Silly, I’ve been in conversation with him for at least five minutes. You want me to repeat everything I said?” I knew what he wanted me to repeat, but I had no intention of doing as he requested.

The strange words he heard perplexed him. Who would believe that I had allowed Sairah to visit me here?

“Are you allowing your wife to visit here?” He echoed my thoughts.

I scoffed, “Do I look like I have a wife?”

Juval knew about Sairah and me. He knew a lot–almost everything, but not all. He had been with me for years. Like Antonio, my other assistant, they have served me since I stepped in my dad's big shoes. I mean, I took over the entire family business.

Juval and Antonio stayed in SoCal while I stayed in New York when Sairah and I were living together. Sairah didn’t want to leave NYC due to her parents, so we settled down there.

“That is hella funny, dude. We both know you have a wife,” Juval sniggered.

“Zip your loud mouth.”

I have no intention of talking about it– not the right time when my thoughts were in a frenzy.

We entered the building and then the lift. Luckily, there was no one else inside but Juval and me.

“Is it her first time in SoCal? How long will she stay here? Are you going to introduce us? Are you back together?” Juval rapidly fired his questions.

I exhaled heavy air from my lungs, as this local SoCal was really a pain in the butt, “I have no idea.”

Juval was a real talker. I never knew how he managed to talk like crazy whenever he was so excited. He talked non-stop over trivial matters, even matters that didn’t concern him.

He was a real jovial person, his name fit him perfectly. Juval is so close to jovial. Having him around made everyone's day bright and merry. I hadn’t noticed my lips had started to stretch and form a curve.

“Dude, did you hear me?”

I didn’t bother to respond. I stepped outside the lift as soon as the door opened.

“Dude—“ he called loudly.

I eyed him sharply.

“Oops! Apologies, Mr. Walton.” He said, raising his hand and scratching his head.

We were inside the office. He realized he had to conduct himself in accordance with acceptable norms inside the business space. He was one of the senior assistants, and I, the President and CEO.

But–away from the office, he and Antonio were the nearest I call family in this part of the country. They were my long-time friends, I considered them like brothers, “Juval, I need some time alone. Make sure no one disturbs me for an hour,” I ordered firmly.

He nodded without complaining this time.

His presence could make me smile and laugh, which I appreciated more than a number of times, but I needed silence at the moment. I needed time alone.

I entered my office, my incubator, as I call it. It serves as a controlled space where all my business ideas hatch like eggs. It has been my hole for the past few years since I settled here in SoCal.

I like SoCal, the sunny weather, and its nearness to the coastline. Work-life has been much easier here as compared to busy business life in New York, the city that never sleeps, so they say. I found it more tiring there.

My parents, unlike me, had chosen Cuba, my mom’s birthplace--to stay there for good, away from the hustle and bustle of the business community, which drained the energy of dad for a good 40 years. Cuba was where they found a less tense life, according to my mom, which she hoped would extend my father’s life longer. His heart failed to pump blood several times. True enough, my father was more energetic the last time I checked them. They have a happy and contented life in a small village where they have a doze of the vitamin sea every day.

Well, I also enjoyed vitamin sea here although it was far from the Cuban coastline and the Bahamas, but–there was plenty of sun and water. That was enough for me for now.

The nightlife was good as well, especially in Palm Spring, the best party town for me, where alfresco cocktails and live music were unbridled. Bachelors wanting a good and unrestrained life plump for those offerings, including me from time to time, although I was not exactly a bachelor.

Somehow, the environment here suits me. I would rather stay here, away from the cause of my life snag. But–she was coming over here, she would invade my unrestrained space.

When Sairah voiced her plan to visit, I opted to say NO. I wanted no reminder of her in SoCal. I wanted her to stay in New York and away from me, but as usual, she won. I couldn’t deny those beautiful grey eyes whenever they stared at me like waterholes sucking my soul down in the abyss or lifting me up into the abode of God.

It was funny, my feelings never ebbed despite what she did, but my mind couldn’t forget. Was I an unforgiving person that I couldn’t think of her and forget about the past and the result of what she did?

Not exactly true, it was just so unexpected. I never thought she was capable of such foolishness. Plus the result of that?–not a single soul knew about it aside from the medical professional who handled my case. I suffered more than anyone could imagine.

I strutted to the counter and poured myself a drink, my favorite brand of scotch, on the rocks. I swallowed the contents straight down and refilled the glass, then I walked towards the couch, sat on it, pressing my head and tired body on the backrest. Yeah, I also get tired–my mind more than my body.

Mental exhaustion could drain even the physical body. I had been cynical, doubtful, and slowly turning pessimistic. What did I do wrong to deserve this? Even if I searched and squeezed my brain, the answer was the same –I did nothing wrong.

There were times I wished I had. At least when I recollect, I have an answer. I would know that I deserved the drain. But–I didn’t deserve this nothingness, it had been a winding void that sucked every bit of wisdom from me. It was unfair, really unfair.

For five years, I remained in this blankness which drained me to zero and I was mad as hell, that I was undergoing the process without a single fault in my end.

Choose to forgive and forget, my mom told me. It was easy for her to say that, since she only knew half the truth. I couldn’t tell her everything. I didn’t want her to blame Sairah.

Why couldn’t I stop blaming Sairah? It was her ignorance and foolishness that got us into this mess.

In fairness to Sairah, I could feel and see her efforts. I heard her pleas and her pleadings numerous times. I wanted to feel the emotions I used to have for her, I wanted to forgive, but I just didn’t know–how?

I wanted to inflict the same pain I felt, but my conscience couldn’t handle hurting her, even if she was the source of all my sufferings.

I turned numb, I ignored her silent pleadings to forgive her. Let me stress the silent pleadings...Did I need to hear the words, before I could forgive and forget? I didn't know words could be enough.

Beyond the pain and perhaps hatred, I couldn’t feel anything.

I wanted to but couldn’t stay away, even if I tried. Even if my own sanity and life depended on it, I couldn’t stay away from her.

It would be a lot easier if we ended it all. Divorce seemed to be a perfect solution, freeing both of us completely, and perhaps we could have a second chance with another partner. But when she begged me, offering the arrangement we have now, I just couldn’t say NO.

So, every two weeks, we faced quite an emotional ordeal. Trying our best not to remember the past and not to invoke more pain.

Nevertheless, what was interesting was…the s*x. I couldn’t refer to it as an ordeal. It comes naturally to us, our body knew how to extract waves of pleasure. Pleasures that temporarily made us forget anything else but us. As if the past never took place. Our feverish touches send us to a vortex of awareness, of wanting, and of belonging.

I scoffed and drank the remaining liquor in the glass.

I wanted to forgive her. God knows I wanted to forgive and forget but was unable to. I guess my heart was ready, but my mind was not. I didn’t know until when Sairah and I could stand this arrangement. When will be the time that s*x will not be enough? Until when will we get tired of this game and finally call off the relationship?

Did I still love her?

I loved her. I was sure of that... From the first day we met, I loved her. But– how could a broken man love someone who broke him?

Sairah broke me and I didn’t know how to piece together the broken me.