Mi Carino (41 page)

 “
I love you so much Diego.” She stuttered between gasping breaths. It felt good to say it.

“
I love you more nena.”

Because he could say it in return.

The
light filtered in through the drawn curtains warming her face, sending beams of color through her closed lids. Marcella turned over to the warmth, smiling, trying to hold on to the feeling.
The feeling of him
. But the dream always ended the same, moisture between her legs, her vagina aching, her heart bleeding and her mind reeling with the thoughts of the ‘could-have-been’.  He wasn’t there. She was alone.

“
Diego.” she sighed.

It would take time, Susan said. Sure, it should take time since she felt so much for him so fast. But this was ridiculous. It had been weeks since she saw him. Shouldn’t it hurt a little less? Her eyes opened. She lay there staring at nothing, remembering everything. She remembered their chance meeting at the restaurant and her stay at the beach house. She remembered every single time they made love, and every time he drove her to tears. She grew tired of remembering.

It would be nice to forget.

Marcella blinked at the dimming rays bleeding through the curtains and spilling sun over her bed. Outside was a new city, new opportunities, a new life. She wanted to join it, and stop with her remembering. The man in her dreams didn’t exist. He was too broken, too crippled by the cruelties heaped on him as a child. Maybe if it was just her she’d risk it. Try to fix him. Heal him. But it wasn’t just her. It was her and their baby. She wanted this baby desperately, his baby. Her mother’s sins were always to the front of her mind. Diego never mentioned kids. Would he think she did this on purpose? To trap him? When she called her mother she warned her not to make her mistakes. Marcella still wavered on what exactly to do. But the news of a baby had her mother bubbling with excitement. Marcella considered spending a year in New York after the baby was born, to make sure her child had them both. It was an option.

Marcella sat up and pressed the ball of her palms to her eyes. Each day she ventured out with an iron will to not think of him. Then at night her mind would betray her, taunt her with dreams that would never be. He wasn’t that man. She knew that fully. Men don’t change, no matter how much you wished it. Sucking in her first morning breath she rose from her comfortable mattress, stacks of pillows, drawing back the sheet.

“
You up?”

“
Yes.” She said with a yawn. “I’m up.”

“
Morning sickness?”

Then it happened. Her stomach surged and she gagged on reflex. With eyes bulging she nearly fell to her knees running from the bed. She hit the bathroom floor in time to puke hard and strong. She could hear Susan chuckling as she entered the room. Damn it, she was fine until she said the words.

“
You think it’s funny, it’s not!” Marcella smiled flushing the toilet.

“
Girl you are so damn predictable, even your kid works on a time watch.” Susan checked hers. “We need to eat. I’m going downstairs to the bistro for croissants before we take the Metro in. Join me.”

“
Yeah, I need to get myself together if you don’t mind.”

“
I’m learning French. How’s this…
Bonjour!”

Marcella waited for the rest. Susan grinned. “How was it?”

“
Is that all?”

“
Yeah, good right?”

“
Susan get out. I need to shower.” She laughed rising to her feet. Susan winked and closed the door repeating
bonjour
over and over as she walked out of the room. Marcella looked herself over in the mirror. When would her baby bump form? There wasn’t a hint of it so far. In fact she had lost four pounds. The doctor said she was five weeks. She couldn’t wait to be round and swollen with her little one. She was happy. She was strong, and she was about to take on two great adventures, her life was what it should be.

“
Bonjour!”
she said to herself. “Time to make the donuts.”

***

There were few people. His hands clasped behind his back, he walked slowly down the cranberry carpeted aisle. To the front, stacked, were hundreds of tiny wine colored votive candle jars flickering tiny flames. Behind was an organ, pulpit, choir stand. The ceiling above reached nearly thirty feet, with intricate detailing that covered the beams along the walls. But his focus remained singular. A magnificent placement of stained glass, red, purple, green, blue, and yellow arranged a depiction of the Virgin Mother Mary and the baby Jesus. Mother and child, he couldn’t tear his eyes from it.  

Diego stopped. His hands dropped to his sides, his eyes lowered to the flickering candles. Taking a match stick, he dipped it into an existing flame then sparked another, making the sign of the cross before him. His eyes slowly closed, His free hand went inside of his trouser pocket and removed a very worn and delicate set of rosary beads. They belonged to Ana. She held tight to them when he found her, dead. He had to pry them from her small fingers.

Kneeling he kissed them and held them in both hands, his elbows resting on the partitioned separation between the congregation and the men of the cloth. He wasn’t a praying man. In fact he hadn’t spoken to God since the day he saw his father butchered. He cursed God when his baby brother’s bloated body washed up on the shore, and swore vengeance when his sister took an overdose to escape the horror of what she had become.

Revenge came at a price. Seeing Marie and finally taking from her, opened all those barely healed wounds. The nightmares were back, he could barely sleep without thinking of his siblings, and dreaming of Marcella.

 “
Have you found her?” he said to the shadow behind him.

His head slowly lifted, eyes opening.

“
She is no longer in the states.”

The words were like a flaming tip arrow into his heart. His fingers curled around the rosary and his hand clenched. “No longer in the states?”

“
We’ll have her soon.”

It had barely been a month, where did she go?  Rising slowly he didn’t turn to Lance when he spoke. “We leave London as soon as you know where she is. Do you understand?”

“
I have to ask…”

“
Speak your mind.”

“
You were once so adamant that she be left alone. That we not keep tabs on her, what has changed?”

“
Nothing has changed. I want her back.” He cut him a cold hard look from over his shoulder. “She belongs with me.”

Diego’s head turned and he looked up again at the Virgin Mary, frowning. He felt warmth though it was fleeting.

“
Find her.
Ahora
.”

***

…
Shake your groove thang…Shake your groove thang…baby! Show ‘em how you do it now! Show ‘em how you do it now!! Baby….

“
Would you stop dancing around like that?” Marcella chuckled.

Susan grinned into a final spin. “We’re in Paris! Paris! It just hit me. Look out there.” Marcella watched her go to the gallery window. She stepped up on the display block.

“
Susan! Get down.”

Parisians passed on the sidewalk looking up at her as if she was insane.

“
Bonjour Pari
!!!” Susan yelled stretching her arms up, grinning wide. They spent the first few days dealing with the move trying to figure out one place from the next, and then working long hours to get the gallery up and open.

“
Marcella! We haven’t seen any of it yet!” She turned on her with eyes wild with excitement. The Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, a ride in a gondola along the flooded streets while some hottie serenades me.”

“
That’s Venice fool, get down.”

“
Oh shit, that’s right.” Susan grinned. She climbed down. “Admit you’re excited. Cause I sure as shit am. Everything is ours! I don’t know Marcella I thought it would be hard at first to adjust—the language and all. Damn French people don’t believe in a second language? They speak French first and ask if you can speak English second.”

“
It’s their country Susan.” Marcella walked off.

“
I know it, but damn.” Susan hurried behind her. “Hey you feeling okay?”

Her stomach nausea was always there. Whoever said it was morning sickness lied. Damn thing was all day sickness. She reached for a frame and Susan nearly screamed.

“
You can’t do that! Are you insane?”

“
What on earth are you screaming about?”

“
You’re pregnant, you can’t lift anything!”

Marcella turned. The three staff workers that milled about to open the gallery were out of ear-shot. She wasn’t going to let Alexandria Dubois know she was pregnant. Though this was her gallery, Alexandria was the sponsor of their Visa. Their stay in Paris hinged on keeping the snobby woman happy. “I’m fine, it’s just the frame.”

“
And you are pregnant now. This is a sensitive time.”

Marcella sighed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“
That’s what I’d like to know.” Alexandria said and approached. Neither had heard her enter. Marcella stiffened at the sight of her.

“
Bonjour
, darlings.”

Susan stepped forward first, giving cheek pecks. Marcella offered the same greeting. Alexandria’s presence filled the room. She wore a powder blue Chanel suit, with a thick strand of pearls around her neck. Her hair, highlighted a golden brown, sat on her head like a helmet of thick curls, framing her beauty. She was in her mid-sixties but looked as young as forty. Richer than Garrett, she and Susan joked she had to be the black Donald Trump of the Parisian art world. Marcella had met with her twice and both times it left her baffled. There was something about Alexandria she couldn’t quite figure out.

“
We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“
I know.” Alexandria smiled. “That’s why I came today.” They parted as she walked between them. Marcella gave Susan a curious look, she shrugged in return. The ladies followed her at a reasonable distance.  

“
Everything is coming together so nicely. Bravo.” She turned and looked to Marcella. “Garret was right, you are a gem. I think this will work out fine.”

Marcella gave her a gracious nod. Her mouth opened and Susan’s cell phone began to play the theme song to Flash Dance. Both Marcella and Alexandria looked to her.

Susan blushed. “Pardon.” She said hurrying off.