A New York Romance (21 page)

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Authors: Abigail Winters

BOOK: A New York Romance
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“I tried to do this the easy way but you do
not
listen very well. So I am going to have to do this the hard way.”

“Is this some kind of threat?” Mr. Costea said.

“No it’s not a threat at all. I am going to tell you exactly what I am going to do.”

“And what is that?” His nervousness crawled from his stomach to his throat. He didn’t know who or how this smaller, weaker man was getting under his skin, but he was.

“I’m going to kill you at exactly 5:20 PM tomorrow evening. Don’t worry; it will be quick and painless. It will seem as if time is standing still.”

“I’m calling security and the police,” Mr. Costea said as he headed for the door.

“Don’t bother,” Charlie put his own arm on the door. “I’ll be gone before they get here,” then he left without another word, leaving Mr. Costea to ponder his fate in that silent bathroom.

 

“Mom, I kissed him today.”

From the tone of Julie’s voice her mother could tell it was something that she regretted, perhaps detested.

“Who?”

“Jason, the lead in the play, but only because the play calls for it. He’s such a jerk. I had to imagine he was Charlie. It was the only way I could act like I loved him. Now I know what hookers go through.”

“Charlie’s been gone a long time and you still think of him that way,” her mother stated the obvious.

Julie didn’t want to talk about it. She changed the subject saying, “Jason is dating Mary on the side. He’s just going to break her heart. It’s really rare to find a person you can fully trust.” She hesitated then bared her emotions to her mother saying, “I know I could trust Charlie. That says a lot.”

“Sit down, Juliet.” Jill patted the cushion of the couch next to her. “I need to explain the truth to you. You deserve that much.”

Julie was hesitant. She was uncertain she wanted to know the truth. She sat next to her mother.

“One thing I know about love is that there are many kinds of love. Yes, I loved your father, but it was a selfish love. I was infatuated with him. I loved his eyes, his looks, his character. But after spending those years together I was unhappy with him. That kind of love always fades away. I left your father because no matter how much your father loved me, I still felt empty inside. I made the mistake of thinking your father was supposed to make me full and when he didn’t, I thought there must be something else out there. Your father knew of that deeper love. He didn’t need my love like I needed his. He was filled with love already. I saw it in the way he looked at you, at everyone.

“But I was empty inside. After a while, every time I looked at him, I just felt that emptiness inside. I guess I blamed him for it. I thought you were better off with him, and...” Jill paused and started to cry.

Julie placed her hand on her mother’s hand as she continued, “When I look back, I realize I made a lot of assumptions that were mistakes. Your father could never make me happy. No one can. I had to find
it
in myself first. But I took too long. I missed out on being with your father, who was the perfect man for me all along.”

Julie hugged her mother with the hope that all her mother’s pain and regrets would instantly fall away.

“What should I do about Charlie? Should I give up on him?” Julie questioned.

Jill looked her daughter in the eyes. “I’m saying that even if Charlie comes back, he cannot make you happy, like how your father could not make me happy. True love is something that pours out of you naturally, like how light naturally pours out of the sun. But if he does come back, let him be an ornament to the happiness that is already in you.”

Her mother paused as she squeezed her daughter’s hand tightly and thought of her Sam again. “Love is the greatest illusion of all to finding true love. You gave up your anger and forgave me. Now you must do something even harder, give up love in order to find true love.”

Julie paused for a long time then asked, “Did you ever see another man after dad?”

“No, none that I loved. It took some men to realize your father was the one for me, but I loved no other.”

They sat silent for a moment, with their eyes filled with tears, missing the man they both loved most in the world. Then Jill said as she petted her daughter’s hair, “Well, tomorrow night is your play. You better get some rest.”

She kissed her daughter’s forehead, “I know you’ll do well.”

Julie could feel the love from her mother in that kiss. She retired to her room and stared out the window at the moon. Charlie shared that vision of the moon as they thought of each other, wondering where the other was and if they would see each other again. Down on the street the violinist played a melody, soft and sweet, the kind of melody that could turn an angry, stone heart into a soft, relaxing beat, and tonight, he played for Juliet once again.

 

The next morning, Mr. Costea paced his bedroom floor while his wife was downstairs cooking him breakfast. He was nervous about Charlie’s warning, even afraid, but he was not about to let a man like Charlie Daniels get the best of him.

He dressed himself and went downstairs, passing the picture of his son, as if he never even noticed it, and went into the kitchen. He sat at the breakfast table, nervously tapped his fingers on the table. He abruptly stood up, and said, “I’m not hungry,” as his wife turned around with a plate of eggs, toast, grapes, orange slices, and a bowl of oatmeal.

He grabbed his briefcase. “You should really eat something,” Mrs. Costea said.

“I said I’m not hungry!”

His irritated tone felt like a dagger in her heart. She was left holding the breakfast in her hands as she held back the tears. The kitchen door slammed in front of her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Mr. Costea mumbled to himself as he put the keys to his Lincoln back in his pocket, opened the garage, and grabbed the spare keys to the hot rod he kept stored in the garage. Mrs. Costea watched as he sped down the driveway. She ran outside to talk to him again, but he was already on the street. She could feel something different today, some tragedy lingering through the air. A great change was in the wind and she was afraid. All she could do was watch the cloud of dust, smelling burnt rubber as he peeled away.

He turned the corner and was halted by the swarm of taxis, like giant metal bees picking up passengers, as if they were valuable pollen.

“All these damn taxis!” he screamed to himself as he pounded on the steering wheel. He suddenly thought that if this was the last day of his life, he surely did not want to spend it sitting in traffic.

What would I rather be doing?
was the question on his mind. Besides having Charlie Daniels thrown out his office window, he thought of his wife.

I’m such an asshole,
he thought to himself as he remembered vaguely how he left her, standing there with his breakfast in her hands without so much as a kiss on the cheek.
I’ll make it up to her tonight. I’ll take her to dinner, maybe get her some flowers, and even tell her how much I love her
. He suddenly thought of his son whom he had not seen in a long time. He wondered where he was and what he was doing. He began to feel a sorrow for their dissonance, then suddenly the traffic began to move again. Thoughts of facing the wrath of Charlie Daniels crept back into his mind, along with anger, nervousness, and a determination to get through the day without a scratch.

 

Chapter 32

By mid afternoon, Julie arrived at the playhouse to get ready for the 5pm show. The costumes had arrived along with the makeup artists. “I’m Gina,” she said, with a Long Island accent. “Wow, you’re kinda light for this part. I’m gonna need lots of darkener on you,” she said as she immediately began applying it to her face, arms, and hands.

When Gina finished darkening her skin and placed the long black wig on her head she spun Julie around to see herself in the mirror. “So what do you think?” Gina asked Cattman, who had entered the room.

“Gina, you never cease to amaze me. She looks as native as they come,” he replied.

Julie did not hear a word. She stared at herself in the mirror and her reflection reminded her of Charlie’s words about the girl he falls in love with.
He’s coming tonight,
she thought to herself.

As Gina and Cattman began to look at the costumes, Jason walked in the room. “You look just as pretty as a brunette as you do with your natural color.”

Julie said nothing.

He was about to leave the room then he turned to her and said, “Julie?”

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go get a drink after the play? It’s never a good idea to get involved with a co-star, but I think you’re one of the most beautiful, kind, and…”

“What about Mary?” Julie interrupted. She had seen Mary kissing him when she arrived earlier, knowing that she was still trying to win his heart.

“Mary? I told you I’m not interested in Mary. I’m interested in you,” he said, unaware that Mary was listening again.

“And I told you I have someone. He’ll be here tonight,” Julie blurted out, just to get Jason away from her.

As Jason left the room, Gina began putting the final touches on Julie’s costume and had her try it on. Julie looked at herself in the mirror again. She could not believe her eyes. She hardly recognized herself. Her hair was long and black, her skin darkened, and her body was decorated like an authentic native woman from years ago.

Once again, the conversation she had with Charlie instantly raced through her mind. She was back in that motel room she shared with him, about to walk out the door,


Julie wait
,” he said as he calmly placing his hand on her shoulder. She could feel the touch of his hand all over again.


Why Charlie? This has to end sometime right? Why not now?
” she remembered asking him.


Tell me Charlie? Do you see yourself falling in love here in this lifetime? Do you see yourself spending your life with someone? Waking up each day next to the same face and going to sleep every night with her eyes as the last thing you see? Do you?


Yes,
” he had whispered to Julie’s surprise. She felt the joy of that ‘
yes
’ all over again.


What does she look like?
” her question echoed through her mind.


What does she look like Charlie?


She is beautiful. The moment I meet her she is dressed in a strange, long brown dress with red stitched symbols and wears no shoes.
” Julie looked at her costume, the long brown dress with red stitched symbols. She remembered he hesitated then said, “
She looks like you but her hair is long and black. Her skin is darken…

“Darkened!” Julie whispered to herself.

“You won’t be wearing any shoes for the play,” Gina suddenly said, bringing Julie’s awareness back into the room. “They sent the wrong size. You’ll look ridiculous in these.” She held up a pair of moccasins. They were way too large.

Julie saw Mary talking to Jason outside the door. She knew what she was going through. She wasted time on boys like that herself. She felt as if Mary’s pain was her pain. She remembered Charlie’s description of the girl again;
“She is creative, energetic, and never stops reflecting on her love for others.”
Julie felt that mature love flow out of her for everything, Nurse Betty, her boyfriend they embarrassed on the street in front of the restaurant, the spider that woke her up in a scream, her father, her mother, the couples she saw on the street, Gina, the homeless violinist, the cats, Mr. Cattman, Bob, and even Jason tangled in his own web of lies and selfishness.

She noticed the red stitched symbols in her brown dress again and wondered if Charlie had seen into the future. She looked at her darkened skin in the mirror and the long black wig and began to believe her own words, saying to herself “He’s coming. I don’t know how, but I
know
he will.”

“The play goes on in less than fifteen minutes.” Cattman burst through the door again. The papers in his hands were rattling. He appeared lost, his hair sticking up from nearly pulling it out. “Everybody calm down! Take a deep breath,” he ordered, although he was most in need of his own advice. “Is everyone ready?” he asked as he started breathing normally again. “If you’re not, then get ready. Get ready!” he screamed with no words of encouragement. He left the room, suddenly more nervous than when he entered.

 

Nearly 5:00 PM, Mr. Costea began to think of leaving for home. He passed the day in the business of work, keeping his mind off his predicted fate. However, one sudden look at the clock changed all that. It was only a few minutes before five. Others were packing up and leaving. His secretary rang and asked, “Is there anything else you need before I leave, Mr. Costea?”

He didn’t want to let her go but he couldn’t think of anything he needed but comfort right now. However, he had too much pride to show any weakness. Instead he answered, “No Flo, you can go.” He was about to hand up the speakerphone and quickly tried to think of something, “Oh, Flo?”

“Yes, Mr. Costea?”

“Emm, uh, enjoy the weekend,” he said to her surprise, unable to think of any task to keep her.

“Well thank you, Mr. Costea. You too. Tell your wife and son I said hello.”

My son?
he thought to himself. “Sure Flo,” he replied as he reluctantly hung up the phone, cutting off his last chance at human comfort. He even wanted to apologize to her for yelling, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. He remembered the way he left his wife that morning. He felt sickened by his rudeness. He picked up the phone to his ear and called home. No answer. He wondered again where his son might be.

He wouldn’t really kill me,
Mr. Costea said to himself, remembering Charlie’s promise.
He was probably just trying to scare me into apologizing, into being a nicer person. Still…it’s working,
he concluded.

It was now a few minutes after five. Mr. Costea paced the floor for a moment then without hesitation picked up his suit jacket and put it on. His colleagues saw him pacing and asked, “You leaving?”

The clock said 5:05. “I’m just going to stay a little while longer. I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said, sitting nervously at his desk. Then he turned to look out the window.

“See ya Monday,” they replied.

He swung his chair back around. The numbers read 5:07. He picked up the phone and called security.

“Did Charlie Daniels or any other suspicious characters enter the building?”

“No sir.”

He hung up the phone. 5:08. He sat nervously at the desk, spinning around to look out the window again. He turned again and looked back at the clock, 5:10.
What happened to 5:09,
he whispered to himself.

Suddenly the fire alarm rang. Startled, he tipped his chair backwards falling to the ground. His watch hit the stand and came to a stop under the cracked glass.

 

“Let’s go people,” Cattman entered and yelled again. “It’s ShowTime!”

Julie stood up and looked at her long brown dress with red symbols again. She looked down at her bare feet. She looked in the mirror at her darkened skin and felt as if she was waking up from a long dream. She felt as if her entire life had been a dream of hopes and wishes and now she was finally waking up to live out that dream in some wakeful state she had not known before. She could feel the true love flowing out of her to all things.
So this is what Charlie was talking about,
she whispered to herself.

“You look lovely, Juliet,” her mother suddenly said.

“You made it. How’d you get off work?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Not anymore. Mel is reluctantly covering my shift,” she laughed.

“I’m sorry I’ve been angry with you,” Julie apologized and gave her mother the most sincere hug she had ever received. At that moment, Jill knew that she was finally, completely and utterly,
forgiven
.

“Thank you, Juliet. Thank you.”

Julie smiled and looked down at her bare feet again, also darkened by the makeup.

“He’ll be here. I know he will. Somehow he’ll find his way here tonight,” Julie said with confidence.

“Who?” Her mother asked.

“Charlie Daniels. He’ll be here.”

 

As Mr. Costea was about to meet his fate, and Julie began her acting career, a very strange sequence of events that began over a week ago was about to complete itself.

The day Bob Arand brought Julie to meet Cattman, a clumsy young stagehand came rushing into the room, carrying a box of tickets for the play. When the stagehand tripped over his own shoelace, he dropped the box of tickets around Cattman’s feet. One of the tickets caught a gust of wind as the maintenance man opened the door beside them. As Cattman yelled to keep the door shut because of the cold breeze and his fear of the outside world, everyone turned to look at the embarrassed man standing in the doorway with his broom and dustpan in hand. As everyone was distracted, the breeze blew in and lifted one ticket up into the air and right out the vent above the other door, which only the stagehand saw, but was not about to mention, as he assumed he was in enough trouble already.

The ticket blew across the parking lot in the cold New York wind, down the sidewalk and across the street, landing in the midst of littered paper bags, old coffee cups, and forgotten, crumbled flyers. The ticket laid in the gutter with the rest of the forgotten rubbish until early Saturday morning, when a street sweeper wandered by, sucking up all the trash. The ticket was cast into the air again. The wind carried it into an alley, blowing it relentlessly down the long corridor many blocks away over the next couple days. On Tuesday, which happened to be a day Charlie wandered across the park, the ticket also entered the park and blew across his path, as if trying to hit him, but missed. Charlie noticed it as it fluttered by with a cluster of leaves but he kept on walking.

By Wednesday morning the wind carried the ticket across central park and onto the busy streets again. By Thursday evening the ticket rested outside Charlie’s hotel across the street from Mr. Costea’s law firm.

On Friday, as Charlie called for room service to watch Mr. Costea’s fate from his window, a boy stepped out of a taxi with his parents, right on a piece of Double Bubble bubblegum, which was left there by another boy who spit it out his taxi window a half hour earlier. As the second boy, who got the gum stuck on the bottom of his tennis shoe, stepped onto the sidewalk, the ticket blew directly in his path, sticking to the gum.

This boy was not the most well behaved of boys. The receptionists could tell as they watched him jump like a frog before their desk, his head appearing above the counter, disappearing, and reappearing with each jump as his parents argued over their choices in reservations. When their room was confirmed, the boy proceeded to jump like a frog across the lobby into the elevator with the ticket still stuck to his shoe, ignoring his parents’ harsh request to stop. The bellhop turned to see the boy sitting like a frog, his cheeks slowly puffing out and in, only turning his head quickly to stick out his tongue, as if catching a fly out of the air.

When the elevator opened the boy hopped out. “You’re not a frog, Toby,” his father yelled.

“This is all your fault,” his mother argued. “You’re the one that used to teach him to imitate animals when he was younger.”

The boy proceeded to do somersaults down the hall behind his parents. As his feet turned over his head he noticed the ticket on the bottom of his shoe. He stopped somersaulting, pulled off the ticket and noticed the gum on the bottom of his shoe. He pulled the gum off in two parts, of which one part he stuck to the nearest door, and the other part he tossed in his mouth to chew on. The boy grabbed the ticket and stuck it to the gum on the door and then proceeded to act like a gorilla, pounding his chest as he ran on all fours down the hall to catch up to his parents.

The door he happened to stick the ticket on belonged to the room Charlie Daniels was staying in, who was busy inside trying on his vintage clothing, waiting for his food. A gentleman turned the corner with Charlie’s food and noticed the ticket on his door. He pulled it off, looked at it, and being that it was relatively clean he placed it on the service tray, hoping the gift might increase his tip.

Charlie opened the door after the serviceman knocked and let him lay out the tray. He noticed the complementary ticket at once, but it was not the reason he gave the gentleman a handsome tip.

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