Dealing Flesh (20 page)

Scaredy Cat:
I must protect them.

Tough Gal:
You can’t.
Save yourself.

Doubt Cloud:
I may never see them again.

Feeling like someone on the
Titanic
must have felt when having to make the decision to let their friends drown to save themselves, I retreat into the bedroom. Ray follows me and shuts the door behind him. He positions himself in front of it.

“You are going to settle this with me right now, bitch. You are not leaving until I get a satisfactory answer. I am tired of your shit,” he bellows.

I walk straight toward him, trying to shove him aside.

“Let me out. Now.” My hands hammer against his chest.

“Get back,” he snarls while we enter into a wrestling match. He grabs my upper arms with inordinate force, squeezing down hard while pushing me backwards simultaneously.

“Ouuuch. You are hurting me.”

He shakes me while keeping a super tight grip of my limbs.

“You fucking bitch. You are going to talk to me now,” he yells, jostling me forcefully onto the low-to-the-ground mattress behind me.

“You are not getting off the hook this time with your god-damned silence. I want an answer now,” he raves.

Tough Gal:
Don’t provoke him. Play it safe.

Thank goodness, this very moment, Raymond recalls that he must tend to an appointment. He grabs his briefcase and heads for the door.

“You better have an answer when I return or else,” he shouts, closing the door with a bang.

My eyes follow him through the curtains. I see the white BMW gain more and more distance. I see it turn right at the corner. After taking a minute consoling the pets, I rush back to the other room to check my body in the mirror. My arms hurt. Several dark bruises appear on diverse parts where Ray squeezed real hard. Still shaken up, I grab for the Polaroid camera on the office shelf and take a few pictures of the areas with the marks.

Ragelina:
He better not put his hands on me ever again.

I grab my purse and get into the car, heading for the nearest police department.

Scaredy Cat:
I don’t know if I can go through with this.
What if Raymond finds out?

Tough Gal:
I think it’s worth getting clarity regarding your options.

The officer on duty asks if I want to file a report for domestic violence. I decline. The policeman says that if I want them to interfere at all and have them put Raymond in jail for a night, I must call while the abuse is in actual session.

Scaredy Cat:
Yeah, right. And how’s that gonna work. I’ll be dead by the time they finally arrive. How in the hell is anyone supposed to make a phone call while the attacker acts in a blackout rage?

Walking back into the house, I feel immensely afraid, frustrated, and powerless. Ray’s car pulls up thirty minutes later. In mortal terror, I retreat to the back of the building. Luckily, he does not come looking for me. For the rest of the night, a deadening quiet lingers as we both remain in separate parts of the residence. I toss and turn in bed, following Romy again and again into the peace-invoking fantasy of how relieved I would be if someone called tomorrow and informed me that Ray had been in a fatal accident.

The Carrot

Although I’m neither religious nor do I believe in God, I am catching myself again silently praying for a way out as I lay in bed tonight.

“If that’s too much to ask, please present a way to painlessly end my existence. Amen,” I conclude.

Scaredy Cat:
Believe me, I want nothing more than to get away from Ray, but I worry you’ll go back to selling yourself if the financial strain gets too overwhelming.

Doubt Cloud:
Yeah. Maybe thinking of living alone is not the best idea this moment. You might get tempted again and do stupid things.

Not a chance. I could never go back to that lifestyle.

~~~

I get employed at an animal boarding facility in Canoga Park. Today is day two. At around eleven this morning, a guy drops off a huge gift basket with cookies, balloons and flowers for me.

Blushetta:
That’s real nice of Ray.

Doubt Cloud:
Another one of his bribes again. Nice try, but watch…the next argument is gonna be right around the corner as it always is.

Getting home tonight, things escalate to a brawl within the hour. I turn into the queen of door slamming, aiming to outdo Ray’s volume-rich accusations.

Miss Vanity:
How embarrassing. The entire street can hear the profanities.

“Listen to me for a moment, will you?” Raymond says calmly. “I can’t deal with this shit anymore. I’m offering you ten thousand dollars if you get out of my life for good,” he adds.

My eyes widen.

Doubt Cloud:
He’s bluffing. Don’t trust him dangling the carrot in front of you.

Scaredy Cat:
Once you bite it, he’ll yank it away. I betcha.

Doubt Cloud:
Precisely.

Blushetta:
Gosh…freedom though smells sooo good. You must say yes.

“Fine, I accept,” I blurt out.

I wait, and wait some more, anticipating him to revoke his proposal at any moment. But…nothing. The carrot remains dangling.

“I’ll get you the money soon,” he says stomping off.

A newfound hope travels through me. I instantly buy a couple of newspapers and start searching for places that allow a dog and two cats.

Eager to scope out more “For Rent” signs in the neighborhood, I hurry back to the house right after work to get Bella to accompany me. Raymond greets me with a cheerful “hello” as I walk in.

“How was your day?” he inquires.

Hot Shot:
Alert status red. Something is up
.

Romantic music chimes in from the back part of the house. I see candles lit in various places.

Scaredy Cat:
He looks awfully festive for someone preparing for singlehood.

Ray politely asks me to step into the dining area. Adrenaline rising, I slowly walk around the corner. The table is set for an idyllic dinner. Several scrumptious dishes from my favorite restaurant are lined up on the counter to the right of me.

Ragelina:
I was afraid of that. The asshole wants to make up
.

“Let’s sit down and eat.”

“I don’t understand. I mean, thanks for the food, but what is this all about? Can you give me an idea by when you’ll get me the ten thousand bucks?”

He laughs.

“Well, you know it was just a hoax to see if you’d take me up on it, don’t you?”

His words smash into me like bricks. I compare the feeling to what it must feel like to be shot in the head at close range because things inside me go dark like a television screen after short-circuiting.

Ragelina:
I’m not ever going to talk to that psycho warfare motherfucker again.

Pretender Babe tries her best to make “g
ute Miene zum bösen Spiel.
”

Ironically, this time, Raymond sings the song of “I love you, and I’m sure we can work things out.”

I nod, forcing myself to a fake smile while inside my head, I watch the pallbearers carry my coffin to the graveside.

Heaven

The venomous energy around the house prompts me to retreat to the small privately owned barn several blocks from the residence, where several horses I care for are kept. It begins to drizzle now that I arrive at the building, but it doesn’t bother me at all. A light, cool wind blows.

Sally, my favorite, a fifteen-year-old gray Arabian mare, greets me with cheerful snickers from inside her stall. The owner may think as he pleases, having told me not long ago that the animal no longer accommodates his needs, but I think she’s amazing. I am beyond grateful that he allows me to tend to her, because the bond we share fulfills a lifelong yearning of having a horse of my own. Despite the bit of arthritis in one of her hind legs, which is now barely noticeable due to the exercise I have been giving her, she is the best part of my day. I grab the fluffy green riding pad, throw it over her back, bridle up, and jump on.

Once out the gate, I entice Sally to warm up with a trot. Within five minutes, she breaks into a canter, her pace increasing with each stride. Like two arrows, we glide through the pitch-black deserted night. Refreshing dots of rain prick our faces, melting our spirits together into one heart and one soul inside a cloud of bliss. Seeing the mare mirthfully gallop ahead, her ears moving back and forth in anticipation, letting out periodic enthusiastic snorts, makes me feel amazingly alive and free. There is no doubt in my mind that she’s happy, and so am I. Here in my private little heaven, nothing can hurt me. It is simply wahre Glücksseligkeit.

We return to the barn forty minutes later. My equine bud gives me endearing looks of appreciation as I dry her sweaty coat off with a towel. Bogged down by a sudden shattering sadness, I sling my arms around her neck and whole-heartedly squeal into her voluminous mane. A few minutes go by. Having calmed down a tad, I recline against her still tepid shoulder. Battalions of thoughts zoom in and out of my head, taking me round and around like a passenger on a Ferris wheel. Each new turn ends me up exactly at the same place: lost in sheer and utter hopelessness. I feel Sally’s soft muzzle nuzzle my cheekbone.

The warm exhalation from her nostrils, sniffing on my salty tears, raises pleasant goose bumps on my skin. She proceeds with caressing my cheek, now nibbling on it by using only the very front portion of her velvety lips. Severely touched by her means of comfort, I cry even harder. But this time, the tears are those of delight over the special friendship we share.

CHAPTER 17

Where the Mighty Wind Falls

Late 1990’s

Sally lets out a welcoming neigh, sheepishly pacing back and forth in her box stall as I approach the stable. I see her pass a few horse apples while I’m getting closer. Her sudden bowel movement, which happens almost every time I arrive at the barn, amuses me. It makes me think of my own urges for passing stool at times of anticipating something wonderful. It makes me love Sal even more, knowing that she must equate my presence with joy and adventure.

“Hey, girl, brrrrhh.” I mildly glide my hand down her neck, my shoes half way sunk into the thick layer of pine shavings that cover the floor. After a quick brush down and putting on her tack, I lead her to the step-up platform next to the heavy black iron-gate that allows access to the trail.

Utter silence covers the property with me being the only one who’s present, or at least, so I thought. At this moment about ten feet away in the aisle across from the platform, I spot a tall black man with an olive green baseball cap who is grooming a cream-colored Appaloosa. He does not seem the slightest bit disrupted by my presence, instead keeps a cool demeanor, acting as if I don’t exist.

Hot Shot:
I’ll be damned.
It’s that fella with the killer smile from a couple of years ago. What was his name again?

I turn to Sally, needlessly fiddling around with her bridle for several seconds.

Romy:
What now?

Hot Shot:
Dang, I dunno.

Tough Gal:
Go to him. Strike up a conversation
.

Miss Vanity:
Are you nuts? I can’t face him with the ugly riding helmet, wearing clothes that don’t flatter, and a rundown face from too much crying.

Romy:
But I wanna find out if he ever hooked up with Ingrid
.

Hot Shot:
Yeah, but…what happened to ‘run like hell in the opposite direction should a hot guy cross your path’? Do I get the green light for this one?

Romy:
I might never come across him again after today. I am begging you—release the spell of permanent loneliness.

Tough Gal:
Speak up now, or forever hold your peace.

“Hi, there, how are ya?” I say, leading Sally into the aisle the man stands in.

“Fine, and you?” he smiles.

Pretender Babe:
Just play dumb.

“Aren’t you that guy I met years ago at the country western hangout? You took my friend’s phone number. Remember?”

“Yeah…right. I never called her though.”

Romy:
Wheeewww. Thank heavens.

“What is your name again?”

“Ken.”

Romy:
Right. Now it’s coming back. Don’t forget to ask him if he wants to go riding.

“Does the offer to join you on a ride still stand?”

“Sure, when are you going out next?”

I grin, scrambling to hide my ardor.

“I can call you once I’ll know I’ll be here again,” I say with the coolest attitude I can muster up.

He nods and hands me his number.

“Take care,” I say as I hop onto Sally’s back. Flowing over with undetectable jubilance, I take off toward the hills. Ripples of thoughts whirl around my head, thoughts about me racing through the woods with the most gorgeous man that ever wandered the earth….

~~~

I blossom like a flower that is being watered for the first time as Ken and I make our way through the winding woodsy terrain on horseback this sunny afternoon. Each trotting stride blows Sally’s and my mane back in unison like dancing silk strings in the wind. I feel ravishing in blue jeans and the two-tone brown suede jacket that compliments the Bernstein in my eyes.

Tough Gal:
You are glowing
.

Can’t blame a girl for being happy for a change, can you?

Ken tells me about the time he spent in Stuttgart in the early eighties. “Too bad, I didn’t meet you then; otherwise, I would have most definitely asked you to marry me,” he says.

Romy:
Melt…melt…Awww.
No idea how he got into possession of the code that defrosts my heart?

A strong desire to run over, pull him off his horse, and hold him close until the world ceases to exist, clutches me. The exhilarating ride comes to an end, but we agree to meet again tomorrow.

Night turns to day. I am out with Ken once more, galloping through the tranquil trails of Agoura Hills. Our hands connect as the horses walk side-by-side at a steady gait.

Romy:
If I get any happier, I think, I’ll pass out.

Somehow, I get the impression that Ken feels the same.

“What makes you feel most loved by a man?” he asks.

“Someone brushing my hair or touching my face ranks really high. Oh, yaaa…and someone who won’t flirt with other women. That’s a big one. What about you?”

“When a woman cooks for me, gives me massages, and keeps herself well groomed, takes care of her hair.”

Romy (celebratory):
Well, that’s a no-brainer. I’m it.

We rendezvous again. I delight in the sound of the horses’ hooves, clickadee-cluck, as they mosey across the asphalt road which quickly turns back into sandy trail. At the same time, I attentively listen to what Ken has to say. His words go down like caramel pudding.

“Would you have an affair with me?” he asks, totally catching me off-guard.

“Of course not,” I indignantly reply.

He gets all apologetic, saying he did not mean anything by it.

Romy:
The least I want is for him to assume that we have to have a fling in order to be together.
I insist you ask Raymond for a divorce right away. You must—a.s.a.p.

Scaredy Cat:
Whoa. No need to rush.

Tough Gal:
Why not get to know your new friend a little better first?

Romy:
How long did you say?

A new day approaches. I run into Sarah, a regular riding buddy of Kens, at the barn.

“Ken talks about you all the time. You did not hear this from anyone, but he really likes you. And get this, he is one hundred percent single and available,” she says.

Romy:
Who would have thought that he’d check out spotless…no red flags, not even a roaming eye?

Oxygen

Greatly enthused to get to the barn for another ride with Ken, I promptly gather my riding gear from the bedroom this afternoon. As I attempt to close the door to the office, I detect a white piece of paper on the floor. Assuming that it fell from Raymond’s pocket earlier and may be important, I reach for it. It is the receipt from a jewelry store.

Romy:
He bought what?

It indicates he purchased an expensive diamond studded ring two days ago.

Romy:
Holy mo. I have a feeling he’s planning on asking me to marry him again, so we can have that bigger ceremony he talked about some time ago.

Scaredy Cat
: He’s probably going to pop the question on Christmas or New Year’s Eve.

Ragelina:
I got his answer ready – NO--- NO--- and HELL NO.

Romy (sobbing):
There’s no way I am going to head into the new millennium with that asshole
.
I want Ken. I only want Ken, forever and ever
.

Scaredy Cat:
The holidays are only weeks away.

Romy:
You must tell him…tonight.

Evening comes. I walk in after having been out on the trails with Ken for a couple of hours. Ray shows up twenty minutes later. He saunters into the office and plunks down into the chair behind the desk. I follow him and position myself vis-à-vis while remaining standing. I feel sweat collect in my palms, and I can hear my pulse throb. Nervously, I change my weight from one leg to the other, feverishly working on coming up with the right words.

Tough Gal:
There is no right way to do this. Just say it. You deserve this shot at happiness.

Picturing Ken’s sweet face in front of mine, I inhale deeply.

“I’ve got something to tell you that can’t wait.”

Ray looks at me in suspense.

Scaredy Cat:
Yikes. Let’s not do this.

“Okay.”

I pause for two seconds.

Doubt Cloud:
This is going to end in disaster.

“I want a divorce.”

Deadening silence fills the room while I watch his demeanor alternate between shock, sadness, and anger.

“You are seeing someone, I know it. Who is he?” he growls.

Scaredy Cat:
Don’t engage.

Romy:
Yeah. I must get back to my honey.

Scaredy Cat:
Alive and well. Think about the animals, too.

Calmly, I deny all allegations. With renewed confidence, I inform Ray that we will no longer be sleeping in one bed together and ask him to pick a part of the house to set up camp in. He gives me the evil eye, but eventually agrees to relocate into the den. I leave. Heavily buzzing with never experienced happiness, I drive to the payphone a mile away. High on love sickness, I punch in Ken’s number.

“Hi, baby.” The tone of my voice sounds more loving than I’ve ever heard myself speak to anyone before.

“I miss you already,” says Ken no way less lovingly.

“I miss you more.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Guess what, babe? I’m a free woman. I just asked Ray for a divorce.”

“Wow. I wanna see you right now, honey. How about I come to your neck of the woods? Twenty minutes? Does that work?” Ken asks.

Hearing the excitement in his voice makes me even giddier.

“Awesome, I can’t wait to see you, my love.”

It is already dark outside when the man of men meets me in a parking lot of a grocery store. I hop into his spacious Ford Bronco, and we take off to a deserted playground that he parks his car in front of. The moment the engine goes off we fall into a tender yet tight embrace. Supreme oblivion takes me over as our lips touch for the first time.

Romy:
He kisses like a champion. My champion. I could stay puckered up with him forever.

The windows fog over. Time loses meaning while we become deeper and deeper immersed in the pool of bubbling passion.

Romy:
He feels like I’ve known him all my life and even before then.

The “committee” cheers me on, confirming my belief that Ken indeed is “The One.”

Whip Cracker:
Hookers don’t deserve a guy like him. You’ll never be able to meet all his needs. Trust me, you gonna get burned.

Romy:
Shuttt uppp. We love each other. I will make him happy.

Hot Shot:
And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

Tough Gal:
Fuck off, Whipper.

~~~

The yearning for Ken’s touch obtains imposing strength now that I approach the door to his apartment on Linden Street in Van Nuys.

Romy:
I guess, this is it, eh…the moment I’ve been waiting for all my life…to make love to someone I truly trust and adore?

Pretender Babe:
There shall be no faking it, then again who needs to with someone who arouses me like no other?

Hot Shot:
Whatever this visit has in store, I’ve come prepared.

Smelling like rose pedals, looking scrumptiously delicious in tight denims, white cork heel sandals, and the sexy white chiffon top that leaves plenty of room for the imagination, I press down on the doorbell. The audible movement from the other side drives my heart rate to pulse at record heights. The door swings open momentarily, revealing a smirking Ken who looks hugely pleased to see me.

Lustania:
Dang, he is yummy to say the least. I want to fuck his brains out bad
.

Romy (hissing):
Watch your mouth. You are talking about my future husband. He’s precious
.

I step inside the modest but clean apartment.

Romy:
Frankly, I wouldn’t give a hoot if he lived in a shack, rode a bicycle, or cleaned toilets for a living. Only two things matter - that he loves me, and that we get as close as humanly possible.

Our lips interlace while holding each other tight for a good five minutes. This moment, Ken pulls away from my face, lifts me off the ground, and carries me into the bedroom. A darn beautiful country song by Clint Black in duet with someone plays in the background. Ken carefully sets me down onto the comforter and begins to undress me. Lustania gets so carried away, she persuades me to rip his thin T-shirt off of him. I do. I can tell by the look in his eyes and even more engaged moves that he approves.

Doubt Cloud:
I worry about what Whip Cracker said. It might be true.

Scaredy Cat:
That I am going to get burned?

Romy:
Ehhh. Bull…Relax…breathe…let love in. This is it…he’s the one…I trust him with my life and then some.

Blushetta:
I am home—at last.

Hot Shot:
I never thought I’d say this, but I know for sure that no other grass can ever stand a chance of getting greener. His attention is all I want for as long as I live…

I let out a couple of gratifying groans as his mouth explores my body inch by inch.

“There really is a God,” he mutters once I return the pleasure.

“You are damned right about that, babe,” I laugh.

Albeit I do not reach a true orgasm, I sense a feeling that is brand-new - a pleasant vaginal tingling.