Authors: Hollie Williams
He takes a step towards me, instinctively I raise my arms to cover my face, a yelp escaping my lips. I can see his feet turn away from me and lower my arms in time to see him stalk out of the room. Adrenalin kicks in and I leap up running across the room, ignoring the screaming pain and slam the door shut, locking it securely before sinking to the ground.
My breathing is ragged, my limbs trembling uncontrollably, dizziness threatening to pull down the shutters on my consciousness at any given moment.
I drag myself slowly across the floor, every inch excruciating, my vision sporadically blurring in and out of focus. Picking up the phone and dialling for reception I hear a voice I don’t recognise, and weakly ask for Carlos’s room number, giving my name, while I’m on hold I notice a strange sensation on my face, reaching up I touch my fingers gingerly to my temple, then pull them away to inspect the evidence; blood coats my hand in thick rivers and the room begins to spin heavily around me. Carlos’s voice floats quietly as if he is speaking from somewhere far away “Morning sweetness”.
“Carlos
”
I breathe, as I succumb to darkness.
Before I even open my eyes, panic hits me “Carlos!?” I shriek, my eyes flying open.
“I’m here, I’m here” he soothes, stroking my face.
“Oh Carlos” I cry, clinging to his hand. We are moving, but it takes me a while to click that I am on a stretcher headed for an ambulance out the front of the hotel. “You’ve got a bad gash to your head so you’re going to hospital to get it stitched up” Carlos explains.
“Are you coming with me?” the panic starts rising in my chest again.
“Yes I’ll be here every step of the way”
The hospital is small, but clean and well equipped and under Carlos’s instructions we are seen in next to no time. It transpires that I have a two inch cut across from the centre of my hairline diagonally towards my right temple; I only need five stitches, but they insist that I stay for at least an hour under observation, on account of me losing consciousness.
Once we are alone Carlos finally questions me, “So what happened, did you fall?”
I shake my head sullenly, causing shooting pains through my skull.
“No, it was Jake” his face drops at the mere mention of his name, but he waits silently for me to embellish, “he came round this morning, we got into an argument, about you and I don’t know he just flipped, grabbed me and flung me into the wall and then left. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“I’ll kill him” he swears under his breath, his cheeks burning red, wringing his hands together in his lap, anger seeping from every pore in his body.
“Please Carlos, no” he looks up sharply at me, taken aback by my protest. “You should have seen him, I really believe he’s lost his mind. And besides I’ve had enough violence for one day, can we just leave it. I just want to forget about it.” On any other day I would put my money on Carlos no questions, but right now,I just couldn’t bare him being hurt at all, even if Jake still came off worse.
“Well I’m getting him banned from the resort as soon as we get back, I’m not having that maniac any where near you. In fact, I’m going to call the police and have him removed right now!” he stands and starts patting his pockets looking for his phone. I put my arm up to stop him, “Just call the hotel and get security to deal with it” I command.
“Kate…” he starts to argue.
“Carlos, if we call the police I’ll just have to go down there and give statements and I’d be obliged to contact his parents and let them know what’s going on, it’s just prolonging the agony. Please, I just want this over with now” I’m so tired of explaining myself, I wish for once people would just do what I say, no questions asked.
“OK, then that’s what I’ll do” he accepts, planting a gentle kiss on my nose, “but I’m doing it for you, not him” he re-iterates.
“I know, thank you” I say pulling him down to sit on the edge of my bed and snuggling into his chest.
It takes him two minutes on the phone to have it organised, he leaves the room, but I can see him through the window into the hall, his faced screwed up as he rushes through the instructions with the security team.
Walking back into the room, he slips his phone back into his top pocket, “they will call me when it’s done” he states flatly, “we may as well wait here until they do” he says, sitting back down on the bed and taking my hand in his.
It’s a full nerve wracking two hours before they call again. We make small talk, the occasional unfunny joke to lighten the mood, but we are both stressed to the max. If he’s made a run for it already, there is no guarantee that he won’t be able to get back in at a later date. The gate is heavily guarded but all they will have to work on is a description from me, and if he keeps his issued wrist strap they will let him in pretty much no questions asked.
I suppose I could call Caz and get her to email me a picture to give them, but that means explaining the whole sorry mess to her; I know it comes from a good place, but I just don’t have the energy to survive her tirade of questions.
And then if they do catch him, can I really trust that he won’t be ruffed up by Carlos’s heavies? But then do I really care if he does, after all he put me in the hospital; surely he deserves some retribution for that?
For some reason though, the thought of it makes me sick with worry. I know he’s hurt me, emotionall
y
an
d
physically now, but if anything, I feel sorry for him, he made a mistake, an unforgivable one, but he is clearly paying the price for it already.
I will never be able to forget all he’s done to me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I cared for him, loved him even, for ten years of my life. However wrong it may be, somewhere buried down in the deepest depths, he will always hold a piece of my heart.
My conflicting emotions are steadily becoming too much to bare, I hate him, but I care about him, I want him as far away from me as possible, but I don’t want him hurt.
That’s when the call comes in; Carlos walks out of the room again before answering it, all I can see is him nodding intermittently as he paces the hall.
Entering the room again, he looks relieved, “He was still in the resort, but not in his room, so it took a while to track him down. He must have known they would be coming for him because he was hiding in a bush when they finally caught up with him.”
“Umm…..did they hurt him?” the words come out as a whisper, I don’t know if I even want to know the answer.
“He put up a fight when they tried to restrain him. He got a little hurt, but nothing serious. They wanted to call the police, but I had instructed them not to, so they did what they had to, to get him out of there.” His voice is low, quiet; I can’t read him when he’s like this.
“I’m sorry” my default response, “it’s hard you know, he was my husband, this whole experience has just been harrowing, I don’t know how to feel?”
He looks up at me, his brow furrowed in a pained expression, “do you still love him?” he asks softly.
“NO! God no! Carlos, please believe me. I want nothing to do with him. EVER. But you need to understand, he was my husband, we were together for ten years! I can’t just erase that part of my life, it happened. Look at it this way, you don’t get on with your sister, but you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her right? It’s kind of like that” I’m clutching at straws, but it’s the closest thing I can think of that might explain my feelings.
“It’s not really the same thing” he sulks, “but yeah, I know what you’re getting at” he admits sullenly.
“Carlos,” I reach to him, putting my arms around him, “I will never be able to put into words how special this last week has been for me, and how in such a short time you have come to mean so much to me. I literally never thought it was possible to fall for someone as hard and fast as I’m falling for you.” The tears now coursing down my cheeks as I cling to him as if my life depended on it; I never wanted to bare my soul like this, but a mixture of strong painkillers, a bump to the head and the lost look in his eyes just broke down the wall I’d put up long ago, with one swift kick.
“Oh, Kate” he chokes back, returning my desperate embrace with equal force, “I’m so happy you feel that way, you’re the only person I……”he breaks off shaking his head and pulling me in tighter.
We stay in this position for an age, until my ribs start to ache under the pressure. I ease back, but keep my hands rested on his upper arms, anxious to maintain physical contact with him.
“What were you going to say? I’m the only person that what?” I prompt him gently.
He looks down, his hands rested on my lap, and clears his throat s if mentally preparing himself, “I’ve never got close to anyone. I don’t know why, I’ve had a pretty perfect life really; but I could never bring myself to commit in anyway to another person. I thought I was sick or something.” He pauses, still not meeting me gaze, I stay silent for fear that any interruption might stop him in his tracks, “My family tease me about it and to begin with it was all just a big joke, but my friends all started to settle down and I tried, I really tried, but I just couldn’t trust them; just couldn’t bring myself to let my guard down, so eventually I just gave up trying. And then you came along.” He finally looks up at me shyly.
“You changed everything, when I first saw you I just wanted you, but then the more time I’ve spent with you, the more I can’t stand being away from you. I’ve never pined for anyone until I met you; even right now I miss you, I actually miss you, I can’t get enough of you, I want you in my arms every minute of every day.”
Fresh tears start to fall again, as he lifts me into his lap and wipes them from my face. In my head I’m screaming out loud
,
‘I love you, I love you Carlos. It was love at first sight
’
but the words won’t form in my throat, instead I lean in, locking my lips with his, hoping he will sense my unspoken words.
It’s gone 14.00 by the time we get back to the resort, as soon as we step into the lobby we are approached by the head of security who gives Carlos a more detailed run down of the mornings events since we’ve been away. He speaks in Spanish so I don’t understand and Carlos does not reveal anything after, so I trust that it’s something I do not want to know.
We walk hand in hand out towards the apartments, but as I turn to head to my room, he stops, “I was thinking, after all this, maybe you would move into my place?” he asks, suddenly seeming so unsure of himself.
“Really?” I’m taken aback, “but I’ve never even been there? I was starting to think you didn’t really live here?” I tease, making him smile.
“Well I do, so what do you think?”
“I think that would be perfect, I just need to pack up my things though” I say, turning again towards my room, I find myself stopped by his hold still.
“There’s no need, Mari has already done it and had it delivered to my place” he says, with a sly grin.
“What? But you didn’t even know I’d agree to it?”
“I know, I’m sorry, but after what happened to you, I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice” he says tenderly, wrapping me in his arms.
“Well when you put it like that…..” moving to tip toes I give him a lighthearted smooch, formally sealing the deal.
His home is behind the guest blocks, shielded from view by a line of tall trees, the front of the house facing away from the resort. It is a modest house on two levels, with a balcony leading out from one of the upstairs rooms. Sand coloured walls, with a terracotta tiled roof and a patio area to the left side of the building.
“Do you share this with anyone?” I ask, assuming he lives with some of the staff.
“Nope, just little old me, apart from my family, you will be the first other person to step foot in the place.”
I smile inwardly, a warmth spreading through me, knowing how huge this must be for him, and it’s all just for me.
He opens the door, letting me proceed into the house first, the room is vast, with an open kitchen at the far end. It is typically Mexican with a bright red tiled floor and yellow walls adorned with various colourful wall hangings and paintings.
The furniture is a stark contrast however, very minimal and cold, the walls invite you in to a warm family home, but the furniture warns you not to make yourself comfortable.
The kitchen is equally sparse, black shiny cupboards, with smooth surfaces and no discernible way of opening them. A harsh, stainless steel sink sits amongst black marble surfaces, clear from any clutter.
“What do you think?” he asks, before I’ve quite formulated my thoughts on the place.
“Erm…..it’s…..different” is the best I can manage.
His face falls “You don’t like it, do you?”
I instantly regret it and attempt to back peddle, “I do like it, it’s just a bit of an odd mixture, the décor and the furniture are both so different, it just surprised me that’s all.” He seems mildly placated by this, “I’m in the middle of re-decorating, the kitchen is new, and some of the furniture” he explains, apparently over it.