Prison Break (2 page)

She knew she shouldn't have listened to Papá.
She shouldn't have married Mateo. Politics was a work hazard—not
only for the people in it, but for their families as well. Even
with the Juntas out of power for so long, corruption was still
rampant in Argentina. What was true one day was not true the
next.

If there was one thing she loved about Mateo,
it was his honest work ethic. Maybe he was too honest, too civil.
Although he was not great in bed, he was a really kind person, the
kind of friend she wanted by her side—especially when facing a life
of politics.

“Some bogus charges,” Mateo said. “It will
clear up in good time.”

He grabbed his coat and left.

Watching his retreating figure, Natalia
started to feel small. He was her rock, whenever she needed to talk
to someone—to face this lonely life of silver-tongued shark-eaters.
Now, he was gone and she was lost at sea.

Suddenly, dinner with Mateo did not seem so
bad after all—even if she happened to be ovulating at the
moment.

“Papá!” Natalia greeted him with open arms.
She rushed towards the man whose face was etched with concern past
his years.

She was so glad she could turn to him with
Mateo gone. The night air that snuck in from the open door did not
seem quite so cold with Papá in her arms.

“Natalia.” He squeezed her tight. “I came as
soon as I could.”

“Let me stay at your place!” she cried.

“You are a married woman in your husband's
home,” he soothed. “You need to stay here.”

“I can't, Papá,” Natalia said, shaking her
head. “I can't stay here.” How could she explain the emptiness of
everyday bourgeois life to Papá, who had never experienced this
kind of lifestyle? “I feel empty here. Now with Mateo gone,
it's...it's unbearable.”

“Natalia, you can't stay with me,” Papá
insisted. “You're married and you've already moved out.”

“Yeah, I'm married,” she said bitterly, “but
look at where my husband is now—in jail! I wouldn't be in this
predicament if I didn't listen to you and marry into a political
family.” She sank into the living room armchair. “I shouldn't have
married him,” she whispered.

“Natalia!” Papá snapped. “Has the devil
gotten into you?”

She shook her head. “Papá, I'm tired of this
life. Everything is a duty, for show, for civility. I need to smile
at endless streams of dignitaries at every stately dinner, pretend
I know about worldly affairs and care about what upper class
politicians and their wives think. At least
you
married for
love.”

“No, Natalia,” Papá said. “I married for
security. If you lived through the political and economic
instability at the time I did, then you would know how important a
secure life is. Mamá and I were clear about this from the
beginning. She had solid homemaking skills. I had a reliable job.
The love grew and solidified later.”

“So that's why you wanted me to marry Mateo?
So I could have a secure life?” She glared at Papá. “Well,
nothing's guaranteed. You see that now. Fortunes rise and fall.
Sometimes you know who set you up and sometimes you don't. I'd
rather be in charge of my own destiny.”

Papá was quiet. “Maybe I raised you wrong.”
He sank down and slouched on the adjacent couch. He rubbed his
eyes. “I did the best I could by myself after Mamá passed
away.”

“And you did!” Natalia affirmed.
“
Fútbol
in primary school, tango in secondary school, and
fine arts at UBA. I escaped the snotty girls with soccer, grew into
a woman with tango and can converse at length about fine arts with
various dignitaries. You even encouraged me to learn how to
drive!”

“But that's just it,” Papá said. “If Mamá was
around to raise you and we had another child, a son perhaps, then
you wouldn't have such an independent will.”

“You mean, you want me to stay in this
lifeless abode?” Panic welled up in her throat. Her voice became
shrill. “I've spent two years at home doing nothing. I've
sacrificed so much. I don't even recognize myself. I feel dead. It
was easier to face this emptiness with Mateo around at times,
because he understands about the political life. We're both in it,
but I can't. I can't face this life alone. And for how long? Oh,
god, I can't.” She shook her head, her lips trembling.

Papá sighed.

“I like him as a friend, Papá, but I don't
love him. I don't even... He doesn't even excite me in bed.” She
cast her head down and muttered, “I should have married
Jeremy.”

“That American?” Papá boomed. “You two would
have been divorced within months!” Papá gestured fanatically, his
face red. “You know those Americans—they marry for love or lust.
There's no security in that. Those kinds of marriages don't
last.”

Natalia closed her eyes and rubbed her
temples. She took a deep breath, lifted her head and met his fiery
gaze. “Papá, I was wrong. I don't need you here, and I don't need
to stay with you either. I need time alone, away from everything.”
She got up from the armchair and moved toward the front door.
“Please leave.”

Papá rose slowly from the couch. “You can
always call me,” he said.

She opened the door for him and shut it
behind him.

Natalia broke down. Where could she go? She
couldn't stay here. She needed to leave. For once in her life, she
felt it was time to really live her own life without following
someone else's prescriptions. When did she last feel alive?

Jeremy Wyatt. He had proposed after all,
before Papá steered her toward Mateo. Jeremy might just want her
back, even though it had been over two years since she last saw him
in Buenos Aires. Too bad she listened to Papá and declined the
proposal back then. She needed to find him. Maybe she could make
things right—they could start over again or pick up where they left
off.

How could she find him? He left no way of
contacting him, changed all his numbers, and relocated to another
office abroad.

Jessica
. His sister.

Jessica often came to visit Jeremy in the
Buenos Aires office and met them when Jeremy and Natalia started
seeing each other. Whenever Jessica came to visit Jeremy, Jessica
and Natalia had latched onto each other as sisters they each never
had and had enjoyed countless girls nights.

Sisters? Right. That bond of sisterhood they
created was probably in question after Natalia declined Jeremy's
proposal.

Jessica would probably still honor their
friendship, though. Jessica, her one friend overseas. Jessica, who
would probably tell her how to find Jeremy after he left for the
United States.

She checked the time. Seattle was four hours
behind. It was probably around Jessica's dinner time. Perfect.

Natalia picked up her cell phone and dialed
out.

“Jessica Wyatt,” a smooth crisp voice
answered.

“Jessica!” she said breathlessly. “It's
Natalia from Argentina.”

“Natalia! Hi! How are you?” she squealed.

“I'm doing fine.” A lie. A bourgeois habit
she adopted over time. “I'm looking for Jeremy and I don't have his
number.”

“Oh.” Jessica grew quiet.

Natalia held her breath.

“Why do you want to find him?” Jessica asked
slowly.

“Some unfinished business,” Natalia said.

“It's finished,” Jessica said definitively.
No doubt in defense of her brother.

“Jessica, I value our friendship and I'm
sorry I haven't been keeping in touch these past two years
since...since Jeremy left. I've been—”

“You mean, since you dumped him,” Jessica
said.

“Yes, well, I'm s—”

“You don't have to apologize to me again. If
you need to apologize to anybody, then that person is him.”

“Do you have his number?” Natalia asked.

“You should apologize in person,” Jessica
said without hesitation. Did Jessica want them to make up or did
she want Jeremy to exact revenge? No, Jessica was sweet.

The call was turning out to be even better
than Natalia had hoped. “Do you have his address?” She held her
breath.

“I can give you his work address,” Jessica
offered.

Jessica must have wanted to keep the
face-to-face apology formal, if she was only giving Natalia
Jeremy's work address. No matter. All Natalia needed was a foot in
the door.

“You ready?” Jessica prompted.

“Yes.” Natalia wrote down the information,
then asked, “Can I come and see you anyway before I meet with him?”
They could catch up and maybe Natalia could pry for some more
information about Jeremy before she met with him.

“Sure, just call me when you get here.”

“You're still in Seattle then?”

“Yup. The night life here is a tad easier to
handle.” Jessica chuckled.

“You mean, there's less
machismo
,”
Natalia laughed.

Jessica groaned. “Don't remind me of that guy
who stalked me out of nowhere, flushed me against the wall on my
way to the restroom, and kept saying 'You're coming home with me
tonight' while he groped for some skin! If I ever visit you again
in Buenos Aires, you're coming with me to every club to keep me
clear of those idiots!”

Natalia was delighted to catch up with
Jessica and end the call on a happier note. This was the Jessica
she knew, the last and only friend she had before becoming a
politician's wife who had no friends at all.

“Mateo?” She swallowed hard. Her gut wrenched
at the sight of him. His black hair was no longer slicked back but
ruffled. His brown eyes were dark. His cheeks and chin were
haggard. His shoulders drooped.

She owed him this much—a visit in prison,
before she went forward with her trip. It was easy for her to
concoct plans to meet Jeremy when she was home alone, but facing
Mateo made her heart break.

“Don't worry, Natalia,” Mateo said. “This
detainment will only last for a month or so.”

“You said days before. Now it's more? You
make this all sound simple, easy.” She choked back tears and shook
her head. “Are they at least treating you right?”

“They are courteous.” He leaned forward. “I
heard from your father this morning.”

She glanced at him sharply. Did Papá betray
her? In a guarded manner, she said, “Yes, I called him last night
and broke the news.”

“What else did you tell him?”

Her mouth went dry. “N-Nothing.”

“Natalia, if I were in my own home, I'd let
you get away with that answer. For days, even months,” Mateo said.
“I'm in prison and I only have eight more minutes with you. Spill
it.”

“I don't—”

“Yes, you do,” Mateo countered with a
challenge. “The way your eyes dart around, the way your color
drains from your cheeks, the way you look away even now—you do know
and you do have something to say.”

She gulped, not daring to say anything.

Mateo waited.

She didn't budge. Knots formed in her
stomach.

“I watch you, Natalia, even when you don't
think I'm watching.” His voice was low, barely audible. “Even when
you close your eyes and pretend you like it when we make love.”

She stared down at her fingernails. Her
cheeks flamed.

“I know you better than you think, more than
I let you see,” he continued. “Do you know what I regret about last
night?”

She looked up.

Mateo did not have regrets. If he did, he
never shared them. Was this another tactic he was trying to get her
to talk?

Natalia shook her head, still not trusting
her voice.

“That we didn't enjoy the night together,
before the PFA showed up. That I let you get away again; I
conceded, just like I did so many times before in so many ways.” He
shook his head. “I thought you needed time; that you needed to get
to know me more after we married. I know we only saw each other for
about three months before we tied the knot.”

Natalia sighed. “Mateo, let's face it. Our
marriage was basically arranged by our fathers. I know I don't
please you. I'm unfit to be anyone's wife.”

But Jeremy's.
Oh, god, Jeremy knew
her. He took her. He understood her sexual needs.

“Natalia.” His voice was soft. He reached out
and rested his hands on hers.

“It's driving me crazy,” she growled. “This
life. This pretense. I'm losing myself. I can't. I can't keep doing
this. I'm running on empty.”

“Stop it,” Mateo ordered. “Stop it now.”

Natalia looked up sharply. Other than Papá,
he was her confidante, someone who listened and comforted. He had
always been gentle with her, like a friend. Could prison change
people, harden them? Overnight?

“Natalia, I'm not going to sit here and watch
you belittle yourself while you fall into a pit of distress. I
married you two years ago because I saw your strength, your strong
will, your ability to achieve whatever you set out to do.”

“No, Mateo.” She shook her head. “I'm not as
strong as you think.” It was borrowed strength. Mateo made her
strong. The thought of him coming home and sharing the challenges
of an isolating political life kept her strong.

“There you go again, berating yourself.” He
stood up and leaned close to her. “I need you strong out there,
hold the fort down while I'm gone.”

“I'm not Evita.” Natalia stood up and left
without glancing back. If there was life beyond being a
politician's wife, she wanted to find it and claim it back. Big
time.

Solo. She needed to leave solo. She wasn't
going to let Mateo or his men know what she was up to now nor let
them find her until she was well out of the country.

Natalia looked at the address Jessica gave
her. It was now or never. This was her chance to have a life again.
This time, she was going to do something about it before she could
change her mind. She turned on the computer and searched for
flights.