Unsuitable Obsession - Part One (34 page)

Come to think about it, Eduardo realized, with all
the places that they did make love; someone should have definitely
caught them. In the car, at the park, bathrooms, restaurants,
elevators, even once at his parents’ home. Good God, how that was
exhilarating! The thrill that they might get caught caused them
both to get excited…in the garage of all places! His father’s 60th
birthday no less! All his relatives were singing Happy Birthday
when Eduardo pulled Amber aside to steal a kiss. He should of known
from the start that one kiss from her would lead to pulling each
other’s clothes off. They ran towards the garage, it was the only
place they could think of that wouldn’t be occupied. With the
lights off, it was perfect, dark, sheltered and quite. Voices with
song rang through the stillness as he entered her. It was crazy, it
was breath taking, it was so, so immoral, but if felt
so
right
.

Merging onto Interstate 10, trying to ease into the
fast lane within traffic he thought about what Amber did to have
everything come to pass.

He apprehended Amber within his arms. She pushed him
away with all her might. She was strong, tougher than he expected
and released her body slightly, only to have her push his size
against the wall. Amber raced towards the door and ran down the
hallway. Down the long corridor towards her car, he shouted down at
her, but she refused to hear his failed attempts at doing so. Her
car screeched away...What the hell was she doing? Was she
really
going to end their affair? Was she really going to
leave Victor? Where the hell was she going?

He panicked, called her cell; she didn’t answer. He
called again, only this time she responded. He knew something went
terribly wrong when Amber yelled at him for the last time. Being on
the other end of that conversation, listening to the love of his
life in anguish, in pain, tore his heart out. The phone went dead.
It was cut-off in mid-sentence. She said she was going to teach him
a lesson? A lesson in
what?
What was he supposed to think?
He called the cell phone carrier; they told him the cell was
deactivated by the possessor. The possessor? Good God, what
happened! She was driving in her car hysterical; she lost control
and caused an accident? Bleeding and dying on the pavement
somewhere, he was impaired himself. He had to find her wherever she
was. Thinking like an attorney more than a lover, he called up the
one person he knew that wouldn’t hesitate to help him out in a
bind. Being employed by a five star firm had its advantages.
Aldridge & Watson had access to private investigators up the
yin-yang (really, really good PI’s) like former FBI Agents called
‘Joe.’

“I need a cell phone traced Joe, it’s urgent.”
Eduardo recalled the conversation with him.

“You got it,” Joe volunteered.

“Here’s the number,” was all it took. And honest to
God, not twenty minutes later, Eduardo received a call from Joe
telling him that Amber was being rushed by an ambulance to Cedars
Sinai. Eduardo went cold. It was a nightmare. He was going to
lose
her?

Seeing Amber in that hospitals bed unconscious did
he realize what an absolute self-satisfied asshole he really was?
Instead of agreeing with her justification to seek a divorce, he
forced Amber to make a harrowing decision. She wanted to die? She’d
rather remove herself from the cause than face a future without
him? She couldn’t bear to live with his brother anymore than she
could tolerate their relationship. That was her message to him. It
was a memo sent loud and clear.
Good God if he’d only
yielded!

The drive was nice, breath-taking in fact. The
immense mountainside shaded the desert like a grandfather over its
descendants with palm trees, white sand and a beautiful oasis of
modern motels, restaurants, golf courses, stores and casinos.

Eduardo reached The Palm Desert Treatment Center
within two hours. It was peaceful there, pleasant, upscale and
professional.

Time Heals the Heart

Amber sat up then wiped the sweat away from her brow
and looked down and noticed her shirt damp and moist from
perspiration. Recalling in detail, her vivid nightmare, the
recollection infuriated her—enraged her enough to become visibly
distressed. She threw the pillows off the couch then removed her
shoe and flung it at one of Dr. Hayward’s dubious plaques on the
wall. The picture came sheer off and the glass shattered into
several million pieces.

“Now—now Amber, why did you throw your shoe?” Dr.
Hayward expressed containing
his
hostility.

“Because you keep asking me to rehash my
depression,” Amber exclaimed, remaining on the couch. “Over and
over, I can’t do this anymore! I hate you,
y
ou evil vile
man!”

“Amber this is part of your therapy. You’ve come so
far, you’re doing so well.”

Amber didn’t look at him, she was so overwhelmed
with anger she just couldn’t see straight.

“Let’s calm down now. Only one picture today,” Dr.
Hayward quipped, tsking at the sight of his treasured doctoral
degree lying on the ground. “That’s a good sign.”

It was a gigantic office, bigger than most for a
clinical psychiatrist but Dr. Dirk Hayward had a big ego, and
considerable psyche’s required immense quarters. He was mostly
proud of his bulky comfortable couches and oblong daybed. The divan
his patients could conveniently position on (or what most employees
thought) conducts sexual acts on top of. He was a curt, bald,
stocky man in a rich community of other specialists, nurses,
orderlies, assistants, security and resident staff. He was never
sympathetic to others, he treated all his patients callously, all
but one—Amber Sanchez. She wasn’t considered mental or even had a
psychological problem; she was just a woman troubled. But oh how he
loved being in the same room with her. She was a natural beauty,
exotic appearance, silky raven hair that fell across her shoulders,
blushing pink lips, tone voluptuous figure, he loved staring at her
while she thought he was listening...

Amber laid her body down on the brown tweed couch
and gazed up at the smooth white ceiling above her. She was a
space case
, whatever that term meant and oftentimes heard
that term floating around the halls of the Palm Desert Treatment
Center perfectly located within the serene desert of Indio County,
California. She was a momentary guest (until she felt she was well
enough to check out) at the final destination of the mess of her
life. Slashing her wrist didn’t help. Amber was so uncertain,
constantly crying, deeply depressed…and the days past quickly
inside. In a blink of an eye the days turned into sixteen months
incarcerated. Her kids grew up without her. Coming to visit for
thirty minutes at a time, but Amber was so low, no visible life in
her face, her mother would gather them up, and say politely, “Well,
we’d better go now, mom looks tired.” And off they went.

Never mind what she thought might be happening in
their lives. Her son Adrian was turning twelve, her daughter
Valentina, getting so tall. What they thought about their mother
living in a mental establishment was incomprehensible. Never mind
what her own mother thought and the reason she was
there
in
the first place. It didn’t matter; she didn’t care, because Amber
found an
O-U-T
. She found the ideal way of not facing the
actuality, what reality was and where her mind and body lie. It was
perfect really. Not being able to confront the faces that respected
and loved her so, trusted in her, relaxed with her easiness, never
making waves in their little group. It was simple, an exact answer
to all the endless questioning. How to get out...how to avoid
Eduardo...how to avoid Leticia...how to face the facts...how to
face responsibility...how to face her husband...to encounter his
relatives...all the questions of how, where, when and why! She
would be considered irrational and the reaction of hate would turn
into sympathy. She would no longer need an excuse; the defense was
mapped out for her. She was now just an opinion inside everyone’s
heads, instead of the obvious, the source of his or her gossip. She
would be set free, let go from all the attention, and she would be
shielded, defended of her irrational behavior and after spending
several months with Dr. Hayward, Amber realized it stemmed from not
having a father. That void of always trying to be the
good
girl
. Daddy’s wanted to see their good girls. They don’t leave
the good girls behind, just the bad ones, and good girls face their
responsibilities and Amber thought the solution was to not face the
responsibility of what happened, therefore, she was a bad girl. She
was forever trying to please everyone, hated confrontations and
avoided them at all costs. This too, stemmed from not having a
father, Dr. Hayward would point out. Amber’s behavior was immoral,
and to make sure her Father Figure stayed awhile, she was pleasing
to him. Agreeing with everything Eduardo asked she didn’t want him
to leave. But he did leave; he had his own agenda, and according to
Dr. Hayward, Amber’s prognosis was
‘fear of
abandonment’.

Amber closed her eyes, on the verge of a pleasant
sleep when Dr. Hayward’s voice came ringing through her peaceful
climate. “Let’s talk about your brother-in-law, let’s talk about
Eduardo.”

Amber let his name sink in
.

Eduardo…

Eduardo A. Sanchez, Attorney- At- Law.

Memories flood her heart, her brain, just the mere
mention of his name sent Amber over the edge of compulsion. “I’m
ready Dr. Hayward.”

Dr. Hayward was confused, “Beg your pardon?”

Amber arched her back and tried to get comfortable.
Her bosoms stretched out the fabric on her T-shirt. “I think I’m
ready to see him now.”

“You think you are?” Dr. Hayward asked, gazing away
from his pencil and writing pad to survey Amber’s profile lying on
his comfortable couch. She was beautiful, unique. Her indigo hair
draped off the side of a square pillow, so silky, so touchable. He
sat up straight, noticed Amber curving her back to get cozy again.
His intentions are devious; he knows this to be true. He’s a sick
individual. Demented. No, not sick in that sense, enough to be a
patient of his, but infected in the way he lusted after Amber
constantly, calling her into his office for no reason at all but to
smell her. Amber’s affair was enthralling; her description of it
intense. He loved to hear her explain the reasons behind it all,
oftentimes keeping her away from other sessions. “Amber,” he let
out clearing his throat, shuffling his legs around, trying to calm
his feeble erection. “I can call him today if you’d like.”

“The sooner the better,” Amber expressed with
anticipation.

“Good, ‘cause I’m afraid I can no longer continue to
make excuses for you not to see him. He’s a very stubborn man,” he
gave out exasperated feeling his sore jaw. Even though he loved
ogling her, she was still a patient—a sufferer who was mulish as
hell. Amber arrived in an unconscious state. She was unaware of the
occurrences of even the past year. The Behavioral Health Department
determined that she wasn’t a threat to society or even to herself,
so when Dr. Hayward felt it was time for Amber to leave, she fought
against it. It was Amber who felt the need to remain in the realm
of safekeeping. To be fed, bathed, consoled, harbored, protected,
concealed and looked after. This was a private treatment center,
with well over five hundred staff members willing and able to come
running to a patient’s beck and call. And, who was he to complain?
Her stay here was paid for—and the facility didn’t come cheap. No,
Amber had a rich benefactor, someone who loved her deeply enough to
sign the monthly five-figured checks.

Dr. Hayward placed down his pencil and writing pad
again, clicked on a nearby voice recorder. Put it in position to
start recording. “Eduardo has something to tell you...it’ll be good
for you to face him.”

Amber’s whole body froze. He has something to tell
her? Good Lord, what could it be? Does she truly want to come face
to face again with the man that forced her there? Tears began to
pour down her eyes.

Dr. Hayward took note of the misery streaming down
her face. It was a dissimilar reaction to what he’d been used to.
Amber was known to throw such fits of anguish; tossing everything
in sight she could get a hold of. The orderly’s would be called and
she would have to be sedated, placed in a harness and barreled out
of his office. No, Amber was releasing this time. This was a
definite sign of improvement. Finally, she was beginning to accept
her past, embrace her demons.

But what was this? Amber’s tears turned into huge
sobs of torment. She rolled over into the crevice of the couch and
cried her heart out. “It’s been over a year and half,” Dr. Hayward
expressed vigorously, “Meeting Eduardo will be a definite sign of
recovery.”

“I’m not recovered,” Amber cried out suddenly,
sitting up straight. Dr. Hayward began slowly putting some of his
breakable items back into a nearby box. Amber clutched her hands
around the pillow puncturing the tight fabric. “Dr. Hayward...I
changed my mind.”

When she gave him that expression it caused him to
dampen his pants. He was mush around her. He wanted to gather her
body up and rock her sometimes, console her, cuddle her anxiety
away. “No,” he chuckled, “You can’t agree to something then do an
about face. I’ll give him a call, he’ll be glad to hear from me
finally. I’m tired of having to send him away. He’s beneficial to
your stay here, and as your doctor, and mostly as your friend, it
would be a good idea to finally meet with him.”

Amber wiped away her tears. Her rage subsided. Dr.
Hayward served as the strong figure in her life and she did what
she was told. And just like that, she felt her head nodding
confirmation.