"You know, for a while, I loved that she waswith him," Carlos sneered. "I loved watching you miserable as fuckstaring at Ritz across the table like a kicked dog looking through the screendoor as that stuck-up ex of yours stared at the side of your head with flamesshooting out of her eyes. I was like, it serves him right. But fuck if Ritzisn't just as miserable and it’s all your fault. Do you know how hurt myparents were when you brought that woman back home with you? I couldn't eventalk to you for about two weeks, and Ritz…well Ritz just jumped blindly into arelationship with that fuckingpendejo."
Setting down the forgotten dumbbells in his handwith heavy clanks, Cade stepped back, his steps soundless on the matted floor.His heart was hammering in his chest to the point it made him feel sick. It waseverything that played at the far recesses of his mind that he was too afraidto face directly. He couldn't—goddammit he shouldn't—but the words were outthere now, floating around him, forcing him to make a decision. He could feelhimself turning to the bright unbearable light of the truth and he knew he hadno choice.
"Goddammit," his voice came out in astrangled whisper. "Goddammit, I know you're right," he whispered,pain etched into each word as he scrubbed his face with both hands and leanedback onto the mirrored wall. "I can’t live like this much longer."
"About fucking time," Carlos murmured."I just hope for your sake that this little reconnecting trip of theirsdoesn’t go to plan."
~*~
Lying in the hammock, Maritzia stared at the blueclear sky overhead. She watched as the bright wispy white clouds drifted pasther. Flicking her finger against the paper in her hand, her heart tightened atthe letter's contents. When the bright rays of the morning light piercedthrough the bungalow's curtains slowly waking Maritzia, she had to blink a fewtimes to see that she was alone in the bed. Looking to the open bathroom doorand a quick search on the large private balcony, and finally scanning throughthe room's closet Maritzia realized just how far the absence went. Finding thehotel's letterhead on the breakfast table, she had sat down at the edge of thebed to read Victor's note.
Shaking with an odd mixture of anger anddisbelief, Maritzia had found her phone on the bedside table and with a fewangry swipes had confirmed what the letter stated.
Crumpling the note between her fingers, Maritziasquinted up at the sky. Beneath her, the hammock was surprisingly comfortableas it suspended her over the cerulean waters beneath her bungalow. She couldhear the water lapping against the sturdy wooden beams that held the structure.Turning over onto her stomach, she stared at the gray and dark green coralsswaying gently under the water. Dark crusty barnacles crawled up the wet beamsof her bungalow stopping perfectly at the water's edge and she wondered if theresort's workers were the cause of such perfection. Lying like that, with therough net pressed partially against her face, Maritzia listened to the distantsounds of other couples laughing on the decks of their private bungalows. Shelet out a groan and closed her eyes.
Seven more days. She had seven more days in thecouple paradise—alone. Victor's note explained that he paid for the booking upfrontand that she may as well stay since it was non-refundable. The whirringvibration of her phone interrupted the serenity of the sparkling sun-drenchedscene around her and the turmoil of her thoughts. Someone was calling her,again. Ever since she shakily confirmed Victor's words in the note and saw thenew update of her Facebook relationship status, the calls and texts cameflooding in. Ignoring the phone yet again, she hoped it would just vibrateitself dead.
So, this was it, huh? It was finally over.Turning back over on the hammock until she lay comfortably onto her back, shethrew her forearm over her eyes to block out the brightness of the world. Shehad to hand it to Victor, she did not expect it to be this way. Maritzia hadexpected them to somehow make it through the remainder of the trip with forcedsmiles and maybe lots of the top-shelf alcohol their bungalow came stocked withuntil it was time to leave. She had pictured it perfectly to the last detail.They would have a quiet, if not tense flight back home and maybe last a coupleof days in an odd quasi peacefulness back at her apartment before she finallyannounced to him that she "didn't see this working." By thenshe would have gone to the bank and dipped into her savings to provide him herhalf of this trip. She would not give him that ammo to use against her. Well,that's what she had thought, at least.
Sitting up abruptly she scowled at the dark teakflooring of the bungalow as she thought of his note. Spreading the crumpledpaper with both hands she reread his words with growing anger.
"I feel like I'm fighting a war from bothsides with you. Between your secret obsession with Cade and his for you, I feellike I'm losing a battle I should have never had to fight. I'm angry, Maritzia,angrier than I have ever been in my life and it doesn't feel like me. I neverused to be like this. I'm tired of seeing the woman I love look at another manhow she should be looking at me. I'm tired of feeling like an outsider in yourfamily, no matter what I do. And I'm tired of watching Cade wait patiently foryou to realize you’d rather be with him than me. I can't stick around for that.I don’t want to feel angry anymore.
I paid for this trip in advance so you may aswell finish it. Just think of it as my last gift to you. I really do love you,Maritzia. I just wished you felt the same."
And for what felt like the hundredth time, tearsformed at the edges of her eyes, threatening to fall. His words hurt. Shedidn't expect anything he had to say to hurt as much as this letter did. Heavywith guilt, she pulled herself up from the hammock and walked inside. Sittingon the unmade bed, she imagined Victor writing the note as she slept andgathering his bags. What did his face look like as he rolled his suitcase downthe long wooden pier that led to the bungalows? Was the sun up? Did he have towait long at the airport by himself?
Clutching the paper against her stomach, Maritziafought off the tears. Why? Why did this hurt so badly, when this wasessentially what she wanted?
"I'm free of his dissatisfaction," shewhispered into the empty, airy room. "I won't have to feel like I haveconstantly failed him," she argued to the rising guilt in her chest.
But was he right? Did she truly make him feelthat way? She had loved Victor—once. He had been her smiling knight in shiningarmor when they first met. Ever since she was a kid, she had always felt likeone of the guys. Opting to wear basketball shorts and t-shirts most summers,the guys in her neighborhood either treated her like another guy, or, worse,saw right through her. Before college she was never on the receiving end ofthose intense enamored looks other girls got from guys. She had just stoodawkwardly by as she watched the guys and girls of her neighborhood mature, thedynamics between them changing. Nothing changed for her, however. She was justthe girl the guys all invited to hang out and shoot hoops with when their dateswere over, their smooth smiles replaced with boyish ones and their charmingpersonalities switched back to their mischievous playful ones. To them, she wasjust Ritz, the sister of Carlos and Luis. The forever frowning girl who playedbasketball better than most of them.
But that changed when she got into college.Meeting other girls on her basketball team, Maritzia had found her own uniquestyle, a feminine but sporty style that made her feel strong and sexy. Ditchingher basketball shorts and t-shirts for skinny jeans and tailored blouses, shehad slowly transformed her appearance and her confidence. Slowly, she began tonotice the interest in men's eyes when they looked at her and realized quicklyit was not all that she made it seem growing up. It only took a few dates torealize that the attention she pined for when she looked at other girls wasjust an act. Guys only wanted to play games, hopping from girl to girl seekingone thing. It was only then she realized how sheltered from reality she hadbeen growing up. Surrounded by the unassuming barricade of her brothers,cousins, and Cade. Only looking back now could she realize how subtle andunyielding their defense around her was. Maybe the looks she wished to havereceived were there. Maybe she had been too naïve to see them outright, but shebet Cade or Luis saw them. She could just imagine their open friendly gazesturning savage towards one of their many friends that tried to get close toher.
Eventually, their defense had weakened and shereplaced it with her own. For years she kept men at a distance, looking forsomething within them she knew she would never find—not again, at least. Whenshe had first met Victor, she had been a little mystified by the cheerfulhandsome man. Unlike other male officers, Victor wasn't filled with thefabricated sense of machismo that rippled over the precinct. Victor was pluckyand confident and had nothing to prove. When friends of hers playfully teasedher, recalling her old nickname in school "the bouncer" due tothe muscular shoulders basketball had given her and her overall toughpersonality, Victor had been the only one to claim he couldn't see the accuracyof the name. When he looked at her, he saw her for not only who she was buteverything she tried to be.
He had been her first real boyfriend and now—hewas gone, because of her.
Throwing down the note, Maritzia flopped backonto the bed and stared up at the vaulted wooden ceiling, watching as the circlingfan turned at a sleepy pace. She just never expected it to hurt so much.Shouldn't she be angry or relieved even? He left her! He left her here on theother side of the world. She should be infuriated! At the very least she shouldfeel the weight that she had been carrying for weeks now slide off her chest.No more fights, no more walking on eggshells around his mood, no more dreadingto come home. But instead of all that, all she felt was guilt. She didn't wantto hurt him, not like his letter suggested. She had wanted them both to walkaway and realize that though the decision was painful it was for the best.
Pulling up her legs until she was lying fully onthe rumpled sheets, she grabbed the data-pad that came with the room off thenightstand. Typing in an order for food she instructed the staff to leave it inthe kitchen of her bungalow. Segregated by a locking door, the bedroom andbathroom area were separate from the kitchen area that led to the front doorgiving the guest complete privacy as the staff picked up and dropped off food.Good, she thought. She had no intentions of leaving this room for the nextseven days. Reaching for her phone, Maritzia purposely ignored the stackedmessages waiting to be read and the numerous missed call icons. She neededtime. She needed to be alone.
~*~
Cade was shaving when Carlos swung open thebathroom door. His eyes were wide and frantic and Cade stilled. His hand stillholding the lathered razor inches above the water, he looked at Carlos.
"What?" His gut knotted in dread as hismind immediately jumped to images of Ritz, or his mother being hurt. But as helooked back into Carlos's eyes, he could see the frantic energy leaned towardsshock more than fear.
"It's Victor," he whispered awe as heheld out his phone to what looked like a Facebook post.
Scowling, Cade dropped the razor into the runningwater and turned fully to Carlos. "What about him?" he growled.
Still looking as if he had just witnessed afirework go off in front of his face, Carlos stepped closer and waved the phonein front of Cade. "Victor just announced that he broke up with Ritz. Fuck,man, I think that piece of shit left my sister in Jamaica."
Everything in Cade's mind went blank. As ifCarlos had just hit the power switch on his brain. Standing there wearing onlya pair of boxers and socks and with one half of his face shaved and the otherhalf soapy, Cade blinked. After a second the switch flipped in his mind and hefelt himself booting back to life. Walking out of the bathroom, Cade pushedpast Carlos to the guest bedroom he had been using and found his phone in thesheets. Missed calls from his mother and Ritz's mother were clogging up thescreen. Notifications from friends, coworkers, and the DeLeon family filled hisFacebook profile. Checking Victor's account, his blood sang as he stared at theoverly dramatic photo of luggage sitting by an airport window. "Timefor a new chapter in my life," the caption read.
"This piece of shit," he whisperedaloud as his fingers swiped furiously to Ritz's account.
