Heart storms, p.2
Heart Storms, page 2
“You’re so much worse than a shit there are no words for what you are. Don’t fucking say you’re sorry again or I’ll kick your alcoholic, drug-addicted, lying, cheating ass to a pulp!”
He flew to the door, grabbing his jacket on the way. As he opened it, he glanced back and said, “You can get a lawyer but there’s nothing left to split. I have no money and I’ll be out of work and in rehab for God-knows how long. Cut your losses and move on, Jade.”
She followed him, crying and screaming while he ran to his car. “You’ll pay for this! I’ll get you back somehow. I don’t deserve this, and you deserve to burn in hell!”
While opening his car door, he yelled, “I’m sure I do, and I’m probably there now.” He hesitated, weighing whether he should say the words in his mind or not, but then added, “And I am sorry,” slamming the door shut on ‘sorry.’
Jade reached into her ornamental garden, grabbed two fistfuls of small rocks and threw them at his car as he backed up and sped off. “Your apology is as worthless as you are!” Even with slinging the rocks hard she didn’t damage the vehicle, only herself with what she’d become—a crazed, violent person. But she needed that huge release for her emotions, of an anger so deep she felt hell burning in the pit of her gut. Inside the foyer, she closed the door behind her and collapsed against it, this time in agony with a flood of tears. The pain and sobbing went on and on until she thought she might die, forcing her to reach out and call the only person who might help—her mother.
After hearing what he’d done, Maggie, the loving, compassionate, free-spirited artist and believer in karma, told Jade, “You are not an insane, terrible person. If I had been there, I’d have helped you throw rocks.” But her mother’s next words Jade liked best, “Don’t worry, he’ll get his. He’ll get what’s coming to him, he will.” Jade’s silent response was, Oh, I can’t wait for the day. But I might have to help fate along with my own brand of revenge.
Chapter 2
GABRIEL MONTORO
At twenty-eight, Gabriel figured his luck was changing, hopefully with his father’s death the abuse would stop along with his vile behavior, and none of it would follow Gabe anymore. His life was peaceful for the first time with a good job and social life. On one of his usual night-off forays into the club scene with drinking, dancing and flirting, he met a woman. Not just any woman. He met Consuela—a hot, young Latina beauty who worked a room and the men in it like a more experienced woman, like a vixen.
At nineteen, Consuela moved the ample curves of her body to sway with the beat of her hips and long, dark hair cascading down her back. Her eyes were dark and exotic, drawing Gabriel in with lush sensuality. While running her finger along his cheek, she cooed, “Oh, I love this face. You are sooo handsome.” She put her hand on his well-muscled stomach. “And this hard body. I love it, too.” Her eyes fixed on his with a searing stare, luring him in. “But it’s your eyes—they capture me. Their lovely blue reminds me of the sky, of heaven.” She put her arm around his neck and her body against his. “Would you take me there? Would you take me to heaven with your body and those blue eyes?”
Sex with Consuela was almost heart-stopping and unlike anything Gabriel ever experienced. A fair number of women had crossed his path, but he never got too close or attached to any of them with always being guarded and on the move. Consuela was the first to give him pause. They couldn’t get enough of each other, like starving wolves going in for the kill—all passion and lust with nothing gentle, loving or subtle about them.
When Consuela announced she was pregnant, Gabriel stood by her—to marry and raise the child. Gabriel didn’t say he loved her because he didn’t fathom love. The closest he’d come to it, he guessed, was the warm, connected feeling for his mother and siblings but never for a woman he dated. The way he understood Consuela best was in bed. They were mind-blowingly ‘in lust’ and Gabriel hoped sex led to love, whatever love was.
Gabriel’s mother encouraged him. “You’re ready to be a husband and father—marry Consuela and settle down. I believe in you, mi hijo.” With her support, Gabe believed in himself. This marriage might be the start of a good life and relationship unlike the many abusive ones he witnessed growing up.
The baby girl was born before Consuela turned twenty. They named her Graciela because she was so beautiful and perfect, Gabe was sure she was made of pure grace. But the grace of God didn’t extend to Gabriel for long. To make extra money for his new family, he worked a second job as a breakfast line cook in a diner, along with his part-time job as a sous chef at a restaurant for dinner service. This meant he was gone every day plus several nights a week. Consuela liked the extra money, but she resented being alone so much and unable to party with her friends. She saw her life with Gabriel as a novelty, as if ‘playing house,’ or trying out a different life for a while. But like a kid with a new toy, when the new life became the ‘same old, same old,’ she got bored with it and Gabe.
Gabriel had no clue about Consuela’s frame of mind until the night he came home two hours early. He opened the front door to find his wife’s clothes strewn around the living room, leading into the bedroom. His internal alarm bell turned to blood-red rage when he opened the bedroom door to see the naked ass of a man pounding away at his gorgeous wife, who moaned with pleasure and held the stranger the same way she’d held him. Gabriel lost it when he heard her say, “Oh, baby, don’t stop. Take me to heaven. No one takes me there the way you do.”
Blinded with rage, he walked to the bed, pulled the man by his ankles and slung him to the floor like the piece of garbage he was.
Consuela screamed, “Gabe, no! I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry!”
She lay naked, her body moist and steamy from sex, and instantly Gabe realized everything good about her was all bad and all a lie. He threw clothes to her and wanted to kill them both. Overcome with fury, a fist formed in his hand to pound at the man. But just before throwing a punch that might have led to manslaughter and changed his life, baby Grace cried out. The sound of her innocent screams stopped Gabe. Gracie needed him; she was more important than anyone else and she saved him from making a terrible mistake.
Gabe shrieked at Consuela, “You meant it and you’re not sorry! Get out of my house, you whore and take your skinny, white-man pimp with you. You’re both trash.” He threw them and their clothes out the door, shrieking, “I never want to see your face again. Burn in hell, you bitch.” Consuela sobbed and pulled on her clothes, begging him to let her explain. He slammed the door in her face, then opened it again. “You really think there are words to explain and forgive what you did? You’re not just a whore, you’re a stupid whore.” He kicked the door shut, yelling, “puta estúpido,” and walked away from her, and from marriage forever.
In the following weeks, the angel on Gabriel’s good shoulder was drowned out by the devil’s voice on his other telling him he’d never have a good life. He’d never be a good man or father and would always be out for revenge for all the wrongs done to him. There wasn’t enough therapy in the world to fix the damage inside. His only option was to run forever.
Chapter 3
THE AFTERMATH
For the next few months, numb with shock, Jade wandered through her days looking for clues to why and how the end came, and for how to go on. Well-meaning friends tried to encourage her, but their words were lies because love did not conquer all, and time had not healed her. In her world, the road to hell wasn’t paved with gold but with a golden boy who took her straight there—to a hell of a life. And when all those doors slammed shut, God didn’t open a window, ‘the devil’ did.
Devlin. Jade used to love his name. It was unusual, strong and spoke of his Irish heritage. She assumed the man, Devlin Donoghue, would be the same—as honorable as a hero in medieval times fighting to the death for his woman, family, and freedom. But Devlin was the antithesis of good things. When signing the divorce papers, Jade realized how vile he was to break her trust, heart, and life. His name was unspeakable now, like poison on her tongue. So instead of seeing ‘Devlin’ written on the paper, her brain flipped the letters and she saw only ‘Devil.’ Now there’s a name perfectly suited to him. Since that day, Jade referred to him only when necessary, and only as ‘the devil’—the intentional cause of pain and destruction, the epitome of evil.
***
Gabriel had nowhere to run or hide from the relentless demons howling through his life. They made demands of his days he couldn’t fulfill. No matter how good he was or acted, his life seemed predestined for trouble and heartbreak. In trying to change his situation, worse circumstances arose. He ran from a culture he loved and respected but had also caused pain and torment. The deepest truth, though, simmered underneath the obvious facts—Gabriel knew he’d never have a life of goodness, of love and family. Those things were fairytales in books and movies. He’d never witnessed those good things in real life and, since Consuela, for sure they didn’t happen to people like him.
***
The destruction of Jade’s life by a devious, conniving husband didn’t happen to people like her. She’d always been a loving, hard-working, devoted daughter and wife who deserved better than what she got.
At twenty-seven, instead of living the dream they planned, Jade lived alone in a studio apartment, in a nightmare where questions screamed through her dreams. Where are you… How could you do this? Why did you do it? Every day, rage tumbled down her life like a waterfall. Come back… fix this… make it right! Her world stood still while a vortex of depression sucked out her life force, replaced by a new emotion—hate. With all the good she was and did, she received the opposite in return. But for all the agony and loss the devil wrought, he didn’t get an ounce of it back. As far as Jade saw, only good things went back to him. How is that fair in the laws of the universe, the eyes of God, or in the karmic balance of right and wrong? Jade decided if those things wouldn’t balance the scales of justice, she would. She’d pay back ‘the devil.’ Retribution and vengeance—previously unknown concepts in her world—now thundered through her every waking moment as she vowed revenge.
***
Gabriel should have listened to the red flags in his intuition telling him not to trust Consuela or any women. But there weren’t many people in his life he did trust. With experiencing some of the worst of life events, Gabriel lived with everything being fine one day, and all hell breaking loose the next. Which is exactly what happened. He never forgot the day Consuela cheated and his world shattered.
After that fateful day, Gabriel’s life became one of nothing but work. He worked his body hard to cover his pain, to stop replaying the scenes of the betrayal. Time didn’t heal his wounds as his mother promised. Wherever he went, unending memories followed of ‘the witch,’ the only name his brain would allow for Consuela. The only path to survival was to leave his hometown of San Antonio and get as far away as possible from the wreckage of his life.
Yet with firming up plans for a new start, the nagging voice inside his head, the angel looking over his ‘good’ shoulder asked, “How can you have a good life when all you want is to retaliate and cause suffering as you’ve suffered? You need to stop living this way if you want a better life.” The voice of truth was right. But most of the time it was safer to listen to the devil on the other shoulder who, when anything good threatened to take hold reminded Gabe his life’s greatest desire was to seek revenge, to move through life breaking hearts and spirits as his own had been broken. The devil’s voice reinforced his life should be one of balancing the scales of pain and injustice inflicted on him. Gabriel Montoro knew getting even was his best revenge because ‘living well’ was not a viable option in his world.
Chapter 4
Survival for Jade meant leaving the west coast where remnants of the devil were everywhere, where a constant reopening of the wounds reminded her of everything he’d robbed from her life. She planned to run as far away from California as possible, straight to the opposite coast. Santa Barbara had been home all her life except for the five years while married and living in Los Angeles. She felt out of place in L.A., disliking the masses of people and traffic. She had friends in New England, but the cold climate was too drastic a lifestyle change. A temperate place, quiet and warm, would provide peace and stable ground to grow a new life. But reality set in quickly of not having the resources to start over and depression sank in.
In wanting to ease her daughter’s suffering, Jade’s mother, Maggie, came up with a solution. At Sunday brunch, she laid it out. “My house is paid for and I have a good nest egg put away for retirement. Plus, your ninety-year-old bachelor great-Uncle Dennis is leaving me his house with an ocean view. So, I have no financial worries and I want to help you with…”
Jade interrupted and put her hand up in front of her. “No, Mom. I appreciate it, but I can’t let you help me with money.”
“I didn’t ask if you could or couldn’t. I will help you start over. Listen, I’m Uncle Dennis’s only heir, and you’re my only child and heir, so everything I have will be yours someday. Think of it as an advance on your inheritance.”
Jade shivered with the thought of her mother dying. “This is so depressing. I don’t want to talk about it. Besides, you could live to be one-hundred and you’ll need your money.”
Maggie straightened up tall in her chair, waved her hands like a fairy godmother brandishing a magic wand. “Nonsense! There’s plenty even if we both live to be old bats! This is the best plan for you. You’d make me happier by accepting this than buying me any gift from a store.” Maggie pointed to the air above her. “And your father agrees.”
“Mom! Do you always have to invoke Daddy’s spirit when coercing me into something? Geez, he’s trying to rest in peace and you drag him back. It’s just plain weird.”
With a sweet, knowing smile, Maggie said, “It’s not weird, and I know you sense his spirit around us, too. He’s watching over you.”
Jade sipped her mimosa. “Is he? Where was he when the devil tore up my life?”
Maggie rubbed her hand over Jade’s. “The events in our lives are part of a greater plan, like making the required steps through school to graduate. I hate how your life was devastated. I was the same way when your father died, but I focused on growing, learning, and finding a way to live life differently. So, I pursued art and painting; and now I run an art association and have lots of wonderful friends. My life is full and happy versus sitting at home, sad, angry, living in the past and waiting to die.”
Jade rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’re right, again.” She slumped into the back of her chair. “But I don’t feel comfortable taking money from you.”
“See it as a loan then.”
“I don’t know when I could pay you back.”
“I don’t need it paid back soon. And I’m not talking about a huge amount of money—just enough for you to start over. You figure out how much you need to relocate; for rent, food, bills and miscellaneous for six months until you find a job. Come up with a figure.”
Jade shook her head. “It still doesn’t seem right.”
Forced to use Jade’s own logic against her, Maggie said, “You talk about getting even with Devlin. What better revenge than having money in the bank to do whatever you want next in life? You’ll triumph over your losses and you’ll be free. There’s no better way to start over.”
Jade weighed her mother’s words. “Hmm… good point.” She envisioned a life free of the devil’s wreckage, free to travel and start life anew. “You make sense. I’d be pretty stupid to turn down your offer. Thank you, Mom.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Freedom is something the devil always prized, and he’ll never have it in his new, self-inflicted life. Yes, perfect revenge is having the funds and freedom to live life as I want.” So as not to upset Maggie, Jade didn’t speak her next notion: But ‘the devil’ deserves worse.
***
Jade had kept in touch with a good friend from college, Amy Parish, who lived in Charleston, South Carolina. Amy told her how beautiful the city was and posted photos of the historic homes, the ocean and sunsets. Jade thought the lush, sub-tropical southeast with its gentle climate, rich history and low country charm would be perfect for her. It was time for Jade to reconnect beyond social media. She called Amy and they caught up on their lives over a couple hours on the phone. Amy was sad for the recent breakdown of Jade’s life but overjoyed at the prospect of her living near her in the Charleston area. She offered her home as a base, promising road trips to explore the South Carolina coast.
***
A tearful but optimistic goodbye with her mother sent Jade off on the cross-country drive to Charleston determined not to dwell on the past. After two boring days on the road, though, Jade ran out of visions for the future and the demons of the past crept back. Exhausted from driving, she thought stopping to rest and sight-see would rejuvenate her. Signs on the Texas interstate for San Antonio appeared and her intuition said this was the place to stop.
As Jade drove around the downtown, she found the city to be vibrant with life and color. Even though it was late February, the weather was balmy; the city filled with a festive air, alive with lights, music, and good restaurants. She stayed downtown, splurging on a nice hotel on the San Antonio River, ate at a riverside café, and walked the paths along the river for a couple miles. Jade felt safe and comfortable yet kept looking over her shoulder as if someone watched or an acquaintance or friend were close by. But no familiar face sat at a table near hers, or on a park bench, or stood next to her in the elevator.
The next day she took a boat tour on the river, learned the city’s history and felt at home with the Spanish-inspired architecture. The riverfront looked magical lined with stores, outdoor restaurants, music and thousands of lights shining into the night. Her spirit came alive, her body rejuvenated and happy. The sense of calm was a relief from her recent months filled with anger and despondency. San Antonio might be a good place to settle down. But after slipping into bed and waking with a clear head the next morning, Charleston called to her and she needed to explore it first.
