Noemi

by

Katia N. Ruiz

CHAPTER THREE

That same night, Noemí sat in her dark living room by the window, a bottle of Brandy in one hand, and a full glass in the other. Sipping silently, she stared out the window into the moonless night and listened to soft music playing from a tape in her stereo. The lights from the streets beckoned her hypnotically as she mused and thought of Terri Bledsoe. She grimaced and frowned. Judging by Anthony's reaction, they now knew that there was a great possibility that the child was his.

He had decided to forsake his family, to get his money and never come back, just because he didn't want to get married. She knew that her father gave up on him too easily, that he should have given him more grief; she said as much to him as they discussed the situation.

Her father had replied pleasantly: "It is our fault your brother is this way, it is about time he learned responsibility, and if that means leaving him alone out in the world, then that's what it's going to be. When he runs out of money, and I'm sure he will, he'll come back and decide to take over his responsibility. When he does, he'll have to work in the company and win my trust. In the meantime, we have to take care of that young woman."

Noemí didn't think it proper to force Anthony to marry the girl; he'd make her so unhappy, and that was obvious. And that girl seems to have already had enough unhappiness to last her a lifetime, she thought.

Taking another swallow of her Brandy, grimacing only slightly at the burning in her throat, she forced herself to think of something else. A slight painful throbbing in her right thigh, signaling, since she'd acquired the scar, that fall was coming. The pain, dulled slightly by the Brandy, reminded her of her nightmares. She dreaded going to bed, because that meant that sleep would undoubtedly come, and the nightmares would begin. Her parents didn't know about this, but restful sleep had eluded her for more than three years. Nightmares, memories, turned her sleep into frightening reality, taking her back three and a half years.

Taking a larger swallow from the glass, she tried to force herself not to think of it, tried to veer her thoughts from that route. But as usual, she sat helpless, as the images possessed her, like they did every time she sat alone in her house. Flashes of light, incredibly loud metal-tearing sounds, pain, such incredible pain…

She hadn't always been like this, so tightly reined, so controlled. She once laughed, once smiled, felt something other than just anger. She loved; she was loved in return… She was not the same Noemí of four years ago. She was now an emotional void, her feelings bottled up inside, festering. She could sense them, somewhere inside her, burrowing, hiding from the outside world. Only anger made a rare appearance, and more of it had come out today, with Terri. Back then, when her heart was not a rock weighing her down, she had Amelia. Amelia loved her, took such good care of her, desired her like no one else had. They lived together, bought this house together, and loved in this house together.

She'd met her at a party. Victoria, her best friend, had introduced them at her house, where the party was held. It had been love at first sight for Noemí, who'd only had passing fancies before. The longest relationship she'd had, of four years, had been a high school sweetheart thing and had faded when College had started.

Amelia Lee had short black hair cropped right above her round ears. Her brown eyes were so dark when in the throes of passion. Her lips were pink, and her skin a creamy color. She was tall, like Noemí, but her body was not muscular like hers, it was more feminine and shapely. That first night, they'd made plans to get together again. The very next day, they spent together the whole afternoon; and after that, they were inseparable, first as friends, then as lovers.

Three years of bliss were brought to an abrupt halt when the accident occurred. Driving home from Noemí's house in Providence Town, they were shoved out of the road by a careless truck driver. The car fell down a fifty foot decline, killing Amelia almost instantly and leaving the pinned Noemí to look at her dead face for more than two hours as the emergency services fought to save her from the wreckage. The images of that dreadful night haunted Noemí since.

She sighed, and polished off her drink. Placing both the bottle and the glass on the coffee table, she sat back down on the couch. She felt looser, the alcohol running through her veins warming her. Raking her fingers through her hair, she looked through the darkness at the reflections of the outside lights on the wall. She was trying to figure out what she should do to deal with the situation with Terri Bledsoe. Shaking her head helplessly, she reached for the phone, deciding to exercise after she finished with her call.

Victoria picked up on the second ring; she sounded out of breath, like she'd been exercising. "What have you been doing, woman?" Noemí asked, knowing very well that Victoria didn't have an exercising bone in her body.

Victoria shushed someone in the background. "Shut up!" She said when the woman huskily insisted on knowing who was calling at this 'blasted hour.' Into the phone, Victoria said without real bite: "This better be good."

"Oh, I think you'll like this," Noemí said, and closed her eyes, leaning her head back onto the couch back. "It looks like Anthony has gotten some girl pregnant."

"What?" Victoria said in shock, and then she recovered and was exultant. "What did I tell you?" she said in an 'I told you so' tone. Noemí could hear the woman speaking again, reminding her of Anthony's companion in Aruba. She heard Victoria tell the woman in her bed to shut up or leave, and the woman's voice ceased to interrupt her. "Damn it, I knew you spoiled that kid rotten. Now look what he's gotten himself into." Victoria returned to the phone, then stopped and thought. "Isn't he in Aruba?"

Noemí blew out air through her lips. "Yep, that seems to be the reason for his sudden trip to Aruba," she answered.

"Damn, I can imagine how your parents are feeling," Victoria said sympathetically. "Tell me about the girl. Who is she? Is she high society like us?"

"You sound snobbish, Victoria," Noemí admonished with affection.

"Oh, rubbish! You know what I mean,." she said in an 'I don't care voice.' "Tell me about the girl."

Noemí sighed. "She's only twenty-two years old, Vicky. She was a virgin before Anthony," she said softly.

"What?" Victoria exclaimed and whistled. "A twenty-two year old virgin? Jeez, that is the one true miracle in America!" she breathed, clearly surprised, as Noemí had been when she heard her age. "Are you sure that she is telling the truth."

"I'm sure," Noemí said. "She slept with him alright."

"Your brother is a whore, my dear friend," Victoria said. "I'm sorry to say that, but you and your parents spoiled the shit out of him, and look how he is paying you guys back."

"Well, he wasn't very grateful to me about the arrest a few months back, that's for sure," Noemí said. "So I told mom and dad about that little escapade you and I had to go through that night."

"You didn't!" Victoria breathed, clearly in shock. "Oh God, your parents must hate me now."

Noemí couldn't help but laugh. "Oh no, I think they're too angry at Anthony to be thinking of you," she said. "Besides, they're probably grateful that the press didn't find out anything. Can you imagine the papers? 'Heir to Leone Pasta enterprise in jail for possession of cocaine and disorderly conduct?' I think he's out of the will for sure now."

"Wow," Victoria breathed. "So tell me more about the girl!"

"Her name is Terri Bledsoe, sounds like she is from a low class family. Told me four brothers and a father, mom unknown." She said as much as she knew, and waited for Victoria to respond.

"That's it?" Victoria asked, clearly curious. "Is she pretty, is she ugly? No details?"

Noemí sighed loudly. "Only you would think of pretty and ugly in a situation like this," she said.

Victoria laughed. "That's why I don't look old, my friend," she said as if that were the answer.

"You're only twenty seven, woman!" Noemí exclaimed. "You're worrying about looking old?"

"No, but I don't worry about the big things so much. I worry about the little things, and that is what keeps me young. So, is she pretty, ugly? What?" she said, all in a rush.

"You should know my brother's taste by now," Noemí pleased her by answering. "She is gorgeous, if only she'd dress better. But I guess she can't, she's poor. And that is where I come in."

"Uh?" Victoria sounded confused, and it pleased Noemí to shut her up for once.

"Well, I'm going to propose to her to move into this house with me. I have plenty of space, and she needs a better environment for herself and the child. If she doesn't want to, then I'll rent an apartment for her. She's already four months pregnant; she needs to start getting comfortable." She stopped, and took a deep expectant breath. When Victoria didn't immediately answer, she asked: "Well? What do you think?"

"Well," Victoria prolonged the word noticeably. "We don't know that this is your brother's child, Noemí. Got to think about this more."

"There's nothing to think about, I want to help her, even if she hadn't made the stupid mistake of sleeping with my brother and ended up pregnant," Noemí said, suddenly angry with her friend. "This house is too big for me, and I can't get rid of it. So what is one more person here again. It would be like old times."

"She won't be Amelia, Noe," Victoria said carefully.

"I only want to give that girl a better place to stay in until that child is born," Noemí said firmly. "My father agrees with me."

"Well," Victoria said, suddenly flippant. "If Thomas says it's okay, then it is, isn't it?" She was a firm believer that Thomas' word was law.

"Yes," Noemí answered. "I'm going to see her tomorrow. Want to come with me?"

"Are you sure?" Victoria asked doubtfully. "Isn't this a family thing?"

Noemí shifted uncomfortably. "Well," she said with a small cough. "She can be a little feisty."

"You're afraid of this girl?" Victoria guffawed, seeing right through her.

"No, its just that yesterday I almost lost my temper with her. She can be so damn infuriating. She hit me yesterday, and scratched the shit out of my hand," Noemí stopped abruptly, and she could hear Victoria giggling. "Well? Do I pick you up at eleven or not?" She grew annoyed.

Victoria stopped giggling with a deep breath. "Er, yes," she said. "I want to meet Miss Feisty." She broke into laughter. "Eleven then. Let me get back to this girl."

"This girl? This girl?" Noemí could hear the voice in the background. "You were not thinking 'this girl' a few minutes ago." She could hear Victoria trying to shush her again.

Noemí laughed. "Who is she?" she asked.

"Oh, just this-" There was a scuffling sound, and the woman's voice came over the line.

"My name is Michaela Cavanaugh, of the Cavanaugh horses, nice to meet you." She said into the phone, and Noemí could hear Victoria demanding her to give her back the phone. "May I ask who you are?"

Amused, Noemí answered: "I'm Noemí Leone, of the Pasta Leone's, nice to meet you. I am Victoria's bestest friend in the whole wide world."

"Don't believe whatever she tells you, Michaela." Victoria said loudly.

Michaela pulled the mouthpiece from her mouth, and she said to Victoria: "Don't believe that she's your bestest friend in the whole wide world? Then who the hell is she?"

"Uh, I thought she'd say something stupid." Victoria stuttered. "Can I have the phone back now, please?"

Michaela said into the phone: "We'll have the pleasure of meeting sometime soon, Noemí, nice talking to you." She handed the phone back to Victoria.

"You actually said please?" Noemí teased when she spoke into the phone. "She must already have you in check then."

"Shut up. No, not you, baby. Stay here with me, I'm getting off!" Victoria said into the phone again. "At eleven, woman! You're lucky she didn't leave, I'd be at your house bugging the hell out of you."

"I wouldn't want your adorable self bothering me. See you tomorrow, then. Eleven on the dot." Noemí said, and hung up, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Terri Bledsoe had caused her deep anger, and at a certain time, deep amusement. Amusement came easier now, and she smiled into the dark night.

Terri secured her door, shoving a chair under the doorknob. She could hear the couple next door arguing, very loudly, and the banging about that signified he was beating the shit out of her again. The woman sounded as pissed though, and from his sporadic little cries of pain, Terri could tell she was retaliating. Every night finished the same way, a gradual quieting down, and it would then rev up into wall-slamming sounds of sex. Psychos, she thought as she sat down on her bed. She touched her hardening belly; a smile touched her lips, but not her eyes.

In a way, aside from her art, her neighbors were a way to take her mind off her problems. Her money was running out for the month, and she didn't have anything much in her fridge or cabinets. Food was so expensive these days, and her social worker wasn't helping much by way of WIC checks and food stamps. She grimaced in disgust with herself. At least at home she'd been eating, though she was practically a slave.

She ran away from home almost a year before, unable to take any more. The youngest of her brothers, born exactly two years before her, had been the one to push her to the limit. When she was thirteen, he'd begun to touch her in ways that were not appropriate for a brother. Kevin had been nice to her up until that point. He always defended her when her dad or her brothers tried to beat on her, which almost always got him beat too.

Obviously, he expected something in return. The first night he'd gotten drunk with his brothers, he had come into her room and tried to force himself on her.

"Terri?" He knocked on her door and opened before she could answer. She scrambled to sit up on her bed as he quietly shut her bedroom door, stumbling towards her bed. He sat down on the bed beside her and stared at her.

"You're drunk," she said, feeling like crying. From that moment on, he'd start to become like their father. It had happened with the others too.

He pressed a hand to his forehead and swayed. He pushed messy dark hair away from his face and looked at her again with bleary eyes. "I love you, Terri," he slurred, and moved towards her, sneering angrily when she pulled away. "What, you don't love me anymore? Just because I'm becoming a man like my brothers and dad?"

"Drinking doesn't make you a man," she said softly, trying not to cry.

He growled at her, and moved to take her arms in his hands. "You must be a man-hater," he mumbled, staring at her with crossing eyes. "You must be one of those women dad talks about." His upper lip curled with disgust. "He says we can just cure them with a good f-" He didn't finish his sentence, staring at her with new eyes.

Terri could practically see what he was thinking; fear made her fight him. "No!" she exclaimed, scrambling off the bed away from him. He came at her again, stumbling around. "I'm your sister!" she said pleadingly, avoiding his grasping hands. "Don't, please!"

He didn't seem to hear her, and came at her again. Out of instinct, she swung, and connected with his jaw. He dropped like a rotten apple from a tree, unconscious. Breathing hard through her teeth, adrenaline pumping through her, she stared down at him for a long time. When he didn't move and began snoring, she scrambled to open the door to her bedroom. She went back to him and grabbed him by the legs, pulling him out of her room.

Thankfully he'd been very drunk, or he would have raped her then. The next morning, he had acted like nothing happened. She never said a word, knowing her father and older brothers would never believe her. Every time he got drunk, he tried again, and every time, she was successful in avoiding him. The last time he tried again, he almost did it, but she smacked him with her small vase of flowers on the side of the head. Lying unconscious with his pants around his ankles was the last vision she had of Kevin, her once favorite brother, before she left that house forever.

Anthony had finished what her brother had started. When she met him on the street, on her way home from a job interview, he'd been sweet to her. She had grown to trust him, and trusted him even after he'd gotten her drunk and did what he did to her. He was still nice to her after the first time it happened, and he still visited her. Even when he wouldn't take her many "NO's", she still allowed him to return.

He made her feel cared for, when he wasn't trying to screw her, literally. In many ways he was just like her brother; making her trust them to then turn on her. Bitterly, Terri punched her lumpy pillow into submission and laid her head on it. Her eyes moved around in the dark. She felt like crying at the dilapidated state of things; her paintings where the only supply of color and something fresh. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.