Cafe Romance (32 page)

“Buy?  Hey, remember Yvette’s a bona-fide Chef, little sister,” Juanita injected.

“That I am, and long before I got my MBA,” Yvette chuckled. Seating herself, she crossed her hands and blew at her bangs, as though exhausted.

“What’s the matter?” Juanita asked.

“Just tire,” she replied, regarding her friend. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’ve got some great news. Nola finally left Gus.”

“That’s great!” Yvette exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you Nola. What happened this time around?”

“Hell, we got into another fight and I just told him that I had had enough,” Nola explained. “I told him I wasn’t going to be his doormat anymore.”

“You go girl!” Yvette sighed, squeezing Nola’s hand. “Again, I’m so happy for you. I was so afraid for you in the past. I hope things work out for you.”

“Thank you,” Nola replied.

“No one should have to put up with an asshole,” Juanita added, “No one!”

“That’s right,” Yvette remarked, caressing a curl near her left ear, and appearing slightly distant from the conversation.

There was a pause.

“So, how are things with you and Antwan?” Nola asked.

“Alright,” she began, then admitted, “Well, to be honest, we’re having some problems. But it’s nothing major. Nothing we can’t work out.”

“Like what?” Juanita queried.

“Well, since you ask. For one thing, the other day I mistakenly called Antwan, Kurt. It’s the third time in just as many weeks that I’ve done that.”

Juanita’s eyes widen, upon hearing this. “I can see how that could cause problems,” she replied, her lips parted in surprise.

“Yeah, we’re talking major problem,” added Nola.

“And the other problem?” Juanita continued, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“It’s been nearly two weeks since we’ve gone out.”

“Don’t tell me, he’s too busy,” said Juanita, a half-smile tugging one corner of her mouth.

“Yes, basically,” Yvette admitted. “At least that’s what he’s been telling me.”

“You think he’s messing around on you?” asked Nola.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know,” Yvette answered, biting her lower lip.

There was another pause.

“Heard from Kurt lately?” Juanita weighed in.

“Not in a while. I don’t think I’m his favorite person anymore, Juanita.” she replied, her fingers drumming the table softly.

“Now aren’t we being just a little hard on ourselves?” Juanita asked.

“I don’t know. I believe in him, Juanita,” Yvette said, peering off into the distance, then back at her friend. “I think I should have let him explained things. But I never calmed down long enough to get his version of what happened that night at the club with Roxanne.”

“Who’s Roxanne?” Nola queried.

“The woman we saw him with at that club downtown, that night. She’s his ex-fiancée,” Yvette answered. “Juanita and I saw them having a great time together at Neptune’s Reef.”

“You know what I think?  I think you’re in love, if you ask me,” Juanita said, chewing on another fondue-dipped berry.

“Of course, I never denied that I love Antwan.”

“Honey, you may love Antwan, but believe me, it’s Kurt you’re in love with,” Juanita said poignantly.

“Sounds like it,” Nola added. “But don’t listen to us girl. Just listen to your heart. If you stop and take notice, you will see that you talk far more about Kurt than you do about Antwan.”

“Is that so?” Yvette chuckled lightly, sporting an incredulous grin.

“Yes,” Juanita teased.  “And more affectionately, might I add.”

“Well, whatever I feel, or felt for Kurt, it’s over. I am involved with Antwan now.”

“Tell that to someone you don’t know, girl.” Juanita boldly injected.

“Yeah,” Nola added. “Besides, check out what you just said…that you love Antwan. You didn’t say that you were in love with him, as any woman in love would have said.”

“You two are too much,” Yvette mused.

“No, girlfriend, you’re too much,” Juanita returned with a cheerful laugh.

T
hough it was against Kurt’s strong objections, Roxanne decided to return to her place the day before Don’s return so that she could tell him it was all over between them. She felt she owed him that much.

She was pleasantly surprised to find Don at their bungalow and in a rare sober state, upon her return from the local mall. She was not expecting him until later that evening but knew right away he would be hungry. He was always hungry after a long flight back from the Gulf. Without hesitation she headed for the kitchen, pausing only to utter hello. Though she was not at all fond of him, she could at least tolerate being around him when he was sober.

The two ate dinner, a hastily put together meal, consisting of spaghetti and savory tomato and meat sauce, toss salad, and garlic toasted bread. Though quite tasty a meal, Don ate in utter silence. It was as though she was not even there. To her credit, she did not hold her breath waiting for any compliments to come flowing from his direction as she downed her meal in silence too. The relationship was as dead as dinosaurs were. Theirs was poster board material. If there was a local group entitled Unhappy Couples Anonymous somewhere out there, these two former lovebirds were prime candidates for admission.

Being that he was civil, for the moment, she decided that this was the perfect time to tell him it was over between them. If he had been his usual drunken self she would not have entertained such a thought. He would certainly have lashed out at her for thinking such thoughts of treason. With a swallow, she bravely told him.      

Don Middlebrook could not believe his ears, the look of surprise a dead giveaway on his face. No wife of a Middlebrook ever decides she’s tired of her marriage and wants to leave the nest. Middlebrook women are divorced, not self-liberated.

“Listen,” he said menacingly, cutting a glance her way, “I don’t know whom yah been talking to but this nonsense, this talk about yah leaving is just that…nonsense! Woman, I made yah who yah are, the clothes yah wear, the jewelry, the car yah drive, and the breast reduction. All of that is Middlebrook money, honey!  No, yah don’t leave me. Yah leave when I tell ya’r ass to leave. Understood!”

Nervous and afraid, and not wanting to induce him into one of his violent Irish rages, she placed her fork on the tabletop and stood up in frustration. Giving him a long hard stare she turned and rushed into the bedroom, slamming the door in her wake. After a few seconds had expired, she heard hi toss his dessert spoon halfway across the table in anger. Gripped with fear, she found herself shaking uncontrollably as his heavy boots pounded the wooden floor, signaling his angry approach. 

“Don’t yah ever look at me that way again, woman!” he yelled, entering the room, and pimped smacked her across the face. With his hand imprint freshly etched on her face in a bluish-red, tears flowed downward in a rapid stream. Dizzy from the impact of his assault she tried to crawl away to the far side of the bed but he quickly grabbed her by the legs and pulled her back towards him.

“Why do you hate me so much, Don?” she cried out in desperation. “Please tell me why?  I don’t deserve to be treated this way.”

“I don’t hate yah, Roxanne,” he replied, releasing his grip, after a moment. “I just luv someone else, that’s all. I realize this was all a mistake some time ago, our marriage, that is. I guess it’s no surprise to yah that I’ve been seeing Lynn the past three years of our marriage.”

“I’m not surprised Don. It doesn’t take much to figure out why she has accompanied you on most of your assignments away from the home office. I could not figure out why you refused to let me go, at first. Then it all became clear. Hell, you’ve got your lily white whore, so what do you need with me?” she shot back in defiance. “You never loved me, anyway.”

“Who yah calling a whore, bitch?” he snapped, his voice cold and exact. “Lynn is an exceptional and fine secretary. And for yah information, I did luv yah in the beginning, although I was warned against it. However, I turned a deaf ear to all the talk and whispering and married ya’r sorry ass, anyway. I thought we could make it work out. Boy was I wrong.

“Dammit, we weren’t even married eight months when I found out yah had bedded that Mandingo looking obstetrician-gynecologist of ya’r,” he revealed, still fuming and breathing heavily. “Yes, I heard all about it and from a very reliable source. Couldn’t understand, at first, why it was necessary for yah to visit him twice a week for the entire month I was away on assignment. But yah didn’t know that I had a friend whose wife was on the medical staff there. Now you tell me who’s the whore?”

“Don, you’re drunk. That relationship was over long before we got married,” Roxanne injected, tensely.

“Yah’r lying!”

“Okay, whatever,” she tossed at him, leaning back against the headboard, resentful. 

“Then there’s the mail courier. Yah didn’t think I knew about that one, either. Did yah?  I always wondered why yah suddenly stopped going out to the malls and started shopping heavily by mail order. Woman, yah were getting more than packages, I’d say.”

“Okay, so I made a few mistakes,” she admitted, shamelessly. “Perhaps I needed a real man, someone who knew how to treat me and make me feel like a woman.”

Furious, Don raged on, “Woman, a real man! I got ya’r real man…right here!”  With that he squeezed his groin area.  “How do yah like me now?”

“Look, why don’t you just leave me the hell alone you bastard and divorce me?”

“I’ll tell yah why,” he said, drawing near to her, his long arms supporting his upper torso as he leaned over the bed. “Pops is not expected to live much longer.  Now Pops, being such a family oriented man, made it known in his will that the son who has been married at least ten years, and is still married at the time of his death, and has a son to past on the name, gets to inherit his 80 million dollar investment firm. Might I add, I only learned of this recently.”

“What are you trying to say, Don,” she pleaded.

“So far, I am the only son still married over ten years with not one but two sons. As yah know my elder brother Pat and his wife Rose lost their only son a year ago to cystic fibrosis. And Ira, he divorced his wife two years ago. Neither had any children. So now that I am the front-runner to inherit my father’s millions I am not going to do anything to jeopardize things. And neither are yah! That’s why I tolerate yah ass. Besides, ya’r still good for a roll in the hay every once in a while. I guess that’s why most men luv tramps. Me, I had to go and marry one.”

“I’m not a tramp and never has anyone treated me like one, except you,” she countered icily, arms crossed, eyes averted.

Rising up from the bed Don began to unfasten his belt. Watching her breast rise and fall under her labored breathing excited him. And to hear her admit from her own mouth to having slept with other men stirred up a subtle and perverse longing and rage inside that told him he had to punish her for her transgressions. As always Don would find a way to punish Roxanne and please himself, simultaneously.

Stepping out of his trousers and briefs, his hairy potbelly and his manly pride now fully exposed, he reached for her saying, “I says yah a tramp and I am going to show yah how a real man beds a tramp. Yah ever heard of sodomy? Come here, I say! Get your black ass back here, right now!”

She darted off but he caught up to her and they wrestled hard and exhaustingly. In the end, she was no match for his two hundred plus pounds and strength. Like a madman possessed, he ripped clothing article after clothing article off her body until she was semi-nude. Anxious to join with her, he flipped her over faced-down, grabbed a nearby jar of lubricating gel, then proceeded to do the unthinkable to her.

As he violated her mercilessly from behind, she closed her eyes in an effort to block out the physical and emotional pain that now gripped her body. Oh God, please deliver me from this madman, she prayed.

After it was over and
The Beast
had fallen fast asleep, she quietly washed up and dressed. Although she was sore she collected herself, and a few of her belongings, then headed out to her rental and drove off into the night. This last scene had been the final straw.

I
t was just after ten o’clock p.m. when Kurt felt the pangs of hunger and decided to find relief in the kitchen. As he was making himself a two-layer crunchy peanut butter and jelly sandwich, there came a knock at the door. Wondering who it could be, this time of night, he headed to the front of the motorhome and peered out. It was Roxanne. Quickly opening the door wide, he greeted her but none was given in return. She just stood there, vulnerable looking, sad and in tears. “What happened?” he asked, stepping down to her.

“Kurt!” she balled, collapsing into his arms.

“Come on inside,” he insisted, assisting her up into his house on wheels
.
He led her to the sofa and guided her gently down onto it. He immediately dropped down beside her, facing her. “It’s Don, isn’t it?” He asked, wondering what that asshole of a husband had done now.

“He violated me, Kurt. And in the worst kind of way,” she stammered over and over, her voice rising in pitch with each phrase, her eyes still wet with tears. 

Kurt’s mouth tightened from anger, his vexation quite evident to her. She had never seen him so distraught and in such rage in all of her years knowing him. Rising suddenly, and with a snarl, he said, “I knew it was a bad idea for you to return there. Look, I’m going over there. Right now! That no good, lousy bastard!”

“Kurt, please don’t!” She begged and pleaded, latching onto his arm in an effort to restrain him.

“Sonavabitch! I’m going to kick his Irish ass all of the way back to Ireland,” he fumed, still trying to make it to the door. But Roxanne held on and urged him to calm down. “Please, Kurt! I can’t take any more of this tonight. I just can’t!” she cried, collapsing onto a nearby recliner in tears.

Coming to his senses, he apologized and comforted her. She was right. She had had enough excitement for one evening. There was no sense in giving her a nervous breakdown. He would not confront Don tonight. But soon, he promised himself.