Lift Me Higher (11 page)

M
onte woke up and glanced at the alarm clock. The red digital numbers confirmed what he already suspected due to the fact that not a sliver of sunlight peeked into his bedroom. It was just after four o’clock in the morning. He hadn’t had a complete and restful night of sleep in the past five days. His rest had been uneasy and he’d had fitful dreams that kept him tossing and turning. When he awoke, he was never able to grasp a thread of what the dream had been about. All he was left with was a feeling of unease. Monte considered taking a sleep aid but was reluctant to do so. With the boys and his mother in the house, it was important to him to be able to wake up at a moment’s notice in case one of them needed him.

He sat up, kicking the covers back, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Scratching his head, Monte sighed. While he could put his finger on one issue that was causing him a lot of distress, he did not think it was the sole cause of his inability to sleep peacefully. He hated to even let the thought of his mother being a problem enter his mind, but he also could not hide from the truth of the matter. The reality was, Marva’s health was on the decline. Physically,
she was beginning to have more difficulty moving around and controlling her muscles. The tremors were beginning to affect the muscles controlling her swallowing and digestion. Mentally, things were about as bad as they could be. Ever since the day of her disappearance, the dementia had come back with a vengeance. Her memory was spotty and some days she found it difficult to find the words she was looking for to communicate. Monte hated to see her staring into space, but even more than that, it stabbed him in the heart every time she looked at him with a blank expression, as if she had never met him a day in her life.

He had been so hopeful just a few months back. He’d let himself believe that the medicines the doctor had prescribed were going to, if not cure her, at least help her to live a longer and happier life. Marva was only sixty-five years old and Monte could not comprehend the possibility that her life was coming to a rapid conclusion. He shuddered just to think about it, but think about it he must. He had some decisions to make and he knew that he was all alone in that. As great a help as Cheryl had been to him and his family over the years, Monte knew that she had done all that she was capable of doing. With the assistance of Marva’s doctor he’d hired a morning and an evening nurse. Cheryl still came to the house in the late mornings and was there when the boys were brought home by the school bus. When Monte arrived home in the evenings, Cheryl had dinner prepared, the boys’ homework was complete and laid out for Monte’s review and the house was clean. The nurses were able to exercise Marva to stop her muscles from becoming completely stiff and immovable, administer her medications, bathe her and stimulate her mental faculties. After putting the boys to bed, Monte would sit with Marva, talking to her or reading to her until she fell asleep.

There were many nights that he would sit watching as his mother slept, wishing that things could be different.
Sometimes he wished that he had a sibling with whom he could share the load of her care. On the rare nights that he stayed late at the office, had a function to attend or spent the evening with Torie, Cheryl graciously agreed to stay over, either until he came home or all night. And while that helped to take a load off his mind if even for just a few hours, it was still a difficult cross to bear.

One bright spot was the fact that Torie seemed to be working through her doubts and fears. She’d spent the past two weekends with them and just having her there was a comfort. The boys began to look forward to Fridays when she would arrive and on Monday mornings they were sad to see her leave with Monte, headed back to the city. For Monte, every day brought him closer to being able to tuck the part of his heart that belonged to Shawna a little deeper inside of him. He still thought about her often—little things, like a certain food or a color triggering remembrances of the first woman he’d ever loved. However, each day also brought him closer to Torie, a woman who was very different from Shawna, and one who had pulled him slowly from the darkness of grief into the light of a second chance at happiness. Monte couldn’t help worrying that, despite how good things were going, somehow he was being greedy to think that he could have magic in his life twice. What he did, instead, was cross his fingers and hope lady luck was on his side.

“Hey, Monica, how are you?” Monte asked as he entered the elevator.

“I’m well, Monte. I never see you anymore. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good. I heard you’re working with Ed on that New Line merger. That’s a big deal. Congratulations,” Monte said.

Ed Cushfield, one-half of the founding partners of the firm,
always selected one of the junior associates to bring in on one of his big clients. While the young attorney believed it to be a reward for the good work he or she had been doing, which it was in some respects, others knew that it was Cushfield’s way of ascertaining firsthand whether the newbie had what it took to move up the ranks. Monte fondly remembered his own such test shortly after he’d joined the firm.

“Thanks. I’m learning a lot shadowing the big guy around,” Monica said. “So, I bet you’ll be using up your frequent-flier miles traveling to the west coast this winter, huh?”

“No…I don’t have any trips out west planned,” a puzzled Monte said.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I just assumed you would be visiting Torie out there. I’m sorry I misspoke,” Monica said flustered.

“Torie? Why would I have to go out west to visit Torie?”

“I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. Forget I said anything, Monte,” Monica said. “I…I’m sorry.”

The elevator doors opened on their floor and Monica practically ran out into the offices. Monte stepped off of the elevator slowly, his mind struggling to make sense of what Monica had said to him. Monte’s first impulse was to pick up the phone and call Torie right away. He’d tell her what Monica had said to him and demand an explanation. And she would have one—one that made sense and would serve to squash the anxiety that was slowly building up in his stomach.

Before Monte could reach his office and his telephone, he was stopped by a colleague armed with an urgent development in a deal he and Monte had put together. Monte’s day jumped off to a quick and eventful start. By the time he felt able to secure a few minutes of downtime to call Torie, he realized that it was already close to when he was supposed to pick her up at her apartment for dinner and the newest, hottest show to hit Broadway in years. He decided that, after waiting as
long as he’d been forced to, he could wait a little longer and talk to her face-to-face.

It began raining heavily as Monte drove uptown to Torie’s apartment. In the slowed traffic, Monte had plenty of time to think. The more he thought, the more his optimism about his pending conversation with Torie began to wane. Soon, his mood matched the gloomy weather and he began to contemplate not saying anything to her at all about what he’d been told. Indeed, when he arrived at Torie’s apartment and she opened the door to him, all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and kiss her until his doubts faded. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing love again, but he also couldn’t stand the thought that she would deliberately deceive him.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted him, kissing him softly on the lips. “I’m almost ready.”

Torie stepped aside and allowed Monte room to enter. Shutting the door behind him she moved in stocking feet toward her bedroom.

“Sit down for a minute. Do you want a drink?” she called over her shoulder.

“No, thanks. I’m good,” Monte replied.

He crossed the entryway and stepped into the living room area. He plopped onto the sofa, sagging as though he’d been carrying a heavy load. The radio was tuned in to an AM news station, and Monte listened to the disc jockey cracking jokes about the current gas crisis. Some of it was actually funny, but Monte couldn’t muster the desire to laugh. This told him that there was no way he’d be able to muster the strength to pretend that he didn’t know what he knew. He had to talk to her.

Monte followed the sound of Torie’s humming toward the back of her apartment. He stood in the doorway of the bedroom, watching her apply cream to her arms and neck. He still could not get over how beautiful she was. It didn’t
matter whether it was day or night, whether she was clothed or naked, made-up or barefaced—she was a vision of loveliness that he never tired of beholding. His gaze wandered to her bed, and he thought of the nights he’d spent in it, pleasuring her on those satin sheets. The ceiling fan that hung above the bed often spun slowly, cooling their sizzling bodies all night long. Thinking of those splendid moments made Monte want to take her where she stood.

“I know, I know. I’m hurrying. You wouldn’t believe the day I had. The meeting down at the studio took three hours instead of one, I was late for my doctor’s appointment so I had to sit and wait for almost an hour and then my hair stylist used some new product on my hair and had it feeling as dry as sandpaper. By the time she washed it out and did it all over again, I knew there was no way I’d make the dry cleaner to pick up the dress I wanted to wear tonight. And to top it all off, I got home to find that there’s some sort of leaky pipe that’s running straight down the lines at this end of the building. The landlord had a plumber in my apartment for an hour trying to figure out where the leak is coming from.” Torie sighed, fussing with a few strands of hair along her temple. “But I’m ready. What time are our reservations?”

Monte didn’t answer. His mouth had grown parched, and he felt as though he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

“Monte?”

Torie turned around when he didn’t answer. She looked expectantly at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Torie, we need to talk,” Monte said.

“Uh-oh, sounds serious,” Torie said lightly.

“It is.”

Torie nodded slowly. She moved toward the bed and took a seat at the edge, keeping her eyes locked with Monte’s. She
patted the side of the bed next to her. Monte moved to the bed and sat down heavily beside her. He didn’t look at her.

“Is there something that you aren’t telling me, Torie?” he asked plainly.

“What? What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question. Is there something going on in your life that you are not telling me about?” Monte repeated.

“Monte, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Torie replied.

“Let me rephrase. Is there something going on on the west coast that you’re not telling me about?”

Torie’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t answer right away, but merely dropped her head slightly, her eyes cast on the floor. The seconds ticked by almost audibly as neither of them dared to move or speak, for fear of what the next words from the other would be.

“Who told you?” Torie questioned at last.

“Who told me?” Monte looked at her incredulously. “Is that the first thing that comes to mind—who told me? Who told me what, Torie? That my woman has been keeping a secret from me? That the person I’ve laid my heart out on the line for, the woman I’ve been sharing my bed and my life with, is not being honest with me?”

“Monte, please let me explain.”

“Oh, yes, please do. Explain this to me, Torie, nice and slowly, because right now it’s not making one bit of sense.”

“Monte, I wanted to tell you. I tried…I just couldn’t find the words. Shortly after we found out the show was being picked up, we were told that, because the taxes charged by the city of New York for series productions is so high, the network went looking for alternative locations. I didn’t really think much of it at the time because the series is based on New Yorkers and life in the Big Apple. When we got the final word…I couldn’t
believe it. They decided to move the show to Los Angeles for at least the first two seasons.”

“When, Torie? When did you find this out?”

“A few weeks ago,” Torie admitted. “I really wanted to tell you, Monte. I just didn’t know how. I didn’t know how you would take the news.”

Monte stood and walked a few paces away from Torie. He didn’t turn to face her, just couldn’t at that moment. His face was crestfallen, and he didn’t trust his voice.

“Monte, baby, please talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking,” Torie pleaded.

Monte shook his head slowly from side to side. Disbelief was the reigning emotion in him at that moment. He could not make himself believe that this was happening. Just when he thought that he was finally headed for happier times, life had sent him yet another curveball. But he was tired of the game. Tired of trying to keep his head up and seeing nothing but clouds on the horizon.

He finally turned to face Torie. She rose and came to stand in front of him. He wanted to reach out and pull her to him, to convince himself and her at the same time that it would be okay. Yet, for the first time in their relationship he didn’t believe that.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“So were you planning to just pack up and send me a postcard?”

“No, Monte. Of course not. I would have told you…somehow, soon. I know I would have.”

“I’m not so sure, Torie. I’m not sure of anything right now.” Monte pressed his forefingers to his eyes. “I need some air,” he said.

He took two steps backward, moving toward the bedroom door.

“Monte, wait. Please, let’s just talk about this.”

“I…I need to go,” he said.

He kept moving until he was at the apartment door. He turned the knob and paused. He heard Torie call his name, but he couldn’t go back. He needed time to think, to clear his head. Monte walked out, shutting the door behind him. The next thing he knew he was in his car, driving through the rain. He drove blindly, without thinking about where he was going. Eventually, he pulled into his own driveway in Sands Point; he turned off the car and sat in the darkness. He felt his phone vibrating in his pocket again. This time, he didn’t bother to look at the display. Torie had called three times since he’d left her, but he wasn’t ready to talk. He could not think of anything they had to say to each other.