Magdalena's Shadow, page 11
“Oh God!” Coco lifted the grumbling Bebe up into her arms and turned toward him. “Is Mila here too?”
“No,” Rob shook his head, “she’s fine. I was worried about you. You didn’t tell Karen which hospital you were going to, and you were gone before I knew there was a problem. I’ve been calling you but you didn’t answer. I told a nurse that I was Bebe’s father, and even then they didn’t want to let me back.”
“How did you manage it then?”
“Bribery and intimidation.” He walked forward to look at Bebe, his face serious.
“Bebe’s better now. They gave her an IV and ran some bloodwork. She has a bad flu virus.”
“I’m just happy she’s okay.” Rob felt Bebe’s forehead before turning a grave smile on Coco. “I wish I had found you sooner.”
“Me too. I could have used the company.” Coco walked toward him, lifting up on her sore feet to kiss his cheek.
Bebe fell asleep as they walked from the hospital room, the swaying motion of movement lulling her into slumber. Coco kissed her head where it rested on her shoulder feeling far more at ease now that Bebe was better and Rob was with them. She followed Rob through the crowded lobby, her hand held securely in his.
“By the way, Rob, there’s hope for women like me.” Coco held out the flyers to him when they reached his car.
Rob’s expression grew serious. He looked at her with concern. “I don’t get it.”
“Apparently, I look like a ho,” Coco laughed, watching his perplexed expression turn to one of incredulity.
“Who gave you these?”
“A very nice woman who thinks I’m a prostitute.”
“Well,” he grinned, his expression softening, “I had better get you home quick if you charge by the hour.”
Chapter Fifteen
The word was “impressionable.” Coco was “impressionable.” Tia’s tirade began over sliced ham but continued while she scrubbed potatoes viciously in the sink.
“You are so young and you have got to be careful who you associate with. Until you know who you are, you could easily take on the attributes of someone else. God teaches us to guard our hearts against sin. Sin sounds like such a big thing but it usually starts small.”
Coco slumped at the table where Tia’s lecture washed over her. “I’m not sinful,” Coco interjected defensively.
“Of course you aren’t. You’re an innocent. Just remember, as you move through the world, take what you hear and ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’”
Coco erupted into laughter. “Oh no, Tia, that’s too much.”
Tia frowned at her. “I know the Bible bangers have destroyed the phrase, but… what I’m offering you is a measuring stick to know when you’re in danger. If you listen to a person but their words make you uneasy, then you can ask: do this person’s words align themselves with what my God wants for me? These are important questions. Life isn’t the buildings and the people. It’s a complex mystery of good and bad elements continually colliding. You look at a person walking down the road and you see a person. On the surface it’s a person, but much deeper lies the soul – the soul of a person who may have done terrible things. That person may smile, offer compliments, be your friend – but they may mean you harm for harm’s sake. You are impressionable, and evil wears many faces.”
“This is too much.” Coco threw up her hands and walked out of the room. Tia talked down Bible bangers and then turned into one in the blink of an eye. Even with Coco in full retreat the old woman wasn’t done talking. Her voice followed Coco down the hall.
“Coco, all I’m asking is that when people speak to you, don’t take what they say as truth. Listen to your soul before you make any decisions. How it reacts to their words will tell you if they have your best interests at heart –”
Coco slammed her bedroom door thinking of Rob and Carmen. Tia was attacking them with her words, using God as a reason to separate her from people she trusted, people she loved. She should never have been so open with Tia. The fact that Carmen and Rob weren’t Christians was a truth that Tia didn’t need to know. She also didn’t need to know that the woman at the hospital had thought Coco was a prostitute or that Rob had driven all over Chicago in search of her. It all had seemed funny when she had told her, but now she felt judged and uncomfortable.
When the evangelizing housekeeper left that night, Coco took Bebe to Rob’s, looking for company that didn’t grate on her the way Tia’s often did.
“I miss my TV,” Coco announced sulkily, before taking a place on the sofa. Her hands ached from drawing, cutting, and beading, while her damaged feet screamed from standing all day. Bebe sat down quietly on the floor pressing the keys on Mila’s toy piano, making the music up as she went along. She was still sick but she was always up for a song.
Rob switched on the television before handing her the remote and a glass of wine. Coco eyed the wine with apprehension but was further surprised when Rob leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He looked exhausted. Coco put down the wine on a side table and examined the remote.
“You could always buy a new television.” Rob sat down beside her with Mila cradled in his arms. “You could also get a cellphone with a battery that lasts. That would have been very helpful last night.”
Coco frowned and turned the channel on the TV. She needed a new phone but the lack of reliability and constant shutdowns of the old one gave Coco an easy excuse for missed calls on late nights. If Tia knew Coco texted Rob all day as well as spent her evenings with him there would be no end of hell to pay so Coco dealt the broken phone card to Tia as often as possible.
“I need a new phone. I know I do, but I’ve been too busy to get one. I don’t want a TV though; it’s too time consuming and Bebe saw things she shouldn’t have. I’m usually fine without one.” As Coco flipped through the channels, she saw two horrendous traffic accidents, a bomb being tested, and a live surgery. Bebe stared up wide-eyed and observant. Coco flipped the thing off and set the remote down with a sigh.
“What’s the matter?” Rob looked from the blank screen down at her.
Coco shrugged, “It was all the same stuff.”
“So turn on the Fashion Channel.”
“No, I’m fashioned out. You put on what you want.” She picked up the remote and offered it to him.
He shook his head and fed Mila a spoonful of cold medicine. “I like the quiet. I was in court all day listening to immoral people defend impossible positions, and I need quiet.”
Coco watched him with his daughter, remembering how gently he had brushed sand from her eyes the first day she had met them at the park. Maybe that’s when I fell in love with you, Coco thought watching him wrap Mila in a blanket on the couch.
“How is it you’re a lawyer in New York and here? I thought you had to stick to one state?”
“I’m consulting.” He didn’t look up as he spoke. “My firm represents a lot of multinational corporations. If our clients are in trouble we’re involved.”
“So what did today’s client do?”
“Same crap, different day. Believe me, it’s nothing worth discussing.” Rob shook his head, his face taking on a sudden expression of distaste.
Coco watched him a little longer. He was never himself on the days he worked. He seemed somehow bitter and even a little cold.
Bebe was singing softly out of key, without melody, but with a soft smile spread across her face. The toy piano tinkled right along with her. Coco smiled when she finished her song.
“That was pretty, Bebe,” Coco said. Bebe got slowly to her feet and climbed onto the couch were Mila lay. After a short while she fell fast asleep.
“If you’re bored why don’t you take a book from the study?” Rob rose slowly, careful not to disturb the girls. “Dad left dozens of classics in there; you’re welcome to whatever you like.”
“Thanks,” Coco answered without much excitement. She rose reluctantly to follow him, her eyes fastening on the width of his strong shoulders. Each day it grew harder and harder to organize her thoughts and hide her feelings. She was in love with Robert Banks, and the more Tia pressed her to stay away, the more Coco wanted him close.
The study was furnished in the same masculine theme as the rest of the apartment: dark hardwood paneling, leather chairs, and green shaded lamps. Row upon row of books lined the walls.
“This one’s strange but interesting.” Rob handed her Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Coco fingered the leather book thoughtfully. It was a large, heavy, old book filled with black and white etched illustrations. “It’s about a delusional old man who thinks he’s a knight. It’s good. Kind of medieval.” Coco slid the book into one hand and reached for a tiny green volume with the other. “That one’s a collection of letters and poetry. It’s funny you grabbed it,” Rob smiled. “Veronica Franco was a prostitute.” Then he winked at her with a teasing expression.
“Really?” Coco brightened when she thought of all the Bible banging Tia had done that day. She suddenly felt rebellious holding literature written by an enemy of purity. “Can I borrow them both?”
“Sure.” Rob turned to walk back toward the living room. “They’re both pretty heavy reading, though, lots of big words.”
Coco glared at him as he turned to grin at her. “I think I can handle them.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can. Years of Vogue and Cosmo can prepare a woman for any kind of literature.”
Coco nearly threw the Cervantes at him. “Demean me and you demean yourself.”
“How so?” Rob asked, still grinning. Coco glared back at him but couldn’t answer. She wanted to say, because we’re the same, because you love me, because we’re two halves. Nothing she thought of could be said. In frustration she answered, “You know….”
Coco lifted the sleeping Bebe off the couch, cradling her to her side. Taking the books she walked out.
“Coco,” Rob called, following her into the hallway.
“What?” She turned and glared at him.
He stood there staring at her. His expression said, I know. I understand. But the words seemed stuck in his throat. Coco set the books down on the entryway table, still holding Bebe close to her side.
“You okay?” Coco looked at him sideways.
Rob shrugged, but he looked relived to see her walking back. “I like that you didn’t have a witty comeback. I’m so sick of witty jerks and smart-mouthed bastards firing off perfect comebacks. There are days when I really hate my job.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. It was a bad day.”
Rob slipped his arm around her waist, drawing her close as he looked into her eyes. “You are… wonderful. I shouldn’t have teased you.” His eyes gleamed with unspoken emotion. But before she could question him he kissed her.
The following evening Rob appeared on Coco’s doorstep with Mila, roses, and a pair of tickets to the opera on the Saturday following.
“Italian opera is one of the great joys of living.” Coco’s face glowed with joy. She had never been to the opera or been given roses before.
“Who’s Tosca?”
“She’s Puccini’s greatest heroine.” Rob sat down on the sofa and looked up at her. “You will love her. She lives for her passions… a lot like you do,” he added, making Coco smile. She sat down beside him, her eyes bright and happy.
“Thank you.” She clutched her presents but her smile faded. “Rob, last night was….”
“I know. I’ve been complicating things. I’m sorry.” The kiss had been the last thought on Coco’s mind before she slept and the first thing she thought of when she woke. Rob bit his lip, his eyes trained on Mila, who sat quietly playing with Bebe’s new doll.
“So, what do we do?”
“Get married and have a ton of kids.”
“You know that’s not what I want. I want us like this. Just Bebe and Mila and us. I’m not ready to complicate my life.”
Rob took her face between his hands, kissing her forehead gently. “I was raised with very high Catholic morals when I lived here with my mother. I lost all that when I went to New York to live with my father. I wasn’t a good man until Mila was born, and I’m struggling to remain good with you. It would be so easy to ruin this. So easy to coax you into giving more than you’re ready to give. You add so much to our lives, Coco, and I’m terrified that I’m going to screw things up between us.”
“You’re naturally good, Rob. Whatever happened in New York is in the past. You’re a good dad and a good friend and I want to be with you because I love you. We can’t screw up what’s already perfect.”
Rob slid his arm around her waist, and buried his face in her hair.
Chapter Sixteen
Coco’s love for Rob, and her building anxiety over telling him she was seventeen, filled her with a nervous energy that pulsed through her with such profound strength that at times she felt she would burst with it. No matter how many times she walked Bebe to the park, ran on her treadmill, or paced through #2, she couldn’t subdue it.
Her restlessness reached fever pitch on the day of the opera, which was the day she had chosen to explain to Rob that she was young, too young, and they would have to wait to be together until she turned eighteen.
Tia didn’t like the opera date. She threatened to have “the talk” with Rob, but Coco derailed her anxiety with a promise that they were just going to the opera house and then home again. This seemed to mollify the old lady a little.
The day felt strange, discordant and unbalanced. As evening approached, it brought with it the dreaded moment when she would have to tell Rob the truth. Yet each time she imagined his reaction her heart leapt in her chest and panic overtook her. Would he forgive her?
That evening Bebe put on her best dress. And just like Coco, she added lipstick and eye shadow only in huge caking swipes. Coco finished the look by twisting Bebe’s hair up into a bun on top of her head.
Coco looked incredible. She wore a floor-length black Yves Saint Laurent gown with her hair hanging in loose curls down her back. A gorgeous black fur coat lay draped over her arm. Taking Bebe by the hand she walked with her sister toward #1.
Karen opened the door, letting them in with a bright smile when she saw Bebe all dressed up for an evening with Mila. “Mr. Banks isn’t in yet.” She showed Coco to the living room. “I’m afraid he’s tied up in court.”
Coco nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. She turned her attention instead on the great glass windows and the distant setting sun, ignoring the instant rush of vertigo that accompanied the view. Not one blind was drawn and Coco could find no shelter from the expanse of city that surrounded her. Humans were never meant to see the world from this height, she thought, as a yellow leaf blew up the glass before her.
Kissing Bebe and Mila goodnight, she retreated to the quiet sheltering darkness of #2.
Rob knocked on #2 thirty minutes later. Coco opened the door, greeting him with a tranquil, faraway look in her eyes. Rob leaned over and kissed her, his eyes reflected a quiet relief as if the very sight of her was somehow healing.
“I’m sorry I’m late. The judge deliberated all afternoon only to call court into session later than anyone expected. The sight of you standing here in this black dress is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.” He kissed her gently. “I love you.” The words seemed to tumble from his lips, as if his heart were overcome by the reality that life felt empty when she wasn’t around. “I think you have saved me. After years of drowning you are sweet air and solid ground.”
Coco laughed and returned his kiss, her hands caressing his face.
“I’ve always loved you, haven’t I?” Rob looked almost serious. “The timeline won’t ever make sense but I know I’ve always loved you.”
“Yes… always.” Coco laughed again “And I love it when you’re poetic, even when you don’t make sense.”
Chapter Seventeen
The opera’s finale drew to a close, ending with Tosca’s climactic suicide. In no way could Coco cope with the desolation she had just witnessed. What had begun as perfect love had ended in what, to Coco’s mind, was the worst kind of loss. Everything about Tosca’s story left her in pieces. Over and over again Coco heard the simple libretto sung in a high lilting soprano: “I lived for love, I lived for art… I never did harm to a living soul!” The words filled Coco with a haunting grief because they epitomized her love for Rob and her family, her love of art and beauty, and the gentle way in which she approached life. Coco sat bleary eyed in her seat, her arm laced tightly through Rob’s. She tried not to cry another tear. Never in her life had she heard such music, seen such sorrow, felt such passion.
Coco watched Tosca save her beloved Mario only to discover him dead, shot by the very man who had promised to spare him. Coco watched in awed horror as Tosca sang of love and loss, of the depths of her despair and the hopeless life of slavery that awaited her. Taking her life in her hands Tosca did the one thing she could do; she stepped from the lofted parapet and fell to her death. Coco alone knew how far she had fallen. Coco had fought that view, that fall, every day of her life. It was Chicago stretching on into the horizon; a hundred miles of jagged city watching a lonely isolated girl plummet to a thirty-story death.
The opera embodied every one of Coco’s greatest fears. It was Bebe down the elevator shaft, it was the view from #2, and it was losing Rob, losing Bebe, and losing Magdalena in the same instant. It was loss and loneliness, pain and lamentation sung in Italian. “I lived for art, I lived for love. I never did harm to a living soul….”
The crowd rose, clapping enthusiastically, but Coco couldn’t move. She sat frozen, her black satin gown clinging like an icy chill to her body.
