Read Online Happy That It's Not True by Carlos Alemán - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Carlos Alemán
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The office manager, a thin, hyperactive woman in her late thirties with a raspy cigarette voice was wrapping up the brief training session. “If you can’t find someone, just page ’em—press the direct page button—oh, and one more thing: if UPS or FedEx arrives with something, call the person and let them know their package is here. I’ll sit with you for a while this morning, until you get the hang of it.”
Cara’s cell phone made a humming sound as it vibrated on the desk. She noticed that the incoming call was from Adriana and silenced the ring.
“Your first call was a personal one,” the office manager said offering no clue as to whether she was amused or displeased.
“That was my mom; I don’t want to talk to her.” Cara said, immediately regretting sharing her personal life.
“Having problems?”
“No, I’m just really upset with her. She keeps calling and leaving messages. She just doesn’t get it. I don’t want to talk to her.”
This was definitely not the first impression she wanted to make. She didn’t want to be thought of as the problem employee, living under a dark cloud, always carrying a weight of personal issues. She shook it all off with a smile. “So, what can I do to help—need me to stuff envelopes or something?”
Adriana left several messages. The tone of each became more and more panicked, making them difficult to bear: Cara, I don’t understand why you won’t return my calls. I’m your mother—I’ve never done anything bad to you. You know I love you...
Cara could almost see her mother weeping and clinging to the phone—pleading for her child to return from the dead—and it made her almost want to forget her drawing book and forgive.
...
“Where-are-you all the time?” Luciano roared.
Adriana was devastated that Luciano had waited for her—shocked to see that he had found her liquor stash. It was tantamount to leaving a loaded weapon within reach of a child. Her exhaustion, Luciano’s questioning—the tearing into her being by large, cutting words that fell from a tower of a man forming cracks in her heart. She knew that she was only human, at some point she would crumble, but hoped that it would only happen when she was properly anesthetized. It was vital for her to say something, to explain how she had spent more time at the VA; however the day had finally come that she no longer thought anything mattered.
“What—were you with another man? You love those soldier boys don’t you? You wish you were back with your soldier husband—right? Why won’t you get rid of the wedding pictures?”
Adriana’s eyes were listless. She shook her head, wishing that someone would come and save her, knowing no one would. She fantasized of death, maybe not death, just fainting and waking up in a hospital, being cared for by her friends, the other nurses, their faces full of compassion, holding her hand and assuring her that they indeed loved her. Adriana had not anticipated the slap that felt as if it had dislodged her jaw. Nor had she expected to bounce so hard against the wall. She looked up at Luciano and saw in his face an expression of dark knowing, his eyes having already decided her fate.
“No, Luciano—no,” Adriana cried.
“Puta!” He threw her across the dining room the way he would baseball equipment into a dugout. “Let me show you how a woman needs to be treated—this is how you have to be with women—”
Luciano’s nails scratched into Adriana’s scalp, and with a hand
Cara’s cell phone made a humming sound as it vibrated on the desk. She noticed that the incoming call was from Adriana and silenced the ring.
“Your first call was a personal one,” the office manager said offering no clue as to whether she was amused or displeased.
“That was my mom; I don’t want to talk to her.” Cara said, immediately regretting sharing her personal life.
“Having problems?”
“No, I’m just really upset with her. She keeps calling and leaving messages. She just doesn’t get it. I don’t want to talk to her.”
This was definitely not the first impression she wanted to make. She didn’t want to be thought of as the problem employee, living under a dark cloud, always carrying a weight of personal issues. She shook it all off with a smile. “So, what can I do to help—need me to stuff envelopes or something?”
Adriana left several messages. The tone of each became more and more panicked, making them difficult to bear: Cara, I don’t understand why you won’t return my calls. I’m your mother—I’ve never done anything bad to you. You know I love you...
Cara could almost see her mother weeping and clinging to the phone—pleading for her child to return from the dead—and it made her almost want to forget her drawing book and forgive.
...
“Where-are-you all the time?” Luciano roared.
Adriana was devastated that Luciano had waited for her—shocked to see that he had found her liquor stash. It was tantamount to leaving a loaded weapon within reach of a child. Her exhaustion, Luciano’s questioning—the tearing into her being by large, cutting words that fell from a tower of a man forming cracks in her heart. She knew that she was only human, at some point she would crumble, but hoped that it would only happen when she was properly anesthetized. It was vital for her to say something, to explain how she had spent more time at the VA; however the day had finally come that she no longer thought anything mattered.
“What—were you with another man? You love those soldier boys don’t you? You wish you were back with your soldier husband—right? Why won’t you get rid of the wedding pictures?”
Adriana’s eyes were listless. She shook her head, wishing that someone would come and save her, knowing no one would. She fantasized of death, maybe not death, just fainting and waking up in a hospital, being cared for by her friends, the other nurses, their faces full of compassion, holding her hand and assuring her that they indeed loved her. Adriana had not anticipated the slap that felt as if it had dislodged her jaw. Nor had she expected to bounce so hard against the wall. She looked up at Luciano and saw in his face an expression of dark knowing, his eyes having already decided her fate.
“No, Luciano—no,” Adriana cried.
“Puta!” He threw her across the dining room the way he would baseball equipment into a dugout. “Let me show you how a woman needs to be treated—this is how you have to be with women—”
Luciano’s nails scratched into Adriana’s scalp, and with a hand
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