I wish I could float away, drift into obscurity. That way, I wouldn't have to deal with Todd or the repercussions of the bad decisions I have made in my life. Is that terrible of me? Is it bad to wish death upon myself because life has gotten too damned difficult?
Todd's simple question, "What's goin' on in your head, Delgado?" is so much more complex than it appears. My mind is a maelstrom of emotions and jumbled thoughts, none of which seem to have a beginning or end. I look into those beautiful eyes, and I fear I will lose my mind, right along with my heart.
I am trying so hard to do the right thing, but the right thing for whom? At what point does my happiness become my number one concern in my mind? These are questions I must find the answer to within myself, only then will I be able to even begin to be honest with Todd. As much as it pains me, I must push him away, at least until I can give him all or nothing, not this half-way game we've been playing.
"What? Why won't you let me in?" he asks with the barely detectable hint of desperation in his voice.
"It's not that," I hear myself saying, though I could swear the words aren't coming form me, "I just…okay…I do love you. I love you more than you'll ever understand."
"So what's the problem?"
"The problem is all mine."
"What? Now you're not making sense."
"I just don't see how we can make this work; we both have too many attachments …too many entanglements, and I don't see a way for it to work."
He lifts my chin, so that I am forced to look him in the eyes. "You're not lookin' hard enough," he whispers.
I am completely under his spell. Those eyes, damn it, those eyes possess more power than a million words uttered from those luscious lips. Out of the corner of my eyes, I catch sight of the clock and realize I have another dose of medication coming up very soon. The magical spell he is weaving is halted as soon as my eyes catch sight of that stupid clock, ticking away, inching closer to another dose of medicine.
Todd's phone rings, startling us both, yanking us away from our thoughts. He checks the display and curses to himself. I know who it is and a sort of toxic bile rises in the back of my throat. It has come on so suddenly it's almost frightening. Without really noticing, I open the door, just as Todd reaches for me, but all he finds is air between his fingers. I stumble out of the car and, in a daze, I move as far away from him as possible. I head straight for the shrubs, bend over and vomit until it feels as though there is nothing left in my stomach.
His arms encircle me from behind and one of his hands finds its way to my forehead. I do not feel hot, nor do I feel ill. The sensation came from nowhere, like a fast moving storm Kansas storm, striking quickly, then disappearing leaving only a little evidence of its existence at all.
His phone lies shattered to pieces against the black asphalt. "You okay?" He asks, trying to keep me from falling to the ground. "Tea, talk to me. Are you all right?"
I wipe my mouth before attempting to answer his question. "Yes, I'm okay. I just…I don't know where that came from." But, I am lying. It came from knowing too much. Knowing that on the other end of that telephone was the only woman to ever make me feel irrelevant, like an invisible entity, sneaking into her room and playing with her things.
"You're fine now though, right?"
"Yes."
His arm moves to the small of my back, leading me back to his car. He ushers me inside, turns the ignition and drives off. I know this is the route back to my apartment and honestly, it doesn't make me feel the way I think it should. See, in my mind, I think I should be relieved because I won't have that woman's presence hovering me, every moment of the day. I know when he drops me off, he will go back to his life in Llanview, and I will try to return to mine; that's where the relief should come in. Instead, I am filled with dread.
We arrive at my building and he rushes around to my side to open my door. Still, we have not said a word. He extends his hand for me and I gratefully accept it, dreaming of those hands in other, more intimate places on my body.
"We can order in," he says, leading me through the front door.
As much as it pains me, I have to get away from this situation. Most of all, I have to get away from my heart's desire; I have to try and save both of us from ourselves. "Todd," I say, "we had a deal."
"Yeah, but you need me now, so all bets are off."
"I'm sure Rachel's home."
"So what? She can't take care of you like I can."
My heart flutters momentarily at the honesty within his statement. I have to shake myself out of it and step back into reality. "I know," I say gently. "But I need you to go. Please, Todd, please do it for me?"
Without another word, he walks away from me. My feet are glued to the ground, as if I've stepped into some sort of quicksand. I am sinking, I think, and there's not a thing in the world I can do. I watch as he slowly gets into the car, like he's a wounded animal, in need of loving care. I let him go, regretting my decision more with each step he takes away from me.
*****
I am in a daze, I think. I feel nothing, not even my feet beneath me as I complete my menial tasks. I am so glad that I'm not alone at this moment; I'm grateful there is someone to draw me from my reverie.
"Tea, girl, you outta look at this," Rachel says. It's odd because I know she's talking to me, I hear her voice, yet my mouth is practically refuses to respond. "Tea?!"
"Yeah? Sorry about that," I finally answer. "What did you say?"
"You okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm just fine."
She walks over to me, as if searching my eyes for the truth. What she doesn't know, or what she's in denial about, is the fact that she cannot read me; that's Todd's job, no one else's. I turn away from her and walk toward my bedroom.
"Hey," she calls after me, "your client, Derek somebody or another called."
I freeze in my tracks. A million thoughts start raging through my mind like an out of control wild fire. This has been one of my greatest fears with him being locked up, and though I have no idea what's wrong, I know something isn't right. "What did he say?" I ask, almost afraid of the response.
"He didn't say much, only that he needed to talk to you."
"Why didn't you tell me as soon as I came in?"
"I'm telling you now. What bug crawled up your ass?" Almost instantly, she finds the answer to her own question. "Oh, silly me, it's Todd Manning."
I practically run to my bedroom to avoid the probing questions she'll likely want to ask. There, I grab my phone and dial the number to the jail where Derek is being held. I ask to speak to Rodriguez, the only halfway decent cop I know at the precinct.
"Hello?"
"Rodriguez, it's Tea Delgado."
"Oh, the lovely Miss Delgado. What can I do for you?"
I turn on the charm because I know all about his attraction to me and the things he says when he thinks the ears of the walls are not listening. He will give me exactly what I want; he's under the mistaken impression that someday I will take him up one of his many offers to take me out. "Well, I'm hoping you can get my client on the phone."
"Uh uh, his phone privileges have been taken away."
Immediately, my antennae rise. "Why is that?" I ask calmly, though inside, I am anything but calm.
"Those were the orders I was given."
"And why were you given those orders?"
"Don't know. Heard somethin' 'bout him being disruptive or somethin'."
"You and I both know this kid doesn't have a disruptive bone in his body. Rodriguez, I really don't want to have to come down there and cause a disturbance of my own, and I don't think you want me to do that either. Now, I'd like to speak to my client."
There is silence on the other end, which only makes me more nervous. Finally, he says, "Miss Delgado, this could cost me my job."
"Rodriguez, not letting me speak to him could cost quite a few jobs."
I hear him put the phone down and his footsteps as they become fainter with distance. I exhale a sigh of relief, exhausted from my endless day, which is about to get much longer. A few minutes pass before I hear the footsteps, two pairs, coming closer.
"Miss Delgado?"
"Derek, what's going on?"
"Miss Delgado, they tried to-"
His voice cracks. "They tried to what?"
"They tried to…Miss Delgado…you gotta get me outta here."
I know what he's trying to tell me; it makes me sick. I will not probe him further; his shame does not have to be completely exposed. "Derek, let me see what I can do, okay? Give me a little while."
"Miss Delgado, please hurry."
"I'll do everything that I can, Derek. Just be a little patient, okay?"
We end the conversation with my promise to get him out of there. I've been a defense attorney long enough to know when a client is in that sort of shape, one of two things have happened: he has been victimized by the guards or he has been victimized by other inmates. Either way, I have to get him transferred.
My first call is to the judge in his case. She has been on the bench for more than twenty years with a reputation for being tough on repeat offenders, but lenient on first timers. It is a blessing, I think, we drew her. She is African American and has several children of her own, five to be exact, three boys and two girls. Her passion is civil rights; she won't be happy this sort of thing is being allowed to go on.
When she answers, she sounds as if I've awakened her from a deep sleep. I immediately think that maybe I've blown the case; not many people take kindly to business calls in the middle of the night, but this is a special case. I explain the situation to her and, instead of being angry with me, she is livid with the police department.
Within the hour, she has a transfer order for Derek and he is transported to another facility, under the strict warning that if he so much as has a scratch, some heads are going to roll. I thank her for her prompt action and finally, I am able to sleep.
*****
My body feels as though someone has taken to it with a jackhammer. It is the phone, not my internal alarm that startles me awake. I glance over at the clock, angry with myself for being late to work yet again.
"Hello."
"Miss Delgado, it's Jazz."
"Oh god, I'll be right in. I don't know what's wrong with me."
"No, it's okay. Did you get my message?"
"No, what is it?"
"They switched attorneys on Derek's case. I thought you'd want to know right away, seeing as how it will impact your defense."
I am fully awake now; my mind is already beginning to race. It's almost time for the trial; it's unusual for the prosecution to switch so far into the case. It gives me pause to wonder what trick they're trying to pull.
"How'd you find this out?"
"The new attorney called; he wanted to set up a meeting with you."