8. Enrique
Chapter 8
Enrique
I t has been a rough, sleepless week for me fraught with indecision. There were times I thought I knew the answer was no and it only made sense to turn her down; I’ve already planned my future with my love, Emily, and that was final. Yet, each morning, I’d get to the office with certainty set in my bones just for it to fly out of the window when I’d see Yasmeena.
Why was it hard to say no?
Every time I tried to approach her with it, the other set of questions would swirl in my head. Exactly how long is this prospect list? Is there even a list or would I be the asshole to let her die childless? Is it a bad business decision to pass on what she’s offering me? We work together a lot but this deal guarantees that I’d be in charge if something went south with her health. I know I’m not the type of person to take advantage of her illness but would the next guy be trustworthy?
Was she interviewing prospects during the lunch she canceled with me? Even with problems she gives me with her nonchalant attitude, the main question that was stopping me from turning her down is still the loudest. Who’s going to take care of her?
If her dad tried, would she let him help when the time came? If I don’t marry her and have undeniable custody of said child who will take care of it? I cannot pretend to know anything about her life but I cannot say that I’ve ever met a friend.
Speaking of her family, I already don’t like them. Aside from her cancer diagnosis, there was something else listed in her medical chart. A condition Reactive Attachment Disorder, a quick Google search gave me all the information I don’t want and needed to have a slightly better understanding. The definition of Yasmeena's disorder is still embroidered in my head: Reactive attachment disorder (RAD) is a rare but serious condition that affects children's ability to form healthy emotional attachments with their caregivers. It's often caused by emotional neglect or abuse during early childhood, when a child's basic needs for comfort, affection, and nurturing aren't met.
It wasn’t easy turning her down but I saw no other outcome if I wanted to keep my relationship with Emily strong. My nerves were shot this morning when I delivered the news. Yasmeena, however, nodded, thanked me for my consideration, and then asked about my progress on the last minute items on her list. I opted to chalk her lack of reaction up to her condition but it was still surprisingly free of emotion.
The spa relaunch was a much needed distraction. I had to make other on the spot financial decisions that got me through the rest of the week. It was easier to keep myself occupied during prep, but all my worries have returned now that we’re at the event. I’m still uneasy and not feeling the peace I should be feeling from putting an issue behind me.
No matter now pretty my love looks in her floral mid-thigh sundress with her hair flowing in the gentle breeze, I can’t seem to hear what the fuck she’s saying. The hotel is beautiful and I have the woman I’ve stayed true to by my side but this feels like anything but a vacation. I take a sip of my cocktail since alcohol has been my ever present best friend all week. I don’t really taste it or need a buzz, it’s just an easy way to scan the people without being obvious.
I don’t realize that I’m looking for Yasmeena until I see her. Instantly, I know something isn’t right. She’s at least three shades paler than usual and her slightly furrowed eyebrows mars the stoic mask she usually wears. I try to attribute my observation to the sun reflecting off of her soft blue business skirt set but I was never good at lying to myself. The slight grimace that I’ve seen only one time before plays out on her face until she realizes that I’m looking at her. Is it my refusal to marry her and father her child or the cancer causing her pain? What if it’s both?
We look at each other for a beat until Emily says something. Forcing a smile, I move my attention to her.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said maybe after we enjoy the spa services, we can make love under the stars.”
My attention started to wander back to Yasmeena after Emily said spa services I’d be lying to say I heard the rest. Her pale appearance is alarming; I need to verify if she’s okay. I look up in time to see her take a wobbly step in the opposite direction while Matthew is busy working on his iPad.
Why did she wear fucking stilettos if she knew she wasn’t well?
I pat Emily on the hand as I move away from her. “Sounds nice, dear. Call a friend to do all of that with you.”
Emily seems offended by something but I’ll have to figure that out later. Right now, I need to check on my crazy boss.
I make it inside in time to see her push herself off the wall and stumble onto the elevator. It gives me an uneasy feeling and quickly reminds me of my concerns for her care. I call out her name but she doesn’t appear to hear me and the doors close before I can make it.
Impatiently pressing the up button doesn’t call an elevator fast enough for me. I’d take the stairs but the keycard won’t work on the executive floor. When the other elevator finally arrives, I jump on and hit the close button before anyone can catch a ride.
The obscenely long ride causes me to pace and run my fingers through my hair as my brain conjures up all the worst case scenarios. Yasmeena could be in danger and I’m stuck in a fucking metal box.
The moment the doors open, I sprint towards her room. I don’t know why I feel the urge to run but my instinct tells me it’s necessary. Any time we travel together, Matthew always gives me info about Yasmeena's room and a key simply for the purpose of letting her in if she forgets it. That used to annoy me because I’m not her servant but I now see that it’s handy.
Her door is still ajar so I push my way in not caring if she’s fine and will bitch about my presence. I rush into her room, closing the door behind me just as Yasmeena reaches for a medicine bottle. Her eyes flutter and I know she’s going to pass out before her body goes limp. I slide into place and catch her before she can bang her head on anything.
My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest so I say the first thing that comes to mind.
“It’s okay. I’m here now.”
It took some maneuvering but I was able to get her conscious enough to get the hydromorphone in her system with some water. I carried her to bed and am now sitting on the empty side of her bed while using my phone to research what the hell I just gave her. An opioid? Is the pain that strong? I give her another worried look and move the cold towel over her eyes.
So much was going on that I had ignored my phone ringing while I was trying to see about Yasmeena. I know Emily will be upset but I also can’t tell her why I bolted. I don’t know what I’m going to say, but for the first time in our relationship, it won’t be the truth.
This secret alone will give me an ulcer although I’ve turned her down. I’m not built for lying or omitting information but it’s not important right now. The NDA is the only reason why I didn’t call for help. Something tells me she would have been pissed if she came to, in the hospital.
Instead I send Matthew then Emily a text then put my phone on Do Not Disturb.
Me: Yasmeena and I are having an emergency meeting. We’ll return once it concludes.
If I’m the keeper of this secret, I’ll sit here as long as necessary until I know she’s fine to move on her own. The silence in the room gives my mind space to wander back to a conversation I had with Emily.
After my meeting with Yasmeena, Emily and I were having dinner at yet another trendy restaurant and it occurred to me that I never got her take on children.
“Emily, do you want children?”
She made a face that suggested that I’d asked her if she wanted to see my third nipple.
“No. I’ve never wanted children. That’s what makes us perfect, my love. We’re busy with our careers and we couldn’t do this.”
She waves her hand at the restaurant like I didn’t just send back my food. It wasn’t the best example and parents take kids to dinner all of the time.
“Have dinner?”
“Yes and no. We don’t have to find a babysitter for last minute plans or share our time and things. It’s all ours. Just peace.”
Her answer rubbed me the wrong way for some reason. It’s not that she doesn’t want kids, I have other childless friends. It was how she acted like children were only an abomination and a nuisance. We were all children once.
“Okay,” I didn’t push because I didn’t want to argue over nothing. I never said in the time we were together that not having kids was a deal breaker. Besides, I love my rose colored glass of our love.
Emily, however, giggled like the notion was hilarious. “You didn’t start thinking you wanted kids, did you?”
Movement next to me pulled me out of my thoughts.
“What happened? What’s going on?” Yasmeena removes the towel from her eyes. She turns and sees me. Immediately, she rolls away and jumps out of bed. “What?”
“One of the last times we talked, you asked me to marry you and father your child but my sitting here shocks you?” I shake my head with a chuckle, she is perplexing. “I caught you before you passed out.”
“And you placed the towel over my eyes?” She asks, suspiciously.
“Yes, in case you had a headache, and?”
“Why? Why did you do that?”
Now I’m really confused. Did she just want to pass out alone and worry about her concussion later?
“Because I’d rather you didn’t kill yourself being stubborn?”
“Oh, I would’ve been fine. It’s not the first time, I just wake up and take the medication, then maybe have tea. It works out.” She pulls her hair back into a high bun. “Do they not need you downstairs?”
“Maybe all of those unaccompanied falls are the reason you’re crazy. Nothing about what you said is normal. And no, Matthew and Jeeves can handle downstairs. You needed me here.” She opens her mouth to say something but I cut her off. “Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t need me or that you were fine. I was the conscious one here and you were anything but fine.”
“Okay, I’ll take your word for it but I’m not crazy. I’m sure you read my file, I know I left everything in there outside of the NDA. I get some bruises here and there because of the falls, it’s nothing new. Bruises heal all the time.”
“Just because something is common or you’re used to it doesn’t mean it’s normal. I don’t have an MD but I’m damn sure your doctor doesn’t want you walking around and passing out just to hop up and act like it didn’t happen. Reading your file doesn’t diminish my right to care about your well being, Yasmeena!”
“Care?” She repeats the word like it’s foreign. “I mean my well being is debatable. I have ovarian cancer, it’s not really about well being is it? But it’s also because I wanted to not mix my medicine with the drinks. I did come up to take it, didn’t I? I was strong enough to do that.”
She’s going to kill both of us. The longer I’m here the more I consider doing us all a favor and throw her over the balcony. I’d be much less stressed out.
“Fuck the drinks. Not on time, and no you weren’t.”
Yasmeena has a confused expression on her face, “You don’t think I’m strong enough to do this?”
“Your condition doesn’t give a damn about how strong you think you are…wait what the hell do you mean bruises heal all of the time?”
“They do. Growing up, I had very strict parents. A bruise here, a mark there. It doesn’t last very long. You just wait until they’re done gripping your wrist or something. It’s just that.”
I rub my temples because I’m going to be the next person with a cold towel over my eyes. The things that most people think are horrible, she talks about like it’s an item on a budget meeting.
“They did what? Strict or not, bruises at the hands of your parents is not acceptable. There is a big difference between discipline and abuse.”
“I understand that now, my therapist says the same thing but I don’t feel the difference or see it. It’s just who I am.”
“You may not feel it because you haven’t been shown it. Do you know the difference when dealing with a child?”
“Yes, I started with therapy because I wanted my children, well, child now, maybe…to be the opposite of me. While I may be detached or feel empty sometimes, it doesn’t mean I won’t learn for my child. That’s why I don’t want my family around the child. They don’t love me and I don’t love them but if I can carry my child and feel her or him, I know the experience will be different. And if it isn’t, I will force myself. I’ve always wanted a husband and kids, just not so soon. Don’t have a choice now.” She shrugs as she grabs her tea.
Again, she loads so much information on me like she just told me her grocery list. What am I supposed to do with that revelation? I’m stressed the hell out and she’s sipping tea like it’s a cozy Sunday afternoon.
“How many?”
“How many, what?”
“Options. How many?”
“Prospects? Before I decided it was you? Hmm, maybe 10 but I was having Matthew check each of them out.”
“So Matthew knows about this?”
“No, he knows that they were prospects for something. No one but you knows what it was for.”
“No one? I’m the only one you asked?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a back up?”
“There was but not anymore.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a long sigh before asking my next question.
“Why aren’t artificial insemination or IVF with a sperm donor options?”
“I don’t trust easily. I can’t do that.”
“And you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you, Enrique. I trust you with everything. Do you not know that by now? I wanted to give you 50% of inheritance and make you my COO.”
There is no reason to point out that she hasn’t given me any occasion to know that. It’s like talking to air with her sometimes. It makes me feel bad knowing I turned her down but the baby is the pressing issue right now.
“Then you should trust me enough to care about your well being. You wanted me to put my child inside of you and was I just to accept that you may pass out at any time and never ask for help?”
“I trust you, yes but having a man care about my wellbeing, I do not trust.”
“You’d have to trust it if you expect my help on this matter. It’d be part of the package.”
“Part of the package as in, you’ve changed your mind?” Yasmeena walks away towards the kitchen but she stops for a second, shakes her head and keeps going. “You’re a coffee guy. Black or 2 cream, no sugar, right?”
That is exactly what I meant about talking to air. She didn’t answer my question and the longer I stay the more pissed off Emily will become and for what? Yasmeena either doesn’t get it or cares enough to understand yet she somehow knows how I take my coffee.
“I…can’t do this with you right now.”
“Okay and thank you, Enrique. For the towel over the eyes.” She leans on the counter, staring into my eyes. “I definitely understand why you didn’t want to do this with me. It doesn’t threaten your position at work or anything like that. I will sort out what I need to do about this whole thing.”
I give her another long look and open the door. Yasmeena is a mental rollercoaster.
“Let everyone know I’ll be right down for the show.”
The only thing I can do is sigh as I close her door.