Fight or Fall Page 17

  While Connor was at the mouth of the plane’s door, Milo squeezed my hand tightly, reached for my head, and gave me a short but intense kiss. “See you down there.”

  To Janine, he said, “Give her a good time.”

  Janine did a final check on the four attachment points securing me to her equipment.

  Connor jumped and Janine and I stepped towards the opened door. As soon as I looked down, all my fears, all my doubts were forgotten.

  Wow, from up here, the view was just…indescribable.

  The sheer excitement, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, the gravitational pull, the rocky formations below us, the wondrous scenery of reds, oranges hues, against the clear blue skies, there’s nothing more beautiful than this. It was a high in itself.

  As we jumped off the plane, I was pretty sure I was screaming. All too quickly I stopped screaming, because I really had no other choice but to admire the beautiful landscape beneath us. Up here, I was one with the wind, reliant on Janine’s skill as I felt the recoil of the parachute above us open, I was higher than the flock of birds flying in the same direction as us.

  Then I saw Milo flying, almost as the same level as Janine and I.

  From here I could see him smiling widely, looking boyish, happy, free. His arms were outstretched, giving me a thumbs up sign. I waved and blew him a kiss, and he caught the kiss with his right hand and touched it to his lips.

  This feeling, the freedom of flying, soaring, and not be scared of falling – he’s given this to me.

  From fifteen thousand feet free-falling at a rate of more than 120 miles per hour, the oddest, unfamiliar yet timely, staggering sensation filled me – it was the feeling of calmness, solitude, and security all at once.

  It doesn’t matter how high I fly, I wouldn’t be scared of falling anymore. Ever.

  Because I knew he would be there to catch me and break my fall.

  After our weekend trip to Arizona, Milo and I were closer than ever. I’d spent almost every night with him at his place, in his bed, and in his arms.

  There was no place I’d rather be.

  The only times I didn’t was when I went to Central America for a 10-day trip. I attended social functions in Belize, Guatemala, and Costa Rica but this time, it was personal too. Naomi, my mom’s caregiver, was from El Salvador.

  During my stop in San Salvador, I’d met with Analiza Ayala, founder of For the Women and Children, a national organization against domestic violence for lunch. It’s one of the charities I personally supported. Naomi was angel sent to me and my mother. I’d forever be grateful to Analiza for saving Naomi’s life¸ even if her two children weren’t so lucky in the abusive hands of her husband who was serving life without parole in jail. Analiza was the one who helped Naomi sneak into the U.S. and eventually Naomi found employment under my parent’s household via a referral from an employment agency.

  I was seven years old when Naomi came into my life. She started out as a housekeeper, and then eventually became my nanny because my parents frequently traveled, and at times I couldn’t go because I had school. My mom refused to homeschool me. When it came to my education, my mom had the final say. Maybe it was because my father was always busy acquiring his millions and he had no time for me. My mom was pretty adamant that I live a normal childhood so I’ve attended public schools instead of private and boarding schools. I’d forever thank my mom for that fact because I met my best friend in school.

  Naomi, however, wasn’t just a nanny to me. She was my friend, my playmate, my secret keeper. I started teaching her English as best as I could when I caught her trying to read the back of a milk carton. I didn’t want to insult her, so I had pretended that I wanted to read children’s books when in fact I wanted her to follow along with me as I read the same story over and over each night until she somehow learned to recognize the letters. I wasn’t a teacher, but I think I was able to give her some decent lessons. My mom gave me a $20 allowance to buy food in school. Ninety nine percent of the time cafeteria food was not palatable to me, so Brynn shared her lunches with me. We really didn’t eat much anyways. I saved a lot of money during that time, and one day I surprised Naomi with almost $840. She didn’t want to take the money, but when I’d revealed to her that I wanted her to use the money to enroll in an English class, she had tears of joy and affection in her eyes. I’d no doubt my parents paid her well, but I also felt that she was sending money to her parents and siblings in San Salvador so she didn’t have much to spare.

  I learned some Spanish words from her. She learned some English and French words from me. She taught me how to sew. I taught her how to use a curling iron. She loved to make pupusas. I loved to buy her mini-croissants. Aside from my mom and Brynn, she’s the only woman I trusted. I asked my mom to fire a former employee, a gardener, because I saw him insult Naomi many times. Naomi didn’t know that I knew. My Spanish may not be great, but there are words that stand out and facial gestures that cannot lie. Plus, I’d noticed that Naomi became very tense when the guy was near the vicinity. When my mom asked why I wanted the gardener fired, I merely explained to her that I saw him overwatering her beloved Gold of Kinabalu orchid, an extremely rare and priceless variety that she had received as a gift from the wife of the prime minister of Malaysia. She had called the gardening and landscaping services right that minute and asked for that guy to never be seen on our property again. She must have been thinking about something else, because it didn’t sink into her mind that her treasured orchid was in a locked greenhouse and only five people had access to it. Or if she did have a clue, she trusted me to not ask for an employee to be fired for a trivial reason.

  The day Naomi passed her English proficiency test so she could get an associate’s degree was a day for celebrations. It was one of the best days of my life. That same morning Brynn had called me to inform me that her cancer was in remission. My parents were in the Netherlands at that time, so I had asked Brynn and Milo’s aunt to pick me up at my house. I could have asked our driver, but I had a feeling Aunt Margie wouldn’t hesitate and I wanted to join Brynn’s family in this happy occasion.

  When they arrived, they wanted to go to the hospital right away because Brynn’s oncologist had called to deliver the good news but he was leaving for another appointment immediately. As soon as Aunt Margie hugged me and asked if it was okay for me to ride in the backseat, she hit the gas and we were on our way. Before we left my house, Milo had gotten out of the front passenger seat and without saying anything, he rode in the back with me. Aunt Margie must not have thought it was odd because she just turned up the radio and sang along with the country music playing in the car. Milo and I didn’t exchange words. We’d never been really close. The only times I got to see him or hang out with him was when Brynn was around him and his friends so basically, I tagged along. He’d given me a nod and a rare smile had formed on his face.

  Aunt Margie was excited to see Brynn and I asked her if it was okay for Brynn to have cupcakes because I had brought some in my yellow lunch bag. She’d said okay. Milo was quiet during the whole ride, but just before we reached the hospital, his hand drifted to mine. I thought I was imagining it but when I looked, his tanned hand, which even at his age was already big and rough because he played a lot of sports – it was held open for me. I clasped my right hand with his and held it. He’d looked away but I felt the emotions in his hold. He’d been so strong throughout the whole ordeal and the love he had for his sister was evident. He held mine tightly for a few minutes then finally he let go, without sparing me a glance. I thought he was trying to thank me. It was weird so I had brushed it off. As soon as we reached Brynn’s room, he was pensive and when he’d hugged her, I saw that he tried to keep the tears of happiness from falling down his face. Unlike him, Aunt Margie and I cried our hearts out in elation.

  I wanted to spend the whole day with them, but I also wanted to do something special for Naomi. Milo stayed with Brynn when Aunt Margie dropped me off at my house. Naomi and I we
nt to a special steak restaurant that night with Emil, my father’s chauffeur, driving us around town. I had unlimited access to my parents’ accounts. All I had to do was let the restaurant manager know who my father was and they’d send the bill to him. However, this time, I had enough saved money for this special occasion. Naomi really wanted to pay, but I quieted her and lightly threatened her that I wouldn’t speak to her for a week if she insisted on paying.

  Naomi had read the entire menu and ordered for both of us. In English. Yes, that was a good day. A great day. The two women who meant the most to me had both achieved something special – Brynn was given a second chance at life and Naomi, a step closer to her dreams.

  “How is she doing today?” I asked while sitting on the white rattan chair. Naomi had brought my mom outdoors to sit by the pool after breakfast.

  Naomi took a bite of her waffle. “She had some nightmares last night. I don’t think she slept well. Mr. Troudeau said she might be taking more than her usual naps today.”

  I nodded, biting into the watermelon slices I’d asked for from Darcy, the chef. “It’s because he’s around she’s having nightmares.”

  “Ava…” she said in a mellow voice, her eyes hovering to my mom who was now napping, as my father had guessed.

  “If only, Naomi…” I breathed out. “I could take her to get checked by the best neurosurgeons.”

  She reached for my hand across the table, I complied to her wish by holding onto her hand, avoiding the half-filled glass of orange juice on the top right side of my plate. “Ava, one day he will see that what he’s doing is wrong. But don’t get in trouble anymore. Okay, mija?”

  “I can’t afford to get in trouble Naomi,” I agreed, my teeth clenching at the thought of my father. His cruelty. His indifference. His irreprehensible behavior. In my eyes, that is.

  I added softly, “If I get in trouble, I won’t get to see her.”

  Naomi’s brown eyes reflected pity. “He’s a hard man, mija. His trust was broken. He loved her, you know?”

  “If he loved her so much, why is he making her suffer?” I removed my hand from her hold. My mom’s hair was wrapped in a light green scarf; she loved wearing colorful hats, scarves, and hair jewelry. “I don’t really care what he demands of me. I just want what’s best for her. Why can’t he see that? Why is he filled with hatred?” Tears started filling my eyes and Naomi handed me a small table napkin.

  “Because, mija, when a man loves deeply, betrayal cuts to the core.” Her words were that of a wise woman. A woman who’s had years of experience ahead of me. She was almost the same age as my mom, barely approaching fifty, but the life that she’d lived, the pain she’d been through, was more than a tenfold than anyone should ever have to experience.

  “I disagree, Naomi.” She could have left my mother’s employ, she has a college degree now, and she did work as an online business consultant, but she stayed with my mom day in and day out. My father was going to fire her after the accident, but he didn’t upon the advice of the physicians – for my mom to be around familiar people and things as much as possible. She was the only person that my mom knew, that my mom was comfortable to be with because Naomi’s been in her life almost as much as I have.

  “I think love can overcome betrayal.” I lifted the glass of orange juice to my lips. “If you’re willing to forgive, to see past the mistakes, the indiscretions, I think if you’re willing to give it a chance, it can bloom into something more, something you’ve never expected.”

  “Ah, Ava.” Her smile was timid. “You’ve loved one boy your whole life… If you were with him and he were to betray you, with another girl, would you be able to forgive him?”

  Naomi knew my deepest secret. After all, as a teenager, I couldn’t tell Brynn that I thought I was in love with her brother. I’d had tons of crushes, tons of guys vying for my attention, but even if Naomi hasn’t met Milo, I’d shown her dozens of pictures of him. Pictures I’d taken with Brynn when we were younger.

  But now I had another secret. She had no idea that Milo and I were together now. As much as I wanted to tell her, I couldn’t. Not yet. Not when every corner of my father’s house was monitored with security cameras.

  Her question hung in the air. Images of Milo with his ex-girlfriend and with faceless women bombarded my thoughts.

  God, the pain, the hurt, the agony I would feel if he were to cheat on me.

  Warmth left my face, followed by slow strident frost, dissonance warring in my chest and my thoughts. “I don’t know if I could forgive him.” An unequivocal truth. “But I know I wouldn’t make him suffer.”

  “Why?”

  “Why wouldn’t I make him suffer?” My brow lifted, dabbing the sides of my mouth with a small napkin.

  Her grilling stare was unapologetic and motherly at the same time. She could read me like a book cracked wide open.

  “Naomi, just because someone betrayed you doesn’t mean the love goes away instantly.” In a resolute voice, I stated, “I don’t know what I would do. Maybe it’s easy for me to say this because no one has cheated on me. Maybe I’m saying this because I’m defending my mom. But don’t you think, Naomi?” My line of vision landing on my mom who was still napping, her purple dress looked so pretty against her unblemished complexion. Even with the accident, her beauty remained unmarred. “Don’t you think she’s suffered enough?”

  “Yes, she has.” She put her fork down on her plate and adjusted an invisible crease in her light yellow blouse that complimented her skin wonderfully. “But she hasn’t suffered enough in your father’s eyes.”

  “You’re not eating much…” he observed, his blue eyes flickering, questioning.

  “I’m still full.” I took a sip of the Perrier in the flower patterned Kiriko glass.

  “But you haven’t touched the edamame and you barely took a bite of the seafood tempura that you said you wanted to try,” he observed, his gaze drilling.

  “Emmett, I’m sorry.” I dropped the napkin I was clutching tightly to the floor. “I just don’t have the appetite right now.”

  “You should’ve said something, Ava.” The glass of sake he was holding was halfway between the table and his mouth before he put it down. “We could have stayed at your place or mine instead.”

  No, we couldn’t. We can’t. Or my boyfriend would beat the crap out of you.

  “Emmett, let’s call it a night,” I stated with finality. “It’s been a long day…”

  I was itching to glance at my phone. It’d been buzzing non-stop for the past fifteen minutes.

  “I just arrived in town, Ava.” He leaned back against the Japanese-styled chair, an extension of how magical, how exquisite the entire ambiance of Sushi Noru represented. “I’d think you missed me, even just a little.”

  I gave him a small smile. He was a nice guy. He didn’t deserve any type of hostility or rude behavior from me. The lines under his eyes showed exhaustion. He’d arrived from Washington D.C. today and the minute he was able to, he’d called me to ask me to go out to dinner with him. He’d been talking about an energy bill that his father was working on. He was a conscientious guy, a realist, and seemed to be invested in what the country needed. He’d make a great politician one day.

  “I’m sorry,” I spoke truthfully. “My schedule’s been crazy. I’m not trying to be mean. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the main reason why I’m kind of out of it.”

  “Okay, I can relate.” His blue eyes relaxed, a dimple making an appearance on the edges of his mouth.

  “Try this.” Pointing to the shrimp tempura in the middle of the table, he said, “It’s really good.”

  I nodded and tried one. “Oh yum, it is good.”

  He grinned and sipped on his sake. “I think if you give things a try, Ava, some of them turn out to be really good. Sometimes even great.”

  A double meaning. A double entendre.

  “How’s your mom?” Obviously I was changing the subject. As much I liked him, I could only like hi
m as a friend. He’d never make my heart flutter, could never make my body burn with want, need; would never be able to match the fire that Milo stoked in me.

  “She’s great. She’s been asking about you. Maybe one day you and her could have lunch when she comes back from her business trips.” His mom was the first woman to become the chief operating officer of a social media giant. Her diminutive size hid her barracuda nature, she could drown men with an eyebrow lift and spear their egos with her razor sharp tongue.

  “Next time she’s in town I’ll give her a call,” I answered as the server refilled my glass with water. I’d driven by myself. Emmett had wanted to pick me up, but unless I wanted him to be chopped into pieces by my possessive boyfriend, I’d decided the best course of action was to go on the date per my father’s not-to-subtle command, catch up with a guy who I considered to be a friend, and at the end of the night, sleep in my man’s arms.