Pausing only to watch Tina DeSouza’s performances, he spent the evening drinking excessively and re-living glory days with adoring fans who paid for his drinks. Shortly after one A.M. he folded his forearms on the table, lowered his head and fell into a deep sleep.
He opened his eyes the following morning to see Tina’s smiling face. “What happened?” he groaned, closing his eyes to shield them from sunlight.
Tina moved closer, pressing her naked body against Brian’s. “We poured you into a cab last night. How do you feel?”
He kept his eyes shut and swallowed, tasting foul saliva. “Like I’ve been hit by a freight train… What time is it?”
“It’s ten thirty and I want you,” Tina whispered, nibbling at his ear.
Unable and unwilling to respond, Brian lay motionless, trying to remember the events of the previous day. Guilt invaded his mind and caused him to bolt upright. He covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “Do you have any tooth paste?” he asked.
“On the sink in the bathroom,” she replied, staring at his naked athletic body.
Brian felt filthy and ashamed as he looked at the bathroom mirror. Once again he had wasted the purity of his marriage. Remorse obsessed him as squeezed a half inch of toothpaste onto his index finger, then used it as a toothbrush. After urinating, he marched directly to the chair beside Tina’s bed, gathered his clothes and started to dress.
“What are you doing?” Tina asked.
“Gotta go,” Brian replied, focusing on his task.
“Back to your wife?”
Brian shook his head. “I’m already late for my physical therapy. It’s part of my contract.”
He had told the truth about his destination, but not about his reason for leaving.
“Will I see you later?”
“I’ll call,” Brian promised, then left.
Miles Dennis approached Kerri’s desk, staring at the swelling and bruising on her left cheek. “What happened to you?” he asked.
Kerri covered her cheek with her hand. “It’s really bad, Miles. I followed your advice and asked one of Brian’s teammates to talk to him.”
“So he resented the interference and hit you?”
Kerri nodded, tears flowing. “He was drinking again. After he hit me, he left and stayed out all night.”
Dennis shook his head in disgust. “So our football hero hits his wife. If there’s one ounce of decency in his body, he’ll come home and beg for your forgiveness… If he doesn’t, will you hang in there?”
“I don’t think I have any alternative,” Kerri replied, wiping the tears with her fingers. She was well aware that she did, but that choice was still totally unpalatable.
Dennis changed the subject. He handed Kerri a large manilla envelope. “I have an errand for you. I would like you to deliver this to Louis Visconti. I told him I would get it to him this morning.”
CHAPTER 39
Visconti, as usual looking like a Wall Street fashion statement, smiled when he saw Kerri. He lusted immediately, staring at her tight black skirt and form fitting white blouse. Then he saw her cheek. “You have a fight with your husband?” he asked, hoping.
“No, just a stupid accident.”
“How stupid?”
“I’m too embarrassed to say.”
“Then don’t. Would you like a coffee? I just ordered one for myself.”
Strangely, Kerri felt comfortable. She tried to smile. “Sure. Black.”
Visconti lifted his receiver, ordered the extra coffee, then pointed to two black leather couches near the windows. “Let’s sit over there. Coffee will be here shortly.” Every fiber of his body ached to sit as close as possible to her, but discretion convinced him to occupy the opposite couch. “You any happier than you were when I saw you at Christmas?” he asked, leaning back and crossing his legs.
“Why would you think I was unhappy then?”
“Intuition, and it tells me you’re still unhappy.” He focused on her eyes, probing for a reaction.
“Miles told me you you were once married.”
Visconti nodded.
“Did you ever have an argument with your wife?”
Visconti displayed a microscopic smirk. “Is the Pope Catholic?”
“Then you understand.”
“Yup. You want to talk about it?”
Kerri’s face reddened as she shook her head.
“Let me know if you ever do. I’m the best listener you’ll ever know.”
The conversation continued until Kerri realized she had finished her coffee. The interval with Visconti was a pleasant diversion from the strain of her situation. Strangely, she had enjoyed his company and wished she could stay. She stood after glancing at her watch. “I really should go. Miles is going to wonder what happened to me. Thanks for the coffee and the hospitality.”
Visconti displayed a disappointed frown. “The pleasure was mine. Sorry you have to go… Would you consider having lunch with me sometime soon? I’d love to continue the conversation.”
“Sure.” Kerri said, delighted he had asked.
CHAPTER 40
“Kerri!” Dennis shouted as he raised his arm above the crowd behind him, about to enter the elevator adjacent to the one from which Kerri had emerged. He turned and squirmed free. “Brian called you an hour ago.”
The news triggered an explosion of conflicting emotions in Kerri. Part of her wanted to rush to the telephone. A larger part wanted to do whatever was necessary to avoid any further conversation with her husband. “Did he leave a message?” she asked with a frown.
“No, he just asked me to tell you he called. Gotta go. I’m late. See you after lunch.”
Kerri returned to her desk, still confused and hurt by the events of the previous evening. She slumped in her chair, totally disinterested in her work. Curiosity usurping control of her pride, she lifted the receiver and dialed her apartment number.
Brian answered after three rings.
“… Hi. It’s me… I understand you called.”
“I just had to talk to you, Kerri. I would have gone out of my mind if I had to sit here all day without apologizing for what I did last night. I’m really sorry. I…”
“Let’s talk about it later,” Kerri interrupted, disappointed that Brian had chosen to apologize rather than ask about her cheek. She concluded that he was more interested in massaging his guilt than in her health. “See you tonight,” she said, then hung up, still feeling pain and anger, yet mildly relieved to have resumed communication.
Nick Parker, the rotund and neatly bearded owner of Runway Thirty-eight, carefully straightened his flaming red bow tie, then brushed lint and hair from his wrinkled and well worn tuxedo. Gripping his portable microphone he hurried to center stage, stopping in the area where the beams from six spotlights converged. “Good evening, gentlemen!” he shouted with an enormous commercial smile, then paused to scan the audience. “And yes, ladies! It’s show time, and it is with extreme pleasure that we present the pride of Runway Thirty-eight. The Cuban bombshell. From Miami, Florida… Misssssss, Tina DeSouza!”
Tina took her cue from Parker’s introduction, a generous ovation and very loud bump and grind music. Wearing a tight fire engine red, well zippered track suit, she leaped to the stage and commenced her performance with a dynamic cartwheel. She landed with a spectacular splits and faced the table Brian usually occupied. The zest and vitality with which she had begun her show quickly dissipated when she saw four strange men occupying the table. Her heart sank when she scanned the audience. No Brian.
Brian was plagued by a terrible hangover and relentless guilt. The enormous quantity of alcohol he had consumed the previous day and evening had been processed by his body and expelled by early evening. He was sick and nauseated. A vile taste plagued his mouth. His stomach had violently rejected the dinner of toast and scrambled eggs he had prepared. He awoke from a brief nap and experienced a burning thirst. Dehydration had caused his blood vessels to
contract and his hands to shake involuntarily.
He chose beer. The soothing effect of sleep and the reintroduction of alcohol to his bloodstream relaxed him. Delirium tremens disappeared.
His quest for a second beer was interrupted by the loud ring of the telephone on the kitchen wall. “Shit!” he shouted, slamming the refrigerator door and fumbling with the receiver.
“… Brian?”
“Who’s this?”
“Tina… You okay?”
“No. I’m sick as hell,” Brian groaned.
“I missed you today.”
“How did you get my number?”
“You left your wallet in my apartment. It was on the floor under the chair where I put your clothes.”
Brian placed his right hand against his rear pants pocket. “Thanks for letting me know. I didn’t realize it was missing.”
“Do you want me to bring it to you?”
“No. Just bring it to Runway Thirty-eight tomorrow. I’ll pick it up there.”
“Why not tonight?” Tina asked, disappointed.
Brian had begun to experience an axiomatic truth of an extramarital affair: the better it gets, the worse it gets. By now, his system had normalized to the point where he could respond to her body. He ached to be in Tina’s bed again, but still tormented by guilt, he felt compelled to pass on the opportunity. “I would love to, but you wouldn’t enjoy the company. I’m still sick as a dog.”
“Will I see you tomorrow for sure?”
“Yup.”
“For sure?”
“For sure.”
CHAPTER 41
Kerri returned to the apartment at six-thirty. Before she could close the door, Brian was in front of her, displaying a sheepish grin and blocking her entry with outstretched arms. He was unshaven and wore a wrinkled white T-shirt and red and white striped boxer shorts.
She tried to duck under his right arm and pass him, but he lowered it and held her.
The smell of beer filled her with revulsion. She tried in vain to squirm free, then snapped her head backward and glared at him in anger. “We need to talk,” she hissed.
Brian rested his head on her shoulder and strengthened his grip. “Kerri, I’m so sorry. I have to know you forgive me.”
“It’s not that simple, Brian. We can’t just sweep this thing under the rug,” Kerri argued, turning her head away.
“Sweep what under the rug? What are you talking about?”
In spite of Dennis’s advice not to confront her husband about his drinking, Kerri concluded there was no alternative. “Booze! It’s killing both you and our marriage!”
Brian’s balance was disrupted. Kerri had never before mentioned his drinking. Denial was his first impulse. “Booze! What the hell has that got to do with it?”
“You’re incredible!” she shouted. “How can you possibly stand there and suggest that your drinking has no bearing on what’s happening to us?”
“Maybe I drink a bit,” he conceded. “But I can’t see how you can stand there and suggest it’s changed anything.”
“Brian, do you agree there’s a problem in our marriage?” Kerri asked.
“Sure. It’s pretty obvious we’re not as happy as we used to be.”
“But why? Can’t you see it?”
“I see it very clearly. You’ve changed. You’re different. You’ve become a condescending bitch from the day you got that goddamned job. I think you love it more than you ever loved me.”
“I give up,” Kerri declared, stunned by Brian’s intransigence and confused by how to respond to it. She wriggled free of his arms and removed her coat. She hung it in the closet, then turned and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
Brian caught up with her and turned her with a violent jerk of her right arm. “You said we needed to talk,” he said, anger in his bloodshot brown eyes belying the calmness of his voice. “So let’s talk.”
Tears drenched Kerri’s eyes. Her body trembled in fear of being hit again. “I was wrong. I really don’t think we have anything to talk about.”
Brian clenched his teeth and strengthened his grip on Kerri’s arm. “You can’t handle the truth!” he shouted. “That’s why you don’t think we have anything to talk about! The truth is that you’re married to your job. You can’t wait to get out of here in the morning and stay there until they turn the lights off.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about until you’re prepared to admit you have a serious drinking problem.”
Brian’s body stiffened. His wife’s declaration had ignited an uncontrolled rage. Even worse, she had dared to interfere by disclosing the problem to Billy Ray Vincent. “That’s absolute bull-shit!” he screamed, then struck the side of her face with the back of his left hand.
Kerri winced in pain, but glared defiantly into Brian’s eyes.
“You’re the only problem in this marriage!” he shouted. “I waited for you all day. All I could think of was apologizing to you. Now all you want to do is give me attitude! You’re no different than that tea-totaling prick, Vincent!” He hurled Kerri to the floor with a violent jerk. “You never appreciated what I did for you, and you probably never will!” he yelled, then stepped over her body and marched to the kitchen.
Dazed and bleeding, Kerri remained face down and motionless on the floor. She heard the refrigerator door open and close, then the sound of a beer can opening. Seconds later, she heard Brian lift the telephone receiver, then order a taxi. She lifted her head to watch him leave the kitchen and walk to the bedroom.
Minutes later, he reappeared, fully dressed and carrying his sports-bag slung over his shoulder. On his way out the door, he stopped and half turned. “See you around,” he snorted, then left, slamming the door.
Kerri stood and struggled up the stairs to the bathroom mirror. Blood oozed from the wound on her cheekbone where Brian’s wedding ring had broken the skin. She cleaned the blood with a wash cloth soaked in warm water. While rinsing the cloth, she noticed Brian’s toothbrush was missing. The terrifying specter of an end to her marriage hit her hard. Desperate and alone, she wept.
Hours later, Kerri dialed her mother’s Vancouver number. “Please answer,” she pleaded after listening to consecutive rings. She was relieved to hear the familiar voice of her mother.
“Hi, mom,” Kerri said.
“Kerri!” Barbara shrieked. “I’m so glad you called. You must be psychic. I was just about to call you tonight. I have wonderful news… I’m going to be married again.”
“Who’s the lucky man?”
“His name is David Harmon. I met him at the Gas Light Restaurant a week after Christmas. I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you that I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in him at first. But he persisted, and I finally agreed to have dinner with him. It was fantastic. It’s absolutely amazing how much we have in common.”
“Who is he?” Kerri asked, suppressing a strong desire to discuss her own problem.
“You’ll love him. He’s quite a bit older than me. He’s a writer, born and raised in Vancouver. He has a beautiful house on Hornby Island and want’s us to live there after we’re married.”
“When’s the wedding?”
“The minute you can get here. I asked David to wait until you get here. Is there any way you can?”
Kerri made a quick decision. “I’ll try to get a flight tomorrow. It might end up in Seattle. If it does, could you…”
“Don’t even think about it. Just call as soon as you have a flight. We’ll arrange to pick you up wherever you land. I don’t care if it’s Calgary.”
“I’m happy for you, mom.”
“Me too… What about you? Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’ll call as soon as I get a flight.”
Kerri hung up and phoned Miles Dennis. “Miles, it’s Kerri. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need to ask you if I can take a couple of days off.”
“No problem. What’s happening?”
“Same problem, only much worse… It
really blew up tonight.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I know you told me not to confront Brian about his drinking, but I did it… He’s gone. It might be forever.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“Physically, I’m okay. Emotionally, I need help. I need to spend some time with my mother. She lives in Vancouver.”
“Take all the time you need, and please tell me if there’s anything else I can do. I’ll miss you.”
Two-fifteen, A.M.
Brian slumped in the back seat of a taxi and rested his head on Tina DeSouza’s shoulder. “The whole world’s hassling me, Tina,” he slurred, his eyes glazed and his mind groggy. “You’re the only person who doesn’t hassle me.” He rolled his eyes skyward. “You won’t ever hassle me, will you?”
Tina kissed Brian’s forehead. “Never,” she promised.
CHAPTER 42
Newark Airport. Saturday, March 17, 1990.
Kerri boarded an Eastern Airlines DC-9 at nine-twenty, A.M. After switching planes in Toronto, she took a direct flight on an Air Canada 747 to Vancouver.
Time had been unkind to Barbara. Her once tall and slender frame now sported considerable excess weight. Her beautiful blue eyes were now surrounded by wrinkles and pronounced crow’s feet. Her long flowing blond hair had grayed. Her elegant single chin had doubled. Thrilled to see her daughter again, she ran to her and hugged her. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again,” she said with tears of joy. “You mean so much to me,” she said, constantly plagued by the memory of the daughter she had given up for adoption. She touched Kerri’s swollen cheek with her index finger. “What happened?” she asked.