Counterpoints Book 3 Read online

Carmen smiled, a tired empty smile, and leaned a little forward on her chair, getting as close as possible to Christopher.

  “Mom?” he whispered, a little drowsy from his sleep.

  “Shh” she hushed again. “It’s just a bad dream. Go back to sleep” she willed him, but Christopher’s eyes were wide open now.

  When did she get here?

  He checked the watch again and it was two in the morning.

  Christopher blinked at his mother, struggling to understand if she was real, if he wasn’t just dreaming.

  Her pale face stared back at him with tired and worried eyes. Mascara lines ran down her cheeks, as her lips were set in a thin line.

  It was the face of a person who hadn’t slept all night, who had forgotten how to breath, how to smile. It was the face of a person that had rushed over to see her son and suffered every instant that separated her from him. It was as though the lines on her skin were the parts of her that almost broke, that almost fell apart.

  “When did you get here?” he asked and smiled wide, feeling the bruise on his cheek pulse to life.

  “About an hour ago. Did I wake you?” she smiled back, Christopher’s smile too catchy not to reciprocate.

  “No” he shook his head. “I’m sorry”

  “Go back to sleep” she nodded in a haste, her voice too shaky to trust herself to say more.

  It was no mystery, it was written all over her face.

  Carmen had been crying. She had screamed and wept over the footage of Christopher’s limp arm dangling from the stretcher after the crash.

  Her heart beat hadn’t slowed down, until she had seen him there, sleeping peacefully in bed, no matter how many times Hillary had assured her he was okay.

  As Carmen stared at Christopher’s bruised face, she realized her heart beat would never slow down again. It never truly had slowed down since James’ crash and it never would.

  “I’m sorry it happened. I’m sorry I did this to you” Christopher went on. “I’m sorry I am giving you a hard time with the book coming out, with this” he pointed to himself, laying there in that bed and watched her mother shake her head in silence.

  “I am stronger than you think” Carmen said and kissed his hand, his rough warm hand.

  Her eyes stared blankly at it for a moment, realizing how different it all was. It was completely different this time. It was nothing like what had happened to James.

  Christopher’s hand was warm, it wasn’t bruised. It was pulsing and alive. He was okay, Christopher was alive.

  “I know you are strong” Christopher nodded, never questioning his mother’s personality.

  Only a woman with character and will power, could have dealt with someone like his father James all those years.

  James had been one in a million, he had been an artist, a calculator, a perfectionist. James had been the front man on the stage, with all the consequences that came with it.

  “Go back to sleep” she said again and smiled, this time it reached her eyes.

  “How long are you staying?” he mumbled, placing his other hand over hers.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow morning, before the journalists get here. I am going back to Madrid. The nurses told me you are good to leave tomorrow”

  “Yeah. I am going home tomorrow. Come to London”

  “I will, but not now” she shook her head and looked down, afraid to meet her son’s intense stare. “I can’t stand this” she added and Christopher understood.

  Carmen didn’t have to explain. It was all so painful, not just him being injured, but everything that came with it- the caravan of questions, the attention but mostly the tragic memories that wouldn’t stop haunting his mother, despite her daily iron shield.

  “Go back to sleep” she said once more and Christopher nodded, his eyes soggy again.

  He kept his hands on his mother’s and slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep.

  He was out in a few minutes, the last pills of painkillers finally kicking in.

  When his grip loosened around her skin, Carmen took in a deep breath and covered her mouth.

  “What is it that you are looking for, Christopher?” she whispered in the dark, silent room.

  It was bright and early, when Isabella left the hotel room the following morning.

  While the rest of the team drove to the airport, she crossed the city in a haste - in one of the black MB cars Hillary had arranged for Christopher- tired, after a sleepless night.

  Flashes of the accident had kept coming back to her.

  I hope he’s feeling better today, she thought, her eyes scanning the outside world from the car window, her mind recalling his cringed face every time he had taken in a deep breath.

  His face would still be bruised and scratched.

  He might still have pain in his chest, she mentally prepared herself.

  But Isabella tried to see the positive side of it all. Christopher was going to walk out of the hospital on his own two feet and that was surely a blessing.

  Her phone rang then, just as the car stopped at a traffic light.

  “Ciao mamma” she said and smiled relieved.

  “Honey, I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday. How are you?” her mother’s first question was.

  “I am… okay” Isabella reassured her “Sorry, it got really busy yesterday”

  “I saw what happened during the race. How is he?” her mother cut in.

  “He’s good” Isabella smiled.

  “I know everything”

  “Oh” Isabella mumbled under her breath.

  “Emilia told me everything over lunch” her mother blurted out.

  “She did?” Isabella hesitated, the butterflies in her stomach were back.

  “Well, we were all eating lunch when it happened and she screamed. She cried and Giovanni explained why. I know about you and that driver. Christopher is his name, right?”

  “Yes, it’s Christopher” Isabella stared ahead, a crooked smile stamped on her face.

  “You must have been so scared for him” her mother’s voice was calm, prudent and soothing.

  “I was terrified” Isabella said and her eyes darkened.

  She had never been so scared before. She had never been so close to losing someone she cared so much about. Until the other day, until she had seen Christopher lifeless, being pulled out of the car. It had felt like she had lost everything, like a part of her had died in that accident. Feeling hopeless and lost had changed her.

  Something felt different inside.

  There were no more doubts, no more holding back. It was as though the missing parts of the puzzle had finally found its place.

  “But he’s fine now, right?” her mother continued.

  Isabella nodded, as if her mother could see her, and ran a hand through her lose hair. She was tired still, but restless to be by his side.

  “How come you never spoke to me about him?” her mother wondered.

  “I was going to, mom. I just wasn’t sure what was going on between us”

  But now I know. Isabella let out a deep breath.

  “Your sister is getting married”

  “I know” Isabella nodded again.

  “You knew?” her mother asked, surprised.

  “They came to visit weeks ago and they told me” Isabella admitted.

  Now shut up and don’t say anything else, nothing about them living together already.

  “My girls don’t talk to me anymore” Isabella heard her mother mumble under her breath.

  “Mom, you are not going to cry, are you?” Isabella asked and touched her forehead, sensing a headache on its way.

  “No, I am not. But it hurts, you’ll see one day when your kids will go from telling you everything and I mean everything- every time they need to pee- to not even telling you they want to get married or they are dating someone new” she made her point and then went silent.

  Isabella bit her lip and gathered her thoughts.

  How was she going to expla
in to her mother why she hadn’t talked about Christopher before?

  Had her mother ever been in that situation, had she ever been in love with someone that felt so wrong and right at the same time? So wrong and right, to the point that it scared her so much?

  Had she ever been in love with someone that lived his life to the fullest- so exciting, so restless and intense- like Christopher?

  “I just wasn’t sure it was something serious. I didn’t want to disappoint you after breaking up with Salvo and I am sure Emilia wanted to be sure, too”

  “You think you disappointed me because you broke up with Salvo?” her mother asked.

  “Well” Isabella began “We were together for three years, I am over thirty and I know you guys wanted me settled and all. And what do I do? I quit everything to take on a crazy job around the world”

  Which is exactly what uncle Franco has been saying since December.

  “You could never disappoint me, Isabella. Not even in a million years. I am so proud of you, always. You are my wonder woman, always have been and always will” for the first time during their phone call, her mother’s voice wasn’t soft, it wasn’t calm.

  It was strong and determined. She meant every word.

  “Thanks, mom” Isabella smiled and her eyes were back on the city streets they crossed. “What did dad say? I mean, about Emilia getting married”

  There was a sound –like a soft gasp- and then nothing, it all went quiet on the other end.

  “Mom? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, honey I am here. It’s just, you haven’t asked about your dad for a long time” her mother mumbled.

  “I know” Isabella pursed her lips.

  She hadn’t spoken to her father for years. She hadn’t even mentioned her father for years and the word ‘dad’ coming from her mouth had sounded weird just then, foreign and painful at the same time.

  Was she starting to forget, starting to forgive her father’s unfaithfulness?

  No, I will never forget.

  And Isabella knew it to be true. Some things were just impossible to eradicate from one’s mind, even though something had changed.

  Spending time with Christopher had given her a new perspective of things.

  Did she really want to live her life with a heavy weight on her shoulders? Without ever speaking to her father again?

  Could she someday live with the regret of having shut out someone so important in her family?

  Maybe Christopher was right about living without regrets, without thinking too much about things.

  Isabella wasn’t sure how she felt about her father, but she knew what she didn’t want in her life. Regrets.

  “He was a little shocked, Emilia is so young. But he’s happy, for both of you”

  Isabella cleared her throat and her eyes grew wide, as she saw the hospital not too far ahead.

  Her stomach tied into a knot, as she heard her mother speak again.

  “Now make it up to me. Tell me everything about him”

  Chapter 4

  Christopher stood and walked over to the small mirror near the sink.

  The smell of burnt tires was finally out of his system, he could now smell detergent and disinfectant.

  He stared at his bruised face for a while – how tired and upset his eyes were- before walking to his phone. It was ringing.

  “Hello?” his voice was a little rough and muffled, like he had been sleeping.

  “I am happy you are okay” Christopher recognized the voice immediately.

  “Call my lawyer” he grumbled and was about to put down, when he heard the familiar voice again.

  “I just wanted to check on you, make sure you were okay” she said softly.

  Jackal, he thought, his hand curled up into a fist.

  “I thought I made myself clear, don’t call me” Christopher told her.

  “I thought this was the right moment to try and reason with you”

  “I don’t reason with people like you” he cut in, his voice dry.

  “You loved to reason with me once upon a time. In fact, we ‘reasoned’ quite a lot, everywhere and anytime we felt like it” she purred. “We used to be friends” she added and she heard him make a sound of disapproval on the other end.

  “We are not friends. I don’t call friends people that try to blackmail me”

  There was a pause and then a sigh.

  “You brought that on yourself. We had an agreement”

  “I had an agreement with a friend. That friend is dead to me. No more agreements. I am hanging up. Talk to my lawyer, we are done here”

  “Wait!” she shouted and her voice so different now- so tense, not smooth like before- it made Christopher smile.

  She sounded nervous, upset.

  Good, Christopher thought.

  “Cut the bullshit. Why did you call me?”

  “I don’t want to fight. I want a new agreement” she finally went to the point.

  Christopher held the phone tight to his ear and looked at his reflection in the mirror again.

  “Authorize the biography and I will reevaluate the content. I won’t go so rough on you and your story. I’ll use less… let’s say details. Think about it. It works both ways” she said and Christopher imagined her face, her sly smile and small eyes.

  She wants my authorization to make it a big success, a bigger deal, he thought.

  That could have been the only reason why she had called. Christopher knew her very well, he knew how smart she was and how her mind worked. He had hit his head hard once, for how calculating and manipulative she was.

  In a way, a new agreement would mean to have some sort of control on the content of the book. A new agreement would mean limit the damage.

  It was the easiest way out, but it was a deal with a person that had betrayed his trust.

  Christopher looked at his reflection in the mirror again and thought if he could ever look at himself again – with no regrets, no fear- if he said yes to her proposal.

  I’d be crazy to say no to a new agreement, to say no to walking away with little if any damage, Christopher thought.

  His lips curled up in a smile.

  I guess I am crazy.

  “Not even if you beg” he said, enjoying every single word that came out of his mouth.

  “You are such a fool. I don’t even know why I called” her voice changed, letting out all her frustration.

  “Me neither. I don’t negotiate with scum like you” he told her, his voice smug.

  “You act like you don’t care, like you are not bothered about the biography” she pressed on, her voice angry. “But you are and you will be, when the press will be onto you”

  “Do you really think I care? When have I ever cared about anyone or anything? When have I ever cared about you?” he said the words with all the bitterness he could manage.

  “Think of what your mother is going to say, your father’s legacy, your reputation. What will your girlfriend say about my story?”

  “I would be more worried about your reputation, if I were you. What happens to me and my loved ones is none of your business. It never was. You were never part of that” his words were so crude, he could tell they were hitting a soft spot.

  “This was your last way out” she informed him, holding back the bitterness inside her.

  Her attempt to mediate the situation had failed. Christopher was hard to break, hard to convince. But she wasn’t giving up. She still had a few cards up her sleeve and she wasn’t going to let this go so easily.

  “I don’t need a way out. I don’t need a solution. You are not a problem to me, you see why we can’t reason? You and I?” Christopher said. “I don’t care what you do. It doesn’t concern me. You will write your book full of crap and I’ll ignore it. Every question the press will have for me, I’ll ignore it. You don’t exist, in fact I am hanging up now” and just like that he ended the call and threw his cell on the bed.

  Christopher rested his strong, ti
red arms over the sink and looked at himself in the mirror again.

  He had bruises, he had scars. So far, he had lived a crazy life and an even crazier love life. No strings, no relationship, no distractions.

  For his entire life, Christopher had bared a heavy weight over his shoulders – his father’s strong personality and talent- but he had managed just fine.

  Head down, no distractions, no thinking about the past.

  So his private life was about to be written and sold to the highest bidder on the publishing market.

  But Christopher could still look at himself in the mirror, despite his mistakes.

  It was just something no agreement, no amount of money could provide.

  Isabella will understand.

  “Okay” Isabella mumbled to herself.

  It was okay, she could do it.

  No, wait, she kept her hand on the door handle, but sat still in the car.

  A hive of journalists lingered around the main entrance of Berlin’s General Hospital.

  Shit.

  Her eyes counted at least two dozen journalists.

  Fuck it. I am going in. She mentally prepared for the assault.

  It wasn’t such big of a problem to walk in the hospital- after all she was a nobody.

  True, she had been on camera holding Christopher’s hand while on the stretcher and yes, she may have even kissed his hand before the paramedics had closed the door of the ambulance, but she wasn’t exactly a celebrity. Not even close.

  I am not even wearing my MB uniform today.

  Isabella covered her face for a moment, realizing how it would be to step out with Christopher.

  Maybe there’s a side door we can use like in the movies.

  “Danke schön” she said to the driver, after asking him to wait for her and Christopher on the left-hand side of the hospital entrance.

  Then she stepped out and, to Isabella’s relief, nothing happened.

  Nobody noticed her, nobody turned to look at her. Journalists were too focused on who was coming out of the hospital more than who was walking in.

  Isabella sneaked by, in her dark blue jeans and white t-shirt- a stripy white and blue jumper on her shoulders- holding on tight to her bag, her fingers digging into the fabric.

  As the elevator doors opened on Christopher’s floor, Isabella felt her pulse pick up- the butterflies in her stomach went wild, every step she took towards his door.