Love Dearly

My small two-bedroom loft felt empty; it always felt empty. My German Shepard, Beau, laid on the ground next to me as I sat on the couch with my black cat, Bast, on my lap. However, even my pets could not make this place feel happier. I could not help but miss him. Even after all the bad he had done, I missed him. But eventually his double life caught up to him and made mine a living hell.

Vacation was still in four weeks. A week in my beloved ranch house in West Texas on the Frio River. It was only an hour away from where I lived in San Antonio, yet I go only a few times a year. Those four weeks might as well have felt like four years with the day I had. Clients were upset about the lettering or font size of their advertisements, disagreeing with anything and everything that was suggested to them. If that was not enough, my coworkers were just as bad, attempting to put blame on someone other than themselves. Marketing sucked, and I honestly was tired of it, but it was a job, and I was good at it. Even if it was not the focus of my degree.

The thought of returning to my ranch house reminded me of all the fun stuff I would do during summer vacation at the State Park on the Frio River. Tubing, camping, hiking, and swimming in the river. Having my ranch house in the same town, Frio Valley, was a dream come true. If only Michael had not tainted my dream and my memories of it. However, I made the best of it.

Luckily, when I was in college, I had written small romance novels that had become very popular that it allowed me to self-publish them as e-books. I made a decent income out of it, enough to gain a down payment to buy the small ranch with a house on it. I longed to be there and enjoy the outdoors, ride my horse, and sit by a campfire.

The buzzing of the building’s guest door distracted me from my thoughts. Ximena’s voice chimed in through the intercom and I opened the door for her. Once she was in front of me, she took one good look at me in my ancient sweatpants and large, holey, old t-shirt before chastising me.

“No, Isabel! You’re not about to binge watch Netflix tonight.” Ximena stated, as she looked around the room, putting two and two together. “You are twenty-eight years old, successful, and independently wealthy. I’m stopping this.”

“Well, hello to you, too. Please, do come in,” I welcomed her sarcastically, “and you forgot to say that I’m a widow.”

“A hot and sexy widow.” Ximena tried to sell me on whatever she was cooking up. “No one needs to know you’re a widow. It’s been three years and besides, Michael nearly ruined you. Seriously, how could you still be hung up on him after the mess he left you to deal with?”

“We were together for five years. Lived together for four and married for one. However, things ended. He wasn’t like that at the beginning. The money laundering and drug dealings happened after college.” I attempted to rationalize, but knew she had a point. Michael’s behavior had changed the last year they were together. Particularly, the last few months. He did not do a traditional proposal, instead he suggested for us to elope. The next week we were on a plane from Houston to Las Vegas with our parents and a few friends, Ximena included. The moment we returned, a week later, he drew up a will and named me as his beneficiary on his life insurance policy. I honestly felt stupid for not realizing what was happening with Michael, but almost a year later, police came to my door to notify me he had died in a car accident caused by a police chase. It was after I was taken into custody and the FBI got involved with the interrogation that I was told he was the one who led the police on the chase. It was a never-ending nightmare.

“Whatever the case, it’s over now and you need to get back out of there. Quit acting like a cat lady and stop moving through the motions of living and just live. There are more men out there than your college sweetheart.” Ximena lectured me, biting her tongue at the end of her sentence to keep from bad-mouthing Michael.

“How do you suggest I do that?” I questioned. “They investigated me, plastered me all over the news, and placed in a jail cell.”

“The jail thing was one night?” She reminded me. “It didn’t go on your record.”

“Still, I couldn’t leave my house and all my finances, including my ranch, had to be searched and cleared.” I cried as I relived the nightmare. “They took our house. How could he have done that? How? Why was I not enough? Was our life together not enough for him?”

“Shh. Shh.” Ximena sat next to me, holding me, although I knew she had to be praising herself for finally getting me to admit the pain Michael had left me. I was not an idiot, but I did not want to hear a bad word said about Michael. In my head, I kept the romanticized version of him alive, the man he was before he caused my world to crash and burn because of his illegal dealings.

“You still have your ranch. Your lifelong dream, you have your cousin and father running the place. You have a decently successful career as a writer, yet you haven’t bothered to write since. Along with all that money you receive for book sales. You can’t give that talent up,” Ximena comforted me by reminding me about all the good in my life. “And they didn’t take Michael’s life insurance money, nor his family’s large prime hunting land that is probably overpopulated because you haven’t leased it out. Most importantly, they didn’t take your memories.” Ximena finished as I continued to cry. “It’s time to move on, Issa.”

I had let myself live in a perpetual state of mourning that I had forgotten that he did not take everything with him when he left this world. I was still here and everything I had owned on my own was here. I moved to San Antonio to get away from the nightmare, and now I needed to let myself live a new life. A happy one. One of my choosing, in which he no longer had any influence or control.

I loved the man I used to know, not the one he became. The realization that I had let myself be lost because of the memory of a man that had only existed long before he died. I let him win again. My eyes teared up as the reality hit me like a ton of bricks.

Ximena sat with me on the couch as I cried for the loss of the person I used to be versus the man who ruined me. She stayed the night with me, comforting me, until I fell asleep, knowing that she would be there when I awoke.

The early morning light shone through the glass balcony doors and the smell of coffee and bread wafted around me. I followed the smell and found Ximena sitting on the counter enjoying a venti cup of iced latte from the coffee shop down the street. She also had delivered fresh bagels, donuts, and kolaches. More food and coffee for both of us could consume.

“Are you catering a breakfast meeting or are we expecting company?” My sarcasm was evident in my question as I tapped her leg to get her off my counter.

“I figured it was cool out, so you’d want hot coffee, but then said wait, maybe she’d like an iced latte instead, then decided that you may actually prefer a hot latte. So, I just ordered all three,” she explained after she perkily jumped down causing her messy bun to bounce along with it.

“And what will you do if I don’t drink all of them?”

“Drink them,” she shrugged her shoulders. I grabbed the hot latte first and picked up the drink carrier with the remaining two and walked away with it as I headed into my bedroom, but not before taking a kolache. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To get ready for work.” I answered as she followed close behind.

“Wait! Issa,” she said exasperatedly. “Listen to me. Quit. Your. Job.” Ximena clapped her hand after every word. I laughed at her order as I turned around to face her.

“No, I’m not,” I giggled in my response. “What am I supposed to do without a job?”

“Write. You hate your job, why keep it? You don’t need it,” she countered, taking a sip of her latte. “Think of me as your new life coach,” she stated with her palm up in the air and a shrug of her shoulder.

“My what?”

“Issa, you are starting over with your life and it’s time you let me lead. I’ll be your life coach, kinda like a freelance personal assistant, slash freelance manager, slash best friend. I think there’s another slash somewhere in there, too.” Ximena clarified.

“That’s a lot of slashes.”

“I have a lot of free time.” Ximena was a trust fund baby, although she worked for her family who owned many lodges and resorts, one being by the Frio River, as well as other locations throughout Texas. As the event organizer, she’s her busiest during the summers and holidays. The rest of the year, she only works two or three days out of the week.

“Yeah, I’m not buying it. What are you really getting at?”

“Ah! I’m offended that you think I have an ulterior motive.” Ximena acted out dramatically with a hand over her chest. I raised my eyebrows at her. “I don’t have one.” I lowered my head to let her know I had not fallen for it. “Fine! There’s a Halloween party tomorrow at Jazmin’s house. Her new boyfriend’s brother is home on leave from the Navy. He’s single and Jazz, well actually, I want to introduce you to him. I thought, since he’ll return to base soon, that you could have some fun. I figured you’re not really looking for anything permanent.”

“On leave? Navy? Is he younger?” My skepticism was obvious.

“Yes… Only a few years, but it’ll be fun,” Ximena seemed a little too enthusiastic. “Even if you don’t hit it off, they’ll be other people there, and it’ll be a party, so you’ll still have a lot of fun.”

“I don’t really care for parties.” Isabel stated.

“C’mon!” She started to argue, then a thought popped into her head. “You know what? It’s not your decision anymore. You’re going!” Ximena ordered with a proud smile on her face. “And you’re quitting your job. Today. I declare as your life coach.”

“Nope, can’t do it. But I like what you’re selling.” I had to admit, it was enticing. I turned on my heel and started for my room again.

“Think about it, Issa. You can actually write that sci-fi romance series you wanted to write, and actually get a real publisher.” Ximena knew to say all the right things. I loved writing and was happy that people enjoyed my stories, and I really wanted to write that story.

“I can’t believe I’m considering this.” I said, shaking my head. I knew her smile had grown twice as big when I said the words. “I hate you.” I said affectionately.

“I know. But you love me more.”