Dark Redemption Read online

  The decision is simple. I'll pay it even though the surgery has cost me quite a bit already. Maybe I'm just trying to make up for what I did wrong.

  When I first started watching Jacqueline, I just wanted to make sure that she was okay, but then something had changed.

  I found someone I connected with. Jacqueline was the only one who could break through all of my walls. And when we spent time together, I started to fall for her.

  I wait for her to return for the rest of the day, but she doesn't.

  I wait late into the night.

  I call room service and order two three-course dinners at the hotel restaurant, Champagne, a bouquet of roses, anything to show her how sorry I am.

  She doesn't show up.

  I call her phone and no one answers. I text her and I get no response. When I realize that she’s spending the night somewhere else, I sit in the dark and drink the bottle alone.

  2

  Jacqueline

  I read the words on the screen over and over again to make sure that my eyes are not deceiving me. The email is addressed to Dante. It's from the Danick Clinic, and they're requesting additional money from him in order to pay for the rest of my mother's treatment.

  The rest?

  I confront Dante and he denies it immediately, not the emails so much, but the process by which he found out about it.

  I don't remember telling him about my mother, and if I did, I don't remember being so specific. But I can't deny the fact that he found her name probably through me and went all this way out of his way to pay the quarter of a million dollar bill anonymously.

  Why? Why would he do this?

  I mean, yes, we had some sort of connection initially, but there has to be another reason for going all this way.

  Why lie?

  And if he's not lying, why this in the first place?

  My mind goes in circles.

  I don't know what to think or what to believe. The more I talk to him, the more confused I get.

  I'm angry and pissed off.

  At the same time, I feel guilty.

  Dante gave me this unbelievable gift. Yes, it went awry and now I blame him and myself for insisting on that surgery in the first place. But we thought that it would turn out differently.

  Frustrated by my own impotence and inability to do a single thing, I blow up at him and I run away.

  I go to the hospital, the only place that I know where I can stay indefinitely, and I stay for a long time.

  No walks today, nothing but passing time in the waiting room while my mother sleeps.

  Around six in the evening, I go down to the cafeteria, grab some food, and eat alone at a table facing the parking lot. There's a large window next to me, and I watch families come and go, wondering what kind of secrets they're keeping from their loved ones.

  I know that Dante’s waiting for me back at the hotel, but I can't bring myself to go. I don't want to fight. I don't want to talk about this.

  I'm exhausted and tired. Contorting my body into a hard chair with little padding in my mom's room, I eventually doze off.

  The following morning after I wake up with the worst pain in my back I've had ever since I was in college, I can barely turn my neck from side to side. I try to do a few stretches but the pain is unbearable.

  A nurse comes in, takes my mom's vital signs and gives me an update. Stable and slightly improving. That’s good for now.

  I head down the hall and wash my face in the bathroom, wishing that I had packed a toothbrush. When I walk back out, I see him.

  Dante’s standing in the hallway, broad-shouldered, dressed in jeans and a jacket, open-collar shirt, no tie. His hair looks a little messy, out of control, and he has big black circles underneath.

  "You don't look like you slept well,” I say.

  He shakes his head no.

  "Are you okay?"

  He takes a step closer to me when I turn to walk away and then wince in pain.

  "I'm fine," I say, putting my hand out to block him from coming any closer.

  "Did you sleep here?” he asks in a gasp.

  "Yes."

  "I'm really sorry. I did not mean for any of this to happen."

  "Yeah, you said that already," I say, refusing to entertain his apology.

  "I was just trying to help, okay? Even if you never forgive me for this, please know that I had no ill will. I knew that you couldn't afford the payments, and I could, so I did. I wanted to help you."

  I shake my head no and bite my lower lip. "I don't want to talk about this now."

  "I'm going to be going," Dante says, and my breath gets lodged in the back of my throat.

  "Going where?"

  "I have a job in Chicago. I've put it off for a while, but now seems as good a time as any. I've paid for the hotel for the next three weeks. If you want to stay there longer, just tell them and I’ll take care of it."

  "I appreciate all of this, but I can't accept it," I finally force myself to say, looking down at the floor.

  "You can and you have to," he says, focusing his eyes on mine.

  I know that he knows that I didn't have enough credit on my card to extend the stay at the cheap motel down the street, let alone the Marriott. But I also have no choice.

  "You're upset with me," Dante says, taking a step forward. "You're angry, but please take care of yourself. Please accept this gift. Please accept this as an apology for me being such an asshole. I just wanted to help. I wanted to be this knight in shining armor, and maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe it was a dick move."

  I stand here, unable to move my neck, but unwilling to turn completely away from him to teach him a lesson. I want to reach over and kiss him and tell him that it's fine, but something stops me. Something pulls me away: it’s my pride.

  Dante hands me the key to the room and asks me to use it and to rest, because being here is taking a toll.

  "I'd like to come back after this trip to Chicago. I'd like to talk about this,” he says.

  With my pride getting the best of me, I shake my head no.

  "Okay. Just think about it, okay?" Dante begs with his eyes.

  He gives me one last squeeze of the hand and walks away. Fluorescent lights cast shadows in all directions while his shoes make a quiet clinking sound colliding with the linoleum floor. I want to run after him and tell him thank you, but I can’t make myself move.

  Despite how angry I am with Dante, I have no choice but to go back to the hotel suite that he paid for. I spend a long restful night there and when I arrive at the hospital the following morning, Dr. Ellis has a big smile on her face.

  "Things are improving quite well and very fast!”

  Taking my arm, she leads me to the room where Mom sits up a little bit, with her eyes open. She smiles at me.

  Big fat tears start to roll down my cheeks.

  I run over and give her a big bear hug, holding her close and feeling the warmth of her body.

  "You're okay. You're okay," I whisper over and over again. She gives me a wink.

  There's still tubes inside of her mouth, but she's here, present. She nods when Dr. Ellis asks her questions and squeezes my hand.

  I say a million prayers and thank yous and stay with her the whole day, not wanting to miss a minute.

  Mom is still relatively tired and when she takes long naps I lose myself in the books that I bought and think about Dante. Suddenly him paying off this debt and the anger that I felt about it earlier disappears.

  I want to talk to him again. I want to thank him for the surgery because after all, even despite the complication, it went well.

  They got the entire cancer out and now, Dr. Ellis is very positive about her survival outcome.

  Allison continues to check in with me once a day. When I tell her the good news, she celebrates by opening a bottle of champagne.

  "Oh, I wish I could join you," I say, "but drinking alone in the room sounds a little depressing."

  "It is not depressing," Allison says
, tossing her hair and pointing a finger in my face. “Now, go get some alcohol and call me back.”

  3

  Jacqueline

  Allison wants to know when I'm coming home. I don't know yet.

  Mom is still pretty weak, even though she's getting better. As far as plans to come home however, I don't even know where to begin.

  I tell Allison about what happened with Dante. She listens carefully and then says, "You're not getting off that easily.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “He gave you this massive gift. Maybe it wasn't in the right way and maybe he should have told you, but maybe then you wouldn't have accepted it. I mean, he was kind of a stranger at the time.”

  “I know,” I admit.

  "I mean, you have a right to be mad at him, but you don't really have a right to push him away forever. You have to thank him."

  I look down at my fingernails and pick at what's left of my clear nail polish.

  “I'm still upset.”

  “So, let him apologize,” she says. When she shrugs, her loose fitting sweater falls off one shoulder, reminding me of the movie Flashdance.

  “Let him apologize and let him make amends. Let him buy you flowers and woo you again. But you have to forgive him."

  “No. Why? Why do I have to do that?”

  "Because you love him, you idiot.”

  I snap my eyes to meet hers. That's the first time I've ever thought of it that way.

  Is that why I'm so angry with him? Because I'm actually in love? Suddenly, it seems so obvious.

  “Okay, don’t tell me that you're surprised.” Allison laughs.

  She walks over to the kitchen, props the phone up, and I see her getting the vegetables out of the refrigerator and slicing them on a cutting board.

  I don't know what to say. I lean closer to the phone.

  I look at my reflection in the corner and fix my hair to make it look a little more voluminous.

  “I just feel like such an idiot,” I finally say.

  “Don't be. You're not. You met under unusual circumstances. It's hard to know what to expect. But you do know that he paid a lot of money for that treatment. And that means it's not exactly a guy that you can just toss to the side.”

  “Oh, please. I'm not going to date someone just because of his money," I say, waving my hand dismissively.

  “I know that you are this whole holier-than-thou kind of person, but let's be honest. He paid your mom's medical bills without even breaking a sweat.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you have to give him another chance.”

  My mom keeps getting stronger and more alert with each passing day. Her recovery borders on miraculous.

  There's still a lot of physical therapy that she'll have to undergo in order to get back to where she was, but the cancer is gone and she's back with me now.

  When I sit in her hospital bed after reading a chapter from a thriller that she requested, I listen to her breathe all on her own and I realize that for the first time since I’ve been here, I’m not holding my breath.

  I have to talk to Dante again. It's not that I wasn't being fair. It's just that maybe I do owe him an apology or at least an explanation.

  I give him a call, but he doesn't answer.

  I text him and wait, but he doesn't get back to me.

  Not that evening.

  Not the day after.

  The following morning when I go to visit my mom, an office manager gets my attention and takes me into the back.

  I have been waiting for this moment and I don't really have any good way of dealing with it.

  “I just wanted to let you know that all of the additional expenses from the complications have been taken care of by the anonymous donor,” she says. “All you need to do is sign off on all of the paperwork.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “The costs for the treatment that she received after the surgery,” she says, without blinking. “That’s not covered by insurance either.”

  I swallow hard.

  “But you have nothing to worry about. They have paid the additional fees.”

  The office manager is very careful to use the word they, instead of he or she to disguise the donor.

  But I know who it is.

  “Is it Dante Langston?” I ask.

  I startle her when I say his name and she runs her hands through her mane of red hair, pursing her lips together.

  “And he’s the one who paid the other bill as well?”

  “I really can't discuss the details of that,” she says, dismissively.

  “But it's my mom's medical treatment."

  “I know, but just like we have her privacy to protect, we also have to protect the privacy of our donors. They wish to remain anonymous.”

  She shows me a stack of papers and walks me through each one to sign off on.

  I walk out of the office more stunned than I was before. Why? Why would he pay this, not knowing whether I have any intentions of getting back together with him?

  I was so rude and unforgiving earlier, angry and upset.

  Though I had every right to my feelings, I was almost entirely sure that he would not be that understanding and go out of his way to pay another hundred thousand dollars for all the additional treatment that she got.

  When I go back into her room, Mom’s sitting up reading on her own. She flashes me a big wide smile when I come in.

  "Did you bring me the makeup?”

  I nod, taking out the bag from my purse and sit down next to her to help her.

  "No, no, no. I'd like to do this myself. God, it has been forever since I've seen my reflection.”

  Mom opens the compact, takes one look, and then puts it down.

  “Now that's not a good look.”

  "You look fine, Mom. Today, you actually have some color in your face," I say, reaching for her hand.

  "At least, I have an excuse,” she says, looking at her nails and then at mine with a groan. "I've been in this bed for a while. What's yours?"

  "I've been waiting around for you to get better," I joke.

  Applying a good dose of foundation as well as some concealer under her eyes, she outlines her brows with pencil and applies a thick coat of mascara. Finally, she completes the look with a generous amount of lip gloss.

  "That's better except for my hair is still a disaster,” Mom says, running her fingers through her oily, limp locks.

  I debate with myself whether or not I should tell her about the anonymous donor and the fact that he’s… my boyfriend.

  My boyfriend, really? I ask myself. No, that's not right.

  Of course, we've never talked about it. Of course, at this point, he probably thinks that I've broken up with him. But then again, he did pay for my mom's treatment and I'm sure he's expecting me to reach out.

  My mind is going a mile a minute.

  The truth is that I'm really excited to see Dante again. I want to tell him about my mom's recovery and I want to introduce him to her.

  I don't know how long his trip to Chicago was going to be, but the fact that he hasn't called me back is a little bit concerning.

  When Mom gets tired again, she asks me to turn down the lights so she can take a little nap.

  I slip out into the waiting room and call him.

  Again, my phone goes directly to voice mail.

  "Hey, it's me.” I clear my throat. “I found out that you paid the hospital bill again and thank you so much. I just want to talk to you about how mad I got…And I don't know…. I'm sorry about that, but please give me a call back… It's Jacqueline."

  My voice message is disconnected with thoughts, beginning and ending different places. I know that, but that's where I am right now.

  I regret not organizing the statement in a more cohesive way, but I hope he understands. When I return to her room and crack the door, she’s fast asleep.

  Back at the Marriott, I fill t
he hot tub and slip off my clothes. There's a little bottle of bubbles in the corner and I empty it and slide under the water, feeling the slickness of the soap on my skin.

  I miss him.

  I miss his touch.

  I miss his lips on mine.

  I miss taking all of those walks and talking about who we are.

  I shared more of my life with Dante than I have with people whom I have known for a long time. He was just that easy to open up to.

  I suddenly feel angry with myself, angry for pulling away from him, for pushing him away.

  Of course, he shouldn't have lied, but I should have talked to him more.

  I should have been in better control of my anger. The truth is that he gave me one of the greatest gifts that anyone has ever given me: he saved my mother's life.

  And for that, I will be eternally grateful.

  4

  Dante

  After I leave for Chicago, Jacqueline doesn't call me for a little bit and I assume that it's over. I have said my peace. I have apologized. There's not much else I can do.

  When I get to the windy city, gusts come off the lake and tear all around me, chilling me to the bone. I stay in a five-star hotel with the view of the lake. My room is on such a high floor that I feel the entire building sway.

  The following morning I have another interview with another CEO, another technology startup, and this one was recommended by an eager investor. Usually I don't do meetings like this, but it intrigued me. It's a dating app for people looking for long-term relationships.

  Having never used any dating app before, I check out a few of its big competitors: Tinder, Plenty of Fish, Hinge, and Bumble. I swipe through all the options and the women start to feel like a buffet of choices.

  My thoughts again return to Jacqueline. When is she going to stop haunting me? Probably when she finds out the truth. The only problem is that when she discovers that, I’ll lose her forever.