WHAT'S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT WHEN CARMA'S INVOLVED?

TREINTA Y TRES

With my office dust free, I felt satisfied enough to leave. And I was. Leaving, that is. I had just shut the lights off, my door clicked closed, but my desk phone rang. I played eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Moe declared answering the phone as the winner. I snatched the receiver from its cradle, only for sobs to greet me before my happy office voice pitched my rehearsed greeting.

My sunny day became overshadowed by the dark storm clouds of the Iverson family and the unimaginable tragedy they were about to share. I represented them on behalf of their daughter, Maisie. She was the gutsy young girl who put a cop on blast for r*ping her. No one in the DA’s office wanted to move forward with an investigation and tried to stall mine. I chose to file a civil suit and have been waiting for the dirtbag’s lawyer to respond. Nothing mattered to Maisie’s parents anymore. Their precious little girl allegedly took her own life. Offering my condolences, I suggested we unite against the evil to blame. Maisie may be deceased, but that did not mean the case could not proceed. If you’re thinking my decision was a money move, you’re wrong. The man responsible needed to be stopped before another girl suffered the same fate. They wanted to pay me and be done with it. I hung up, went home for my car, and was on my way to pay them a visit to convince them just letting go was the wrong choice.

I love Boston with all my heart. The fcking traffic was atrocious and I hated it. First, I got stuck in a construction zone. Then the dipsh*t three cars ahead of me ran the red light and T-boned an ambulance. Bumper to bumper, front and back. I put my car in park and waited.

Every legal practitioner has their own way of getting the job done. I try putting myself in the shoes of who I am representing. I couldn’t for the life of me imagine loving my child for over a decade, then waking up knowing I would never see their face, hear their voice, or feel them in my arms again. It was unfathomable. The Iverson's new reality was a harsh reminder of how valuable and irreplaceable life can be. My loss didn’t compare. Nor did I want it to. It coerced me to think about the little things I’d never get the chance to experience with my daughter. A future child, God willing. Meeting my daughter, holding her, or loving her more every day never happened. Watching her grow up to be a kind, generous, smart young lady that would take the world by storm in whatever profession she chose, would never happen either.

Before I had the chance to stop it, my lungs burned, my body shook, sweat drenched me from head to toe, my brain went haywire, and to top it off, I felt as if I were drowning. Hello, Mr. Panic Attack, a dear friend of mine. Quite some time had passed since the last time he paid me a visit. Mi madre said they were bad omens from God. His way of warning me the time had come to reap what I’d sown.

Unable to get to the Iversons, I called after calming down. Many cars were taking shortcuts to get around the scene. If you consider using the sidewalk as a shortcut. Two parked vehicles to my right followed suit, so I parked in one of the spots and chose to walk home. Nightfall had begun and about halfway home the feeling of being watched or followed set in. It was still early, as far as Bostonians were concerned, but the sidewalks were empty, and the streets were devoid of cars. A way to stop my mind from going bonkers was to imagine hidden cameras, waiting to catch my fear-filled response if someone jumped out and scared the living bejesus out of me. I made it home without incident.

My original plan was to lock myself in my apartment. Alixxander’s handsome face emerged from his dwelling. I didn’t want to talk, I needed to be occupied. If anyone knew the best way to make it happen, he did. No shirt, abs looking better than ever, jogging pants with no boxers shielding his manhood, and bare feet looked s*xy as fck on him. Poor guy had no idea we were going to his room. I pushed him into his apartment. Leaving the door wide open, I dragged him upstairs.

“You're cleared?” My mouth said, “yes” as my brain screamed, “no”.

Alixxander’s talents were no match against a mind refusing to cooperate. My s*xual experience was severely limited. Meaning, I didn’t know how to fake it. If I attempted it, he for sure would’ve known. He gave it all he had before finishing. Lying on the messed-up comforter, I watched him peel the condom off, tie it up, and toss it in the wastebasket.

“What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. I-I..... It was a bad day at the office.” More like every bad memory had crept in to make the day a million times worse.

“You were there for all of two hours. Was my wife there or something?” That stung as it should.

Him referring to that horrible woman as his wife after fcking me started the heartbreak avalanche. I plucked my clothes off the floor and left. If Maisie's death caused me to spiral that hard, I hated to think of what was next to come for me. Just before reaching the bottom of the stairs, he slammed a door, causing me to jump.

Sitting on my sofa, tears streamed down my face as I stared at Maisie’s picture. The angel had fair skin slathered with freckles and beautiful green eyes that were brought out by her orange-flamed hair. I never picked up suicidal vibes. Her personality could only be described as bubbly and vivacious. All it took was one animal’s disgusting nature to snuff out a bright and wonderful young girl.

As an adult, dealing with the unfairness of life is hellish enough. An innocent child should have to worry about nothing except being a child. Her safety and innocence were stolen. The perpetrator needed to pay. What is often forgotten is that people accused of crimes are presumed innocent until proven guilty. In Maisie’s case, the detective expects everyone to take his word, therefore making himself look guilty. If Alixxander knew what I did, how would he handle it?

First thing in the morning, I went to see the Iversons.

Mr. Iverson answered the door. “Miss Sanchez?”

“I heard you loud and clear yesterday. Now, hear me out. If you drop the suit, that monster will think he won. If he thinks that, he will surely press his luck with another girl. That’s if he hasn’t already.”

“She’s gone. Without her there is no suit.”

“That’s where you are wrong. Her kit is her voice now. I don’t want to stop fighting for her. As her father, you shouldn’t want to stop either.” Mr. Iverson invited me in.

His wife was seated in the living room and overheard every word I said. No words can heal her heart, but I hoped a caring hug from my heart would be a start.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Maisie did not kill herself.”

“Irene,”

“No. You know as well as I do, she wouldn’t do that.”

I intervened before they started fighting. They disagreed when it came to what their daughter thought. Pulling out a legal pad, I asked the distraught parents to describe everything they saw. If anything looked out of place. Most of all, how was Maisie? Even if it seemed like nothing, it was probably something. You may think I was wrong to ask them so soon after losing her. Any details were fresh in their minds. When they are that fresh, the answers can be found to the unanswered questions. If a person stews on the facts, they can become distorted and eventually the person remembering starts to question themselves.

Irene was sad to report the day of wasn’t one of her better ones. Lately, Maisie felt like an outcast for speaking out against her abuser. She locked herself in her room and didn’t come out to use the bathroom, eat, or get a drink. Almost seven hours had slipped by and Irene became worried. Todd forced his way into Maisie’s room. Her window wide open, the screen missing, and she was nowhere to be found. Behind their house was a wooded area. The pit in Todd’s stomach sent him jumping out the window and running into the woods. Thirty feet in, Maisie was there, hanging from a tree. I never bothered asking how it happened. Irene said she was up higher than she could reach and a blank page from her diary was under her feet, covered by dirt. Her diary wasn’t in the vicinity and remained missing.

The fire department cut her down. They used caution to not damage her body. Todd didn’t notice tracks or disturbed brush. If you don’t know what you’re looking for, it is easy to miss. I asked permission to look around her room and my request was granted.

Carrying rubber gloves may sound morbid, but if there was a chance to explore a potential crime scene, I wanted to be prepared. Maisie’s room was tidy. Was her room always so clean? When victims lose control in areas of their lives, they tend to overcompensate in areas they can control. Keeping her room so spotless, you could eat off the floor, is a sign of the control she sought to regain. If it had never been taken from her, she might have been a normal teenager with a messy room. On the nightstand was a phone charger wrapped around the lamp, but I saw no phone. Not wanting to disturb the room, I didn’t touch or move a thing. You know 'see with your eyes, not your hands'.

Getting to the bottom of her death is going to be a joint effort. Just because she was hanging from a rope doesn’t mean that’s what killed her. I left their home and sat in my car jotting down everything I saw that was wrong. Looking out Maisie’s window, I saw the screen outside on the ground and broken. While suspicious, maybe she didn’t know how to remove it. Her phone, missing. A page from her diary, but no diary.

I chose to believe Maisie did not take her own life. Someone helped it along. While covering their tracks, they did too good of a job. Not even Maisie’s footprints were visible. I made a promise to Maisie, God, and myself. Whoever murdered her was not going to get away with it.

Those few hours I spent with grieving parents wore me out. I had work the next day and though it was a few minutes past noon, my bed beckoned me to cuddle. The elevator slowly hurried at its own pace. Barely able to keep my peepers open, the doors opened and there Alixxander stood. Having a better grasp on Maisie’s death, I could convey why I acted irrationally.

“I guess that's why you didn't answer your door. We need to talk. By we, I mean you need to listen as I speak, and I would like it if you didn't interrupt me. Don't. Nod if you can do that.”

Whatever he had to say would put the cherry on my melted and curdled banana split. When I give my word, I stand by it no matter how difficult. Most of the time.

“There is no denying my loneliness or frustration. When I made the pass on you, you told me I was not your type. While I have been with lesbians, fully understanding the drawbacks of the s*xual preference is one thing I never cared to school myself in. Through everything, we spent more time beating around the bush. How many times did you tell me it wasn’t right? I heard your words, but they never sank in. I don't know what bug crawled up your ass and I don't care. Carma played games from the beginning. Looking through my eyes, you are doing the same. I want a faithful wife and kids. Basically, I want things that you will never give me. It’s time we bit the bullet. I would appreciate it if you continued to be my divorce lawyer. As for anything s*xual.....that’s over. I grappled with this for hours. It’s in our best interest to preserve a work relationship. If you don't agree, I'll find another attorney.”

From the get-go Alixxander Savage was a mistake I loved to make and wouldn't stop unless forced to. I never thought he’d be the force.