Sunday, May 18, 2014

The Night I met Veronica

It has only been in the last couple of years that I have begun to talk about Veronica... to anyone... strangers and acquaintances who would ask... but it was not until a few nights ago that I actually told some one all the details about that part of my life - which nobody knows about outside of Frankie and Cris...

I am a bit reluctant to tell this tale... but she and I both knew that one day I would.  She claimed that she would leave no one behind when she left... there would be no one to remember her... nothing left in this world to show that  for a brief moment she walked among us... she told me many times that life was a curse... but despite that curse... she would do the best she could with what God gave her.  She would whisper to me at night that I was the Devil come to taunt her before I took her away... dangling visions of love in front of her -  that she would never reach... she would punch me and slap me... and take out her anger at the world on me... in nights filled with screams and tears she smashed many a plate on my head... she would curse me and the Heavens above with a knife to my chest.  Many times after I had made love to her... and I had drifted off to sleep... I would wake up in pain as she would bite me like some rabid wolf... crying... because I fell asleep without her... she would tell me she would kill me... if I tried to leave her... and I would say “Darling... I’ve heard that one before...” but the night before she slipped away... after I had made gentle love to her... with tears in her eyes she said... “I will haunt you forever...” she cried all night that night and nothing I could do or say would make her stop... she grew very weak that night... and before she drifted to sleep she whispered to me - “I hate you...” 

I was a stranger in a city I knew too well.  I had abandoned a life I no longer wanted.  I had abandoned people I once called friends and I threw away my dreams... my hopes and aspirations... and I abandoned any hopes of love... I was a broken man - spiritually... mentally and financially... I scratched out a living waiting tables and washing dishes... what I did not spend on rent I drank away... I would go for days without eating or sleeping... and ride the dragon on clouds of cocain for weeks at a time... I was a man looking for a reason why I shouldn’t end it all.. And on napkins across the city I left behinds fragments of love songs for a woman whose name I just could not say anymore and I sought out illusions of love in the arms of women who offered it professionally...

I don’t remember what day it was... I had risen from my slumber at four in the afternoon smelling of liquor and reefer and back ally whore’s...
I don’t know why... I opened the window to let some fresh air into my apartment and stopped to talk to whatever angel would hear me... I spied a solitary cloud and whispered... “give me one more chance...”
I showered up and shaved... and cut my own hair... and styled it like Gable.  I cleaned and scrubbed the room I called my home... threw out the garbage and flushed the weed and powder down the toilet... I don’t even remember thinking... I just remember cleaning... I washed my clothes in the basement laundry room and pressed my shirts and pants... satisfied with the evenings productivity I threw on my cleanest suit and stepped out into the street once more... to wander into those ally ways where angels fear to tread...

The room was dark and smokey and flickers of light bounced off a mirror ball from the ceiling to dance on red velvet walls... there was an old juke box hugging a lonely wall playing a Henry Mancini song... the girls were dressed in tight fitting dresses and skirts... revealing enough leg and cleavage to leave you wanting for more... before I could make my way to the bar she ensnared me with her smile... she stood in front of me in a second hand Donna Karen cocktail dress that she probably bought at a used clothing store, her hair was tied back with a red ribbon... she didn’t wear any make up but lipstick... she was thin and a bit pale... her eyes were green and her lips were full... before we ever spoke she leaned into me and smelled my neck... she placed her hands on my chest to support herself and leaned in... she closed her eyes and inhaled a long deep breath from my neck... and tilting her head back she let out a long deep sigh into my face... Dear Lord... don’t let it be her... but it was too late... I had made up my mind... she was going to be mine...

There was no negotiating between us - in fact no words were spoken at all... she took me by the hand and led me to her room... just as I closed the door behind me she pressed me tight against it and stretched up to kiss me... it was not a passionate kiss... it was a series of slow and gentle little kisses... she held my face in her hands delicately... and in between those soft kisses she whispered to me to lock the door... I remember my hands tracing figures on her back and unzipping her dress behind her... and as it slid off her body she looked up at me and asked me my name... Victor... I said... people used to call me Victor... “Victor...” she whispered... over and over in between the kisses she planted on my neck as she unbuttoned my shirt... “Victor... Victor... Victor....” the song of her voice was intoxicating... my head was spinning... she planted her gentle kisses on my pecks and sniffed at my chest... and whispered my name... “Victor...” again and again.. From a mirror on a wall I spied our reflection and watched my hands caress her back... and slowly flow down her spine to her buttock... “What do you want to call me...” she asked in a voice I could barely make out in the silence of our room... I whispered - “Veronica...” She pushed away from me and looked up with a most peculiar look on her face... and threw her head back in laughter... she jumped into my arms and forced her tongue into my mouth and kissed me until she almost fainted.... no... I mean she actually fainted... she went limp in my arms and I carried her to the bed... I knew... some how... at that moment... there was something wrong with her...

I carried her to the bed and laid her down and watched her struggling for breath... she breathed in long, heavy and loud... and her chest looked as if it was struggling just as hard to hold all that air in... as I watched her I could feel a strange presence in the room with us... a presence I was quite familiar with... I shook my head and wondered what I had just gotten myself into... after a while her breathing evened out and she slowly came to... she opened her eyes half startled and covered her breasts with her arms... they were small but perfectly round and firm with little hard nipples... she looked up at me frightened and said - “please don’t hurt me...” I looked at her for a long time before I responded - “I didn’t come here to hurt you...”
Slowly she began to relax again and moved her arms from her chest to reveal herself to me...  “Come closer” she whispered... and I leaned in to kiss her... she stopped me by placing her hands on my face and began to inspect my features... the way Carmen used to do to me...  She would tilt my head up and down and to the left and right  looking to see how the reflections of light transformed me... was she comparing me to her other lovers... or trying to find traces of mine...
She spoke -
“Can I ask you something”
“Anything...”
“Anything...?”
“Ask me anything.”
She placed a hand behind my head and pulled me in closer to her so that she could whisper into my ear... I felt her lips moving... forming the words...but she did not make a sound... she released me and I straightened my back... she took my right hand and placed the back of it to her mouth and nose and breathed in with her eyes closed... “ The ashes from the battle field...”
She opened her eyes to look at me.
She grabs my left hand and placed the back of it to her mouth and nose and breathed in with here eyes close... “ The cold mist from Tierra Del Fuego...”
She opens her eyes to look at me...
“Your neck smells like the market of Ciudad Del Este... and your chest smells like what I imagine Japan smells like...” that makes me smile...
She puts my hand on her breast and says - “kiss me here...”
I bent down to kiss her as softly as she had kissed me earlier and she held my head down with her hands... and she took long deep breaths from my hair... and would breath out long dramatic, dreamy sighs... I looked up to find out what my hair smells like... “bordelos del mundo...”
She laughs... like a teenage girl...
She told me to lay down and she finished undressing me. She straddled me and reached behind her head to undo the red ribbon that held her hair back.... as her hair fell down behind her shoulders she look for an instant like a young Sonia Braga...
She looked down at me very serious... “Can I tell you something?”
“Tell me anything...”
“Anything...?”
“Yes...”
She pressed her chest to mine and her mouth to my ear again and began to move her lips... but again she made no sound... I was  focused so much on trying to make out the words she was forming that I did not notice she had slipped me inside of her until she started to move her hips in a slow circular motion... she would nibble on my ear lobe and slide her tongue around the rim of my ear in between words I could not make out... all the while I lay there as she moved her pelvis back and forth on top of me... for an hour and a half... until suddenly she froze in freight... with a hand full of my hair... she released a long sensual - “aaaaayyyyyy.....” followed by “Victoooorrrrr...” but she was crying... she completely collapsed on top of me with her head buried between my neck and my shoulder... she sobbed... I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry... of course I was thinking the girl is crazy... and I should get out of here as soon as possible... but I laid there with out saying a word, rubbing her back as she lay on top of me, drowning me in her tears and insanity...
“I’ve never been in love before...” she said - which did not make any sense to me at the time...
“You’re lucky... love is pain...”
“I know that now...” - again, that made no sense to me at that moment...
“I have never been a very good boy-friend... but I will take care of you...”
She raised herself up and gave me the same look she gave me when I called her Veronica... only a bit more curious... she came back down just as suddenly and covered my mouth with hers... and sucked all the air out of my lungs...
When she released me from her kiss she moved her lips back to my ear and whispered ever... ever so softly... “there is no way you could have heard that...” and she began to cry...

20 comments:

deborahflorence said...

OK---Veronica needed some meds. They manufacture some great ones these days. I could recommend a few based experience.

dash deringer said...

Veronica passed away many years ago - she had a congenital valve defect and other health problems... she was a beautiful girl and had beautiful dreams and she tried to fill my life with that beauty... but I was jaded and beaten down by the world when we found each-other... and she too was angry with the cards the universe gave her... but she always said to me that we have to live and love like there is no tomorrow... and I have tried... I miss her... and it took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that - now - I love her... this post is actually the first chapter of the book I wrote about her - "Girl with A Broken Heart"... I don't know yet what I will do with it...

deborahflorence said...

Oh, I'm so sorry. There really are no words. It would be great if everyone could live to be a ripe old age and then die in their sleep but that is not the case.

My father passed away suddenly in an ER at the age of 49. I was the only one there. I had to call my family and let them know--the hardest call I ever made. For the next few days, everything was a blur. I remember going into the casket room and thinking how much I hated all of them but we had to pick one.

Two months later, it was Christmas. My grandmother was in the last stages of lung cancer. All of a sudden she started crying at the dining table. She shook her head and said as sick as she was she thought she would be spared having to live through the death of one of her children but that was not the case. She had to bear it. She died two months later.

Three years ago, one of my dear friends told me that in addition to her divorce, she had been diagnosed with brain cancer. She was angry!!! She felt like what else could go wrong?! Nevertheless, she fought hard. She was determined to beat it but, again, that would not be the case. One day she realized that she would not live to see her daughter finish high school, get married, etc. Then it was time to say what needed to be said. She lived two more years after her initial diagnosis. At the request of her parents, I read the 23rd Psalm at her funeral.

Untimely death stinks!!!! I know they are with us in spirit but it's still not the same. One night I dreamed I went to Heaven--funny, it was a big game room and everyone was playing board games and card games. I saw my father playing cards. He didn't look like my father but I knew it was him. I walked over to him and I asked him, "Daddy, why did you have to die?" He said to me, "There are some things you will not understand until you come where I am. But, I'm o.k. I'm fine." I turned around and then woke up.

dash deringer said...

Live and love like There Is No Tomorrow, Deborah Florence...

Deborah Florence... what are you looking for?

Do you post your writings somewhere... or should I start a new page for you here for the "Florence Files"...

I don't think of death as a bad things - I feel we are all actually souls - as opposed to having souls - and the body is the vehicle that we use to get around in the physical real in order for us to grow as spiritual beings - for the soul only knows love - GOD's love - and in order for us to grow we must learn what pain, hunger, anger, desire, lust, greed, and fear are... we must experience it... conquer it... and learn from it... the soul... the soul does not know what anything other than love is... and we cannot grow - with out the rest... I think.

deborahflorence said...

To answer your question, I'm not looking for anything. I'm where I'm suppose to be. I was just passing through, so to speak. No need to rename your blog. I did not mean to take over. I will drop out as easily as I dropped in.

dash deringer said...

that' is not what I meant - the problem with the internet is that people miss-read things and not knowing other's personalities may take offense to certain comments... stay and linger around all you like... I just thought you may have thoughts and ideas and perhaps other stuff of your own to share... like your comment above about your father and your angels - there is an audience for that... I read stuff like... and I would like to read more of it from some one new... I offend many... that may be why I have very few followers... but then... again... I don't care...

deborahflorence said...

OK, I understand. Plus, "The Florence Files" has a nice ring to it. The angels, my father . . . I am spiritually sensitive. I am also very ordinary. There are times when I receive messages from loved ones in dreams. They are trying to help me. My great grandmother has sent me serious warnings a couple of times. She died before I was born. She was a fortune teller--the real deal. She made money telling fortunes. I've encountered demonic spirits in my dreams, but I'm never afraid of them. I sometimes return to places I've only been to in my dreams. I'v awakened from a dream only to realize that I was in another dream--a dream within a dream. What can I say?! I'm a dreamer. God uses dreams to speak to me sometimes. I don't hear voices or sounds. Many tiimes my dreams are just dreams. BTW, I have a simple writing style which can lead someone to think I'm younger than I am. I'm 46.

deborahflorence said...

Also, I hope you haven't dabbled in the occult looking for answers, spiritual understanding, interpretations. You will find none--only more confusion. You will also open doors to evil which cannot be easily closed.

Truth is everyone is trying to make sense of things in some way. Sometimes there are no answers. God just requires us to have simple faith.

Proverbs 3:5 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge him in all your ways and he shall direct your paths.

I take comfort in this---I don't know all of the answers, but I know the One who does.

dash deringer said...

"The Florence Files" - sounds awesome... and that's why daddy makes the big bucks!

I get visits from dead relatives too - in dreams... recently I took a walk in the deserts of Mexico with my mothers father without saying a word to each-other - as he was a quiet man in life... and still in the after life... when we parted ways in the dream we had come to the edge of his ranch... and he pointed me in the direction of the sea - which is where I belong in my heart... and I asked him if he was coming and he shook his head... and turned to the old house... "are you going home?" I asked... and he shook his head... we parted ways and I made my way - my long walk back to the sea... I could not look back to take another look at my grandfather... there is not a memory that I have of him that he does not look sad... he had a long hard life... his skin darkened into leather by the hot dry sun and roughened by the dry sand he tried so hard to cultivate... he was small and quite and deeply religious... and I wish I could have spent more time with him... it was only a few years ago that my mother told me that her father once told her that he wishes his grandchildren will never have to work... outside as hard as he did... one thing about that man - he had the respect of all those around him... and he put up with no man's bullshit...

Yes... a simple, (unforgivable) yes, I studied with an occult organization - which I mention briefly here:

http://deringerfiles.blogspot.com/search?q=confessions+of+a+mad+poet
It happens...

my latest dreams may or may not be prophetic... but they are strange:

http://deringerfiles.blogspot.com/search/label/Strange%20Dreams

deborahflorence said...

It sounds like your grandfather was a wonderful man full of integrity. You had a nice walk with him in your dream. You are the company you keep.

You do have a gift. Your recent dreams are very strange--crashing airplanes and women. Who knows?! You dream about multiple women and most of your writings are about women. Perhaps it may be time for a vow of celibacy for a period of time.

Veronica, the girl with the broken heart... She literally had a broken heart. Life is not fair. I hope she didn't have one figuratively as well. In Heaven, she is whole.

deborahflorence said...

I think my 5 yr old daughter has the flu. She's sleeping right now. One more thing . . .
Veronica was gravely ill, but it didn't give her a free pass to abuse others. And, you didn't have to take it in order to prove how much you cared for her. You know what?! You need a heart transplant. Psalm 51:10 "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me."
I think your mother is a good sounding board for you and she has a good perspective. Check in with her often.

We've been praticing this song in choir. I like it because it's honest.

"Take Me To The King"

[Chorus:]
Take me to the King
I don't have much to bring
My heart is torn in pieces
It's my offering
Take me to the King

[Verse 1:]
Truth is I'm tired
Options are few
I'm trying to pray
But where are you?
I'm all churched out
Hurt and abused
I can't fake
What's left to do?

Truth is I'm weak
No strength to fight
No tears to cry
Even if I tried
But still my soul
Refuses to die
One touch will change my life

[Chorus:]
Take me to the King
I don't have much to bring
My heart's torn in pieces
It's my offering

Lay me at the throne
Leave me there alone
To gaze upon Your glory
And sing to You this song
Please take me to the King

[Verse 2:]
Truth is it's time
To stop playing these games
We need a word
For the people's pain

So Lord speak right now
Let it pour like rain
Oh, yeah, we're desperate
We're chasing after you

[Bridge:]
No rules, no religion
I've made my decision
To run to You,
The healer that I need

[Chorus:]
Take me to the King
I don't have much to bring
My heart's torn to pieces
It's my offering

Lay me at the throne
Leave me there alone
To gaze upon Your glory
And to sing to You this song

Take me to the...

Lord we're in the way
We keep making mistakes
The glory's not for us
It's all for You

[Chorus:]
Take me to the King
I don't have much to bring
My heart's torn to pieces
It's my offering

Lay me at the throne
Leave me there alone
To gaze upon Your glory
And sing to You this song

Take me to the King [x3]

dash deringer said...

Deborah - you said "Veronica was gravely ill, but it didn't give her a free pass to abuse others. And, you didn't have to take it in order to prove how much you cared for her." - again you are assuming too much... you don't know the complete story... she was actually more angry because then - I was trying to fix myself and I didn't care about anything...

deborahflorence said...

Opps. Sorry, but the knife thing kinda scared me. Yes, I have to stop assuming. I think you have a problem saying, "I love you." It's the one thing every woman wants to hear and you can't say it.

My experinces have been different. I kept walking away. Men wrote me poetry, songs,sernaded me to no avail. They weren't the one. One man introduced himself to me and then asked me to marry him on the spot. During the time I knew him, he probably asked me over 50 times and I always said no but that didn't discourage him from asking. A couple of times I could say I walked away but I really I had to pry myself from fingers wanting to hold my hand, begging and pleading for me to change my mind. They didn't want to let me go. They weren't the one. It sounds mean but, it's my life and no one was going to push me into something I didn't want.

Then, along came my husband. On our first actual date, he made his intentions very clear. He was dating me with the intent to marry me and he wasn't planning on a long drawn out courtship either. He then asked me if I had a problem with it?!! I said no. We were married within two years. He was the one and still is.

dash deringer said...

I do not have a problem saying "I love you" - I just have no one to say it to... and the woman I said it to did not appreciate it...

I have said this before several time in other places - and it is the truth - In Latin America being a gentle man goes a long way with the ladies... a long way... but western women respond better to being treated like whores... this is from my experience - and I have lots of it... they don't want my poetry and pretty words... my passion and my desire... they do want to be desired and lusted over - but only by specific men... not a regular guy... they don't want the nice guy they want the bad boy... and after they have had the bad boys and have hit the wall - then they will start to consider the nice guy... to settle down with... but for men like me that started off as nice guys - and still am - who have learned the truth about the bullshit women tell us - "just be yourself - be a nice guy..." while she goes and has sex with some ass-hole... we've learned what's what... I do not have problem getting to close to a woman and letting one into my world... but those women are few and getting hard to find... Veronica helped teach me about women - Latin women particularly - the more assertive and decisive and manly and protective I was of her... the more she surrendered herself to me... and the more femininity she would show me... that was a big eye opener... all that is in the book.

...and that knife thing scared me a bit too... the first time...

deborahflorence said...

You're right for the most part about Western women. We love bad boys--Jax in Sons of Anarchy. I was never that way. Even bad boys treated me like a lady. I expected nothing less. I dressed and acted like a lady--just like my momma taught me. If they did disrespect me, I was gone, gone, gone. And, I married a nice guy. I have a large basket of his love letters in my closet. He still does silly things. One time it was girls' night out. He went out and found my car and left a love note on the windshield and went home. I found it after the movie. My friend was just overcome by it.

dash deringer said...

I don't know son of anarchy - if you are talking about a movie or t.v - I don't watch American t.v. - people tell me about stuff and I don't know what they are talking about - if it is something on HBO - I will never watch it - the dumbest most retarded shit I ever watched was on HBO - why people keep telling me to watch the crap on HBO is beyond me...

in the blog post "lessons learned the hard way" - I talk about most of what I heave learned about women... and at the very end I tell women... dress and act like a lady and you will be treated as a lady - dress and act like a whore and you will be treated like a whore - this a universe of cause and affect... and that is how it is... here is an example from Gone With The Wind...

Rhett always treated Scarlett as a child... she was a spoiled little girl... she was a tease... and he never took her seriously... he basically treated her like a child... and only married her to prove that he could... she was his trophy wife... but Melanie Wilkes was a lady - and Captain Butler would interrupt his leisure at the brothel to go to her aid when called upon... he would not laugh at her as he does with Scarlett...he would not make her wait as he would with Scarlett... he would to spank Melanie as he has to with Scarlett...

deborahflorence said...

Ohhhh, don't get me started on Captain Rhett Butler. He was just as bad as Scarlett. He kept playing games with her. He would mock her, insult her. He withheld compliments. He adored her, but he didn't want her to know it. He wanted her to want him badly, but he didn't want her to know how much he really cared for her. At the end of the book, when he said he didn't give a damn, I would have said good riddance and slammed the door on his behind.

Yes, Scarlett was spoiled but she was a survivor. She saw marriage as an opportunity. She saved Tara and helped her family too. She worked hard. In the end, she had the guts to tell him how she really felt---and she put it out there--she held nothing back. That was something Rhett had never really done for her. She may have been a spoiled little girl but she grew into a strong woman. I'd like to think she did just fine without him. . . . remember I'm 50% Scarlett.

deborahflorence said...

I keep thinking about Veronica. Both of you had broken hearts. She was passionate about everything and I think that's great. She was also passionately angry and the knife and the biting, etc. She sounded a little mentally unstable or over the top.

I know unstable. I was with my family today at the hospital (my Uncle is on life support) and most of them are mentally ill--literally. I love all of them, but I was hoping they had taken their meds. I have a touch of depression myself. It's in my DNA. I'm closely monitored and I will see a psych every 3 months for the rest of my life. Otherwise, I'm brilliant!!!

Many years ago, I had to spend a couple of months in the psych ward. Since they thought I was kooky anyway, I decided it didn't matter how I dressed and so I wore my pajamas everywhere--the cafeteria, to therapy, to Bingo. The best part was I was comfortable and nobody cared!! I hated the plain white hospital bed sheets. So when I won at Bingo, I picked out a pretty pink satin pillowcase. I also played and won a blue one. I'm a Southern Belle and, at the very least, I wanted a pretty pillow. Did I mention I'm brilliant?! I'm sure Veronica was brilliant too.

deborahflorence said...

I'm sorry your heart was broken but it doesn't make it any better.

I have an "E" story too.
He was a confident player. He had lots of friends and always managed to be the center of the conversation, center of the party. He dated plenty of women. No one had really broken his heart until me. I was the game changer. He liked me from the very beginning and his "I love you" came very quickly. I was a sassy, smart, inexperienced girly girl and he liked the combination. The relationship was intense. It was all or nothing all of the time. It was so intense that it eventually became toxic for both of us.

Well, I got pregnant. We were like bunnies, and weren't always careful. It was a very hard decision but we both decided on an abortion. It was decision that I would reget the rest of my life--not because of him but because of the baby. Since then, I have dealt with it and I'm better, but the regret will always be there.

Threee months later, I was pregnant again. I told him that I wasn't getting another abortion. Time passed and we fought and made up and fought and made up. One day we had a really bad fight--lots of screaming and yelling. The neighbors called the police. I wanted to leave and he didn't want me to leave even though he was pissed at me. He threw my keys in a field of overgrown grass so I couldn't find them. The police arrived and helped me find my keys and I got the hell out. I miscarried the next morning.

The toxic relationship continued for another few months until I had had enough. I was done. There would be no going back. He called me several times, still no. He called me in the middle of the night to apologize. No. No. No. No. Eventually, he got it.

Of the two of us, I was the catch. I went on to get my MBA and teacher certifications in Special Education, Language Arts, and Business Ed. I have a lot of interests. I got married and I have 3 children. I make my husband look good. My kids are happy. I'm the calm within my home and the keeper of all precious thiings. I'm surrounded by family and friends.

He wandered and lived many different places. He eventually abandoned his contacts with family and friends. He's 55 now and has no children. I may have aborted his only child. I doubt he remembers me fondly, but I don't care. I don't care if he remembers me at all.

dash deringer said...

See this is the stuff I'm talking about Deborah, this needs a place of it's own - a place of your own... don't take this the wrong way... it is 4:00 am... and I am up dealing with my own insanity - o.k. - wrong word after reading all that... writing can be good therapy - so I am told... it doesn't do a damn thing for me... but for you it might help...

We all make choices... Deborah, it is what we do after them...

please tell me we haven't met before...