To Cry in Silence

Copyright © 2002 by Milta Velez.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My special thanks to:

My stepmother, Rafaela Velez, who gave me the love and understanding that only a real mother can give. To my sister Elizabeth Cruz for her help and comfort in good times and bad times and for believing in me as a writer.

To my beloved children, Yolanda Nieves, Saul Vasquez, Jessica Lamb, Jonathan Rodriguez. But especially Alex Molina who never gave up on me.

PROLOGUE

The wind howled angrily as they lowered the casket in the ground. A gentle mist of dirt flew into the faces of the gathered crowd as the wind echoed around them. The pastor spoke kindly of the stranger whom Christian Calabreese had never known. Anger rose in his heart and he bit his lip. All his life, he had wanted to know her, and now, this gloomy silence.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, mumbled the pastor grimly as the casket disappeared into the ground. Now, all that was left was a vague memory of the person who lay within. If only he had given himself a chance to know her in this world.

But until his near-fatal accident, his heart had been full of hate for her. When he heard her sobs as he lay dying in the hospital bed, his heart had been moved, but he had nursed his anger. When he was released from the hospital at his request, she had sent him back with his grandmother.

The time he spent dwelling on the anger that lived within his soul had damaged his chances to know her in this life. Now it was too late. When the caretaker began to throw dirt on top of the casket, Christian said goodbye to his mother for the last time. As he stared at the dirt that covered what remained of the woman who was his mother, he wondered about the person she had been. The only thing that could shed some light on what happened was the diary he held, tightly clutched, in his hand.

CHAPTER ONE

Belinda awakened from her nightmare in a cold sweat. She thought she was dreaming, but the screams were actually coming from downstairs. Like so many nights before, her parents were bitterly quarreling. Gazing toward the closed bedroom door, she rubbed her eyes briskly and sat up on her bed, straining to hear the voices that drifted from downstairs.

Veronica, get out of my way! her father screamed.

You are not leaving here without telling me who this woman is! her mother hollered.

What other woman? her father responded in a voice full of anger and despair.

Belinda Calabreese was five years old and ever since she could remember, angry voices had drifted menacingly into her room in the middle of the night. Tonight, her mother’s voice echoed fiercely throughout the house.

Trying to block out the angry voices that drifted into the room, she placed her small hands over her ears.

Dear God, please make them stop, she whispered into the dimly lighted room. As he had so many times in the past, God remained indifferent to her pleas.

In her mind, she envisioned her father standing angrily by the door, valise in hand, ready to walk out of their lives forever.

Somehow, in her heart, she knew that her father would leave someday. Once, in the middle of the night, while she pretended to sleep, she overheard her father say that he wanted a divorce.

Her innocent years left her wondering what those terrifying words truly meant. But in her first week of kindergarten, she learned the true meaning of the terrible word from some of the children who came from broken homes.

Now, as she listened to the voices that escalated with amazing speed, her heart began to pound. Her fragile body started to tremble uncontrollably and she felt light-headed, as though she would faint. She tried to pretend this was just another argument. But with each angry word, the pitch of their voices grew louder. They were screaming all the pent up feelings they had suppressed throughout the years from the top of their lungs. Evil words were slashing out like venom.

She wanted to run downstairs, but something in their voices warned her to be still. All she could do was sit and cry in the silence of her room and hope that the anger within them would simmer down. Moments passed in slow motion while she waited for the voices to subside. Her room, which was her haven, seemed to have grown claws; it felt as if something evil lurked within its walls. Tears streamed down her face as she watched the closed door for any sign of movement, but the war downstairs had just begun.

Minutes later, unable to deal with her anguish any longer, she jerked herself off the bed and padded across the carpeted floor. She stood in front of the locked bedroom door and placed her ears closer to the wooden frame. The coldness in her cheeks made her shiver, but she managed to hear the voices more clearly.

Roy, if you walk out of this house tonight, I never want to see you again. Her mother’s voice echoed through the cracks between the doors.

A moment later, Belinda opened her bedroom door with trembling hands. The soft, creaking sound did not give her away as she peeked through the open space. She noticed that the small corridor leading to her room was dim, but the familiar stairs that led to the living room downstairs were glowing with light. She opened the door a bit farther and tiptoed to the top of the steps. There, as she crouched in a fetal position, she could see their faces more clearly.

Veronica Calabreese was a tall woman in her late thirties. Her hair was a shade of dirty brown and soft, highlighted curls danced around her face. Tears streamed down her face, streaking her heavily applied makeup. She was standing in front of the open door, blocking her father’s path with a pleading look on her face. Her eyelashes fluttered nervously as she spoke.

Her father, Roy Calabreese, standing by her side, appeared disheveled. His usually straight posture slouched heavily, making him look years older than his early thirty years. The suitcase in his left hand bore signs of swift packing; a mangled shirtsleeve was still trying to escape.

In her mother’s eyes, she saw the anguish she had never seen before, and in her voice, she heard the anger her mother had been trying to control.

Roy, if you go, I never want to see you again, her mother challenged.

Her father hesitated for a moment, his eyes gleaming with confusion. Then, with a dismissive wave and a gentle shove, he opened the door that led to the outside.

Don’t worry, Veronica. I’m never coming back.

Upstairs, Belinda held her breath as she closed her eyes and prepared for the inevitable pain that was to come. She had never heard her father so infuriated before. He was really going to leave. From where she was standing, it all seemed unreal. Scenes from a movie she had once seen came to her memory. Silently, Belinda began to pray that the drama downstairs would end. Suddenly, she realized that she could not just stand there in the shadows and let her father go. Yet, when she was getting ready to run downstairs, something unusual happened. The domineering woman she had known all her life transformed herself into a teary-eyed human being.

With trembling lips, she pleaded, Roy, please think of what you’re saying. You can’t leave me. I love you.

Her father’s silence brought tears to Belinda’s eyes. She sensed that, for him, living with her mother wasn’t easy. Her mother was used to having her way. Moments passed in slow motion as Belinda watched the drama downstairs. Only, this was not a movie; this was real. The pain she felt as she watched her family fall apart was real.

Veronica stared at the man she loved with unbelieving eyes. Until now, she believed that he was bluffing. Her memory tried to comprehend his anger, but to no avail. His words penetrated her soul and chilled her bones. The moment felt eternal.

He was going to leave her. He was going to walk out of her life and leave her there frozen in time. She tried to control her emotions, but she was dying inside.

Veronica, let me go, Roy demanded without hesitation.

Veronica noticed the look of pity in Roy’s face and acted upon it.

Roy, Belinda loves you. If you leave, we will not survive without you. Each plea sounded as desperate as the last.

Roy stared into the face of the woman he once loved. Sympathy was reflected in his face. The arrogant, domineering woman he had seen a few moments ago was easier to deal with than this pathetic human being. He pushed the door to the outside shut. He held her softly by the shoulders and steered her into the living room, toward the black leather sofa. Then he lowered her gently to the seat.

Veronica, for the first time in our lives, let’s talk without fighting.

His voice sounded tired, as if the years had caught up to him suddenly. Veronica’s face became ashen as she tried to compose herself. Then, like a dutiful child waiting to be scolded, she sat, her hands playing nervously at her lap and her eyes revealing a reflection of fear.

Roy searched his memory for the appropriate thing to say. For months now, the invisible wall between them had grown thicker. In their bedroom, the ticking of the clock drove him crazy every night as he sneaked in, hoping to find her asleep. He couldn’t remember when it happened, but for sometime now, he had realized that he was living a lie.

Veronica had been his childhood sweetheart. Their mothers had been best friends. Since the age of five, their future together had been prearranged. After years of playing make-believe, at the age of seventeen, Roy truly believed he was in love. And in between the innocent kisses and the burning flames of adolescence, Veronica Manners conceived his first child.

Two months later, they were married. Shortly thereafter, they had stopped being friends. For years now, he had gone through the motions of love, but love had long ago departed from his heart. Her obsessive behavior and constant accusations tormented his daily life. And nothing he did or said eased her demented jealousy. Her own insecurities had driven them apart.

Finally, the time had come for him to make peace with his life. He cleared his throat and summoned the courage to tell her his true feelings.

Veronica, all we do is bicker and fight.

He paused for a moment, measuring his words.

Lately, it seems we have nothing but reproach for each other.

Veronica’s defenses rose instantly. Her hands fluttered to her neck.

We only fight when you come home late, she whispered.

Because he didn’t love her anymore, he ignored her remark and continued without pity or hesitation.

Veronica, I’m going to New York for a while. We need some time away from each other.

Veronica’s hands went nervously to her ears in a futile attempt to block out the words coming from his lips, words she dreaded, but had been expecting for sometime.

For a moment, there was a cold silence between them. She stared at him in utter disbelief and instinctively drew back. His eyes told her what he was trying to say. Like a broken doll, she placed her hands over her face and began to weep uncontrollably.

He stared at her in silence as emotions poured from within her. Pity swelled in his heart, but pity was an unfair token for her love.

Veronica sat silently, staring into the familiar blue eyes that she loved. His anger hung over her like a dark cloud, making it impossible for her to breathe. She had known for sometime that they were in trouble, but she was totally unaware that they were this bad.

Suddenly, her mind raced with fear. She had heard stories about the independent women who lived in New York. She knew that if he went there, she would never see him again.

Roy was a tall, slender man with rugged arms and gentle features. His light complexion and wavy hair made him look years younger. Even as he spoke, he resembled a lonely, lost boy in distress. Her eyes swelled with tears at the sudden awareness of losing him. He was her world.

Her life.

Her breath.

Hiding behind the banister that molded the steps, Belinda cried in silence. Her ankles felt numb from her crouched position and her mind raced in utter confusion. This was a part of her parents she had never seen. Her father had always been gentle. And although her mother was as strong as iron, with her, she had been kind. Now her parents seemed transformed; bitterness and anger had taken possession of their very soul.

For a few moments, she lingered on the steps, waiting to see what was going to happen. She stood there, their angry words causing a stabbing pain in her heart while silent sobs were wrenched from within her soul.

Her tears were for her mother and for herself. Their world of happiness was soon to be shattered if her father walked through that door. She didn’t understand what was happening yet she knew that if her father left, she would die.

She remembered her best friend, Gertrude. Her father had gone to heaven and Gertrude and her mother had been left alone.

This, she could not survive, but she knew that God would not bestow upon her what she could not bear.

Dear God, please don’t let my daddy leave, she prayed.

While praying, she glanced at the barren ceiling, as if speaking to someone up there. As she prayed, her fragile body shivered because of the anxiety and anticipation within her. She felt faint.

The walls suddenly seemed to cave in around her. She could almost hear the crumbling sounds.

But before the invisible hands reached her, she ran down the steps, screaming frantically, Daddy! Daddy!

Roy heard the cries of anguish that drifted suddenly into the living room. He felt the urgency in the clatter of little feet on the ground. He glanced toward the stairs leading to the bedroom above. He had wanted to spare Belinda all this pain, but it was too late.

As she reached the final landing, he opened his arms wide and scooped her gently into his large, rugged arms. He held her close for a moment, knowing that perhaps he would not hold her again for a long time. He had hoped to leave in the middle of the night before she awakened, but now he was glad for the chance to say goodbye. He kissed his daughter gently on the forehead.

Belinda, darling, I have to leave.

Belinda held fast to her father’s neck as confusion darted fiercely through her brain. His words pierced through her heart like a knife. She wanted to scream, but her voice remained choked in her throat.

Be a good girl and take care of mom while I’m way, he continued.

A sudden, silent tension held them while Belinda flung her arms tighter around his neck with tears streaming down her face.

No, Daddy, no. You can’t leave. I love you, she screamed.

Roy felt a sharp pain in his heart. Tears rolled down his face as he disengaged himself from his daughter’s grasp.

Daddy, please take me with you, Belinda screamed.

He glanced toward his wife for support but she remained seated, crying. He knew in his heart that if he continued to hear Belinda’s pleading, he could never leave. So