50
Don was sailing on a boost of hope. His meeting with Joel went better than expected; one sibling down, one to go. He exited the expressway en route to Tamara’s apartment building. She was going to hear him out, no running away. Don found her building and crept down the street in search of a parking spot.
There was no rehearsing what he was going to say. His soul had already prepared the speech. He dialed her unit on the security keypad.
After several attempts, he heard, “Who is it?”
“It’s me, Don, let me in.”
She didn’t buzz him in right away. He wasn’t giving up. He was getting in whether she buzzed him or he had to ease in behind another tenant. He had to ring her several more times before Tamara finally let him into the building. Once he reached her apartment, he knocked repeatedly until she finally snatched the door open. “Why are you banging on my door? You are worse than Mother.”
“Can I come in or are you going to let me stay out here in the hallway?” She gestured for him to come in, taking a step back with her hand gripping the knob. He could tell she wasn’t thrilled with his dropping in. Don wasn’t to be deterred and didn’t allow his momentum to be diluted by her abrasive reception. “Thank you,” he said, and entered.
“What do you want, Don?”
“We have to talk.”
“About what? The last time we talked you were upset about me wanting to venture out on my own.”
“Come on, Tamara. You know we talked about more than you venturing out on your own. I’m fine with you doing that. I took issue with how you were attempting to venture out, by undercutting me and what I was trying to do for the family.”
“Are we going to rehash the discussion, Don? Because I’m not changing my mind.”
“Tamara, I’m not here to rehash our disagreement.”
“Good, because I’m going after the West Coast division. You can have the rest of DMI and the other three divisions.” Tamara’s phone rang. She kept talking. “I think that’s more than fair.”
“I think so too.”
“What did you say?”
“I think it’s fair too,” Don repeated.
“Whoa, wait a minute. What did you say?”
“Take the West Coast division.”
The phone rang again. Tamara ignored the phone and stayed engaged in the conversation. “Just like that, you’re giving it up?”
“Actually the division isn’t mine to keep or give away. It belongs to Zarah. I just spoke with Joel and he said to discuss the deal with Zarah. He’s not involved, didn’t even want to be there for the negotiations.”
“Really, that’s odd.”
“I thought so, but stranger decisions have been made. So I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth. In case he’s sincere, you should reach out to Zarah and arrange a deal. I’m approaching her about selling her Harmonious Energy. If you want to combine the initial discussions into one meeting, we can.”
“Sure, why not. Don,” she said, plopping onto her sofa, “why the sudden change?”
He plopped down next to her. The phone rang incessantly. “Tamara, what is the deal with your phone? Aren’t you going to answer it?”
“No, it’s okay,” she said, getting the phone and turning it off. She reclaimed her seat. “Now, what were you saying about changing your mind?”
He turned to face her. “I’ve been at odds with Joel most of my life. To be honest, I’m tired of fighting. Like it or not, we’re blood. You and I have been tight forever. I refuse to end the war with Joel just in time to initiate one with you. I won’t do it. If the division means that much to you, go for it. I won’t stop you. My relationship with you is far more important than expanding DMI. As far as I’m concerned the company can shut down if it stands between me, you, Mother, and even Joel establishing a sense of family.”
“Not everyone would step aside like you’re doing for someone else to realize their dream.”
“Don’t pat me on the back yet. You might not like what’s coming next.”
“I should have known this was too good to be true.”
“Well, Tamara, it’s time for you to face your past, deal with what happened, and consider forgiving Mother.” She went to get up but Don grabbed her arm. “You’re always running. I want you to stop running. We can get through this together.”
“Let me go, Don,” she said, pulling away but sitting down. “Why can’t you leave that crap from the past alone? Why do you have to push and push? For goodness sake, I’m back here, aren’t I? That should tell you I’ve come an awfully long way. Let me move at my pace, not yours, and most definitely not Mother’s.”
“Forgiveness isn’t about Mother, not totally. This is about you and reclaiming your strength. If you stay mad at the world—”
“Not the world,” she said, interrupting. “Don’t try to make it seem like my need to have distance from Mother, Joel, and Sherry is irrational. I have to protect my sanity and being around the bunch of them is hazardous to my psychological health. They have issues, ones I don’t want to deal with. I love our mother, I actually do, but don’t think I’m going to forgive, forget, and skip off into the sunset as her baby girl. That’s not going to happen, not now, not ever, and you need to face reality.”
“Have you considered therapy for the rape and for your anger toward Mother?”
“I don’t need therapy!” she yelled out. “I’m not the one with the problem. Leave me alone and no one has a problem. How dare you, Don? You barge into my apartment, push me into reconciling with Mother, and when I won’t, you recommend therapy as though I’m unstable. How many times have you recommended therapy to Mother?”
Don hadn’t and wasn’t going to lie. Mother needed therapy. He intended to tell her but hadn’t gotten around to the task yet. Tamara wasn’t going to believe such an explanation. No need to speak the words. He swallowed them and said, “None.”
“Of course not, fix Tamara and everyone else will be fine. Uh-huh, I see how this is supposed to go, but I’m going to disrupt your plans. I’m not agreeing to counseling, forgiving, forgetting, or anything else on your list. I’m a grown woman, Don. I get to say what happens to me, not a long line of men dictating my life, starting with Andre. No, thank you, Mr. Peacemaker. I don’t need help fixing myself. I prefer to deal with the past on my terms.”
“Tell me, how successful has that been for you?” She had no response. “Get these problems behind you and stop wasting years,” Don told her. Finding common ground with Joel wasn’t simple. He didn’t expect it to be any simpler with Tamara. He’d continue until either they were both exhausted from disagreeing or they reached a compromise. Day and night could come and go. He was planted on the sofa until then. He assumed Tamara’s unwillingness to change was fueled by animosity and vengeance. “How twisted can we be? The very person you work so hard to avoid is the one you remind me of the most—Mother.”
“I resent the comparison. Madeline and I are nothing alike. I don’t need to be constantly reminded of her. You better go.”
Accepting Mother was going to be a tough journey for Tamara. He understood that she wasn’t remotely ready to invite God into her life. She’d have to confess sins, ask God to forgive her, and accept Christ, the son of God, as her savior. Huge steps for someone who’d been wronged. Tamara was so blinded by her pain that she couldn’t objectively see her shortcomings or the need for someone in her life that had more power than her. Tamara didn’t seem ready to give up her power to anyone or anything, not yet.
Abruptly, there was a heavy pounding on the door. Tamara nearly fell off the sofa. She ignored the noise. By the third round of banging, Don had to say something. Tamara didn’t budge. “Who the heck is banging?” he said, getting up and going to the door.
“No, don’t answer it!” she called out, practically tackling him. “Whoever it is will go away,” she told him, frantic.
“Tamara,” Don yelled, “calm down! Let me see who it is.” She didn’t calm down much; she was almost hysterical. “Who is it?” Don asked in a voice loud enough to be heard clearly.
“Tamara, who’s in there with you? Open the door now so we can talk! Open the door!” a man screamed, continuously pounding on the door. Don was stunned to hear him shout Tamara’s name in such an abrasive tone.
“You know this guy outside?”
“I-I—” she said with nothing following.
“You have to be joking. What is going on here?” Don asked. “You better start talking, otherwise I’m opening the door to find out from this guy.”
“Don, stay out of this.”
He jerked open the door despite Tamara’s pleading. A man burst in, pushing past Don and going straight for Tamara. “Whoa, man,” Don said, stepping between the guy and Tamara. Don hadn’t seen him before; he was about five-ten, not stockily built but solid, with olive skin and shoulder-length black hair.
The guy began speaking roughly to Tamara in a heavy accent. Don could understand one out of every third or fourth word. From what he could tell, the guy was saying something about love and London. “Tamara, who is this?”
“Remo.”
Who the heck is Remo? he wondered. Remo continued raising his voice as if Don were invisible, speaking completely in Italian. Tamara argued right back at him. Don hadn’t decided if he was going to intervene or let the argument continue. His decision wasn’t final until Remo came around him and grabbed Tamara. Instinctively Don’s right fist caught Remo on the chin and he dropped to the floor.
“Call the police!” Don shouted to Tamara. She ran to her phone.
Don had Remo pinned down on the floor with his arm pulled almost to the nape of his neck. Don tried to keep his gaze fixed on Tamara to make sure she was okay while handling Remo. At the most inopportune time, a cramp shot up Don’s leg, causing him to writhe in pain and roll off Remo’s back to the floor. Remo used the break to flee the apartment. Tamara wasn’t going after him and Don couldn’t. They’d have to wait for the police, who arrived ten minutes later.
“I understand there was an assault,” the officer said. He took Don and Tamara’s names and asked basic questions initially. “Can you give me the perpetrator’s full name?”
“Remo Mancini. He’s an ex-boyfriend from Italy who has followed me from Florence to Glasgow to Barcelona to Nice to London. No matter where I hide, he finds me.”
Don was speechless. He had no idea Tamara was living in fear, running from one country to the next. No wonder she moved so many times. He had thought it was because of her relationship with Mother, but apparently it wasn’t.
“What can I do? He’s threatened to kill me if I leave him again, and I believe he will.”
“Nobody is going to kill you, Tamara, not while I’m here.” Don was flooded with memories instantly. As a boy, he couldn’t protect his big sister when she was raped. As a grown man, he was ready for duty.
“We can certainly talk to Mr. Mancini and express that it’s in his best interest to back off and stay away from you. What’s his address?”
“I don’t know. Once I moved from Italy to Dublin, I lost track and didn’t care to ask.”
“Is he an Italian citizen?”
“I think so but I’m not sure. We have both lived abroad and have more than one residency.”
“Does he have an address in the U.S.?”
“I don’t know.”
Too much of “I don’t know” left Don feeling helpless.
“Ms. Mitchell, we can take your report, but without more information we can’t provide much more assistance.”
“He’s coming back to my apartment for sure. What else can I do?”
“You can file an order of protection restricting Mr. Mancini from coming near you. The problem is that we need an address to serve him the order, which you don’t have.”
The police stayed on a few more minutes. There was no more they could do.
“Don, what should I do?” she asked when the two of them were alone in the apartment.
“Grab a few items. You’re coming with me.”
“How can you be so willing to help me when I’ve been working against you lately?”
“How can you ask me that? You’re my sister, no matter what. Now get your stuff and let’s go.”
Tamara didn’t resist the help. She packed her bag and went with Don. He’d figure out the next step once she was safe and secure in his condo. Remo certainly wasn’t getting in there.