CHAPTER 11

For the next three nights I had Self-Sabotage on the Rocks. That was a cocktail of nitrogen gas and my first taste of brandy. It tasted vile, but it did good on its job on numbing me the fuck out.

The nights were a blur.

At five am I'd return to the Almas' and head straight to the bathroom before anyone could smell the shame on me. I would take a hot shower then make myself a double espresso to get me through the next few hours of getting the kids ready for school before dropping them off.

I'd skipped my Spanish classes and instead returned home just when the caffeine was wearing off and I'd fall into a deep sleep until it was time to pick the kids up from school.

After getting the kids to do their homework and have their dinner, their parents would spend time with them before I got them to go to bed.

And that's when I'd get ready to go out and start the process again.

But four days was all I could take before I called it quits. Though the kids parents' hadn't said anything I knew what I was doing was in the least bit professional.

Dom's pest-promoter was so enarmoured by her that on Dom's last night before she went back to Paris he got us a table in the VIP area and free drinks.

We ended up finding out that he was actually a partner in the nightclub, no wonder he was taking such extravagant liberties. Dom had finally given in and they'd exchanged numbers - they were a different situation entirely.

I, on the other hand, was not okay.

Getting high and drunk every night was not the way forward. It was just that the good thing I had was gone, so my logic was to cause more damage to do damage control.

How could I be so stupid?

Luckily for me, the next day was a Saturday and the Almas' wanted to watch Pepito play football, so I'd had most of the day to recover.

As soon the chores were done, I went to sleep.

My body was so tired, sleeping didn't even feel like the final solution. So I popped a couple of advils to silence my pain.

When I woke up it was late in the afternoon. For about half an hour I stared at the ceiling contemplating my life.

The next thing I remember is having the itinerary details for my flight back to the US.

I needed to see him.

In the week after our fatal argument, I'd received series of apologies but with my non-acceptance it turned into aggression that ended in shouting matches.

Where was the love that we once spoke of?

The week that followed I went through the motions. The children had a mid-semester holiday and their parents had asked me to take them to the Santa's Grotto at the mall.

I couldn't help notice the eager tone in Mrs. Almas as she told me where to take the kids, plus the subtle bedroom eyes Mr.Almas kept giving his wife as he pretended to read his morning newspaper. Not something I exactly wanted to see.

Either way, they wanted me to take their kids out for a couple of hours and that was what I was being paid for.

But not for long.

The day I'd booked my ticket back to the US, I'd made the decision to terminate my contract two weeks earlier than agreed.

I needed to go home. I needed to get my head together.

Sara had been calling me incessantly but I had not picked up her phone calls. I'd changed my mind once again. I did not want to go on TV. I was not an actress.

Plus, as the overprotective mother to my soon-to-be-ex boyfriend I coudn't imagine her wanting to still be all friendly with me.

It made me so sad thinking about it. Sara was one of my favourite people and I'd gone and messed myself over because my emotions (hormones?) had gotten the best of me.

When we arrived at the shopping mall, Little Miss Diva dragged my hand towards the direction of the grotto where a queue to infinity was forming. Pepito sluggishly walked behind us putting up a front like the chidish fantasy of Christmas no longer affected him.

Then Candela pointed to the direction of the candy store.

Memories. Memories. Memories.

The last place I wanted to be going but Candela and Pepito weren't exactly asking for permission as I found myself following their lead.

At the sight of the many different shapes, colours, flavours of candy, Candela let go of my hand. As they helped themselves to the paper bags I let them know they could only fill up one bag.

They were both bundles of energies as it is, I didn't need these bundles with sugar shock.

I was having a pretty good time just watching them have a good time, when a couple holding hands walking past me forced memories of Angelo and I going on our first Christmas shopping trip together.

I just wanted that time back when everything was just so damn simple. When an ocean didn't break us. Or time-differences didn't create distance. Work obligations didn't cause resentment.

And to top it all of, the candy store chose that exact moment to play Mariah Carey's “All I Want for Christmas” song. That's when I officially lost it.

For the first time in two weeks since I broke off my engagement I cried. In the middle of the jelly bean aisle.

They were quiet sobs but still pretty dramatic. Mariah's otherwise flawless voice was a stab to my heart as she repeated my wish.

All I wanted was Angelo – to forgive me.

From the corner of my eye I could see Candela walking up to me with her brimming bag and I turned to the side quickly dabbing my eyes with a used tissue I'd found at the bottom of my bag.

Luckily she didn't notice. She said she finished. I sniffled a bit before saying okay and asked for Pepito. She pointed at her brother saying he wasn't done picking sweets.

Candela too impatient waiting for her brother, out of nowhere, threw a lollipop that landed on Pepito's shoulder and I assumed told him to hurry up in Spanish. Pepito in quick retaliation turned around and threw a few gold coins back in her direction but she only giggled back.

We were in a near empty aisle so pretty much nobody saw the dramatics.

“Stop that,” I said snatching the bag out of Candela's hands before she threw some more sweets back at her brother.

She pouted and reached out her hands to grab her bag back, but my arms hid them behind my back.

Dealing with a five year old like Candela was always a task. Grabbing her hands and calling for Pepito the Indecisive One to hurry up I headed towards the till.

At least it provided a distraction from my inner shit.

And yes, there was the situation with Dominica. She'd drugged me. Technically she didn't but technically she did.

The Remar situation had made Dominica be more protective of me. I still didn't have the heart to tell her that Angelo and I had unofficially officially broken up because I did not want to believe it myself. Though she'd already drawn her conclusions as to what had inevitably happened that night. I was a high mess.

Remar had been unapologetic about kissing a “taken” woman, and because of this Dom had nearly scratched out his eyeballs, which was unneccessary being that I was a more than willing participant.

Luckily after that night I hadn't seen him again.

To be honest I can't say that I remember how he even looked like and I'm damn sure it would be the same for him.That's why clubs are dark – so no one can remember the face of their sin the next day.

And as for Dom, I hadn't returned her calls and texts since she'd returned to Paris.

I just needed to be on my own to figure my shit out.

Looking at the children as we headed towards the grotto knowing I was spending my last few weeks with them, I couldn't help but feel immense sadness.

But I needed to be with my own family too.