Condo Conflict Ch. 05: Old Demons

One Anonymous wag suggested a weird sequel for Condo Conflict 4. This isn't the one, but it did get me thinking about a chapter to bring together some loose ends.

Old Demons

"Hi Barry!"

The female voice in the distance was familiar and I didn't want to turn around. It was the sound of my past.

I stood on the edge of the city park watching a little milestone in my architectural career. The power shovels were on site today, beginning to excavate the big hole for the new condominium which Carole Langmere and I had designed for developer Emilio Santamundi. It had been a tough process to steer him to something which City Council would approve so close to the popular downtown park. Now it was coming to fruition.

"Hi Barry!!"

The voice was closer now and sounded more insistent. I could pretend that I hadn't heard her and walk away, or I could turn around and face my past.

The power shovels sounded like roaring dinosaurs as they chewed into the stony ground across the street, a perfect cover for not knowing she was calling me. But, just as I was about to cross the street, she caught my arm.

"Hi Barry! Didn't you hear me? Or are you ignoring me?"

If there was anything my ex-wife Cherise disliked, it was to be ignored. She always had to be noticed, to be the centre of attention- especially with the men. She'd always drawn a crowd of guys with her flirtatious ways, pulled like bears to honey. And she'd been very generous, freely available after hours. Cherise had been a serial cheater because of my trust.

I wasn't happy to see her. It had been three years since our divorce, and after all the pain, I'd hoped never to cross paths with her again. But here she stood, smiling as though we were the best of old friends.

"I couldn't hear you. The machines," I said with disinterest.

"Loud, aren't they?" she half-shouted. "A project of yours?"

"A new condo."

"I heard about this in the news, but I didn't know it was your design."

I wasn't going to talk to her any more than necessary. Let her ask questions, but I would not initiate any conversation with the bitch.

"So, how have you been, Barry? It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

She leaned in closer to me so she wouldn't have to shout, but I knew it was more than that. This was Cherise' way with men, right into their personal space, almost to advertise her interest or availability. I'd seen it enough when we were married to know that this was how she could always be the centre of male attention.

"Fine. Yeah, three years," was all I would offer her, but she wasn't about to give up yet.

"I've seen you in the park before. Come here often? I live right over there now," and she pointed to another apartment building before continuing. "Remember when we used to go for walks together here?" She leaned right into me and looked at my eyes.

"No. I don't think about it anymore."

"Not very talkative today, are you? Barry, does it upset you to see me again? I won't bite, you know," she said in her coquetish way.

I'd reached my limit.

"What do you want, Cherise?" I said bluntly, then stepping away from her, I blurted out, "Just what the fuck do you want?"

Now she looked offended, pretending not to understand my angry outburst.

"We were married for a long time. I just wanted to say hello, that's all."

"Well, hello, Cherise. And good-bye!"

I turned on my heel to walk across the street, but she grabbed my arm and looked at me intently. Clearly, she had some parting insult or put-down. I waited a moment, then pulled away again to leave before she clasped my arm firmly.

"Don't go yet. I have something to tell you."

"What?" I bristled impatiently.

"Barry... I know that I hurt you. I caused a lot of pain, and... I'm sorry. I've changed, and I can see that now. It's all my fault that we're divorced."

I was stunned- speechless- and just stood staring in disbelief. In a million years I never expected this moment of insight! Even during our divorce proceedings, she had fought me tooth and nail for every material scrap of our life together. Now she was apologizing for it!

"Thanks," was all that I could manage, as I turned to leave for a third time.

She was insistent, holding me back.

"Don't go. Can't we be friends again?" she said earnestly.

"Not a chance, Cherise!"

This time I broke her hold on my arm and hurried to my car parked by the construction site. I had to get away from this woman! Without any warning, she had appeared like the ghost of my past, a part of my life that I thought lay dead and buried. Evidently, I was wrong.

****

You know me now- Barry Warrington, an architect with Frank Smythe's design firm. I'm thirty-nine and I've spent the past fifteen years putting people's dreams onto paper, blueprints for new structures.

The condominium project across from City Park is the latest and perhaps the most significant one in my career to date. It came with a lot of trial-and-error development, largely because of its location so close to a favourite destination for local residents. But in the end, it was finally underway.

I knew that my work wasn't finished yet. A project of this magnitude is a complex thing to move from blueprints to bricks and mortar. Unexpected glitches can be expected, situations where I would need to intervene with quick solutions.

Frank told me to keep track of the project with regular site visits to ensure that the construction firm fully understood the design intentions. He knew that the retention of an old standing wall- a heritage designation from a previous structure- would cause problems.

Now I had a new one.

My ex-wife had expressed a desire to be friends again. I'd snubbed her when we met accidently, but I lived with her long enough to know it wouldn't be the last I saw of her. Cherise had an insistent personality, a way of pushing ahead with whatever suited her, regardless of what I thought about it. If I refused to go to another office party with her, she'd just go on her own. And she had done so- many times.

A week later, a problem surfaced at the construction site, necessitating that I be there for several days in a row. The on-site supervisor was having difficulty understanding how to best deal with the old freestanding wall of the original building on the site. City Council required that it be integrated into the new structure because it was "architecturally significant."

I was eating a sandwich in my car at lunch time, annoyed that I forgot to bring something to drink. Just as I opened the door to go to the nearby coffee shop, a familiar voice called out.

"Hi Barry!"

Oh shit! Cherise again! I looked at her and kept walking in my intended direction.

"Wait! Where are you going?" she said as she rushed to catch up to me.

"Getting a coffee," I made the mistake of replying.

"I need one too," and she fell in step with me, even though I was ignoring her again.

She followed me inside. There were already some people lined up at the counter, so now I was trapped with her. At least in public like this she couldn't say anything personal. I'd grab my coffee and get back to my car.

"I recognized your car from last time I saw you here. How's the project coming along?" she asked in a cheery voice.

"Good. A little problem today."

"Oh, like what?"

"Excavation of one area."

"I've been reading the story about that since the last time I saw you here. It's that old wall that has to be saved, right?"

"Yes. It can't cave in or there'll be big problems."

"It doesn't seem very important to me. What do you think?"

For all her faults, Cherise was a sparkling conversationalist. She had a way of drawing people in- me included- by mixing opinion and questions to get them to talk. Before I knew it, we were chatting about the current difficulty with the condo project in a rather civil way. I knew what she was doing, but unfortunately after all the years, I was still a sucker for it.

"Large coffee with a bit of milk," I told the barista, forgetting to say it was to go.

"Me too, but medium size," Cherise chimed in, as though we were together. "I'll pay. My treat."

Now I was indebted to her and next thing I knew we had steaming cups in hand and she was steering me to a booth at the back of the shop. She positioned herself directly across from me, smiled, and started to talk.

"I wanted to say more about what I told you last week. Don't you want to know why I had such a change of heart?"

"It surprised me. But before you say anything I have something to tell you. I'm attached now, so there's no chance that you and I will ever be together again. Got it? Now, tell me about your change of heart."

I felt like I had just delivered the crushing blow that would bring an end to this, but I was wrong.

"I'm happy to hear that," she managed, though I could tell from her expression that her words were forced. "I went back to our old apartment looking for you, but someone else lives there now. Life goes on, eh?" Cherise said philosophically.

"Yeah, I moved in with Monica. About your change of heart?" I reminded her, sipping my coffee, hoping it would cool down quickly enough that I could be on my way.

"Monica, eh? The one I see you walking with here sometimes? Cute little thing...."

"Your change of heart?" I reminded her.

"OK, yes. Barry, I found religion... or faith found me. That's what happened. It opened my eyes and made me see the harm I'd caused to others. Especially to you. I'm a different person now."

"So why did you have to come and tell me about it?"

"Because the first thing is to recognize where I've failed. But even more important is to make amends, to apologize," she said with conviction.

"I agree. That's the right thing to do, faith or no faith...."

But she cut me off.

"And now I hope you'll accept my regrets and see me as a friend again, at least."

"At least. And at most?" I challenged her politely because we were in a public place.

"Well.... I realize now that you were the best man I ever had...."

"And you had a lot of them, didn't you!" I raised my voice.

Some people nearby turned toward us to see what was developing, so I took it down a few notches before continuing.

"Not a bloody chance, Cherise! I'll say hi to you and talk about my condo project, but that's as far as we go. You can apologize for the things you've done. But it won't go any farther. I have someone else now, and Monica is loyal and trustworthy. End of story for you." I was firm about it.

We sat quietly from then on, not saying a word. Eventually our coffees were finished, and I walked back to my car, with Cherise still in tow. As I bent to climb inside, she came up against me in her insistent way.

"See you again, Barry."

"I hope not," and I shut the door.

She stood looking at me, smiled forlornly and walked back in the direction of her apartment. I hoped I wouldn't see her again.

****

"Barry, honey, you've seemed pre-occupied lately. Is something bothering you?"

"No, Monica, just those complications with the condo. You know, about protecting that old wall from collapsing while they dig the parking garage."

"I know you're dealing with that at the office, getting advice from Frank and Carole. I'm sure it will all work out. By the way, she was telling me about their wedding plans. It looks like we'll be invited, maybe even more? We might be the ones standing up for them. Exciting, eh!"

"Yeah, that's nice. Lovely how that worked out- them getting married and all."

"You don't seem very enthused, Barry. I know something is on your mind. Won't you tell me about it? It's always better to get cares out in the open with someone close."

I hadn't intended on saying anything about my two encounters with Cherise. They were definitely the burr under my saddle now, irritating me whenever I wasn't busy with something else. Seeing her again was bringing back what I had lived with for the last two or three years of our marriage.

Monica's voice was audible, but I started drifting away as she talked on about sharing and caring, themes like that.

I was remembering the time that I'd gone to one of her many office parties. Cherise was a middle manager at a distribution company specializing in fashionable clothing for men and women. Like my ex-wife, a former model, many people at this level had come from the fashion end of the business. All of them dressed well and really looked after their appearance. I'm an average guy, but I always felt like the ugly duckling at these events.

Cherise had a habit of disappearing for hours on end at these things, leaving me chatting with other abandoned partners. "Talking shop," she'd say, "You wouldn't be interested."

This particular party was at Valentines and Cherise looked even more provocative that usual, in bright red with a great deal of skin on display. The long dress was cut way down between her breasts, with a long slit almost up to her waist on one side. From the back, she was bare to the waist, apart from two crossed straps struggling to hold the dress up.

As usual, she was gone for a while, before returning with freshly applied lipstick. I noticed that one of her dress straps was twisted too. She stood beside a very handsome fellow, taller and broader than me. I got up because Cherise seemed as though she wanted to introduce us.

"Barry, this is the new office manager, Rick. This is my husband."

Rick (or was it Prick?) grabbed my hand, while clutching my shoulder tightly with his other hand. His crushed my fingers as he vigorously wrung them, grinning at me with a supercilious smile that seemed to be mocking me.

"Glad to meet you. Your wife is just amazing- our most popular girl!" he boomed.

I noticed that when he said this, other people turned to look at us, smirking in a knowing sort of way. I had the uneasy feeling that there was a layer of meaning here that was being kept from me. Then he went on.

"Cherise makes this place fun. The life of every party. Thanks for sharing her with us, buddy."

A few people chuckled. Only later did I learn the full meaning of this.

He stepped back beside her and brought an arm from behind. His hand was either planted against her bare lower back or farther down; however, Cherise made no effort to pull away or come to me. After that, we spent the rest of the evening together, but she seemed disinterested, like she'd rather be with her new boss.

I was aware of Monica's voice again, raised now and impatient.

"Do you want to tell me what's on your mind, Barry. You've been somewhere else while I've been talking to you," brought me back to the present.

I quickly realized that the whole scene at the Valentine's party had replayed for the past half minute. But I wasn't ready to share it with her- the manly 'stiff upper lip' thing. No, I wouldn't say anything about meeting my ex-wife in the park.

The next morning, Frank called a team meeting at the office with Carole and me.

"Barry, what's the situation with that free-standing wall now that they're excavating close to it?"

"Touch and go, I think. The site supervisor is right on it, but I can see he's worried. The rubble around it is pretty loose. There's been demolition and backfilling several times there in the past. They're digging very gingerly as they approach that wall."

"Why don't we call a halt in that area until we can have it shored up with some heavy iron uprights behind it?" Frank suggested. "We planned to have that, but now I think it should be sooner than later. Especially since we know how unpredictable the ground is there."

"Right Frank," Carole assured him. "Call the construction supervisor and tell him to hold off any more digging until the iron reinforcement behind that wall goes in."

"I will. And Barry, I want you down there every day for a while to see that they're doing it right. Watch the ironworkers to ensure they don't get too close when they set the supports in place. Carole, sketch up something to show how we want it to be done. They can build temporary wooden support frames, between the uprights and the back of the wall. Show them what it should look like."

Now I knew that I'd be down at the park regularly, and no doubt Cherise would be watching for my car. I decided I'd better tell Monica a little about my problem because I wanted to switch cars with her for the week. That evening I explained the minimal amount necessary.

"Monica, you were asking what was on my mind lately. I'll tell you. My ex-wife lives in an apartment very near the new condo project. She's seen me there and twice has tried to get friendly with me again. Says she's found faith and wants to make amends."

"What! That tramp! She probably wants you back," she reacted with anger.

"I don't think so. I've said very little to her, and I don't want to talk to her at all if I can avoid it. She recognizes my car, so I think she might be watching for me."

"I'll go with you and give her a piece of my mind!" Monica asserted.

"No, just lend me your car this week and you can take mine. I'm sure I can outwit her that way."

"Barry, have you told her about us? Or does she think you're available?"

"Yes, and I said that you're the loyal and trustworthy person she never could be."

"And that didn't send her away? What's her problem?"

"Whatever it is, her problem is mine now. Can we trade cars?"

"OK. But if this continues, I'm going down there myself and bitch-slap her a few times!"

I was surprised by Monica's colourful language, but relieved that she didn't press me for any more details. However, that night she made her feelings for me very clear. She came to bed naked, and things quickly heated up from there.

Monica was delightfully aggressive, almost tearing my pajamas off before falling across my body. She thrust her tongue into my mouth, kissing me with the passion of someone who wanted to demonstrate her love.

As we kissed, she squeezed tight against me. I was responding to her intensity, and she had my stiff tool right up against her naked skin. Then in one deft motion, she rose up onto her knees and slowly lowered herself down until I disappeared within. We hadn't done this very often before which made it especially exciting and pleasurable.

Gradually we built up a co-ordinated motion, as I admired her beautiful form moving above me. The way her body bounced and swayed was immensely erotic- like a naked cowgirl riding a sweating stallion. It stimulating me to even greater efforts, bucking wildly until we both peaked and then fell back to earth. We lay gasping for breath for several minutes.

Monica needn't worry. I wasn't going anywhere.

****

Switching vehicles seemed to do the trick, at least for most of the week. The big iron supports had been carefully power-driven into place without any apparent disruption of the old brickwork, and now the wooden cribbing between them was being built. Things appeared to be going smoothly at this critical point. But as I stood watching, work suddenly ground to a halt. There was a lot of shouting, making me think there'd been an accident.

"Get those men out of the hole immediately," I heard someone in a white hardhat bellow out.

It was an inspector from the Labour Ministry, part of a team which drops in on construction sites without notice to monitor compliance with government health and safety regulations.

"That section needs to be stabilized before any more work continues down there!" she shouted, pointing to an area where small stones were tumbling downslope. "I don't give a damn about your schedule! Get everybody up now. That is not in compliance with the regs."

Everybody scrambled up to ground level while the inspector conferred with the site supervisor, both of them heatedly yelling and waving their arms about. I knew that the government woman would be the only winner in this dispute because she had the power to completely shut down the site.