Between Books









Between
Books: Volume

Seventeen- Carlos' Dilemma


After The Forbidden,
Before The Damned
December 2005
At the house in Arizona...

He was done. Through. There were no words. Carlos stalked down the
hallway back to the bedroom where all the un-married male Guardians
slept, found his jeans, a t-shirt, and his Tims, and yanked them on
hard. He was out. Period. Forget trying to go back to sleep. The
vibrations still lingering in the bathroom and bouncing off the tiles
were making the hair stand up on his arms. Hełd brush his teeth in the
yard and keep moving. Could take a leak in the woods; who needed a
house? Solitude was calling his name.

And to think, Damali had the nerve to go back into the all-female
bedroom with the other women and hide out there, like anybody cared if
they got busy! Berkfield was grown, knew the deal. This was crazy, made
no kinda sense, whatsoever.

Carlos stomped down the hall, not worried about waking people. What did
it matter, anyway, if the whole house got up? He angrily got his
toothbrush, some toothpaste, and a razor, and headed toward the kitchen
to leave by way of the back door. He wasnłt trying to pass the bedroom
where Damali was hold-up; he didnłt trust himself not to open the door
and totally lose his pride by outright begging her in front of anybody
in there. No. Especially with ęNita and Inez in there.

Thatłs all they needed to see was him trying to cop a plea. Juanita
would be snarling while Inez had a shit-eating grin on her face, and
Krissyłs eyes would widen like a doe caught in the headlights. Knowing
Damali, shełd be so embarrassed shełd hurl a lamp at him, and then it
would be on all chances of mid-day nooky killed all because he lost his
mind and went in there trying to talk Damaliłs draws off in fronta her
girls. Uh uh. He was smoother than that. And what was that crazy dream
of hers about, anyway?

He didnłt get it? Carlos kept walking. Get out of the house, man, before
you do something really stupid, he told himself. But Damali had said
herself that shełd dreamt about making love, and was still wet as hell
from it, and didnłt want to? Hełd picked up the scent the moment he got
close to her in the hall. That lit his fuse, fired him up real good.
What was there to discuss? Talk? Shit. About what? Actions spoke louder
than words, any day, any night! How did women just roll like that, he
wondered? Just hit a mental switch and be out of the mood? Yeah, if
theyłd been called to battle stationsokay. He could see that. But
anything short of a call to arms, from a manłs perspective, once the
time bomb was activated, there was only one recourse. That sucker had to
detonate on impact, had to blow. Period. Basic. What was the problem?


“Want some coffee?" Berkfield muttered as Carlos entered the kitchen.


“Hell no," Carlos grumbled and kept walking.

“Okay" Berkfield said, holding the pot mid-air as Carlos passed him and
slammed open the back door with a loud bang.

Following Carlos onto the porch in his old striped robe and beat-up
leather slippers, Berkfield brought two mugs and the pot outside with a
smile, watching Carlos cross the field brushing his teeth.

“Hold up," Berkfield shouted. “Two-by-two detail at all times, Marlene
and ęBazz said."

Berkfield hustled down the steps behind Carlos sloshing coffee when
Carlos simply raised his middle finger without turning around. It took a
moment for Berkfieldłs short strides to catch up with Carlosłs long,
angry lope, but eventually both men were side-by-side.

“You look like youÅ‚ve got a case of the rabies, Rivera," Berkfield said,
slightly out of breath.

Carlos spit and wiped away toothpaste with the back of his forearm. “I
do! Iłm foaming at the fucking mouthso why donłt you go back in the
house, where itłs safe?"

Berkfield grinned and poured Carlos a mug of black coffee, handing it to
him as they walked, and then poured one for himself.

“Why are you following me?" Carlos stopped walking and looked at
Berkfield hard.

Berkfield glimpsed the razor in CarlosÅ‚s hand. “You ainÅ‚t thinking of
committing Hari-kari are you?"

“IÅ‚m gonna shave," Carlos muttered and began walking again.

“Most folks I know use a mirror over the bathroom sink you ainÅ‚t having
reflection issues again, are ya, pal?" Berkfield chuckled and tried to
keep up with Carlosłs increasing pace.

“Yeah, well, I donÅ‚t need a mirrorright about through here. I was
thinking of slitting my own throat, anyway. Been that kinda morning."


“Aw, cÅ‚mon, man," Berkfield said, rounding Carlos to get him to slow
down. “IÅ‚m just messing with ya."

“I ainÅ‚t in the frame, awÅ‚ight," Carlos said, looking at BerkfieldÅ‚s
flushed face. “My nerves canÅ‚t handle it."

“Look, okay, IÅ‚m sorry," Berkfield said, and then glanced around. “Had I
known ya know?"

Carlos briefly closed his eyes. “You knew?"

“Well after the fact," Berkfield admitted, making Carlos stare at him
as he dropped his voice and spoke with a wide smile. “I ainÅ‚t got no
special powers like the other guys, or nothingbut IÅ‚m a cop, and a guy
and youłd have to be brain-dead not to put two and two together."

“Yeah, well, tell that to her," Carlos muttered, and then jammed his
toothbrush and the toothpaste into his back jeans pocket, took a sip of
coffee, and set the mug on the ground with care. He then flipped open
the straight edge razor and stared at it for a moment.

Berkfield backed up, laughing. “I was hoping youÅ‚d take it better than
this at least give a guy a fighting chance and wouldnłt cut him in his
robe and slippers in the yard, mafia stylethatłs cold, Rivera."

Carlos smiled a half smile and began shaving in the blind, trying not to
laugh at Berkfieldłs ribbing. It was, indeed, truly ridiculous.

“Just be smart, though," Berkfield said, now slurping his coffee,
peering over his mug with a mischievous grin. “DonÅ‚t let on that I
knowno matter what, or itłll be a really long time before shełs
comfortable. Capice?"

“Please. Get serious, man," Carlos said, dragging the blade under his
chin.

“Been married a lotta years, brother," Berkfield said, glancing back to
the house. “IÅ‚ll let you in on a little secret, since I owe ya."
Berkfield waited patiently until Carlos let out a heavy breath and
looked at him. “You ainÅ‚t all by yourself in this dilemma."

Carlos just stared at him for a moment. “How you figure? You sleep with
your wife every night. You and Shabazz got old-head waivers and special
privileges that the rest of us"

“If itÅ‚ll make you feel any better, Marjorie canÅ‚t relax in all this
chaos, either," Berkfield said, nursing his coffee. “Why you think me
and ęBazz walk the floors when wełre supposed to be asleep? It ainłt
insomnia, buddy. Nervous energy will do that to a man."

“I feel you," Carlos muttered, and began shaving again. “TMI, though.
Thatłs your business."

Berkfield let out a weary sigh. “ItÅ‚s like when weÅ‚d go to her folks for
the holidays." Berkfield set the coffee pot down on the withered grass
and shook his head, then rubbed his palm over his bald scalp. “Like,
wełre married have two kidsand wełd get to my parentsł house and she
acts like Bobby and Krissy were born from Immaculate Conception. I donłt
get it? I donłt claim to know the reason why. Itłs like" Berkfield
opened his arms and walked in a circle sloshing his coffee. “Like one of
the mysteries of the universe."

Carlos nicked himself and drew blood. “You serious?"

“Yeah, man," Berkfield said and took another loud slurp of coffee. “By
the way, youłre bleeding."

Carlos dabbed the cut and chuckled. “This ainÅ‚t nothing but a scrape."


“Oh, yeah, I forgot," Berkfield said, smiling. “ThatÅ‚s akin to a vamp
hicky."

“DonÅ‚t remind me," Carlos said, putting the razor to his jaw. “The real
bleed-out happened when you cut my throat and knocked on that door, man.
Hit a mental artery. Therełs still probably a pool of blood on the
bathroom floormine." Carlos removed the razor from his half-shaven face
and stared at Berkfield for answers. “You really think theyÅ‚re all gonna
be uptight for the whole time we have to be here until the new compound
is built?"

“Sad, but true," Berkfield said, coming to land a supportive hand on
CarlosÅ‚s shoulder. “Plus, the way I heard it is, the newbies have to
learn whatever theyłve gotta learn, uncorruptednot that I understand
any of this metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. But, according to Marlene, uh, if
I can speak frank, theyłre tied to you Neteru guysł energy, or somethinł
and uh back at the motel, there was this ripple effect that got kinda
outta hand. Marlene told Marj, she told me, you know how that goes."

“I donÅ‚t even wanna talk about it." Carlos started shaving again, now
really pissed off. That was the last time hełd been able to get next to
Damali that one last, rock-the-house-till-the-early-dawn time. That
break-your-back-or-die-trying state of oblivion. He remembered it like
it was yesterday, but sadly it wasnłt. It had been one of those baby,
you got me talking in tongues out of my mind kinda times, that was oh
sooo good he practically shuddered while he was shaving. Somebody slap
him.

“I feel your pain, but, it caused a problem, ya know?" Berkfield took a
purposeful sip of coffee.

“IÅ‚m trying to concentrate so I donÅ‚t nick myself again," Carlos said in
a low warning. He ignored Berkfield and looked up as he resumed shaving
and then briefly closed his eyes while he worked the razor over his
Adamłs apple. Heaven be merciful, the motel incident was weeks ago. The
memory was still white-hot in his mind. Just thinking about it was
messing him up.

“Yeah, but the sound traveled, buddyto the point where the tactical
guys, who are young and single, caught most of the fall-out."

“WonÅ‚t happen again, obviously, youÅ‚ll see to that." Carlos began
dragging the dry razor against his face in angry strokes and nicked
himself again. “Damn!"

“I gotta be honest, not to bust your stones, or anything," Berkfield
said calmly. “Just an observation. However, you two practically brought
the house down back at the motel, not that I donłt understand young love
and passioneven though itłs more like a distant memory for me, in my
casenot to digress. But, speaking as a Dad with a hormonal, teenage
daughter even if I did know you were in the bathroom this morning, I
still probably wouldłve knocked on the doorbecause if something ripples
through the house like it did in the motel, in these close quarters and
gets Krissyłs head all twisted up, and given that my daughter is already
walking around here looking at J.L. with googly eyes"

“I know, I know, I know," Carlos muttered, now staring at the house as
he tried to continue shaving.

“Here," Berkfield said, handing Carlos a rumpled up, linty, half-used
handkerchief from his robe pocket. “You look like a cutter. Staunch that
shit, man. Youłre giving me the willies."

Carlos grabbed the handkerchief that seemed more like a dirty rag and
mopped where he was bleeding.

“You donÅ‚t have to worry, man. Damali wonÅ‚t even go off-site with me
after that. So squash the noise. Krissy wonłt hear anything she ainłt
supposed to," Carlos finally muttered, still trying to figure out how to
get to Damali alone.

“Good. Your word as your bond?" Berkfield said, extending his hand.

“Aw man cÅ‚mon," Carlos said, looking at BerkfieldÅ‚s hand.

“ThatÅ‚s my daughter, sheÅ‚s underage, and she doesnÅ‚t need to hear you
two in the throes at her ageever again." Berkfield looked at him hard.
“I donÅ‚t want Krissy getting any romantic ideas."

Carlos begrudgingly transferred the razor to his left palm and shook
BerkfieldÅ‚s hand. “AwÅ‚ight. Whateva. You donÅ‚t have to worry. Besides,
as it stands, Damali says with newbies in the house, and an ever-present
threat, we have to be on twenty-four seven in case the house comes under
siege."

Berkfield chuckled and shook his head, and simply sipped his coffee when
Carlos released his hand. “Spoken like a true mother-of-the-house. Kids
first, man second better get used to it, hombre. Thatłs how it goes
once you have kids. When you become a dad, youłll understand where Iłm
coming from."

“You ainÅ‚t making me feel better," Carlos said, flipping the razor
closed.

“But itÅ‚s the truth." Berkfield stooped down with a grunt and handed
Carlos his mug. “Peace. Drink your coffee. Can I tell you how many
nights little feet ran down the hall, terrified from a nightmare?" He
raised an eyebrow like a huge elf and leaned in to whisper to Carlos. “I
know where youłre at, buddy, and wonłt hold what happened in the motel
against you. There were nights when I didnłt even hear my own kids,"
Berkfield confided, edging closer to Carlos and glancing around. “ItÅ‚s
like women have this supersonic hearing or radar, screw special powers.
I donłt expect you to really get what Iłm talking about; itłs the kind
of thing you have to personally experience before it completely sinks
in. So, like I said, IÅ‚m not casting aspersions, just asking you to be a
little more discreet, should you find yourself in a situationand an
echoing bathroom ainłt a good place for that to happen. Women can hear
better than men."

Carlos let out a heavy breath, wishing he could still vanish at will.
“What are you talking about, man? CanÅ‚t nobody who ainÅ‚t a vamp or a
werewolf hear better than Mike. If something did go down, Krissy
wouldnłt have"

“Women know things and can hear," Berkfield insisted, dropping his voice
and glancing around as though his wife might be eavesdropping from a
hundred yards away. “IÅ‚d be in a situation, letÅ‚s say and Marj would
hear a kid wake up. Actually hear the little bugger from way down the
hall." Berkfield stepped back. “How the hell do they do that, I ask
you?"

Carlos looked at Berkfield, then sent his gaze towards the house.

“IÅ‚m not lying," Berkfield pressed on. “And kids have got the worst
freakinł timing on the planet an anniversary, your wifełs birthday;
itłs like the little crumb-snatchers sense when youłre trying to"
Berkfield glanced back to the house and then returned his line of vision
to Carlos. “I love my kids, donÅ‚t get me wrong. But sheesh! ItÅ‚s like
theyłve claimed her body, ęcause they came from it, ya know? Like Iłm an
invader to their territory."

“What?" Carlos said, the concept making him indignant. It was beyond
comprehension. Nobody laid claim to his womanłs body but him, and he
definitely didnÅ‚t appreciate an outsider blocking his shot. “This you
have got to break down for me, Berkfield, ęcause I think youłre getting
like Rider and spiking your morning coffee. Little kids invading your
territory, thatłs just natural mother-love. Youłd better grip up and"


“Think about it," Berkfield said with a defeated shrug. He watched
Carlos take a careful sip of coffee and then spoke slowly. “Bobby and
Krissy took over my wifełs body for almost a year each, being in there
and all, then it took like six weeks each birth for my wifetheir
motherto heal, then they took over her boobs for another year while she
fed ęem each, so thatłs two more years. Mind you, while her boobs were
in their service, they looked fantastic, but I wasnłt allowed near ęem.
Then they took all her time and attention. Then, after all that, for
years, theyłd run down the hall in the middle of the night so help me
Christ, there were nights when I was ready to go out to the local store
to get a pack of cigarettes and never come back."

“Damn since you put it that way," Carlos said slurping his coffee, no
sarcasm in his tone. “I ainÅ‚t mad."

“Brother, lemme tell you," Berkfield said with a sigh. “Me and Marj had
ęem the moment we got married, ęcause we wanted a familycouldnłt wait.
But as much as I love my kids, hindsight being twenty-twenty, let this
old boy give you some sound advice. Wait. Stay footloose and fancy free
with your sweetheart for as long as you can. Work the kinks out, have
some fun, party, go out as a couple, get to really know each other while
youłre just a twosome, even if you do get hitched, and then only then,
ya hear me, go in for the life sentence."

“Life sentence?" Carlos said in a reverent tone, studying BerkfieldÅ‚s
eyes to be sure he wasnÅ‚t pulling his leg. “Like, okay, eighteen to
twenty years is"

“Forever," Berkfield said flatly, squaring his shoulders. “Eighteen to
twenty is a myth, my man. Superstition. Lies. They never leave." He
nodded as CarlosÅ‚s jaw went slack. “Yep. And your wife will always worry
herself sick about them. They can always call Mom in the middle of the
night. Can always make your wife wring her hands. Can always get under
her skin or make her stop whatever shełs doing when she gets one of
those weird, female, Mommy psychic, woman-hunches about something being
wrong with one of ęem, even if your kids have moved halfway around the
world!"

Berkfield began pacing, spilling coffee onto the grass as he gestured
wildly with his hands, clearly distraught. “DoesnÅ‚t matter. YouÅ‚re in it
for life, buddy. Once theyłre here, everything you once took for
granted, like freedom to just lie in bed all day and all night with your
wife in your arms, stops. Forget about romping through the house buck
nakeda kid could put a key in the door at any time, dragging along half
the school. And if they do, she will stop whatever shełs doing to make
cookies and brownies for them, will feed the masses as they raid your
refrigerator and tell you that, its far better that they be in your
house than somewhere unknown in the streets, that I swear to you."

“Oh, shit" Carlos stared at Berkfield, thinking about how he and his
brother and sister and friends had once overrun his motherłs house. No
matter what they asked, his mother was there. The image of her
perpetually standing at the stove, in the kitchen, cleaning, working,
bringing more food into the house to feed ravenous males made him shiver
and take a deep sip from his mug. Then the way shełd worry about them
all forever. But until now, hełd never really thought about his mother
as a sexual beinghe couldnłt. It wasnłt done. She was La Madonna.

“Uhmmm hmmm, no win situation for us guys," Berkfield said, watching
CarlosÅ‚s _expression as he paced. “Scary, ainÅ‚t it? And you canÅ‚t argue
with female logic, eitherbecause, Heaven forbid, if something happens
to one of your kids who were out in the street, itłs ball game. Over.
And if theyłre out there, therełs no rest for the weary you have to be
ready to get your gun at the drop of a hat, drive to find a kid in
distress, ever the soldier on call to collect your wifełs child, her
baby, from the clutches of dangeryou think this Guardian bullshit is
stressful aw, man, you wait, Rivera. So your wife, naturally, wonłt
relax. Ever. Her ear is always tuned to who could be walking through the
house."

Berkfield stopped pacing and looked at Carlos hard. “Oh, did I mention,
when theyłre toddlers, thatłs the easy part. Babies are the best, since
theyłre crib-bound. The little ones canłt figure it out, donłt get why
Dad is breathing hard and walking in a circle and hollering when they
bust into the bedroom, or why Mom looks like shełs seen a ghost with the
sheets yanked up to her chin. Little kids are clueless and doze back off
to sleep with a drink of water and a lullabybut teenagers are like
vampires, man. They know."

Carlos tossed back a healthy slurp from his mug like it was a shot of
Tequila. Berkfieldłs gaze narrowed as he stared off in the distance
toward the house and spoke through his teeth.

“They never sleep, Carlos, except during the damned day! All night long,
the music, the phones are going, and your wife is like like stiff as a
board if you try to touch her and then she pushes you off her, ęcause
the kids might hear. Shit!" Berkfield returned his hot glare to Carlos.
“And youÅ‚re bellyaching about a missed opportunity in the john? Gimme a
break. Itłs murder, what a married man with kids goes through. You just
got a short-term sentence. Consider it a sample. Like you used to say,
first hitłs on me. Youłll live."

Carlos opened his mouth and then closed it. He took a shaky sip of his
coffee and then tried to laugh it off. “CÅ‚mon, man. Be serious. ItÅ‚s"


“You like the night, right?" Berkfield said, tilting his head in a
jaunty pose.

Carlos laughed. “Love it."

“Thunderstorms, lightening, cosmic drama romantic, right?"

Carlos laughed harder. “Go Ä™head with that, Berkfield. Stop trippinÅ‚."


“Oh, okay, stop tripping, the man says. Hmmm. Toddlers and
thunderstorms mean a little person in the bed clinging to your wife and
whimpering with a Teddy bear between you." Berkfield grinned as the
smile slid from CarlosÅ‚s face. “Not so funny is it?"

Walking in a circle now, Carlos raked his fingers through his hair.
“Damn"

“Yep. And if you try to pry that baby barnacle away from her, your ass
will be sleeping on the couch."

“Shit" Carlos whispered, as the vision danced through his mind.

“Fucked up, ainÅ‚t it?"

Carlos stared at Berkfield. “Very."

“Then youÅ‚ll hear all about how you ainÅ‚t sensitive, yada, yada, yada,
and will be cut-off until shełs done being offended by the fact that you
had the gall and audacity to challenge your own flesh and bloodłs rights
to her." Berkfield opened his arms again, slinging coffee, his eyes
pained. “Like, sheÅ‚ll tell youÄ™how could you, Richard?Å‚ Then go on and
on and on and on, about how this little interloper is just a baby. And,
although you know shełs making perfect sense and youłre being illogical,
you still wanna holler at her and tell her, ęjust for one night, canłt I
have my wife back?Å‚ But, the wise man keeps his mouth shut. This I have
learned over the years and through many a battle, son."

“Man, how did we get on this fucked up subject?" Carlos tossed out his
coffee and began walking in an aimless pattern across the field.

Berkfield hurried beside him. “Reality check kills the morning wood,
donłt it?"

“Completely," Carlos muttered.

“Glad to be of service. Figured it was the least I could do so you
wouldnłt suffer," Berkfield said smiling.

“Mission accomplished."

“Okay, guess I can go back inside and make breakfast, then. You look
like you could use a minute or two alone to ponder your fate in broad
daylight now that the passion haze has lifted. So, see ya. Buck up, a
few months will fly by before you know it." Berkfield strolled away
chuckling.

Carlos didnłt even turn around as Berkfield walked towards the house. A
long solo walk down the dusty road was the only thing his nervous system
could tolerate now. Sure, knowledge was power, but what hełd just heard
today was a real bitch. He didnłt wanna know all that, truth be told. In
fact, didnłt need to know all that. Actually, hełd been happier
remaining pleasantly ignorant of everything Berkfield had said.

“Damn!" Carlos shouted as he trudged along, kicking gravel. But
forewarned was forearmed. If this was a precursor to family life

Naw. He needed to stop trippinł. There had to be more to the story than
thisat least he hoped there was. But there was nothing in what
Berkfield had said that seemed like a lie. Cold-blooded truth came out
in the manłs words. Problem was, even with that valuable insight, he
still wanted to be with Damali in the worst way. With her, a little bit
was better than none at all even if he would have to share her with
family, kids, and even the world. He stopped walking after a few miles
and looked back towards the house in despair.

“A few months?" he whispered quietly, imagining the Arizona wind was
laughing at him as it whistled by.

There was no way in the world hełd last like thatBerkfield was
obviously a better man than him. This was a nightmare a travesty of
cosmic justice. Damali being a few feet down the hallway smelling
fantastic, right through the freakinł walls. Wearing a tank top, no bra,
and poured into her jeans like they were skin paint. A body that was
made by the Master of Heaven. And he couldnłt touch her? Then therełd be
kids one day, and the sentence would drag on for eternity? Oh shit

Carlos shook his head, thinking about how she looked when the team
worked out. Sweat making her skin glisten. Locks swinging. Gorgeous eyes
burning with determination and filled with passion. That sassy walk one
hand on her hip, wooden practice blade in the other, giving commands in
a way that made his stomach clench just to hear her voice. Her singing
on the front steps, breaking beans with Marlene and ęNez sending old
ballads through the house to torture his mind. Then when she sat still
and closed her eyes, meditating under the shade of a tree like a
mystical yogi, and the serenity that graced her beautiful face that
same sated quality that overtook it like after theyłd made real good
love. Every time she got in the shower, his hands literally shook. This
bullshit was gonna make him start drinking Jack Daniels in the porch
with Rider.

“IÅ‚ll never make it," Carlos said flatly, talking to himself and just
shaking his head as he walked back toward the house. His coffee mug
dangled loosely at his side in one hand with his razor held in a
defeated grip in the other. Maybe he should have just nicked his jugular
good and ended it all. “I, Carlos Rivera, will never make it. Not like
this."