Broken Obsession - Part Two (13 page)

Dustin Jacobs, aka Dusty Denver, was an out of work
adult film star, angry and preoccupied. He was thinking too much
about his girlfriend who dumped him last weekend via text message
and forgot the water chemistry kit he left back in the truck.

Inside the pool area and lounging already on the
deck, was Mrs. Sanchez stretched out on a wrought-iron chaise
longue chair, looking mighty fine, slim and put together. She
looked amazing in her tight-fitting Aqua bikini over bronzed skin,
so sun-kissed, so do-able and tempting. He lusted after her for a
few more moments when he noticed that she was wearing a mismatched
top and bottom and looked as if she were about to pass out. He’s
seen her like that before and shook his head from the waste and
placed his net and pool pole down to go fetch the chemicals.

Meanwhile, Peyton watched the pool man wander away
and out of the gate when Patience sprung to attention within
noticing him too and darted off toward Dusty to greet him. Peyton
dashed right after him and managed to grab the puppy right before
he got a taste of freedom and gave him a choke hold while he headed
back to the safety of his sandbox.

“Bad poppy,” Peyton scolded him, watching the dog’s
ears lower down in submission. Patience laid down all of one second
when his vision caught hold of something calling him to the water.
Being energetic and eight months old now, Patience didn’t like
being cooped up very long and decided to run away again, only this
time toward the pool area where a floating tennis ball, bobbed up
in down in the water.

“Patience,” Peyton screamed and ran after him. The
puppy dived into the water and dog-paddled its way toward the ball
and Peyton immediately thought the puppy was in trouble and jumped
in after him.

Peyton knew how to swim—mommy and daddy had been
sending him to the YMCA for swimming lessons—and Peyton swept his
way toward the puppy that was still dog-paddling its way en route
for the ball. Peyton finally reached the puppy at last and yanked
him by his collar. But on instinct, the puppy’s back legs circled
around and Peyton was too small and too inexperienced to properly
control the rescue and the puppy ended up unintentionally dragging
the boy down as it began its descent toward the steps of the pool.
Peyton’s head submerged instantly, but then his little body popped
back up again only to surrender to his modest arms that gave way to
all the energy that was being expelled to breathe. His arms were
failing fast as he struggled to keep up, but his efforts were unmet
and Peyton dismally succumbed to the trouble.

Amber at first woke up from the screaming; a
high-pitched shriek that was painstakingly hurting her ears. It was
Mrs. Lopez…and that noise was coming from her? Amber noticed her on
the other side of the pool—not in it, but beside it—with her hands
to her face, screaming and carrying on, making a fuss about
something…but, why?

She was only gone for five minutes! She only went
into the house to get the boy some sun-screen, when Mrs. Lopez
noticed the puppy drenched from being in the water and then
observed a dark object at the bottom of the pool. A fright so
intense, spread through to her skin, “Ah mi dios! Mi bebé de
piscine! El bebé!”

In doubt, her body froze and not two seconds later,
Amber watched Dusty come out of nowhere and dives into the deep
end.
Did he even ask to go swimming—how rude of him,
she
thought as she found her feet at last to stand up to follow his
path in the water. Her heart dropped and in slow motion, Amber
watched Dusty as he suddenly came up to the surface with an obvious
bundle inside his arms with what looked like…a body?

OH MY GOD!

Amber collapsed to the ground almost immediately. Her
intoxication along with her over exertion caused her to faint
within viewing her little boys’ dead body.

Mrs. Lopez finally turned around to find Mrs. Sanchez
passed out on the concrete; she then gazed around to watch Dusty as
he tried to retrieve Peyton by administering First Aid.

The little boy was pale and blue on his chest, face
and lips. He was not breathing, there was no pulse and he couldn’t
feel a heartbeat. Of all the days! Of all the Goddamn days! Between
breaths, Dusty voiced, “Call an ambulance!”

Mrs. Lopez’ feet wouldn’t move! Her shoes felt heavy
and plastered to the ground but she nodded her head from the
instruction and ran into the house as fast as she could where she
dialed 9-1-1 and then sadly for Mr. Sanchez.

Eduardo was in the middle of a meeting with Stacey,
Philip, Gordon and Martin. His face went white with alarm within
hearing the news; at first, he choked back tears then five seconds
later, ran out of the office to throw up his lunch.

Eduardo met with the Los Angeles Deputy District
Attorney at his office first before heading off to visit the Los
Angeles County Coroner. Amber was at home however, but on the verge
of being charged with child neglect and child endangerment.

In the past, Eduardo had worked with the district
attorney over the years and had many friends and associates within
the city. His familiarity with the municipality and his personal
association with the District Attorney himself gave him partiality.
Without a doubt, Amber would have been taken into custody
immediately to be arraigned. But since Eduardo Sanchez, Esq. was
already a public figure, his reputation spotless, the Deputy
District Attorney and the City of Los Angeles decided
not
to
file charges against his wife; cause of death was ruled an
‘accidental drowning’.

Eduardo came home with hollowness in his heart and
pain so extreme; the circumstances could never be really healed.
Seeing his little boy naked and flat, motionless and unresponsive
on that cold impersonal tabletop at the morgue all but broke his
spirit to live. It was heart-wrenching to say the least and no
parent should ever have to make funeral arrangements for a
child.

He walked tediously up the staircase and opened up
his bedroom door to find Mrs. Lopez and the dog by Amber’s bedside.
She was curled up in a fetal position and crying uncontrollably.
Patience wagged his tail within seeing Eduardo enter and Mrs. Lopez
grabbed him by his collar and headed out the door silenced by
Eduardo’s ruined expression.

Eduardo stood at the foot of the bed, staring at his
wife with horrible, unimaginable, vile thoughts flooding through
his principles.

He couldn’t believe his wife couldn’t stay sober
enough to watch her own son! How could he ever forgive her? Oh dear
God, he
hated
her at that moment. He wanted to beat her
senseless, punch someone unconscious. He walked over to the floor
length mirror and shoved his fist through the glass. Blood ripped
through scrapes on his knuckles at once. He stood static, his chest
slicing open from the sheer suffering and fell to his knees and
buried his face in his blood soaked hands. A loud wail finally
escaped his grief stricken mouth; terror so all consuming invaded
his cry. “Why!” He shouted at her now, “Just tell me
why!”

Amber opened her eyes at last and noticed Eduardo
crotched down crying like a baby. Blood dripping from one of his
hands—Good Lord, what did he do? She didn’t realize the sound of
glass shattering was the cause of him hitting the mirror with his
fist. Amber thought it was just part of this recurring nightmare.
She was at a loss for words. No possible logical explanation for
any of it—her constant paranoia? Believing in her heart that her
husband was attracted to another female, therefore, it was merited
for her continued drunkenness? Were those good reasons for
neglecting a child? It was a horrible mistake and accident—an
irreversible act. Incomprehensible and preposterous, how could a
mother be that careless and selfish? There really wasn’t one excuse
she could come up with—to place the blame on him? If he weren’t so
distant lately, so mysterious in his guise, so preoccupied with
something
, Amber wouldn’t be so crazy to find out what was
exhausting all his attention. “You’re just as much to blame.”

Eduardo remained squatting and wiped the blood on his
expensive suit repeatedly.
“I’m
to blame?” He sourly
expressed in a nauseated tone.

“If you had just admitted the truth in the beginning
then maybe I wouldn’t have required being numb half the day!”

Eduardo sat there with his mouth wide open. He wanted
to attack her. He
undesired
her now. She became repulsive
and sickening. He didn’t even want to be in the same room with her!
Enraged, he stood up and went to the closet to retrieve a single
suitcase from the corner. He grabbed suits, shoes, ties, shirts and
piled them high on a nearby stool. He flung a couple shoes clear
across the room in a sudden fit of wrath. “I have not been
unfaithful to you
once
!”

“Liar!”
She screamed back at him, sitting
straight up in the bed now. “Lusting after another woman other than
your wife
is
cheating! And
I know you
,” she laughed
ironically, “I know your nature, you’re a sexual predator, Eduardo
and it was only a matter of time you bastard when you would have
committed adultery...you’ve done it before!”

Eduardo stood defenseless. It was all true. Every
single solitary bit of her accusation. He had been lusting after
Stacey; at work, at home, Stacey depleted all his thoughts. He used
to be a manic playboy, dating and bedding women left and right—and
adultery? Oh, he couldn’t deny that either; Amber was the woman he
had the affair with.

They stared at each other for the longest time—Amber
suspended in her justification—Eduardo draped in his
condemnation.

Eduardo assaulted his clothes once more and shoved
the bundle into his suitcase. “I’m staying at a hotel,” he quietly
mouthed heading out the doorway. “I’ll let Mrs. Lopez give you the
information at the funeral.”

Peyton Enrique Sanchez, age four, had been buried at
Forest Lawn in West Los Angeles. Death of a loved one is hard to
grasp; the loss of a relative even more so, but to outlive your
child—to lose a child to a tragic, violent death—was
incomprehensible, even for Amber and Eduardo Sanchez.

Amber was in a daze; her perception hovered over her
body like a cloud in the sky. Staring at the small coffin in the
center of the aisle piled high with exquisite sprays of orchids and
roses, Amber tried to imagine what it was like to be in that box.
This might have been her destiny; a funeral, a coffin, her mother
and sister weeping. This should have been her. This wasn’t
happening! It was all a demented monstrosity. She was going to wake
up any moment now and feel her little boy within her arms
again!

Wake up dammit!

Wake the hell up!

Eduardo sat on the opposite side of the pew along
with his mother, and more surprisingly, his father and brother. He
wanted no part of his wife at the moment, no part, but the little
part that they had created.

Amber had been surrounded by her mother and sister
while unfamiliar mourners passed her by to whisper their
condolences. She heard nothing, but nodded her head as if she did
and continued to stare eerily at the casket…
Her little boy lying
inside. He didn’t belong there. He didn’t mean to die! Oh Good
Lord, he couldn’t
breathe! Oh God, Peyton was inside that
box. Oh Good Lord, he couldn’t breathe!

Amber sprang from her seat and hurled her body toward
the chest. Anxiously, like a deranged lunatic she tried to unbolt
the box. Gasps and shocks were heard throughout the congregation.
The priest as well was in utter shock at the sight of the mother
hurling the arrangement of flowers on top of the casket that
skidded jarringly onto the tiled floor.

Eduardo immediately reacted to her exploit and yanked
her body away before she unlocked one of the latches. He naturally
pulled her body close to his and Amber impelled his comfort away.
They stood center stage now—a pair in agony, a couple divided and
that’s when Amber slapped Eduardo across his face.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She bawled, pushing his
body into another direction.

Sheila, Molly and Madge all swarmed Amber at that
moment and guided her outside of the church.

Eduardo turned around and then sadly eyed all the
patrons all staring back at him. Some of them bowed their heads,
others shook them, but most of the mourners just grabbed hold of
his heartache and grieved alongside with him. He turned to look at
the coffin one more time and then stepped into his son to lay both
hands on the wood as if he could heal him and cause him to rise.
Feeling grief he never experienced before or after, at that moment
he let go of his misery in front of all to witness.

Eduardo moved out of the house temporarily and into a
hotel. Observing Amber drink herself into oblivion daily was not
his idea of comfort. He’d rather remove himself from view than
continue to scrutinize his wife as she withdrew from life. The
child that they thought joined them together was now gone,
therefore, what linked them mutually had vanished. It was do-or-die
time. All or nothing, but how do you keep the music playing when
all you keep hearing is a child’s cry?