The Bridge of Sighs
Marta is reconstructing the Bridge of Sighs when the phone rings. She hesitates, sits back away from Venice, lifts the receiver. A pause on both ends of the line. The time has come to confront the final Darius connection.
"Hello?"
"May I speak with Marta, Marta Mendez?"
"Yes."
"This is Don Towers." A stern voice.
"Oh yes, you've left a few messages, but didn't say what it was about," she says.
The phone calls have been coming regularly. Mid-morning, late afternoon, early evening. The message always the same. An intimidating voice: Marta Mendez please call Don Towers at 1-800-540-5966. To hell with him. She isn't going to let on how much the calls are bothering her. She knows what he wants.
"I work for Cobra Collections."
"Uh, huh."
Three weeks earlier while rummaging through recycle-bound newspapers looking for coupons, she came upon the 1000 piece puzzle of Venice. The reclaimed, discarded box lay on her kitchen table for a few days. Then one evening, unable to sleep, she began the assembly. It was one way to travel, one way to focus. A symbolic gesture involving a mental process that gives her a sense of clarity. Something to believe in. Here are pieces that can be framed and locked together to make a coherent whole. Unlike life at the moment.
"Been trying to get hold of you regarding the six thousand two-hundred forty-five you owe Bank One. Is that correct, Marta, 6 2 4 5?"
She had almost finished St. Mark's when it occurred to her that she might try going to church again. Perhaps finding the puzzle was a sign of some sort. She had stopped attending, stopped believing after Darius. In fact her life had pretty much imploded when their relationship collapsed. The memories vibrate, resonate, deteriorate. She had truly lived, once. And if that's all that ever happened to her romantically, so be it. She had her shot, and that left a gapping hole, an empty chamber.
"Do you have all of the information?" she asks, wanting to know if Cobra realizes the full Darius connection.
"I can't understand why -- you've got perfect credit except for this one thing here --."
Marta contemplates, trying to match edges, colors, shapes. She had sorted out the flat edge pieces. The frame was done. The flat edges had been methodically eliminated. Now the search centers on a five-prong wedge with the dark corner of the nave set against a clear blue sky -- and there it is, like a reward, like an award. Puzzles are made up of moments such as this; it brings her joy and relief. Seeking and finding, and clearly knowing the task ahead. This picture WILL come together, will make sense.
"I've never missed a payment on anything, ever," she says.
"I see you've got thirteen good lines and one bad one."
"What do you mean -- what lines?"
"Ten lines of revolving credit, three installment, and one negative."
Marta hesitates, "The Bank One?"
"Yes. We can clear this up today, that's why I'm calling. "
Directly in front of Marta, where a crucifix used to hang, hangs a photo of her taken by Darius at Alameda Beach. Standing in the muck and mud during low tide. Marta can still feel the ooze between her toes and the breeze her hand made waving toward Darius. She looked so young. She thought she had been blessed by good genes, but later she concluded experience is what ages people, molds complexion, sculpts the face. She had been sheltered, protected, insulated by mother and father, and then by choice. Always did the right thing, what was good and kind, and emotionally safe. A younger Marta couldn't understand why others drank or screwed around, until she met Darius. After that the years caught up quickly. Darius had chiseled the innocent layer away.
"I haven't got that kind of money. I didn't accrue this debt. A friend of mine, years ago, I helped get a credit card for..."
"The card is in your name."
"I never used the card. I helped him establish credit.”
"What's the -- eh," he shuffles papers, "-- Shamdhi?"
"Darius Shamdhi,” Marta jumps in, “he used to be on the account until he filed for bankruptcy. The bank took it off and went after me."
"The account's in your name. You are legally responsible."
"So I've heard. It's not my debt. Bank One knows that."
Now, at thirty, she's an adjusted adult working for the Oakland Recreation department as assistant manager, caring for her parents, and coddling her niece and nephew on the weekends. She had readjusted, returned to the old way, a veteran of a foreign affair. It was a difficult journey back. But she is back, safe and sound. All the pieces fit and she can see the picture clearly. Little increments of satisfaction bring a cycle of enjoyment not unlike that of doing the puzzle. And that is enough. Unlike the two year Darius period when she didn't know what to expect -- there were the meteoric highs, and the colossal craters. Sometimes that was stimulating, but often it was very unsuitable for her sensitive well being.
"I'm sorry," Towers says, " but legally it's your debt. We need to collect it. Is he your ex-husband?"
"Ex boyfriend."
"On the report you're also listed as Ms. Shamdhi."
"No way. I never used that name."
"I did the same for my old girlfriend,” Towers softens a bit, “-- only when we broke up, because I know the business, I made sure I got the credit card and cancelled her right away. But that's because I knew better. It's a hard way to learn. Time's running out."
They hadn't been together in three years. She is no longer expecting his call, the wonder and excitement, nor the pain, the horrendous pain. She remembers all too clearly the first time they broke up then got back together, the breaking up was worth the getting back. The passion, the pledges, but then the cruelties. He had had many other relationships before theirs. She had not. This gave him an unfair advantage at the emotional manipulations, a technique she was not adaptable to. They were opposites. The very things that attracted her to Darius -- the aggressiveness, the anti-authority authority attitude -- these were characteristics she felt she lacked. These attributes also drove them apart. Darius was too aggressive and demanding, always needed to be doing something, to find distraction; and that constant state of rebellion whether or not it seemed justified turned out to be adolescent behavior. Marta guessed he was attracted to her because she meant stability, passivity.
"Your statement said I had thirty days to respond."
"Look closely. It says..." Towers doesn't finish what seems to him, the obvious. He changes his tone, "Can you come up with four thousand?"
"I don't have any money. What are you saying?"
"An out-of-court settlement." He talks to others in the office but makes sure Marta hears him, "Do we have any settlements left?"
" --we've got one, just one," a background voice replies, as if on cue.
"Great. I'll take it!" Towers responds immediately to the informant. Then he resumes his posture with Marta, "Marta, good news. There's one left!"
"Pardon me?" Marta flashes back to the sales gimmick used to entice her to buy a car she didn't really want all that much... Hey, I'm on your side, it's the manager, I'll do what I can... look at this deal I've worked out! Only one left! But you gotta act now! ... She's feeling manipulated again.
"How's 3745 sound? Can you do that? -- Otherwise we'll have to sue you."
"I don't own anything, no property." $3745 sounds reasonable, compared to $6250. Why wasn't this offered six months ago instead of the constant hounding for payment by Bank One and now Cobra?
The second time they broke up she waited for a year for Darius to get over his 'other' romance, but he never did. Women were an escape for him. Approach the pleasure, avoid the pain. Never grow up. Now she doubts whether he really loved her. She really loved him though. And still does. The Darius of her dreams that is.
That first meeting – like in a movie -- an unusually stormy afternoon for May. She should have known. He had come in out of the sudden downpour. Just like in the movies. She found him, well, exotic.
"You make shange ?" he had asked her sweetly, like a lost child, a man child. Change is exactly what she ended up making. Too much change -- perhaps that's what 'shange' means.
Darius had been in the States for a few months, had left Iran when the Islamic regime came to power. The threat of military conscription for the 'holy war' against Iraq sent affluent young men out of the country. His family may have had comfortable wealth back in Iran but that is where it had to remain for the time being. Some money was smuggled out in the form of rugs sent to him that he could sell for cash and this was his main source of income for awhile until the situation in Iran changed. He knew he'd have to survive for a time on wit alone. And Marta Mendez.
"Wages, we can garnish your wages. In California it's twenty-five percent. And that's for the full amount of 6245 if it goes to court."
Go to hell, she thinks. She pauses. "3745?"
"Yes. Let me get the paperwork."
Marta is put on hold. Gives her time to think -- Is this a ploy? Putting me on hold to think? That crap of 'only one' settlement left? Deja vu. Still, 3745 is a possibility. Darius' father is rich. If Darius could bend a little and ask him, my problems are over. What am I saying? It's his problem, his debt, his lifestyle I had nothing to do with. How dare he leave me and then stick me with this years later! Isn't there any justice, fairness? My life was just getting back in order --
Don Towers returns and after confirming her address, phone, place of employment, model and condition of her car (her only tangible asset) she is put on hold again while he confers with his manager. And again Marta has time to review, now the Alameda photo looks like she's standing in excrement and calling out for help. His recklessness had caused this credit collection collision. Is this the boundlessness of love? Where to get 3745? She had heard that collection agencies only collect half the original debt, anything above that is profit for the agency. 3735 is about 500 more than half the debt. So Cobra wanted to make a quick five hundred. Seems reasonable. The picture is getting clearer, not as bad as she had anticipated.
"Ms. Mendez. This is Mr. Gunners.” A new voice, an authoritative, commanding tone, “Before I can sign off on this settlement I have to know where you think you're going to get the money?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? What? Ms. Mendez, what kind of an answer is that? "
Gunners' tone is threatening, harassing. Marta's caught off guard. Towers had empathy, related to her as a person, called her 'Marta', was giving her a good deal. Gunners is going at her, 'Ms. Mendez', in an intimidating and pressured way.
"I don't know where. I hadn't thought about it until ten minutes ago."
"What? You've had months to think about this!"
"What is your problem?"
"It's your problem, Ms. Mendez. Your problem, and I have to deal with it. Ms. Mendez, don't expect to me to sign off on something like this! We're bending over backwards for you. If you can't come up with a source I'll can this deal right here and now and we'll get you in court for the whole amount plus court costs!"
"Perhaps his father might..."
"Perhaps? I'm not signing off on this. 'Perhaps'? Don't waste my time. Don't play games with me!"
"Why are you being so rude?" Marta has a vague realization that they might be playing games, volleying her back 'n forth till she's so dizzy she agrees to anything.
"Rude? We're doing a deal here and you can't give me the source of funds? I'll give you two hours, two hours! to call Mr. Towers with the information. We've got hundreds of clients who would like this kind of settlement, we're not holding this for you."
"Holding what? I don't understand," she says, her thoughts spinning out of control, "You're being excessively rude. I had come to an understanding with Don and you're ruining it. It's not even my debt!"
"You know what Ms. Mendez? I don't care. You made a bad judgment to begin with and you're going to make another one! I'm tired of your vagueness! You've got two hours! Two hours to call Mr. Towers and close this deal, Ms. Mendez. Two hours!"
The line goes dead -- Gunners had killed it. Marta is stunned. Silent rage. Towers - Gunners, a dose of good cop - bad cop had made its mark. Her emotions are scrambled, she can't think clearly. What's this bastard accusing her of? Twisting her into a knot. Guilt by accusation. Yelled at her for being vague, treated her like scum. They offer a settlement and want it over with. Two hours? Towers had mentioned she'd have until July first. Then the twist. What is going on? She can't think of the crime she had just committed except that she was too sensitive for these creeps, these professional extortionists.
Marta waits a moment to collect her thoughts before contacting Darius. He'd finally found a job in marketing. She calls. He's not in his office so she leaves a voicemail about the $3,745 settlement option and the harassment. She repeats the same message on his home phone, the one he is sharing with his newest passive acquisition, Pamela.
Marta had never used the credit card in question, had almost forgotten about it until last fall when Darius filed for bankruptcy protection. When his wall of debt collapsed around him the Bank One boulder landed squarely on her shoulders. She had gotten Darius the card after they had become intimate so he could be more independent and self assured and build his credit empire from there. A master card. Bastard.
She returns to Venice. A frantic search for order from chaos. In the plaza, a lonely woman feeds pigeons. She studies, reflects -- the interlocking pieces only fit one particular way. And then there's the canal. Is that a dead body in the water? That would be nice. Towers, Gunners, Darius. Are there any decent men in the world? They can all drown.
Darius calls. Before she even explains what happened and what she thinks Cobra is doing, he tells her how to act with the collectors. Darius taking charge, charging things, always taking charge, assuming everyone else is not as intelligent, which in itself is not a very bright assumption. “Don’t take any crap from Cobra. They don't get a dime unless they collect -- threaten to go bankrupt, then they'll lose money trying to collect, don't give in to their power strategy, they've got you off balance."
Marta does not to call Cobra back. Gunners had gone too far.
Marta goes to the grocery store, does a load of laundry, and, drawn in by a window display featuring Venice, stops by a travel agency to inquire about the advertised package deal. She eats up the two hours and more with a vengeance.
Returning to the puzzle, Marta hums an improvised tune while putting a gondolier and gondola together. She is handling fragments of the sky when the phone rings. She no longer fears answering and says firmly, "Yes?"
"Marta? Don Towers. Any progress?"
Yes, she thinks, she'd won that call back battle, they had called her two hours later! It's a small meaningful victory. Go to hell, Gunners. "I talked to Darius. His father is in London and won't return until the twenty-first. It's a possibility," she hesitates for effect, "... other than that I'll go to court and claim bankruptcy."
Her firmness throws Don Towers off a bit. He knows she's playing the game now.
"That might be your best bet," he counters," Mr. Gunners blew up at me after he talked with you."
"Talked? Yelling at, is more like it. He was very rude."
"He can be that way."
"What's his problem? If he blows the settlement you'll get nothing, in fact you'll lose money by going to court."
"It's a numbers game. He doesn't care. He's a bit of a snob, a rich snob, been out to his house, huge ranch house, drives a beemer. After he got off the phone with you he wanted me to blue book your car and check your employment. He hopes you don't come through. He can make your life hell."
She tries to control her rising anger, "Evil breeds evil. Jerking me around like that. He's evil."
"I think he wants to ruin you."
"Cobra can foot the bill for the court. And I'll make sure it goes to court before filing. Gunners is..."
"I know... he gets off on it. It doesn't matter to him. We get so many cases. It's a numbers game." He shifts his manipulative gears, "I don't know about the twenty-first, the bank only allows thirty settlements per month, and this is the last one. Maybe Mr. Huffington, a vice president, might sign off. He's an intelligent man, he'll listen. But I don't know. It's risky. My experience is that nine times out of ten the wealthy parent will not bail out a reckless child. Particularly when it's not their child they're bailing out. Understand? How well do you know this Mr. Shamdhi? "
Marta doesn't respond. She'd never met Darius' father. Father and son had been estranged while Marta and Darius were together. Would he do it?
Towers continues, "All right, I'll see what I can do. Hold on."
He puts her on hold. She looks down at the beautiful but incomplete Venice. Even in Venice the sewage clogs the canals from time to time. She's in the middle of a sewage spill.
Staring down, Marta finds the last steeple piece. That's the thing about puzzles, you need to step away and then you can see with fresh eyes. The piece had been staring at her for the last three days.
She needs some distancing from Cobra's abrasive rush to pay off this lingering debt, his debt, her credit. She hangs up on Towers and goes back to the puzzle.
A few minutes later Don Towers calls back.
"Marta?"
"Yeah."
"I guess we got disconnected."
"Oh?"
" Well, bad news -- the bank denied the settlement. They found out you have an open visa account with an eighty-nine hundred limit. They suggest you use that. Borrow from Peter to pay Paul. Seems like the way to go."
"I don't think so."
"Get a cash advance from Visa and pay the debt. You can get the money from his father, right? Or Darius can make the payments for you. Save your credit."
"I've already been through this. I'm sure the debt was accumulated using this technique. He was paying credit cards with credit cards. I don't know if his father will come through, and I don't know if Darius will follow through. I do not want to get stuck again."
"It's your credit, your responsibility. By the way the bank wouldn't go for the 3745. They want four thousand fifty-eight. Got that? Still a good settlement. You got a fax number where I can send the papers?"
Marta hangs up on Towers, calls Darius and tells him they want her to pay off the balance of $4058 with her visa card. What did he think about that -- "Don't let them tell you how to finance your affairs! They're breaking the law. Don't let them con you! They've no right!" -- He'd screwed her sexually, emotionally, mentally, and now financially. That was love in all of its glore and gore. Bewildering. Taking care of this mess is the last piece in that love puzzle. She could hear the remorse in his advice, but was it for causing her trouble or for the fact he couldn't wiggle out of this one. She hangs up on Darius.
What's separating her from these aggressive bastards is not intelligence but callousness. Her sensitivities are still intact; theirs are so calloused they are unknowingly insensitive. People who are not happy abuse those who are. People who hate their jobs take it out on customers, on Marta.
Towers calls back and asks what happened. She tells him she had to confer with Darius. Send the paperwork. She would do whatever she could do. Towers wishes her good luck, as if he's doing her a favor.
She's had no time to think this out fully. It's a tug of war -- requiring spontaneous reaction like when Darius used the Master card -- spontaneous purchases, spare of the moment indulgences. Watch out for emotions, these apes prey on emotions, get you into an emotional state and then clobber you.
Cobra men created an internal conflict of who she is within herself. Is she a nice, caring, responsible person Towers addresses her as, or is she the delinquent, irresponsible bitch Gunners portrays her as? She feels violated, emotionally battered, insecure, unsure, and ready to make a deal and get it over with. These guys are good in a very bad way.
Towers said Cobra will give her five days to get the money together, until next Tuesday. They expect her to wire the money via Western Union by that evening or the deal is off. A one of a kind, last chance deal.
Once upon a time Marta was envious of couples, as though she had been missing something, a piece, an integral piece. And now -- she feels sorry for couples. Double the pain, double the pleasure, it evens out. She had lived and died from it. Now she wants a separate peace.
Darius calls one last time to say his father agreed to send a check to the woman who had helped his son. Mr. Shamdhi had not been there when Darius needed him. This would be a necessary restitution. The father wanted peace too. Darius apologizes for the mess he has caused, and thanks her for being understanding.
Darius is growing up, taking responsibility. He will be a good man, someday. Marta makes a mental note to change her number.
By Tuesday Venice will be finished. A beautiful city-sea scape of the Grand Canal, St. Mark's, the Bridge of Sighs off in the shadows. Life can be so pleasurable.
When the pay to the order of Marta Mendez $4058 check arrives she places it on the table next to the puzzle. This resolution rests there while she finishes the puzzle, has it laminated, then hangs it where the crucifix and the ooze has been.
Four grand and an unplugged phone make for a peaceful place to write a letter. Marta writes to Cobra detailing how the debt was accrued, her limited finances, and that she would never pay this debt off. The letter concludes, “After consulting with my lawyer, I will only respond to written correspondences. Any other contact will be deemed harassment.”
She never hears from Cobra again.
A trip to Venice is planned for next year.
The Bridge of Sighs, © 2000 by John Kirkmire, © 2013 Kirkworkshop. All rights reserved.
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Marta is reconstructing the Bridge of Sighs when the phone rings. She hesitates, sits back away from Venice, lifts the receiver. A pause on both ends of the line. The time has come to confront the final Darius connection.
"Hello?"
"May I speak with Marta, Marta Mendez?"
"Yes."
"This is Don Towers." A stern voice.
"Oh yes, you've left a few messages, but didn't say what it was about," she says.
The phone calls have been coming regularly. Mid-morning, late afternoon, early evening. The message always the same. An intimidating voice: Marta Mendez please call Don Towers at 1-800-540-5966. To hell with him. She isn't going to let on how much the calls are bothering her. She knows what he wants.
"I work for Cobra Collections."
"Uh, huh."
Three weeks earlier while rummaging through recycle-bound newspapers looking for coupons, she came upon the 1000 piece puzzle of Venice. The reclaimed, discarded box lay on her kitchen table for a few days. Then one evening, unable to sleep, she began the assembly. It was one way to travel, one way to focus. A symbolic gesture involving a mental process that gives her a sense of clarity. Something to believe in. Here are pieces that can be framed and locked together to make a coherent whole. Unlike life at the moment.
"Been trying to get hold of you regarding the six thousand two-hundred forty-five you owe Bank One. Is that correct, Marta, 6 2 4 5?"
She had almost finished St. Mark's when it occurred to her that she might try going to church again. Perhaps finding the puzzle was a sign of some sort. She had stopped attending, stopped believing after Darius. In fact her life had pretty much imploded when their relationship collapsed. The memories vibrate, resonate, deteriorate. She had truly lived, once. And if that's all that ever happened to her romantically, so be it. She had her shot, and that left a gapping hole, an empty chamber.
"Do you have all of the information?" she asks, wanting to know if Cobra realizes the full Darius connection.
"I can't understand why -- you've got perfect credit except for this one thing here --."
Marta contemplates, trying to match edges, colors, shapes. She had sorted out the flat edge pieces. The frame was done. The flat edges had been methodically eliminated. Now the search centers on a five-prong wedge with the dark corner of the nave set against a clear blue sky -- and there it is, like a reward, like an award. Puzzles are made up of moments such as this; it brings her joy and relief. Seeking and finding, and clearly knowing the task ahead. This picture WILL come together, will make sense.
"I've never missed a payment on anything, ever," she says.
"I see you've got thirteen good lines and one bad one."
"What do you mean -- what lines?"
"Ten lines of revolving credit, three installment, and one negative."
Marta hesitates, "The Bank One?"
"Yes. We can clear this up today, that's why I'm calling. "
Directly in front of Marta, where a crucifix used to hang, hangs a photo of her taken by Darius at Alameda Beach. Standing in the muck and mud during low tide. Marta can still feel the ooze between her toes and the breeze her hand made waving toward Darius. She looked so young. She thought she had been blessed by good genes, but later she concluded experience is what ages people, molds complexion, sculpts the face. She had been sheltered, protected, insulated by mother and father, and then by choice. Always did the right thing, what was good and kind, and emotionally safe. A younger Marta couldn't understand why others drank or screwed around, until she met Darius. After that the years caught up quickly. Darius had chiseled the innocent layer away.
"I haven't got that kind of money. I didn't accrue this debt. A friend of mine, years ago, I helped get a credit card for..."
"The card is in your name."
"I never used the card. I helped him establish credit.”
"What's the -- eh," he shuffles papers, "-- Shamdhi?"
"Darius Shamdhi,” Marta jumps in, “he used to be on the account until he filed for bankruptcy. The bank took it off and went after me."
"The account's in your name. You are legally responsible."
"So I've heard. It's not my debt. Bank One knows that."
Now, at thirty, she's an adjusted adult working for the Oakland Recreation department as assistant manager, caring for her parents, and coddling her niece and nephew on the weekends. She had readjusted, returned to the old way, a veteran of a foreign affair. It was a difficult journey back. But she is back, safe and sound. All the pieces fit and she can see the picture clearly. Little increments of satisfaction bring a cycle of enjoyment not unlike that of doing the puzzle. And that is enough. Unlike the two year Darius period when she didn't know what to expect -- there were the meteoric highs, and the colossal craters. Sometimes that was stimulating, but often it was very unsuitable for her sensitive well being.
"I'm sorry," Towers says, " but legally it's your debt. We need to collect it. Is he your ex-husband?"
"Ex boyfriend."
"On the report you're also listed as Ms. Shamdhi."
"No way. I never used that name."
"I did the same for my old girlfriend,” Towers softens a bit, “-- only when we broke up, because I know the business, I made sure I got the credit card and cancelled her right away. But that's because I knew better. It's a hard way to learn. Time's running out."
They hadn't been together in three years. She is no longer expecting his call, the wonder and excitement, nor the pain, the horrendous pain. She remembers all too clearly the first time they broke up then got back together, the breaking up was worth the getting back. The passion, the pledges, but then the cruelties. He had had many other relationships before theirs. She had not. This gave him an unfair advantage at the emotional manipulations, a technique she was not adaptable to. They were opposites. The very things that attracted her to Darius -- the aggressiveness, the anti-authority authority attitude -- these were characteristics she felt she lacked. These attributes also drove them apart. Darius was too aggressive and demanding, always needed to be doing something, to find distraction; and that constant state of rebellion whether or not it seemed justified turned out to be adolescent behavior. Marta guessed he was attracted to her because she meant stability, passivity.
"Your statement said I had thirty days to respond."
"Look closely. It says..." Towers doesn't finish what seems to him, the obvious. He changes his tone, "Can you come up with four thousand?"
"I don't have any money. What are you saying?"
"An out-of-court settlement." He talks to others in the office but makes sure Marta hears him, "Do we have any settlements left?"
" --we've got one, just one," a background voice replies, as if on cue.
"Great. I'll take it!" Towers responds immediately to the informant. Then he resumes his posture with Marta, "Marta, good news. There's one left!"
"Pardon me?" Marta flashes back to the sales gimmick used to entice her to buy a car she didn't really want all that much... Hey, I'm on your side, it's the manager, I'll do what I can... look at this deal I've worked out! Only one left! But you gotta act now! ... She's feeling manipulated again.
"How's 3745 sound? Can you do that? -- Otherwise we'll have to sue you."
"I don't own anything, no property." $3745 sounds reasonable, compared to $6250. Why wasn't this offered six months ago instead of the constant hounding for payment by Bank One and now Cobra?
The second time they broke up she waited for a year for Darius to get over his 'other' romance, but he never did. Women were an escape for him. Approach the pleasure, avoid the pain. Never grow up. Now she doubts whether he really loved her. She really loved him though. And still does. The Darius of her dreams that is.
That first meeting – like in a movie -- an unusually stormy afternoon for May. She should have known. He had come in out of the sudden downpour. Just like in the movies. She found him, well, exotic.
"You make shange ?" he had asked her sweetly, like a lost child, a man child. Change is exactly what she ended up making. Too much change -- perhaps that's what 'shange' means.
Darius had been in the States for a few months, had left Iran when the Islamic regime came to power. The threat of military conscription for the 'holy war' against Iraq sent affluent young men out of the country. His family may have had comfortable wealth back in Iran but that is where it had to remain for the time being. Some money was smuggled out in the form of rugs sent to him that he could sell for cash and this was his main source of income for awhile until the situation in Iran changed. He knew he'd have to survive for a time on wit alone. And Marta Mendez.
"Wages, we can garnish your wages. In California it's twenty-five percent. And that's for the full amount of 6245 if it goes to court."
Go to hell, she thinks. She pauses. "3745?"
"Yes. Let me get the paperwork."
Marta is put on hold. Gives her time to think -- Is this a ploy? Putting me on hold to think? That crap of 'only one' settlement left? Deja vu. Still, 3745 is a possibility. Darius' father is rich. If Darius could bend a little and ask him, my problems are over. What am I saying? It's his problem, his debt, his lifestyle I had nothing to do with. How dare he leave me and then stick me with this years later! Isn't there any justice, fairness? My life was just getting back in order --
Don Towers returns and after confirming her address, phone, place of employment, model and condition of her car (her only tangible asset) she is put on hold again while he confers with his manager. And again Marta has time to review, now the Alameda photo looks like she's standing in excrement and calling out for help. His recklessness had caused this credit collection collision. Is this the boundlessness of love? Where to get 3745? She had heard that collection agencies only collect half the original debt, anything above that is profit for the agency. 3735 is about 500 more than half the debt. So Cobra wanted to make a quick five hundred. Seems reasonable. The picture is getting clearer, not as bad as she had anticipated.
"Ms. Mendez. This is Mr. Gunners.” A new voice, an authoritative, commanding tone, “Before I can sign off on this settlement I have to know where you think you're going to get the money?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know? What? Ms. Mendez, what kind of an answer is that? "
Gunners' tone is threatening, harassing. Marta's caught off guard. Towers had empathy, related to her as a person, called her 'Marta', was giving her a good deal. Gunners is going at her, 'Ms. Mendez', in an intimidating and pressured way.
"I don't know where. I hadn't thought about it until ten minutes ago."
"What? You've had months to think about this!"
"What is your problem?"
"It's your problem, Ms. Mendez. Your problem, and I have to deal with it. Ms. Mendez, don't expect to me to sign off on something like this! We're bending over backwards for you. If you can't come up with a source I'll can this deal right here and now and we'll get you in court for the whole amount plus court costs!"
"Perhaps his father might..."
"Perhaps? I'm not signing off on this. 'Perhaps'? Don't waste my time. Don't play games with me!"
"Why are you being so rude?" Marta has a vague realization that they might be playing games, volleying her back 'n forth till she's so dizzy she agrees to anything.
"Rude? We're doing a deal here and you can't give me the source of funds? I'll give you two hours, two hours! to call Mr. Towers with the information. We've got hundreds of clients who would like this kind of settlement, we're not holding this for you."
"Holding what? I don't understand," she says, her thoughts spinning out of control, "You're being excessively rude. I had come to an understanding with Don and you're ruining it. It's not even my debt!"
"You know what Ms. Mendez? I don't care. You made a bad judgment to begin with and you're going to make another one! I'm tired of your vagueness! You've got two hours! Two hours to call Mr. Towers and close this deal, Ms. Mendez. Two hours!"
The line goes dead -- Gunners had killed it. Marta is stunned. Silent rage. Towers - Gunners, a dose of good cop - bad cop had made its mark. Her emotions are scrambled, she can't think clearly. What's this bastard accusing her of? Twisting her into a knot. Guilt by accusation. Yelled at her for being vague, treated her like scum. They offer a settlement and want it over with. Two hours? Towers had mentioned she'd have until July first. Then the twist. What is going on? She can't think of the crime she had just committed except that she was too sensitive for these creeps, these professional extortionists.
Marta waits a moment to collect her thoughts before contacting Darius. He'd finally found a job in marketing. She calls. He's not in his office so she leaves a voicemail about the $3,745 settlement option and the harassment. She repeats the same message on his home phone, the one he is sharing with his newest passive acquisition, Pamela.
Marta had never used the credit card in question, had almost forgotten about it until last fall when Darius filed for bankruptcy protection. When his wall of debt collapsed around him the Bank One boulder landed squarely on her shoulders. She had gotten Darius the card after they had become intimate so he could be more independent and self assured and build his credit empire from there. A master card. Bastard.
She returns to Venice. A frantic search for order from chaos. In the plaza, a lonely woman feeds pigeons. She studies, reflects -- the interlocking pieces only fit one particular way. And then there's the canal. Is that a dead body in the water? That would be nice. Towers, Gunners, Darius. Are there any decent men in the world? They can all drown.
Darius calls. Before she even explains what happened and what she thinks Cobra is doing, he tells her how to act with the collectors. Darius taking charge, charging things, always taking charge, assuming everyone else is not as intelligent, which in itself is not a very bright assumption. “Don’t take any crap from Cobra. They don't get a dime unless they collect -- threaten to go bankrupt, then they'll lose money trying to collect, don't give in to their power strategy, they've got you off balance."
Marta does not to call Cobra back. Gunners had gone too far.
Marta goes to the grocery store, does a load of laundry, and, drawn in by a window display featuring Venice, stops by a travel agency to inquire about the advertised package deal. She eats up the two hours and more with a vengeance.
Returning to the puzzle, Marta hums an improvised tune while putting a gondolier and gondola together. She is handling fragments of the sky when the phone rings. She no longer fears answering and says firmly, "Yes?"
"Marta? Don Towers. Any progress?"
Yes, she thinks, she'd won that call back battle, they had called her two hours later! It's a small meaningful victory. Go to hell, Gunners. "I talked to Darius. His father is in London and won't return until the twenty-first. It's a possibility," she hesitates for effect, "... other than that I'll go to court and claim bankruptcy."
Her firmness throws Don Towers off a bit. He knows she's playing the game now.
"That might be your best bet," he counters," Mr. Gunners blew up at me after he talked with you."
"Talked? Yelling at, is more like it. He was very rude."
"He can be that way."
"What's his problem? If he blows the settlement you'll get nothing, in fact you'll lose money by going to court."
"It's a numbers game. He doesn't care. He's a bit of a snob, a rich snob, been out to his house, huge ranch house, drives a beemer. After he got off the phone with you he wanted me to blue book your car and check your employment. He hopes you don't come through. He can make your life hell."
She tries to control her rising anger, "Evil breeds evil. Jerking me around like that. He's evil."
"I think he wants to ruin you."
"Cobra can foot the bill for the court. And I'll make sure it goes to court before filing. Gunners is..."
"I know... he gets off on it. It doesn't matter to him. We get so many cases. It's a numbers game." He shifts his manipulative gears, "I don't know about the twenty-first, the bank only allows thirty settlements per month, and this is the last one. Maybe Mr. Huffington, a vice president, might sign off. He's an intelligent man, he'll listen. But I don't know. It's risky. My experience is that nine times out of ten the wealthy parent will not bail out a reckless child. Particularly when it's not their child they're bailing out. Understand? How well do you know this Mr. Shamdhi? "
Marta doesn't respond. She'd never met Darius' father. Father and son had been estranged while Marta and Darius were together. Would he do it?
Towers continues, "All right, I'll see what I can do. Hold on."
He puts her on hold. She looks down at the beautiful but incomplete Venice. Even in Venice the sewage clogs the canals from time to time. She's in the middle of a sewage spill.
Staring down, Marta finds the last steeple piece. That's the thing about puzzles, you need to step away and then you can see with fresh eyes. The piece had been staring at her for the last three days.
She needs some distancing from Cobra's abrasive rush to pay off this lingering debt, his debt, her credit. She hangs up on Towers and goes back to the puzzle.
A few minutes later Don Towers calls back.
"Marta?"
"Yeah."
"I guess we got disconnected."
"Oh?"
" Well, bad news -- the bank denied the settlement. They found out you have an open visa account with an eighty-nine hundred limit. They suggest you use that. Borrow from Peter to pay Paul. Seems like the way to go."
"I don't think so."
"Get a cash advance from Visa and pay the debt. You can get the money from his father, right? Or Darius can make the payments for you. Save your credit."
"I've already been through this. I'm sure the debt was accumulated using this technique. He was paying credit cards with credit cards. I don't know if his father will come through, and I don't know if Darius will follow through. I do not want to get stuck again."
"It's your credit, your responsibility. By the way the bank wouldn't go for the 3745. They want four thousand fifty-eight. Got that? Still a good settlement. You got a fax number where I can send the papers?"
Marta hangs up on Towers, calls Darius and tells him they want her to pay off the balance of $4058 with her visa card. What did he think about that -- "Don't let them tell you how to finance your affairs! They're breaking the law. Don't let them con you! They've no right!" -- He'd screwed her sexually, emotionally, mentally, and now financially. That was love in all of its glore and gore. Bewildering. Taking care of this mess is the last piece in that love puzzle. She could hear the remorse in his advice, but was it for causing her trouble or for the fact he couldn't wiggle out of this one. She hangs up on Darius.
What's separating her from these aggressive bastards is not intelligence but callousness. Her sensitivities are still intact; theirs are so calloused they are unknowingly insensitive. People who are not happy abuse those who are. People who hate their jobs take it out on customers, on Marta.
Towers calls back and asks what happened. She tells him she had to confer with Darius. Send the paperwork. She would do whatever she could do. Towers wishes her good luck, as if he's doing her a favor.
She's had no time to think this out fully. It's a tug of war -- requiring spontaneous reaction like when Darius used the Master card -- spontaneous purchases, spare of the moment indulgences. Watch out for emotions, these apes prey on emotions, get you into an emotional state and then clobber you.
Cobra men created an internal conflict of who she is within herself. Is she a nice, caring, responsible person Towers addresses her as, or is she the delinquent, irresponsible bitch Gunners portrays her as? She feels violated, emotionally battered, insecure, unsure, and ready to make a deal and get it over with. These guys are good in a very bad way.
Towers said Cobra will give her five days to get the money together, until next Tuesday. They expect her to wire the money via Western Union by that evening or the deal is off. A one of a kind, last chance deal.
Once upon a time Marta was envious of couples, as though she had been missing something, a piece, an integral piece. And now -- she feels sorry for couples. Double the pain, double the pleasure, it evens out. She had lived and died from it. Now she wants a separate peace.
Darius calls one last time to say his father agreed to send a check to the woman who had helped his son. Mr. Shamdhi had not been there when Darius needed him. This would be a necessary restitution. The father wanted peace too. Darius apologizes for the mess he has caused, and thanks her for being understanding.
Darius is growing up, taking responsibility. He will be a good man, someday. Marta makes a mental note to change her number.
By Tuesday Venice will be finished. A beautiful city-sea scape of the Grand Canal, St. Mark's, the Bridge of Sighs off in the shadows. Life can be so pleasurable.
When the pay to the order of Marta Mendez $4058 check arrives she places it on the table next to the puzzle. This resolution rests there while she finishes the puzzle, has it laminated, then hangs it where the crucifix and the ooze has been.
Four grand and an unplugged phone make for a peaceful place to write a letter. Marta writes to Cobra detailing how the debt was accrued, her limited finances, and that she would never pay this debt off. The letter concludes, “After consulting with my lawyer, I will only respond to written correspondences. Any other contact will be deemed harassment.”
She never hears from Cobra again.
A trip to Venice is planned for next year.
The Bridge of Sighs, © 2000 by John Kirkmire, © 2013 Kirkworkshop. All rights reserved.
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