Chapter 6 - Out of the Frying Pan

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Valentina rubbed her eyes numbly. She kneaded the small metal piece that was strung on a frayed ribbon around her neck like a charm, as she watched fat raindrops shower and glide across the windshield. It felt safe in the car. A cocoon. She put on the sweater she had left in there and snuggling up in it, closed her eyes for a few seconds. She was tired. And Scared.

"Rex" said a soft voice inside her head (her own voice).

"Uggh! Not you again. Go away," she groaned to herself aloud, covering and rubbing her eyes in weary frustration.

The name came into her head like that every-so-often, when she wasn't expecting it. It was always strangely as clear is if someone had spoken it aloud. It was true she had missed the person whom she thought was the love of her life terribly and for a long time after he had suddenly walked away, ending the seemingly happy, supposedly soul-mated relationship without much explanation, or apparent regret. And it was also true that it had taken an unusually long time to get over him as well as the pain and the emotional scars to go (to "Just move on!" as he cold-heartedly put it that last time he had ever spoken to her) but eventually she did it. She had had no other choice. She could now say with the certainty one can only be sure of in their own mind that if she never saw the man again, it wouldn't have been a bother (preferable in fact, after what he had put her through). After a sea of tears, Rex was now just a person she once knew. So it was frustrating and curious, why then she couldn't stop her mind conjuring his name... almost... calling to him. She was lost in the middle of an ocean on a little raft and certainly she needed someone to come, BUT NOT HIM! The selfish egomaniac would have turned up, seen the terrible quandary she was in and as sharks circled, would have expected her to comfort him over some trivial thing, like his boat getting some admirer's finger smudges on it after he had just polished it – or some other rich person's problem he felt the need to complain about, when people in the world would be going to bed hungry that night. So although she didn't hold any hatred toward him, Rex was truly among the last people she wanted (or needed) to see.

Each time it came, she would try hard to force the wretched name out of her head for once and for all; she had even researched a couple of alternative therapies, but "Rex" was resilient. It was as if it were hardwired into her brain. It came most often when she was sleepy and most especially when she was also stressed, but otherwise there was no rhyme or reason to its arrival. It wouldn't have been so annoying to her if something had reminded her of him at that moment, or if she truly had a secret desire to see him that she was pretending not to have. She imagined how pleased Rex would be if he knew that she still called to him – and there perhaps was the purpose.

Valentina frowned. She took a long breath in, exhaled and tried to focus on her problems at hand. It had been bad enough being in misery over someone she had loved so deeply, so completely and intensely, but how had she gotten into such a terrible state with someone she had never loved?


She met Jerremee who was a solicitor a couple years after Rex had left her. One of Jerremee's big clients also lived in the Caribbean and he was out there occasionally. She was still living there, but she was alone and lonely. Rex's friends had been her friends. She was still totally heartbroken and worse still, had levelled her career in following Rex out there and making his life and needs her primary concern. Money which had flowed relatively easy before she had become involved with Rex, was becoming difficult and getting worse. The Caribbean was expensive. She was sad and worried about her future. She needed a friend and Jerremee had been a kind, casual acquaintance who occasionally lent a sympathetic ear.

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