By 2:56, I'm really nervous. I haven't thought about my 'homework assignment’ in a long time. Actually, I am so far from thinking of pleasure that I'm cold and detached. What IS pleasure? Pleasure, at the moment, would be balancing this summary. That’s about all the pleasure I can contemplate right now.
By 3:01 my phone rings. Dammit. I'm not in the mood for this.
"Hi, Z. This really isn't the best time right now. I'm desperate to finish my last expense report summary, and I still need a little more time... Okay?"
"Absolutely. Call me when you are finished. Until then..."
He hung up? Just like that? Nothing more? No demands? No hostility? No, nothing? Is he mad at me? He must be. Z doesn't like being‘disappointed’. Z doesn't like me to tell him no. Z probably doesn't like me, anymore.
==========
Finish the report. Okay. Focus. Where is the balance? What is out of line? List the groups and subgroups. Make two lists. Compare and contrast. Look at them. Focus. Where is the problem? What is the problem? It has to be the incidentals. It has to be!
Okay. Focus. Two lists. Look closely. Match. Match. Match. OH MY GOD! The Marriott! The bloody Marriott! No wonder I forgot... I haven't been to receive the receipts. I just lied and said I was there on Wednesday. I had to pre-pay the conference room last week, but I didn't have to expense the luncheon, yet. I am SUCH an idiot. Maybe Marcus was right and I am an idiot.
It's 3:52 and I'm done! The summaries are emailed to Shields, with a thank you reply from him in return. I can breathe! I've done it. Even with the strangest week of my life, I still managed to do my job well, A DAY EARLY. I didn't fail. I didn't disappoint my boss. I didn't disappoint anyone today.
I notice another email in my Inbox after Shields reply. It’s Kayla. Where the hell has she been all day? _______________________________
From: K. Mueller
Subject: Happy Friday!
Friday, May 27
3:56pm
Hi Sweetie,
I hope you had a good day. I'm getting ready to duck out early. Shields has been upstairs all afternoon.
Anyway, I just thought I would say hi, since you haven't responded to any of my messages. I figure you wanted to lay low a little. Plus, Z told me last night, that you had suffered another setback and he thought it best if I let you come to me when you're ready, so I agreed not to call you again.
I can't wait to see you on Monday.
Have a great week-end!
Kayla
P.S. Wish me luck with this week-end's "Hot New Screw"!
________________________________
She talked to Z last night? Were they on the phone? Did he call her? Did she meet him at his hotel? Did he meet her at her apartment? Oh. My. God. He DID actually hook-up with Kayla. I am such an ass! I told him to. I told him she was essentially a ‘sure thing’. I told him... And he did.
Well, at least I don't have to call him back now. Why would I? He can go screw Kayla and ask HER about her pleasure! Though I'm pretty confident Kayla has any man, AND her own pleasure all figured out. She is such a whore! I knew I couldn't trust her. I knew it! Dammit. I sound like an insanely jealous Psycho!
Jumping in the shower, I'm still mad. Why? Mr. Zinfandel is a creep, nothing more. So he talked to me? So he seemed interested in me? So? It's not like I was ever going to actually see him. I will NEVER actually see him. When does he return to New York? Probably this evening. Why stay in Chicago? Oh... maybe for Kayla. Maybe Mr. Zinfandel is her 'Hot New Screw' this week-end? Yeah, probably. Kayla is hot, and not soft, and intelligent, and attractive, and most likely EXCELLENT in bed. Any man would do her. Why not Mr. Zinfandel? Well, have her. I'm terrible in bed, anyway.
==========
By 5:00, I've calmed down. What is there really to be angry about anyway? I’m nothing to him, but an interesting... What? Loser? Incompetent, immature, panic-attack having, emotionally detached... Psycho? Yes, that about sums it up. Five days ago, I was calm, reserved and incapable of seeking attention... Now it looks like that's ALL I do. I am so embarrassed with myself for being such an embarrassment... poor Marcus. No wonder he can't stand to even talk to me.
Munching on a cucumber chicken salad, I decide to call Marcus. Where is he? It's almost 7:00. He always comes home by 6:00 on Fridays. Oh, yes, he’s still mad at me. How very passive-aggressive of him.
Dialing, I wait and wait. Wow, I was kicked into voicemail? That’s strange. Marcus always, always answers, especially if it’s me. Wow- NOT this time… I guess because it IS me.
==========
When my phone rings minutes later I answer.
"Marcus?"
"Luckily, no. How are you this evening, Sweetheart?" Jerk. Hang up. HANG UP!
"I won’t talk to you anymore, and you can't make me. You have no right to force me to. Go tell Mr. Shields if you want. I don't care. But I will sue you for sexual harassment, and with my prudish reputation and with copies of all your emails and voicemails; you surely won’t be able to turn it around against me. Leave. Me. Alone. I'm done Mr. Zinfandel! Go play with Kayla!"
Wow! That felt good! Slamming the phone down makes me feel powerful. Who knew yelling loudly at someone was really quite soothing? I feel a giant weight off my chest. That was awesome! I'm awesome!
When my phone rings immediately, I decide I'm not doing this back and forth crap anymore. After shutting my phone off to ignore the incessant ringing, I'm proud of myself. I hear nothing but silence. There is nothing torturing me. There is no sound to make me jump or panic. There is nothing but complete silence, well, except in my head, but whatever.
==========
Changing into yoga pants, sneakers and a jacket, I decide to go for a walk. It's cool enough to be refreshing, without being cold. I need air. I don't think I’ve ever spent 2 solid days in my home before. I work all week, and go out on week-ends, and I’ve only had 4 sick days ever, but they were spent in the hospital, so they don't count.
Am I ever truly comfortable anywhere? Huh. I don't think so. I'm not even remotely comfortable in my parents’ home where I grew up. Isn't that strange? Why can't I get comfortable?
I love my home. I tell everyone I love my home, but I hate being in it. I do love the sunroom however. If there was one room that was truly mine, it would be the sunroom. Marcus rarely enters MY sunroom. He hates the love seat and chair I chose and bought. He complained for two solid weeks about them, and he ignored me for another two weeks after they arrived. He hates the sunroom furniture, refuses to even entertain or talk to me if I'm in it, therefore, it's my room. I love the sunroom. In the sunroom... I am totally alone.
==========
40 minutes later, I’m rounding back to my house, but I feel very unsettled. I can feel something is wrong. I can feel something. Picking up my pace, I practically run past the last few homes until I'm in my driveway. Exhaling, I walk up the driveway with my keys tight in my hand as a defensive weapon. Now that I'm steps from the front door, I can look over my shoulder safely. I still feel it. Searching, there’s nothing and I see no one. I see nothing, but I definitely feel something.
Slamming the door closed, I lock it and set the alarm and just wait. What am I waiting for? I have no idea, but I feel like I have to wait for this thing to pass.
Removing my socks and sneakers, I let my toes suck up the cold marble of the foyer. I love this feeling. I love the cold marble, working the knots out of my toes and feet. I love the contrast of cold feet and warm body.
Once upstairs, I grab my phone and check for messages from Marcus, but there’s no message. There are 3 from Mr. Zinfandel however. Deleting his messages feels good. I need to go back to my proper, staid existence. I need to stop thinking about him because he is nothing to me, and never will be. I have Marcus. Where IS Marcus anyway?
After a quick rinse-off shower, I’m dressed in my 2-piece pajamas and back in the sunroom, and everything is exactly as I left it. It looks a little messy actually. So straightening all my spare
papers, spreadsheets and files, everything goes back in my briefcase where it belongs.
The desk is tidied of pens, ruler, and coffee cup. My laptop is closed down. The throw blanket is placed neatly over the arm of my love seat. The pillows are fluffed. The coffee table is cleared. Mugs are returned to the dishwasher. The clock is in its proper place in the corner. Its 8:35, and I settle in with my dirty book in my proper, tidy sunroom.
==========
Waking. I'm startled by a sound. What is that? Standing, I'm instantly on alert. Who is it? "Marcus?" I call out, but there’s no reply. "Hello?”
I hear loud noises and a bang. Oh, I think that’s keys dropping by the door. Walking toward the foyer I call out again nervously, "Marcus?"
"Yes, honey. Who else would it be?" He slurs. Has he been drinking?
Walking toward him, I'm shocked. Marcus rarely drinks, and certainly not enough to slur his words.
"Marcus. Are you alright?"
"Yup. I'm fine. How are you? You look better. Did you have another relaxing day at home?" He grins.
"I worked all day, actually. And it was not relaxing in the least. Where were you?"
"I went for a drink with Stephen and Kyle after work. Why? Are you gonna give me hell?"
"Um, no. How did you get home?"
"I drove. And yes... I know I probably would have been arrested if the police caught me, but they didn't catch me... so good for me," he smiles.
"Why didn't you call me to pick you up? Or call a taxi? Why would you drive like this?" I am just stunned. Marcus? Drunk driving? What the hell?
"Well, I didn't want to bother my wife. You see, my wife has been very distant, and dramatic lately. And though I love her, I can't stand her when she acts like this. So, I chose not to disturb my wife when she’s relaxing at home after I worked all day."
"Marcus. I'm right here. Why don't you just say whatever you want to say? Please stop all this passive-aggressive shit, and just say what you want." There! AND I said shit out loud, which I never do... I say shit in my head... A LOT. But NEVER out loud. Marcus must be horrified.
"Well, Honey... I think I just did. Don't try to out-smart me, you won't win. I'm much smarter than you, any day of the week."
Wow. Really? I seem to remember my GPA was much higher than his, AND my college was ranked higher, but whatever...
"Okay. I won't try to out-smart you, honey. Have a good night. I'm going to bed."
Turning to walk away, Marcus grabs my wrist hard, and spinning me toward him he tries to kiss me. What the hell? Marcus doesn't kiss. ‘It's gross’, he says. I wonder if it’s gross with everyone... or just with me? Actually, I don't want to know.
Trying to pull my arm from him, I bark, "Marcus, leave me alone. I’m going to bed, ALONE." Christ! ‘Leave me alone’ seems to be my theme tonight.
Suddenly, his hands are pushing at my pants and he’s trying to pull them off me. "Stop! Now, Marcus!" I scream.
"I don't want to. I'm going to show you how good I am in bed. You're the problem you know, honey. Not me. You're the one who isn't any good at sex. I've had lots of sex, and NO ONE complains about me. You're the ONLY one complaining." Lots of sex, huh? Sex with the TWO women before me… I'm so sure.
Thrusting his fingers down my pants in between my legs, his nails scratch my lower stomach. SLAP!! I actually slapped Marcus! Jesus! I think he’s as shocked as I am. Grabbing his cheek, he just stares at me cold and kind of scary looking. Oh, I don't like this look.
Backing up a step, "Leave me alone! I swear to god, Marcus, if you touch me one more time, I’ll leave you. I'll be gone and YOU can explain to everyone that I left you because you tried to take me against my will... AGAIN!"
"What the FUCK are you talking about?! I've never taken you AGAINST YOUR WILL!! You're fucking crazy!! Women love fucking me! You're the only one with a problem. I'll say it again, honey... You’re The Problem. Not me!!" What? What the hell is he talking about? "Your fucking parents warned me about you! They told me you might be some trouble. They said you act up and get all strange every once in a while, but I thought you were gonna be fine. I thought I could help you. I thought being with me was a good thing for someone like you!" Someone like me? Like what?
"You’ve barely acted up in 6 years, until this week. Not since we were first married, except for that one time two years ago. I called your parents by the way, and they told me to IGNORE you! Even they don't want to deal with you! No one wants to deal with you. Your friend Kayla? She feels bad for you, that's all. After she and I had sex, she wanted to be your friend, Out Of Guilt... Not because she actually LIKED you!"
Oh. My. God. Kayla slept with Marcus? When? Where was I? When? I can't breathe. Suddenly gasping for breath, I stumble away from Marcus.
"Honey? Oh, for fuck’s sake! Stop being so melo-dramatic!"
"G-good night, Marcus…" CHRIST! I’m always so polite. I'm going to throw-up, but I can't even catch my breath to vomit.
"Shit, honey, I'm sorry. Get some rest... You'll feel better tomorrow."
I can’t stand it anymore. I can't be here anymore.
"Honey? Look, we'll talk in the morning, okay? Honey?"
I can't think anymore. I can't see anymore. I can't breathe anymore. I can't be anymore...
My knees collapse on the stairs, and I can feel Marcus watching me. Using my arms to pull at the spindles, I try to get to my room. It takes hours but I can't move any faster. I can’t feel my arms or legs, and my chest is so tight; I think I’m having a heart-attack.
Please... get me to my room. Get me out of here. I am going to die before I make it to my room...
Closing my eyes, I gasp. My breath is coming in little infrequent puffs of air. There is not enough air. My door is so close. If I could just crawl a few more steps, I’d make it to my room. Please...
And slowly I make it. Closing the door behind me, I turn and lock it. Leaning against the door, I try to breathe. I just need a little breath in, and a little breath out, but there’s not nearly enough air. I have a kind of tunnel vision and my body is shaking uncontrollably. Everything is turning numb. Where is all the AIR?! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?
Please... Opening my eyes, I see my bed. Oh god, I need my bed. I just need to lie down for a minute then I’ll be fine. Crawling, my stomach cramps, and my legs give out, so I begin dragging myself across the floor to my bed. Just a little more and then I can stop. I can stop everything…
CHAPTER 6
No, I can't stop. I WON’T stop. I won’t let Marcus kill me here. Reaching for my phone I dial and thankfully…
"…please... h-help meeee…" I wheeze.
"Jesus Christ! Breathe Sweetheart. Listen to my voice. Listen to me now. Come on. I want you to listen to me. I want you to breathe in and out slowly. Sweetheart, are you there?"
"I can't... it hurts..." I whisper.
"I know it hurts. Come on, love. Breathe with me. Take gentle breaths in and out, nice and slow. Breathe. That's good, but you can do better... Breathe, Sweetheart. Where are you?"
Gasping, "floor... bed... room..." God, I am so tired, even speaking quietly is exhausting.
"Breathe, Sweetheart! Stop this, RIGHT NOW!! Focus on my voice. Focus on me. I'm giving you my breath. Can you feel it? My breath is slowly filling your lungs. Can you feel my breath? Sweetheart? I asked if you can feel my breath."
"Yes... I can... It’s...easi-er."
"Focus on my voice. I'm rubbing your back and neck. Can you feel me? I'm slowly breathing for you. Do you feel my breath in your lungs? Sweetheart? Can you feel me?"
"Yes... Thank y-you. I'm bet...ter." I gasp.
Marcus is suddenly pounding on my door. No! Not now! Not Marcus. I can't deal with him anymore. I can’t deal with any of this because I’m just trying to breathe right now. Oh god. Wheeze.
"Is that your husband?"
"Yes. He w-wants in... He can't..." Gasp.
"Ignore him and stay with me. Breathe, love. It's almost over. You're coming back now
, I can hear it. Listen to MY voice! Not his..."
There’s even more pounding and yelling from Marcus. Ugh. Why won’t he leave me alone?
"Is he trying to help you or hurt you?" Z demands.
"Hurt..." I moan.
"Ignore him. Just stay with me, and breathe. Come on... in and out, slower. Come on, nice and slow..."
My head is pounding in tune with Marcus’ hammering on the door now, and my arms and hands are all tingly, but my vision is better.
"What is he saying? Why is he trying to hurt you?"
"Drunk. Not n-nice Marcus..." I whisper.
"Okay. I'm going to keep talking to you, but I'm on my way over." What? No!
"No. My door is locked... He was mean w-with words... He won't hit me… He’ll just take me." Shit. Did I just say that? Based on Z's growl... yes I did. "It’s okay. I- I'm the problem again... it’s always me. I’m always the problem. It’s always me, because I, I’m always the problem…”
"Sweetheart, breathe slower. You’re getting upset again. I want you to stop talking about him and focus on me. Come on, I want you to breathe slowly. It's almost passed." Has it? Yes it has. I can almost pull in a full breath.
Marcus has stopped banging and yelling too. Thank god. I can't even look at him right now. Go away Marcus, forever...
"Thank you. I'm so s-sorry about this. I didn't know who else... Your v-voice helps... I can hear it and I breath... better," I whisper.
"I'm glad you called. Don't be sorry. If my voice helps you, than I’m very pleased. Breathe, Sweetheart. Don't get worked up again. You're doing very well."