Authors: Sarah Ann Walker
After begging like a child for Z to close his eyes, I manage to get out of the bed with the sheet covering me
everywhere
and head to the bathroom while he calls in our lunch order.
Usually, the first pee after sex stings, but not today. Today, my body is slightly tender, like I've been well loved, but I’m not actually sore at all. There is no bleeding, and I don't have the heavy feeling on my chest of being hurt, which usually accompanies me after sex with Marcus. This is so wonderful, and I feel so good.
Exiting the bathroom, I see Z on the phone, so I head for the closet. Getting dressed is difficult. What kind of day are we going to have? Slacks and light sweater should do. I can always dress these up or down, or just take them off as needed. Oh, I hope
that's
needed. Wow, I'm so
dirty
now. I didn't think I had it in me, but apparently there’s a little dirty girl in me somewhere.
Cool.
While heading back for the bathroom to change, Z motions with his hand for me to come to him. Walking over, he takes my hand and kisses the inside of my palm. Stunned at such an act of tenderness, I just freeze...
That
was the single most romantic thing anyone has EVER done to me. I'm stuck in a trance. I’m simply stunned.
Z is talking to Tamara from the office apparently, but he smiles up at my expression. Mouthing, "What’s wrong?" I can only shake my head, smile, kiss him lightly on the lips and walk toward the bathroom in my sheet.
Putting on my bra and panties, I pause. What am I doing? What am I going to do? What does Z want from me? When is he going back to New York? When is he leaving Chicago? When is he leaving...
me
?
Suddenly, I’m overcome with sadness. I'm almost blindsided by the weight on my chest. Z is going to leave, and I'm going to have to go back, and I HATE the thought of going back.
Running for the toilet, I gag and wretch. Ow. This hurts my empty stomach, and absolutely
tortures
my spine. Annnnd there’s another gag.
"What is it? What happened?" I jump at the intensity of his voice.
"N-nothing. I'm fine. Please leave me alone for a minute." Jeez...
some privacy?
"I don't think so. What happened?"
"Nothing happened.
Honestly.
I'm just tired."
"Bullshit, Sweetheart. I know you well enough to know when you’re deflecting. What were you thinking about that made you this sick? Are you okay with what we did?" DEFLECT!!
"Can I
please
have some privacy?" And, there’s another gag for emphasis.
Great.
"What happened? Tell me, NOW!"
"No. I don't want to. Okay?! Just leave me alone for a minute. Go back and work or something. I just need to get it together, in PRIVATE."
"This isn't going to work..."
What?!
Already?
"I told you it wouldn't work. When are you leaving?" I ask on a moan.
"What? Oh, that's not what I meant. I only meant you pushing me away wasn’t going to work. I’m here, and you’re going to have to start trusting me, and you had better start communicating with me. So start now. What the hell happened to set you back?"
Staring at Z, I refuse to budge. I'm not talking. He can't force me to speak, so I'll just wait him out. Except, Z seems to be thinking the same thing as me.
Shit.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans against the sink, crosses his ankles, and just smirks at me.
Rising from the floor, I walk over to the sink, excuse myself, and begin scrubbing my hands with soap. Afterward, brushing my teeth, I stare at Z's naked back through the mirror, while he maintains his static position against the sink.
Jerk.
When there’s a knock on the door, I turn to him, but he doesn't move a muscle.
"Um, that's probably lunch."
Duh
.
"I don't give a fuck about the food. Talk." Wow, he’s
really
stubborn.
"No. There’s nothing to talk about. I was nauseous, that's all. It happens. Please stop this."
"Not until you tell me what you were thinking about."
Christ!
This is annoying.
Moving from the sink, I grab my sweater and slacks and head for the main room. Surprised, I actually had that whole conversation in just my bra and panties, hunched over a toilet no less,
on the floor.
It looks like I've lost all my breeding now. My parents will be so thrilled.
Z grabs my arms just after I pull on my sweater. "
What?!
God! Just leave me alone, okay? I'm fine." Wrenching my arms from his grip, I pull on my slacks while he glares at me. Ripping the door open, I startle the poor man behind the door. Smiling, I apologize, accept the food, throw it on the table, and storm back toward the bathroom. Where else can I go? But again Z stops me.
Snarling right in my face, "What happened? I want to know. NOW!"
"Fine! I was thinking about you and I this morning and how wonderful I felt, and then I was thinking about the life I have to go back to, and it made me throw-up. Okay? Stop bullying me! If I had wanted to talk to you, I would've, but I didn't and still you got your way.
THAT
seems to be the story of my life. So, thank you for that. You fit right in- demanding and taking from me like they all do,
whenever
you want, whether
I
want it or not!" And slamming the bathroom door closed, I lock it. There!
"Open the door, Sweetheart. Open it now or I'll break it down, and don't think I won't, because I absolutely will. So, I guess the hotel will be glad they used
my
credit card as your security deposit then, won’t they?" What? Is he making a joke? I think so. I think I heard his smile-voice.
"Now, Sweetheart. I want to talk to you, now. If I must, I'll count to three, but be warned, I won't be held accountable for what I do to you if I have to break down the damn door. Open it, now!" He sounds
really
angry now. Is he going to hit me? How will he punish me?
Opening the door slowly, I peak my head out tentatively and ask, "Are you going to hit me?" God, I sound like such a child.
Z staggers back a step looking at me in...
what?
Shock?
"Hit you?
Hit you?
Jesus
Christ!
No! I'm not going to hit you. Why would you ask me that?" He looks so offended, I feel bad.
"Well, you said you were warning me, and that you wouldn't be 'held accountable for what you'd do', so I was nervous you were going to hit me, or, or punish me hard, or slap me or something."
In the complete silence that follows, Z is just staring at me like I’m insane, or like he’s thinking of what to say, or like I’m
INSANE.
An eternity later, Z finally walks 2 steps closer to me and takes me in his arms. "I'm sorry if I gave you the impression I would hit or
punish
you. I would NEVER hit you.
EVER.
I was more joking than anything else. I was thinking about picking you up fully clothed and throwing you in a cold shower until you spoke to me... I was never thinking about hitting you. Sweetheart, where did that come from? Who hits you? Does he hit you, too?" He looks so sad again.
"No. Not really... "
"He does, or he doesn't. Which is it?"
"Um, Marcus slapped me across the face a few times when I was being stupid or something, or acting out, but not too often. I just kind of
wait
for it though all the time, just in case."
Z takes another large breath, and as he exhales, he nearly moans, "I will never hit you.
Ever.
Please trust
that,
even if you don't fully trust me yet." He looks so sincere; I can't help but believe him.
"Okay. I'm sorry Z. I just got scared when I wasn't doing what you wanted me to do."
"Fuck, Sweetheart. Please, don't be afraid of me,
ever
. That freaks
me
out." He says with another huffing exhale.
"I'm really sorry, Z. I didn't mean to upset you. Please don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad- it's fine. You didn't know, and now you know. I. Will. Never. Hit. You... No matter what you do, or
don't
do...."
"Okay. Sorry... "
And after another long silence, Z takes my hand and tugs me over to the little table,pulls out the chair, and say
s‘
si
t’
.
Removing our lunch from the bags and packages, Z looks around for the little hotel room glasses and pours our drinks from the cans. He is too quiet, but he smiles at me frequently, as if to reassure me that he's not mad at me.
"After we eat, I'd like to listen to all your voicemails, and then we'll discuss tonight, and the next few days, alright?"
"Okay, but you really don't have to listen with me. I can handle it by myself."
"Actually, I want to. Plus, I'll have a better idea of where your
husband…
" sneer "…and your
loving
parents…" another sneer "…are headed with you, and this separation."
"I'm sure they've just threatened to cut me out of their will or something similar to that. Maybe even given me the
'You're a Disgrace'
lecture, followed by the
'After All We've Done For You'
lecture, topped off with the
'You Are Such A Disappointment'
grand finale. Really, it’s all very standard stuff," I say with a little giggle.
Grinning, he asks, "Heard that often, have you?"
"Often enough to not have to listen anymore. I can quote the lectures
verbatim
, if you'd like?"
"No, thanks. I'd much prefer to hear the live version, if you don't mind. Why spoil the fun with your imitation, though I'm sure it would be wonderful." Now, he's laughing.
"No problem, Z. I'm sure it will be entertaining for you." I laugh in return.
==========
Sitting down on the bed with our backs against the headboard, we begin. At first I'm a little distracted by my sore back, but Z is listening so intently, it seems rude not to pay close attention as well. Z is even holding my hand.
The first few calls Friday night, well, actually early Saturday morning, are fairly standard from both Marcus and my parents. 'Where are you? Are you okay? What’s going on?' To the slightly more aggressive voicemails later Sunday afternoon 'What have you done? How could you do this? How could you do this to me? How could you do this to Marcus? How could you do this to us?' Blah blah.
Z and I listen with a sort of comfortable silence. Still holding my hand throughout, he seems relieved that there wasn't any overt threats...
yet
. I want to warn him that they’re coming.
"That's only Sunday, Z. They still have today to speak with lawyers, doctors, each other, and anyone else they think could influence me into
being good
," I sigh.
"I understand, and I'm waiting for it. Let's listen to Kayla's, okay?" Gulp.
"I'm sure it will be colorful, at least."
Whore!
"Yes, Kayla does have a way with words doesn't she?" And turning his head to me, Z gives me a tender kiss on the lips.
Preparing for Kayla's voicemail proves challenging for me, but Z grabs my hand tighter as we begin to listen.
"Sweetie... I. Am. So.
Sorry
. That fucking prick told me what he said to you. I am so FUCKING SORRY! I DID sleep with Marcus, ONCE. That's all-
One time
. I didn't know he was your husband, I swear I didn't. He never told me at the time. He told me Saturday morning that he conveniently forgot to tell you
that
part Friday night.
Dickhead!
It was after that Buyers luncheon in Tampa 5 years ago, right after you started at the company. I met Marcus. He told me he was alone, and
available.
He said he had to make a call and would be right back, and we left together. He had NO wedding ring on, and he didn't tell me he was married, never mind to the new quiet girl I
worked
with!! Fucking Asshole!"
I can't help but laugh at her language...
"… I HAD NO IDEA! After he left that night, I thought I'd never see him again. And, and then the next morning, there you were...
together.
Both of you having breakfast before we all flew out for Chicago. You even introduced us. Marcus was perfectly polite and calm, and
I
left to go throw-up. I felt like such a fucking whore... Anyway, Marcus called me two days later, and I screamed bloody murder at him. I was mortified and horrified at what had happened. I insisted he never, EVER call me..."
Oh, the call ended. Okay... Next voicemail. I find myself grinning, which is weird.
"FUCK! I hate fucking voicemail. Anyway, I told that
ASSHOLE
to never call me again. I threatened to tell you, but Marcus gave me this long speech about you being ‘
too weak’
to handle something like that, that it would ‘
destroy you’,
etc. So I decided not to tell you. I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't even really know you then. You were like this tiny,
what?
24 year old girl? You just seemed too quiet or something. I knew your
Fuck-Head
husband was an asshole, but I didn't know how you would handle finding out, so I didn't tell you. I'm sorry. You were always so polite, and quiet, and nice to everyone. And as far as I knew, you never trashed me behind my back like the other office bitches did, so I decided to be your friend. I wanted to protect you from all the shit in the office, and I think I did. I know you don't want to hear this, but honestly Sweetie, I did protect you, and I did do it because I care for you; though maybe not at first. At first, I
was
only acting out of guilt, but then I saw how sad you actually were, sometimes looking, really, like
lost
or something, and I just kind of fell into
wanting
to protect you, or something, or..."
Another disconnection. I'm not really grinning anymore.
"
FUCK!
I really hate this. I sound all manic over here, because, well, I AM! Sweetie, I really,
really
am sorry. I would never have fucked that
PIG,
if I had known he was your husband, and I never would have hurt you intentionally. I think of you as a friend, and I hope you can forgive me someday. And if you need
anything
from me, I'll do it.
ANYTHING.
I'll even testify in a divorce hearing that he cheated with me, if you want. I don't care how I look, I just want to help you, to, ah, make this right or something. Oh, and I'm sorry to drop this on you now, but there were others, too.
Fuck-Head
told me about a few... I would testify to that as well, if you want...though I know it's hearsay, believe me, I would convince the judge to hear me out... Look, I'll shut up now, but, I. Am. Very. Sorry. Please call me if you need a friend, but I won't call you again. I'll just wait for you, if or when you're ready to talk, scream, or punch me. You can you know? You can punch me right in the face. I won't even hit back, I promise. I'm sorry Sweetie. Please forgive me. Um… bye."
Wow. Punch her in the face? Giggle.
Holy shit.
Laugh. That is so messed up. But it might be a little fun. I've never punched someone in the face before.
"How do you punch someone in the face, Z?" And more laughter. I can't hold it in anymore.
"It's quite simple really. Were you thinking of taking Kayla up on her offer?" Ah, the smile-voice.
"Maybe."
And...
more laughter. This is too funny.
"Well, I have to admit
I
believe her. Do you?" He asks me through my laughter.
"Yes. I don't really see Kayla as the home wrecker type, just the easy type. And she really does sound upset, doesn't she?"
"Yes, Sweetheart, she really does. I'm sorry about all of this for you of course, but I’m sorry for her too. I spoke to her the night she
thought
you were attacked, and she was absolutely frantic to help you, but Marcus kept blocking her attempts. I believed she was your friend then, and I still do. Do you want to talk to her?"
"No. Well, not yet anyway. I'm a little too shaken right now, to switch back into thinking of her as my ‘friend’ again. But maybe in a while. I don't know."
In the silence that follows, I can’t help thinking about ‘manic’ Kayla. God, Kayla sounded really upset and angry about all this. I do actually believe her story. I could see it happening. Actually, if I remember correctly, Marcus did leave me for a few hours when we were in Tampa. He said something abou
t‘
talking taxe
s
’ with someone.
Taxes?
Yeah, right. What an asshole!
"Sweetheart? Do you want to listen to the rest? Or do you need to stop for awhile?"
"No. I'm good. What can Marcus really say at this point?" Lots actually. Gulp.