Dead to Her(7)

No one disagreed.





5.

It was with relief that Marcie closed the heavy front door behind them and stepped into the cool of their house, her sanctuary. Her head ached with the remnants of her seasickness, too much heat, and this awful fear that she was losing her grip on everything. Plus the wine, she conceded.

Even though it was still early all she wanted was a shower and to go to bed. The car ride had been quiet after she’d closed down any conversation Jason tried to start. His good mood had been bubbling over, his enjoyment of the afternoon in direct opposition to how dark she now felt.

Once a cheat, always a cheat. Thrill seekers seek thrills and that’s all there is to it. Just be careful, dear.

The words still stung, said by a near-stranger, one of Jacquie’s friends, in the club’s restroom when she and Jason first “came out” as a couple. Not long after the divorce Jacquie had met a retired orthopedic surgeon and moved to Atlanta. She no longer had cheat worries though. Her second husband had died of a massive heart attack not long before Eleanor passed away apparently. Jacquie was now off in Florida somewhere on an extended vacation on his insurance. It almost gave Marcie a pang of envy. All that freedom.

“I didn’t know you’d called William this morning,” she said, kicking off her shoes, the cold tiles delicious on her hot feet.

“Does it matter?”

“You didn’t mention it, that’s all. Is everything okay?”

“He wasn’t due home until after Thanksgiving. I wanted to see if he was going back to work or not.”

“Couldn’t you have asked him this afternoon?” She got herself a glass of water and swallowed two Advil from the cupboard. This throbbing head wasn’t helping her mood, and her stomach was tight, nervy. Did she want a fight? No, she didn’t. So why was she pestering him?

“No business when socializing remember? William hates that. Anyway, why does it matter? What’s wrong with you today? It was work.”

“Like jumping in the creek was work.”

There was a long pause after that and her heart raced. Finally, Jason put his beer bottle down on the counter and stared at her. “Why are you acting like this?”

She stared right back at him. “I think you like her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He looked so appalled she very nearly believed him, until he uttered the death knell of denial. “She’s not my type.”

The words were a slap in the face. He did want her. And not just in a yeah, she’s hot, I so would jokey way.

“Really?” The word dripped from her, heavy with sarcasm.

“For God’s sake, Marcie, am I never supposed to look at another woman, ever? Is that how you’d like me? Castrated?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” What was she saying? “This seems different, that’s all. It makes me feel odd and I don’t know why.” She suddenly felt teary. She was making it worse.

“I don’t want to sleep with her,” Jason said, softened by her upset. “I just find her . . . refreshing, I guess.”

“Refreshing?”

“You know”—he shrugged—“a bit wild. Young. Different from our friends.”

Your friends is what she wanted to snap at him, but she bit it back. They weren’t Marcie’s friends, they’d simply absorbed her into them. Scrubbed her up and made her respectable. She hadn’t fought it because she loved him. She’d allowed it.

“I’m not boring,” she said, and he burst out laughing.

“No,” he said. “No, you’re not. A bit crazy maybe, but not boring.” He reached out and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. A sterile kiss. “She’s young, that’s all,” he breathed hot on her scalp. “Too young for me.”

Thought no man ever.



Later that night when she snuck away to take her no baby, thank you very much pill and had locked the dressing-room door, she stood on her vanity chair and carefully removed the overhead vent cover. Up on her tiptoes she reached as far as she could and pulled out the small tin sandwich box she kept hidden there. She calmed a little just running her fingers over the surface.

Why was she feeling the need to look inside? Keisha Keisha Keisha, that was why. Remembering how Jason had looked at her in the water, how desperately eager he’d been to abandon Marcie and jump in to join her, Marcie wanted to kill him. It was what men never understood. The little disregards hurt the most. The shift from adoration to feeling comfortable. Taken for granted. Disrespected. She had never wanted that. She didn’t want that. Her blood ran too hot in her veins.

She stared at the box. Her reminder of how far she’d come. Her anchor. Whenever this life she fought so hard for made her feel suffocated, all she needed was to look at the box. Yeah, life wasn’t the perfection she’d hoped for, but things could be a lot, lot worse. She didn’t need to open it to know that the first item, the one that covered all her other memories, was a photo of her and Jason, her arms around his neck, both laughing. Free. Back when they’d first met. When everything was passion and they’d have died for each other. God, how she missed that passion.

Thrill seekers seek thrills and that’s all there is to it.

No, she thought, that’s not true. People can change. People do change. Everything was going to be fine. Marcie and Jason Maddox were meant to be.