The Marriage Contract (19 page)

              “We have nothing to discuss,” I said.

              He laughed. “Are you sure about that? You put me in such a fucking awkward situation, and you say there’s nothing to discuss? That’s rich, that’s real—“

              I snapped my head to the side, glaring at him.

              “I didn’t put you in any situation! If you can’t trust me, that’s not my problem—“

              “People like you don’t deserve trust.” He said this casually, as though making small talk.

              I stood, my chest heaving, as I held back the incredible urge to stomp on his crisp black Armani shoes. There was a sly grin across his full lips, as his brow rose- staring at me as though I were a clown, sent for his amusement.

              “What do you mean, people like me?” I snapped.

              He shrugged, running a hand through his soft brown locks. His Adams apple rose and fell, as his golden eyes locked on mine, before staring past me, as though deciding I wasn’t even worth looking at.

              “People who marry for money.” The words left his tongue slowly- each syllable cutting through my veins, as the sentence lingered in the air, like a cold silence.

              The exhale of my breath was the only sound that passed between us, as he turned his focus on me- his eyes, expressionless.

              “You know why I married you,” I said, my voice trembling. “It wasn’t for money! It wasn’t…it wasn’t at all for that—“

              He stood, placing both hands within the pockets of his black trousers. His head tilted at the side- a cruel smile spread across his lips.

              “It was precisely for that,” he insisted. “The shelter was just an excuse—“

              “That’s not true! The shelter was the only reason I would marry an asshole like you!”

              He took a step towards me, and I watched his approach, not trusting his next move. His poker face was spot on, but mine, was breaking, and crumbling, for tears threatened to drip past my lids. It took all that I had in me to not cry, because crying would make me an even bigger fool. My insides were trembling like an autumn leaf, but I would not cry. I could not cry.

              My mouth went dry, as he took another few steps towards me, so that we were only a foot apart.

              “If I’m such an asshole, then why did you kiss me?” There was an amused tremor to his voice.

              I willed my gaze not to drop, but the more he stared at me with hard, unfamiliar eyes, the more I wanted to crawl into a corner and hide. But hiding was for cowards, and though I was a fool, I was not a coward.

              “Because I wanted to,” I said, breathing deeply. “I don’t know…I felt something…I can’t explain it, but I just went with what I felt, and acted without thinking, and for that, I apologize. Not to you, but to myself. You weren’t worth it.”

              For a second, pain struck his eyes, but he diverted his gaze to the ground, as if stopping to rearrange his mask. He stood tall, staring at me with anger clouded over his features- his jaw clenched.

              “Let me tell you something, Princess,” he snapped, losing his cool façade. “You may have married me on the basis that I’d get that shit hole of a shelter saved, but it’s also something else—“

              “The only shit hole in this room, is you!” I yelled, turning around so I could leave before I did something to him that I would only regret later on.

              As I turned, his arm circled over my elbow, whipping me around, so that I hit his chest. My heart thumped wildly, as I tried to shake away from his touch, but he held me firm- his hands gripping both my arms in a tight lock. My eyes widened, as I stared at him- wide eyed, like a deer caught at gun point.

              “Let go, or else I’ll—“

              James’s arms wrapped firmly around me, locking me in place with a fierce hug, as he began walking us backwards. He was fast, his legs striding back, his arms tightening over my back, till we hit the cold, hard wall.

              “Or else you’ll what?” His legs were pressed against mine, so that even if I wanted to, I could not kick him where it hurts.

              “You’re an animal!” I snapped, glaring at him.

              He scoffed. “That I am—“

              “What the hell do you want from me?” I shouted. “It was just a video that some weirdo made! After a month, no one’s going to care about it! The world does not revolve around you, so no one gives a damn about that video! It affects you in no way, shape, or form—“

              He pressed me tighter against him, and I gasped, as his brown eyes, raged in fury. The scent of cool mint withered across my cheek, as he stared at me with murder glinting over his orbs. I shivered, not liking the furious way he was staring at me, for it sent a wintry chill down the valley of my spine.

              “It does fucking affect me!” James’s voice boomed against the walls of the living room, and I shook, surprised at how angry he was. “You aren’t meeting that man again. That’s final.”

              I glared. “He’s my professor! You’re still misunderstanding everything! You only care about your stupid reputation—“

              “Listen here, and listen well,” he whispered, his head dipping towards me till our lips were millimeters apart. “I don’t give a fuck about who sees that video. My reputation is and always has been, a mess, so that small, meaningless video won’t be able to do anything to me. In fact, it’ll add publicity. I should be thanking you for adding attention to us. But, I…I don’t know why…it’s just…it’s bothering the hell out of me just thinking about that dickhead touching you! You were sitting there, laughing with him, and smiling that pretty smile at him, and it’s driving me nuts just thinking about it. And to add icing to the cake…you fell into his arms, and he held you. It’s like you were in love with him and not…nothing.”

              I had stopped struggling, as he spoke, letting that cold mask crumble off with every sentence he uttered. He looked almost afraid, as though worried he was losing something…losing me. I was at a loss for words, and for the first time in my life, someone had managed to surprise me. I could read through people in a way that others read through text, but James was proving that he had more layers than I originally thought.

              I didn’t think he liked me, but there was something he was afraid of. Almost like a fear of abandonment.

              I thought about his mother, and how he’d gotten so mad when I asked about her. Had she left him and his dad? Of course, I would not assume what had happened to him, but I had a burning desire to ask.

              James’s arms loosened around me, as he sighed, staring at me with eyes filled with a distant longing.

              “He’s my teacher, James.” I spoke softly, my eyes never leaving his. “But…I don’t understand…I’m really confused. You don’t want me touching you…yet you hate anyone else touching me. How does that make sense—“

              He backed up, flinging his arms away, as fear clouded over his gaze. He was not prepared for that question, and since he’d dropped his guard, I could tell he didn’t know how to re-adjust that cold façade.

              “Shut up! Just shut up!” He snapped. “You’re…you’re trying to confuse me. That’s what you’re doing. This marriage, this stupid ass fake marriage is just a game. And you’re trying to turn this game into reality, and I’ll never let that happen. You were supposed to be a pawn…not a queen—“

              I took a few steps towards him, hoping to calm him down for he looked terribly disturbed. He couldn’t meet my gaze, as he stared at the ground, backing up till he hit the kitchen counter.

              “Just tell me what’s wrong.” I spoke slowly. “I can help—“

              He slammed his fist against the smooth, marble counter- his white shirt, wrinkled against his chest. When scarlet blood trickled down his thumb, trailing down the counter, I ran towards him. He extended an arm towards me, shaking his head- his eyes narrowed, warning me not to near.

              “You’re bleeding!” I said. “Let me help—“

              He laughed- his eyes beginning to glisten with water. My heart ached for him, for he was in a self-deprecating pain, and I wondered how long he had lived with such a chip. Did he talk to his family about this? Did Richard know?

              Though I didn’t understand what was hurting him, I knew that he needed someone, anyone- beside him.

              This wasn’t about the video anymore, and it wasn’t about me.

              “You want to help me?” he asked, laughing manically. “Then leave. Get the fuck out of my life just like she had! That’s all you women do anyway. You fuck me over, and then leave. Would you ever marry a guy like me, Dorothy? Would you?”

              I bit my lip, as a tear trickled past my cheek.

              “James,” I said. “Let me help you. Please—“

              He laughed once more, shaking his head.

              “You wouldn’t,” he answered. “A girl like you would never marry a guy like me. Why? Because I’m an asshole, Dorothy. I was born an asshole, and that’s who I am, and that’s who I’ll always be—“

              “That’s not true!”

              “It is!” he said, his voice breaking. “Now…are you leaving, or should I?”

              “Can’t we talk about this?” I asked, wanting desperately to make him feel better. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with you—“

              “And you’ll never find out,” he barked. “I’m out. Don’t know when I’ll be back.”

              I watched with a heavy heart, as he strode towards the door, opening it. Another tear stung my eye, trickling down my chin, as he stood before the open door- facing his back to me.

              “You aren’t below me, Dorothy” he whispered. “I’m below you…I’m below everyone.”

              I wanted to stop him then, but he exited out the door, slamming it closed. The echo of his departure rested like a ghost around the room, hovering around me in a slow circular wave, raising the small hairs on my neck.

              I had never been so confused in my life.

              Five minutes after his leave, I decided that I couldn’t just sit there like some damsel, waiting for tomorrow. Even if he didn’t like me, it wasn’t right to leave him isolated during a tough time. I knew how cold it felt to be alone, without having anyone to turn to, and it was a feeling that I wouldn’t even wish upon my worst enemy.

              Running to his room, I grabbed the iPhone he’d forgotten to take with him when he left. It sat on the corner of his bed, dipped into the white, wrinkled, comforter. It felt wrong to touch someone else’s phone without their knowledge, but I had no other option.

              I swiped through his contacts, before stopping on Richard’s name. Chewing my bottom lip, I felt an unease rush through my chest, as I clicked the name, pressing the phone against my ear.

              Richard answered on the third ring.

              “What do you want?”

              I frowned.

              Did he always greet James with such hostility?

              I shook the unnecessary thoughts, not wanting to get distracted by Richard and James’s unfriendly relationship.

              “It’s me,” I said, panting.

              “Dorothy.” He said my name softly, as though tasting it on his tongue. “Is everything alright?—“

              “James and I had a small disagreement, and he left, and I’m a bit worried, so can you please tell me where he would go when he’s feeling down?—“

              “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” he said. “Now…tell me slowly and clearly. What happened?—“

              I gripped the phone tightly against my ear, licking my bottom lip. My heart pounded within my chest, as I thought about James and where he would be at this moment- alone and troubled.

              “Please, just tell me where he would go! I don’t have time!” There was longing in my tone, as James’s sad eyes flashed across my mind over and over again.

              Richard hesitated. “South Street Seaport. He’s at the top floor of the boat, near the end. “

              I sighed, relieved.

              “Thank you!” I said. “Thank you so much. I owe you!”

              “Wait,” he began. “Tell me what’s wrong—”

              “I can’t,” I said. “And I’m sorry for leaving so abruptly this morning! But right now, I really got to go.”

              Before he could object, I hung up.

              The last time I’d visited the seaport was a summer ago, with April and a few classmates. We ate on a bench overlooking the ocean, talking about our every day on goings, as the hot sun bore over our back. The day was lazy, but beautifully so, for we walked down the rocky brick road, entering tourist shops, and watching the local performances. It was a simple memory, but also, one of the finer recollections that I’d remember for a long while.

              Surprisingly, it was not a crowded day, for the mall inside the shop, was not littered with heads and arms and souls. Soft light streamed through the row of doors leading to the balcony, as I ran towards it, circling my palm over the rugged handle. A few people noticed my anxiety, turning their heads towards me, their eyes- clouded with judgment. I ignored their gaze, as the cool spring rays dawned over my white dress, withering by my neck.