The Mistress (14 page)

Pulling away from her silly thoughts and into the moment, Haley began to thrash harshly, and as Preston's rhythm started to falter, she knew that it wouldn’t be long now. With a few more quick thrusts, they soared over the edge together once again. His chest fell forward to gently rest against her breasts. As their breathing slowed in unison, she laid soft kisses along his hair.

He lifted his eyes up to meet hers, and she was pleasantly surprised by the love he seemed to harbor within them. Devil eyes, or not – they really were beautiful and gave her a sense of peace. Whether not it was a false sense of it, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t even sure if she cared.

“I love you so much,” she said, kissing his forehead one last time.

He sighed in contentment, his eyes lighting up even more. He pressed his body closer to hears, his member still resting within her. He pressed his lips against hers tenderly before pulling away from her slowly, slipping out of her. He looked at her, and she to him. Maybe he did feel the same; maybe he wasn’t full of shit. Maybe, just maybe, she
could
trust him.

M
arissa held the camera steady while the boys held up their swimming trunks. Time to plan their vacation. It was still a few weeks away, but the boys always went and grabbed new swim trunks to mark the season. It was their tradition. Probably the only tradition the two actually had, unfortunately

“You guys look cute,” she giggled, lowering the device and looking at the two men with pride. “Ok, Lucas, go do your homework. You have school tomorrow,” she shooed with a stern tone. He had been missing so much school lately due to matters Preston still hadn’t fully discussed with her. She wondered what it had been; all he said was that he would take care of it, which seemed only to worry her more. What was there to take care of? Her mind scattered to try to find the truth about it all, but she decided to do as she always had and trust her husband. When he said he would take care of something, he would.

Lucas groaned aloud, ruffling the shorts into his face with melodrama.
Like father like son
, she thought amusedly. “Mom!” Sophie shouted. Her voice was getting closer, and Marissa could hear the pitter-patter of her feet as she descended the stairs – quite hurriedly. She was headed for them.

Just as she was about to respond, the ten year-old-girl reached the bottom of the stairs and typhooned into her with force. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s legs and yelled quite sweetly, “Guess what!”

“What, sweetie?” Marissa questioned, hardly able to move beneath the child’s grasp.

“I said guess!” the little girl yelled out of what sounded like frustration.

“Dude, just tell her – you’re being annoying,” Lucas chimed in before poking her square in the head. Brotherly love – had to love it. But Sophie didn’t. She let go of her mother in that instance, whirled around, and launched a full frontal punch directly into Lucas’s stomach. With a vocal “oomph,” he crumpled over in pain.

Marissa wanted to laugh but instead grabbed her daughter’s hand, reprimanding her, and scorned her vocally. They had really not been getting along over the past few weeks, but she had no idea why. “Shut up, loser,” Sophie scolded pointedly towards her brother. Without even awaiting a response from his parents, Lucas bolted quickly to the stairs and ran up them with thundering stomps. All that was heard were those steps and a strong slam of the door.

What the hell was that about?
Preston stood there, wide-eyed, in disbelief of what had just occurred. The ten-year-old was bullying the twelve-year-old now? Not only that, but their ten-year-old little girl? What was happening?

“What is that about?” Preston asked seriously, bending to her level. She looked to her feet, and he sighed. Standing up, he took his daughter by the hand and with a light squeeze led her into the living room. Marissa could do nothing but watch as their bodies walked slowly to the couch before gently falling onto it. She leaned against the doorway, training her ears the best she could to hear the conversation unfolding.

“That’s what everyone else calls him...” Sophie trailed.

“Well, that’s not what
you
call him,” Preston iterated strongly, taking her baby cheeks in his hands to make her look at him.

Marissa sighed. She was upset; Sophie and Preston had always had a stronger relationship than he and Lucas. She wished more than anything that they were closer, but honestly, they were so alike that they butted heads constantly. She understood that, but she had hoped that they could bond
because
of their likeness rather than despite it.

She heard a few hushed whispers, and then they dispersed. Preston broke way to the kitchen, likely to pour himself a drink, while the little girl – not forgetting her earlier task – scurried back over to Marissa and said gently, “I just wanted you to know that I found a boyfriend.”

And just then, without missing a beat, Preston rounded the corner, mouth agape and an empty whiskey glass in tow. He looked at them for a millisecond – with fear and disappointment plastered over his face – before speaking. “What?” he asked, obviously trying to remain calm. “Boyfriend? You’re eight years old!”

“I’m ten, Dad,” Sophie corrected. It was amusing; it was as if she thought she was grown up already.

“That makes a difference?” Preston seethed. “I need a drink,” he continued, being his animated self before turning around and heading back for the kitchen. “And no boyfriends!” he called from behind him.

Marissa couldn’t help but laugh in amusement, despite the previous argument between her two children. As if he could merely tell her no and it’d all go away; as if the world worked that way. The fact of the matter was Sophie may have just been ten years old, but she was reaching the age of puberty, and whether he liked it or not she was going to be interested in boys.

She wondered, though; what had Preston and Sophie whispered? Did the other kids calling him a “loser” have anything to do with the trouble he’d been having at school? She was confused, and now she wondered – was she really going to trust Preston to take care of it?

~~~

H
aley made herself a cup of coffee. The white tattered machine spit out the java in small even spurts until it filled her cup. She took the black roasted coffee and sat down on her cheap black sofa. She looked around her room, and laughed lightheartedly. She lived like a college student, she mused. She had only just moved from the Lancers’ home recently and still hadn’t bought everything she needed. There was this small black sofa, the small white coffee pot, a foldable card table, a dresser, night stand complete with lamp, and her bed. That was all that existed within her apartment. There were no photos on the wall, but then again, who would she frame? There were no decorative pieces for accents. There was nothing.

The Lancers were the only family she seemed to possess – but now she wasn’t sure if she’d feel right having photos of them. Secretly, she wished her last name was Lancer – though now, it wasn’t through some sort of strange adoption technique, but instead was through matrimony. She scorned herself slightly; she wanted to steal Marissa’s husband now?

Now? Fucking now? Wasn’t that what she had been subconsciously doing all along? She sure as hell wasn’t helping their marriage any. Helping... What was there to help? Where did it go wrong? When did it all seem to shift? She couldn’t place it. She knew that she and Preston had been close friends ever since the fateful night of her separation from her husband. But she didn’t know when that friendship shifted – she could only remember it coming to a head six weeks ago. Before that though, it was all a blank.

As much as she wanted to deny it before, the truth of the matter was that Marissa and Preston’s marriage was over. It didn’t matter if they loved each other – though he stated just yesterday that he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter if she wanted to work on it; the fact remained that the trust had been broken. Yes, things must have shifted before he committing the untrustworthy sin of adultery, but that had sealed the deal. She wanted to deny it before, but now she wouldn’t dare. And now she wasn’t sure that she wanted to deny it – she wasn’t happy by any means, but perhaps she was a bit relieved.

She wasn’t naïve. She knew that there would be no white horse, no castle in her wake, and Preston was no Prince Charming. There were no happy endings in this story. She knew that. She really did, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved. Once a marriage loses its trust, is it really worth fixing?

In her experience, once the trust was gone – it was gone. There was no truly getting it back. It was merely broken, the pieces only just glued back together – their cracks still prominently displaying in your eye’s sight. It was there constantly, reminding you of what you lost. What was once beautiful and pristine was nothing more than junk feigning the appearance of being together. Why would you stay in a marriage like that? Why would you ever expose yourself to sleepless nights and worried days?

Oh, but for the kids! – She could hear the critics bellow even now as she swigged the fiery drink. Stay together for the kids! What those judgmental optimists didn’t know was that she was one of those kids. Her parents had stayed together out of obligation and grew to resent everything of and within one another. Resentment leads to hatred – an emotion she wanted to convey to those insufferable critics. Because hatred was the worst emotion of all, and she knew it all too well.

Not because she had ever hated anyone; she hadn’t. But she had seen it, felt it. Hatred was a car crash by the 7/11 on a Wednesday night. Hatred was her father as he screamed at her mother in blood-curdling fashion. Hatred was the reaction of her mother pressing the gas pedal in an angry fit. Hatred was inevitably running the red light and a semi-truck claiming their lives. Hatred was Haley when she wasn’t taken too and was instead forced to live on without them at only ten years old. Hatred, oh hatred. She wanted to believe her parents hadn’t
really hated
each other, but could never be sure. The only fact that remained was that they had acted in hatred because resentment was the only sense they had come to know.

But these critics – oh, these critics. These authors and TV evangelists were the ones that didn’t know the truth about kids from broken homes. They couldn’t know the truth. They’d never been part of the truth. So could she blame them? Could she really be this cynical about them? After all, were they not just looking out for the innocents in such a sinful situation?

Lucas and Sophie
were
the innocents. That much was true. Haley couldn’t believe it, but she was the fairy tale’s antihero, the antagonist of not only the day, but the entire fucking story. She was the sinful and bitter witch who terrorized the innocents. She was terrorizing Lucas and Sophie. They just didn’t know it.

She had changed over the last six weeks. She wasn’t that charming woman they had always known. She wasn’t organized or a steady role model any longer. She sure as hell wasn’t the proper and well-mannered woman she had been before any longer. She wasn’t really even a shadow of the woman she had once been – at least, she hadn’t been acting like it.

He had stolen it. He had stolen all of who she prided herself for being, but she wasn’t sad. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of her sadness. She was different, yes, but perhaps it was for the better.

~~~

M
arissa awoke the next morning snuggled within Preston's arms. She couldn’t remember the last time that this had occurred. They were usually facing opposite directions, far away from one another due to the heat of the night and the love both of them had for the opportunity to spread out as much as humanly possible.

It was still dark outside, just before dawn, and she savored the warmth of their bed, their matrimonial bed of love and companionship. Preston was spooning her, and she could sense his eyes fluttering open. He was waking up as well.

Surprisingly,
she
was surprised by the faint hint of a morning erection pressing against her bum. She smiled, wiggling back against it a little.

Preston groaned. "You’re not very nice.” He kissed her shoulder sweetly.

"Dreaming about me, I hope?" Marissa replied with a smile. In reality she knew it didn’t quite work that way, but she was particularly aroused and wanted to make up for an argument that they had last night. It was in regard to the Lucas/Sophie debacle. She worried that he wasn’t taking care of it properly, and his discretion of the matter made her even less at ease. In truth, she was worried.

Not only was she worried about her son, but she was also worried about her daughter. She didn’t want her to grow up with the wrong idea of acceptance. She didn’t want her to be a bully, and moreover, she wanted her to possess compassion like no other. She wanted to teach her to honor her morality. She didn’t want her to fall to the masses and become a follower. She wanted better. And she also – if she was really being honest – was worried that Preston might mess it all up. He had never been in charge of the kids’ issues. She worried for his sanity, as well as theirs.

"Mmmmm," he mumbled in agreement, and she was finally knocked back to the moment. They had argued last night, and she was worried that he wouldn’t want to speak, let alone engage in sex, but here he was, snuggled against her and seemingly ready to go.

"You and all kinds of naughty things." He rocked his hips forward, gently pushing his erection against her ass. She was almost a little taken aback by how over it he was, and though she did want to make up in a pleasurable kind of way, she also wanted to know that he even cared what happened last night. She knew it might be a bit insane, but she wanted him to be angry – at least a little.

"What's wrong?" he mumbled, obviously feeling her body begin to stiffen against him.

"Nothing," Marissa replied. It was obviously untrue, and she wondered if he still possessed that infamous intuition in regards to her emotions. He did. All too well. He furrowed his brow behind her, definitely more awake now than he had been just a moment ago.