The Mistress, Part Two (15 page)

She thought that she had always been marked with the curse of weakness, but that wasn’t so. She had been cursed with something else, sadly. Through all of this, Marissa wondered if she could ever trust fully again. She wondered if human beings were supposed to trust one another completely, though. People lie every day – are we really supposed to put stock into everything they say?

She felt her attitude changing again. She wondered if she’d ever be the same. She knew that her cynicism wasn’t how life was supposed to be. She had been burned, yes, but she still knew within herself that we
are
supposed to trust. Perhaps she just needed to continue to work through it all and find the line between naivety and trust.

She breathed heavily into the phone, set on the answer that she would give. She couldn’t talk to him, not now. She knew better, but despite the answer having been set on her mind, it wasn’t the one that left her lips. “Yeah,” she responded, much to her own amazement. “Come on over.”

What the hell? Why did she do that? She didn’t know, but she knew that she actually did want to see him. She didn’t want an explanation; she felt that she had already gotten that. She didn’t care why he did what he did. She honestly didn’t know what she wanted.

She heard a light tap on the front door. It was late, and she was glad he knew better than to ring the doorbell and wake her children. He had always had some sense of courtesy. For that, she was grateful, but as soon as she heard that lingering tap, she felt all color leave her overly anxious face. She was pale and light-headed all of a sudden, and as soon as her right foot stepped to the direction of the sound, she hesitated.

She wondered what she was doing. She didn’t really know if she could face him. Not after all that had happened, all that he had done, all that she had said. Not after the regretful words she said to him, and not without forgiving him for what he had done. She wasn’t sure which she was more upset about, and what ultimately caused her foot to become weighted down. She wasn’t sure if it was what he had done, or what she had said to him.

She sighed and let her feet remain statue-like, unmoving from their spot on the floor. Instead she watched the door. He knocked again, this time a bit louder – but still quiet in terms of regular knocks. She let a single tear fall from her eye before turning on her heel and walking away. She had to get away from the door.

He texted her, stopping her dead in her tracks. It read:
Open the door. Please.

She did. She found herself at the door, flung it open, and stepped back. His face was contorted into a sadness she had never really seen on him before. She didn’t like it. It didn’t suit him. “You don’t have to say anything, I’ll say it all – I just have to tell you what I need to say and I’ll leave you alone forever, if that’s what you want.”

Her blue eyes glistened with a haze, and her eyebrows twisted unusually with confusion. She had no idea what to say, but she knew she had to say something even though he told her she didn’t have to. “Today was the most difficult day of my entire life…” he started before she stopped him.

"Why don't you sit down?" she asked, pointing to the couch. He nodded, taking a quick and hurried stride to the piece of furniture she pointed at. He plopped down and continued. Whatever he had to say, it was as though he had to say it quickly. She wondered what could possibly be so urgent.

“Today was the hardest day of my life because I realized that I couldn’t turn to you anymore –” he began again before she interrupted him.

"You still could have. Why are you being dramatic?” she replied, a little anger rising into her conduct. She didn’t like passive aggressive acts optimized for pity. She didn’t pity him. She wouldn’t. She was angry.

"Would you shut up, woman? I'm trying to say this, and neither of us is going to get anywhere unless I do!" he yelled, shutting her up immediately. She wanted to hear what he had to say, but a part of her wanted to rip his throat out for telling her to shut up.

"As I was 
saying
!” he began, his flamboyance becoming present once again. “I couldn't turn to you, and I felt like I had no one. You’ve been the one constant in my life. You started out as a fucking job – just an obstacle to get through – until I got what I wanted and moved up.”

“So romantic…” she found herself countering, sarcastically.

“I acted stupidly. I should have told you sooner, but I didn’t know how to. You were married to him, and I didn’t want to interfere with the marriage even if I didn’t agree with it –” She found herself interjecting in the middle of his rant once again.

“If you were my friend you would have told me! It doesn’t matter if it gets Preston in trouble. You know me better than that! You know that I’d want to know! I came to you about my suspicions of him, and you just replied with a ‘he’s probably cheating’ right off the bat! You didn’t give me any sort of indication that you knew he had been cheating, and what’s worse – had been accused of unthinkable acts!” she roared.

“I know… Dammit, I know. I have no idea why I didn’t say anything before, but I was going to – I promise. I know you saw Preston’s name come up on my phone the day in the bakery. The reason for that was because I told him I was going to say something! Then he accused me of sleeping with you, and I hadn’t slept with you at that point. Nor did I have any intention to –” he finished.

“You didn’t want to?” she asked, curious.

“No, of course I did. But I tried to stop it because I care about you and our friendship. I didn’t want to be a rebound, so I didn’t think it’d happen. It did, but only after he accused me of it – and I didn’t do it just to get back at him. I did it because I love you, and I guess I thought that after we did that I couldn’t tell you right away! I thought you’d want nothing to do with me, and I finally had everything I had ever wanted, the perfect woman: you.” He sounded sincere, and damn it all, he looked sincere.

“Besides all that though, what I came here to say is this: you’ve helped me more than you will ever know. You got me away from a life of greed, of deceit, of lies; I work at a bakery now, and I love it. I never thought I would – but I do. Beyond that though, you’ve been with me – by my side – for so many years. That’s why I can’t lose you. I want you, and if it’s just as a friend, then I’ll accept it. Because I would rather have you as that than nothing at all, but you have to tell me what you want me to do. You have to tell me what you want,” he finished with anxiety. She could tell. He was definitely –without a shadow of doubt – anxious. He wanted to know something, and she really did believe that no matter what the outcome, he’d be happy just knowing.

"I wanted you too – and I still do. I’m not going to say that I am in love with you – because I don’t know, Joseph. What I can tell you is that I don't need this right now, and neither do you. I don't need a relationship. You don’t need a relationship. You and I need to work on gaining trust back before we can ever discuss a future, and I need to get through all the shit I’m going through. I just got divorced,” she replied before she stood up from the couch and walked to the fireplace.

She could tell by his silence that he was thinking. Joseph was never silent. It was almost worrisome. Her heart beat slowed as she turned around and saw his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, tears threatening to free themselves. He looked choked up. She knew that he was hurting.

She saw that he tried to take large and deep breaths, but he couldn’t get any air. He was suffocating on his thoughts, it seemed. He was nearly bordering on full-on heartbreak. She hadn’t thought her words were bad, necessarily. It should have given him hope, more hope than he had before, anyway. She was agreeing to work on everything, and she thought that it’d make him happy, but she could tell it hadn’t.

His head fell a bit, and his brown hair fell into his eyes. His perfectly styled pompadour was no more, and she couldn’t believe he hadn’t dared wipe the strands away. His hands were always in his hair when it was amuck. But, he didn’t seem to mind. She sat down on the hearth, facing away from him and towards the firebox. Her gaze fell on the fake wood inside.

He sniffled before she heard shifting behind her. When she turned her neck to see behind her, he had closed in. He was merely inches from her. She tensed. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him that close to her. She wasn’t sure what the empty feeling that she possessed was, but she didn’t like it, and she sure as hell didn’t want to deal with it.

She wasn’t sure if she felt guilt for not giving him what he wanted, what he had come there for. She wasn’t sure if it was anger that her promise to make an effort wasn’t quite satisfactory to him, especially when it had been him to break the trust in the first place. She wasn’t even sure if it was neither of those reasons, and something entirely different. She just didn’t know how she felt anymore. Too much had happened to keep track.

She wouldn't even had known she was crying if it wasn't for a tear that dripped upon the back of her hand, which rested on her lap. She felt Joseph’s hand run across her shoulder as he tried to ease her around to face him. But she wouldn’t. She kept her head still. She didn’t want to look at him.

He tried to turn her again, but she still wouldn’t budge. She didn’t want to face him. “Marissa, look at me,” he said softly. But she didn’t. He sighed and she felt movement beside her, and eventually his body’s warmth radiated from beside her. He, too, had sat down on the hearth and faced the firebox.

He had realized that she wasn’t going to look at him, and began speaking again. “You’re wrong, you know…” he trailed. Wrong about what? She finally turned her head towards him with a questioning expression.

"I don't need to help myself 
first
. Don’t underestimate me – because I’m sure I can help myself just fine. But, you help me help myself. You help me do everything. I need you in my life, not out of necessity but because I know what it’s like to have you, and I don’t want a day without you. I need you because you make me better, and I enjoy the feeling I get when you’re around, like I’m worth something, even though I make cupcakes for a living and have a laughable bank account. You look at me and only me, the real me, the me you helped me discover. So how can I be better off without you when I’m so great with you? How can you say that I need to be alone, when you’ve made me a better person? We’ve seen the kind of man I am without you existing in my life. It isn’t pretty,” he finished, softly moving his hand to her chin to pull her into a kiss.

She wanted to stop him so that she could think, but she didn’t. She didn't want to allow herself to be close to him. But hearing him and what he said, she knew he wasn't lying. At least, that’s what she hoped – she hoped she still carried some sense of rationale. She hoped she wasn’t naïve to men forever. She hoped she wouldn’t be let down again.

She knew that she wanted him too in that moment, because the moment her gaze finally met his – after all the struggling – she knew. She knew why she tried to compel herself away from his gaze; it was because subconsciously she knew that she needed him too. All she could do was hope with everything she had that he
would
gain back her trust, and that he would be faithful. Because, God, she wanted to put her faith into
him
.

Their lips met tenderly, for only a moment before she pulled away and nuzzled her head into his chest. It felt good. It felt safe. It felt secure. She could only hope that it was.  She heard his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt and smiled.

She didn't know what was happening exactly between Joseph and herself, but she knew it was a start, a start to the new life. Hopefully this time around it could go as planned – or at the very least, loosely based on the plan. She knew that planning and doing were two very different things, and she knew that all plans change with time or fall through, for one reason or another.

In that moment she had 
planned
 to quit pushing Joseph away, and allow him to help her on her journey through life, but also to allow him the opportunity to gain her trust, her full, unguarded trust. Right now, she trusted him enough to allow him to get closer, but part of her knew that she would hold him at arm’s length until she knew for sure.

Time: that’s what it would take. Time: it can bring good things and bad. The question was: would time be good to Marissa and Joseph? She hoped. Fuck, she hoped. She felt his hands glide over her back as she continued to nuzzle into him, and then something came over her in a rushing wave – desire, in all its glory.

She wasn’t sure that the timing was right for what she had in mind, and she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. But, she figured life was real, love was real, and the emotions were raw and untethered. No one could judge whether or not they were accurate for the situation. Yes, he had made a fool of her – no, he probably didn’t deserve the feelings that circled her heart and entrapped her soul, but she felt them. Man, she felt them.

She loved him. And maybe she was being naïve, but she didn’t care. Her father always said that “you don’t know what’s coming until you see it for yourself,” and she wanted to see for herself. Sure, he was talking about physical obstacles rather than emotional ones, but she thought it was a good life lesson nonetheless.

The night they first made love, he set forth a tender pace of lovingness, but this night he didn’t show that particular caution. He pushed her shirt up and unsnapped the bra frantically and swiftly, and he didn’t even bother to remove it from her body. His need seemed to be too urgent. His mouth hungrily surrounded one of her nipples, and he suckled sharply as he pulled at her jeans to remove them along with her panties – together and in one motion.