The Mistress, Part Two (4 page)

As their tongues danced together in swift movement with the horrifically crackling speaker’s music, they moaned into each other. Fueled with adoration, she suckled on his bottom lip until he unlocked himself and leaned down to reciprocate the action – only onto the nape of her neck, and it was then that the air wafted into her nostrils and tickled her senses. Vanilla and some sort of strong spice filled her nose, and she immediately locked that smell away as a beautiful favorite within the very core of her memory to hold for all days to come. She never realized that the smell would come to haunt her as it did in this moment – a young woman never realizes the weight of storing such a memory away.

She never dreamed the burden it would cause, because now as she took each shirt off its hanger, she was intoxicated all over again. Despite her anger – despite every fiber within her detesting the smell because it was
his
smell – she knew that she would always love the scent just as much as the first day she had smelled it.

The click of the knob to the door from the garage into the kitchen was amplified and knocked her from her sad reminiscing thoughts. She heard it all the way from the bedroom, in fact. It was as if her ears’ sensitivity was heightened to an incredible degree. He was home.

Game time.

She amped herself up for only a millisecond before she furiously trampled off across the room, ready to attack with the ferocity of a puma in heat. She rounded the corner of the hallway to the living room and met his gaze suddenly – and surprisingly. She hadn’t expected him to have already reached the living room. She was quite caught off guard, actually. She breathed heavily in response to his eyes befalling her own. Though the breath’s intent was to calm herself, it almost seemed to fuel a dragoness fiery breath from within her obviously flaming core.

His blue orbs seemed to widen with concern at her dramatic entrance, and just as his lips began to move in speech, she cut him off with a single word: “CHEATER!”

She bellowed so loudly it echoed across the walls of the high ceiling, reverberating off of the highest beams. It was so loud, in fact, that she likely had alerted the children to her anger and their father’s presence as well. She wished she had prepared something a little more effective, and a little less crazy-sounding, but she worked with what she had. And what she had was a shit-ton of anger.

His eyes squinted in response, and his lips scrunched in a silly facial expression as if to patronize her and say she was crazy. The nerve! “Don’t you DARE say that I’m crazy!” she screamed as she pointed to him angrily and stepped towards his frozen, statue-like form.

“Honey, I didn’t say anything. This behavior is unlike you. It
is
crazy. However, I merely wanted to protest these horrible accusations that you have somehow concocted in your mind. Do I not at the very least have that right?” He spoke calmly, and with every word Marissa felt more and more condescended to and disgusted at his manipulations. How was he speaking so formally? She fucking hated how formal he sounded sometimes. It was as if he was constantly patronizing her. She was just disgusted at all of it. So disgusted, in fact, that she shook her head and calmly walked away.

It wasn’t long though that he was on her tail, trailing behind her with just as much force in his steps as she possessed in hers. “We have to talk about this!” he screamed from behind her just before she reached their bedroom door. Suddenly she felt his hands forcefully grab her arm from behind, and he jerked her towards him quickly. His hands gripped at her biceps, securing her in place, but before he could speak, she decided to end the conversation.

“Ask Haley,” Marissa spat out just before shaking loose from his grasp. And there he stood, dazed, confused, and with a hint of anger still present across his face as she walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Haley made her way back home that evening after sulking about in a daze for hours. She had wandered, hoping to be lost in the chaos of the world. Just so that she wouldn’t have to step foot inside of her apartment again. As far as she was concerned she was a man without a country. She had no home. She had no safe haven, nor did she even deserve it.

She was foul. She was scum. She was lower than the dirt. She was whatever saying any person could muster up in regards to a slutty mistress and betrayer of friends and family. She was every insult in the book. She was nothing, but as nothing, she knew that she couldn’t stay outside. She knew she had to go back to her apartment.

Her phone had vibrated continuously for an hour, and all calls were from
him
. There was no way that she was going to answer. She knew that, by now, he was home, and that it was likely that Marissa had confronted him. She wouldn’t answer to find out for sure, but she assumed quite valiantly as her phone continued to buzz against the muffling cheap black fabric of the couch.

She supposed that despite her unwillingness to name her apartment “home”, she could truly only thank her lucky stars that she had moved out recently and this all hadn’t come to its head while she was still under the Lancer roof. She laughed. The very idea of lucky stars was comical to her now.

She remembered when she was a little girl and she believed in lucky stars: shooting stars with wishes attached to their tails, waiting for the first person to spot it to capture that wish with their eyes. She thought when she was a little girl that she was just never the first person to spot it – she thought that some other boy or girl was lucky enough to get a wish. She never dreamed that it was all bullshit. There were no lucky stars. There was no such thing as luck at all, for that matter.

This time, though, and only this time, she really was genuinely glad that fate – if she could even believe in such a notion anymore – had seemed to allow for the relationship between her and Preston to be postponed until she moved out. She was glad that it hadn’t occurred when she actually lived with them.

Even if it wasn’t home per se, she was glad that at the very least, she had the solace of her own apartment to return to; even an un-cozy and unwelcoming one. She sighed as she folded her legs beneath her on the couch and ground her hips into the thinly covered uncomfortable plywood arm. Grabbing her remote, she flipped the volume rocker in an upwards motion so that she was able to drown out the sound of the incessant buzzing phone beside her.

The bonds of Marissa’s family were unraveling fiber by fiber, thread by thread. It had been the longest day in the history of long days, and she felt as if she was losing everything. Somehow she had found herself head deep in the closet, sorting through all of Preston’s clothing. She couldn’t believe how dull and uninspired her reaction was, or how completely callous and uncaring he seemed. He wasn’t even present for the traditional throwing-out-of-the-cheating-scumbag’s-clothes ritual that every betrayed wife seemed to embark upon.

They still hadn’t spoken since she had told him to ask Haley what she meant by the word “cheater” over an hour ago. Marissa assumed he was trying to cover his tracks and gain information on what she had really said to her – in its entirety – so that he could be more condescending by trying to manipulate her further.

She wanted to laugh. He was all too predictable. It was that predictability though, and the reality that he still had not come to a defense of an explanation – any explanation – that honestly made her want to just fight with him.

She unburied herself from the mound of clothing that surrounded her and forced herself to her feet within the now disastrously jumbled mess that was her closet. Her hair tussled, and clothes crumpled, she staggered out of the clothes-strewn floor of the walk-in and leaped across the room with vigor. She was quite eager to reach her new destination. Wherever the hell he was.

She remembered hearing a joke about a similar situation once. It was after a relationship fight about nothing in particular, and once the man started stewing on what the woman said – just to get under his skin – he decided to go through the entire house looking for her, just so that the two could fight some more. Obviously it was funnier when she heard it as a joke from a comedian on a stand-up show rather than the retell from her own imagination.

She remembered the joke as she crossed over every threshold and opened and shut every door. This was exactly what the man went through in the story: his head muddled with fury, he had even checked the cabinets and pantry for her by accident. And although she didn’t check the cabinets or pantry, she could definitely relate to the feeling of forgetfulness of her own layout.

Marissa exhausted all possible hiding spots, and eventually her journey allowed her to reach the upstairs. It was then, as she angrily stomped atop the top step, that she remembered the children, and instantly her face went white and her heart sank. Adrenaline had taken over before, but now she was really thinking about the repercussions of her outbursts – not only at Preston – but during her search for him as well. She also remembered the door slams that more than surely had occurred and been heard from the upstairs bedrooms.

She tried Sophie’s room first, and much to her dismay saw the little girl at her small piano, tear trails etched across her cheek. The woman sighed and sadness filled her, as well as a little disappointment in herself when she saw the nature of her child, the nature which she caused by her own carelessness.

The little girl continued to play Beethoven’s classic
Für
Elise
and barely acknowledged her mother until she kneeled down beside her and placed a loving hand on her shoulder.“You and dad never fight,” Sophie whispered through slightly gasped breath after she had ceased playing completely. The woman’s heart broke even more as she looked to her daughter. She was so upset, and she didn’t understand why this was happening; how could she?

“True… but grown-ups fight, sweetie. I shouldn’t have acted like that at all – especially with you and Lucas in the house,” Marissa responded, pulling the little girl into a sideways hug. The small wooden child’s bench creaked under Sophie’s weight, and Marissa smiled. She was getting too big to play on a child piano and sit on the bench. Before long, she’d need a full-sized.

“Oh, Lucas isn’t here...” Sophie replied, pulling away so that her little hands could be freed from her mother’s grasp just long enough to rub the tears from her eyes and cheeks. She sniffled a bit, not really understanding that what she had just said required a bit more explanation. Marissa was frozen, and she stared wide-eyed at the little girl, awaiting an elaboration on the matter, but she knew that one wouldn’t come freely.

“What do you mean, sweetie? Where did he go?” Marissa asked; she felt like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Just out. He likes to climb out his window,” Sophie replied nonchalantly, and Marissa’s face went blank of all expression immediately. It was obvious that Sophie didn’t understand what she was telling her mother could actually get Lucas in trouble. She didn’t understand that what he was doing was wrong. It was obvious that she thought it was no big deal, like nothing had happened, and that was probably because Lucas had been doing it for a while now.

She questioned her children’s sense of self-preservation and started to worry. Lucas and Sophie’s bedrooms were on the second floor. Did he not know that? Did he care? What in the hell
was
he thinking? Not only had he been going out without permission all this time, but he was also sneaking out from a second story window! And to top it off, his little sister knew about it. What a great fucking role model.

“Do you know where ‘Daddy’ is?” Marissa asked sweetly, despite her instincts to scrunch her face in disgust when referring to him.

“No. I haven’t really been downstairs, and I haven’t seen him at all since he came home. He’s not been up here,” Sophie said.

Marissa looked down and reached into her pocket, ready to dial Lucas’s cell phone number before Sophie spoke again.

“Mom, where’s Haley?” she asked, as if she had secretly known. Marissa wondered if Lucas had told her – because she assumed that he had heard the ruckus from earlier and was likely upset about it; which would explain his disappearing act from a second story window.

Marissa looked away from her phone; her eyes were beginning to swell again. She didn’t dare meet Sophie’s eyes when she responded, “I don’t think Haley is going to be here for a while, sweetie.”

With that, the woman lightly squeezed her daughter’s thigh and made her way to her feet. She went to continue her search for Preston; only this time, she was much quieter with her seething anger. She was much more reserved. She just wanted to know. She wanted to know everything, and this time she wasn’t going to walk away. This time he was hers to torture.

Marissa could feel the spit spew from her mouth as she screamed incoherencies at him. She could feel her blood boiling and her nerves racking with a quaking exuberance. Once she had finally found him, his smug face planted into a computer screen in his car, she had made damn sure they sent the kids with her sister so that they could exchange their not-so-pleasantries.

Well, the word “they” was, in truth, really only Marissa.
She decided
for
them
that
they
would send the kids to her sister’s house. She felt that after Lucas had finally made his way back home, that it was the best way to ensure not to scar them or distract from the images that they held of either parent.

She stood in a threatening manner; her feet were planted steadily on the floor, gaze set on her target with her arms flailing about as she screamed in his direction. He was a target and her words were the arrows. She could feel the swift release with every solitary word, and the more she yelled the more energized she felt. She was fighting – and it felt good. It was one of the only times that she had ever felt free enough – and with enough cause – to truly scream at the man before her. One could say that she was biting his head off, ripping him a new one, straight up fucking his world completely up.

She felt as if in that moment she was unloading the many years’ worth of marital baggage that burdened her. She unleashed profanity in regards to everything about him that she hated and despised. This was her moment of clarity. This was her moment to shine. This was her fucking moment, her one fucking opportunity. She felt like an Eminem song and she loved it.

She wanted to impale him with the hateful words that she had concocted. She wanted revenge for the piercing wound the truth of his infidelity caused in her heart and soul. She wanted to cause him even just an ounce of the pain and discomfort that she was feeling.

She felt herself losing balance on the sharp edge of cliff that she had so gallantly climbed up on in her battle with Preston, and it wasn’t long before her swaying steadiness scared her to no end and she knew she had to back away.

She knew she had to maneuver away from the edge that she found herself dangerously close to falling over. She knew this wasn’t the answer. She knew. She knew – she fucking knew – but she couldn’t stop. Not now.

She felt her body move, but not down; she wasn’t falling. She was gaining. She was gaining on him, his muscular frame, which had been leaning against the couch’s arm listening to every screaming word that she shot at him. He sat there as she power-walked towards him, screaming all the way with her finger pointed directly at him. It was as if she was moving to stab him with her pointer finger – that is, until the very last step, when she curled it and balled her hands into a fist.

He smirked as she cocked her arm back, her fist still balled. “Oh, is it a gun show? Are you really going to punch me?” he asked, seemingly amused. With that she launched her arm forcefully at the square of his jaw, breaking his smirk completely. If there was one thing she hated above all else, it was being patronized.

The moment went in slow motion to Marissa; it was as if she could vocally count the milliseconds. She tried to cock and launch again, but this time he stood and caught her obviously slow punch midair and pulled her to him, flipping her around.

Her back was against him, and his arms were wrapped around her completely. His hands made home atop her forearms, which were folded across her chest, and grasped at them tightly. “You think I’m going to sit there and let you hit me?” he seethed. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He released her, and she straightened her clothing and breathed a large, heavy sigh. She had lost control, but she was glad she did. It was her turn, after all. “I think I’m reacting in a normal way rather than sitting there like a smirking asshole the entire time! I’m sick of your smirk, I’m sick of your patronizing comments, and I’m sick of your lies, Preston. Just fucking tell me the truth.” It was the first time that she actually spoke at a volume not loud enough to burst eardrums.

“You know the truth – obviously. It’s why you’re yelling, isn’t it?” he replied, sneering at her.

“You don’t care? You have no remorse? After all this time – you don’t care at all? And I want to hear it from you! Not our fucking nanny!”

“I cheated. I had sex with Haley. Are you happy?” he screamed back, shoving past her to sit on the couch. He roughly combed his hands through his blonde, glowing hair before continuing. “I just don’t understand why you can’t just tell me what we’re going to do now that you know?”

“What do you want to do?” she asked curiously.

“I want you to forget about it and go back to normal, but I’m assuming that won’t happen,” he returned.

“You’d assume correctly. Why did you do it? How many times did you do it? Is she the only one?”

“Who knows why I did it? Attention? I like Haley; she’s attractive. I realized I wasn’t very young anymore, and she gave me attention that felt new and exciting. I felt like I needed it. She was new and exciting. It was all fresh. I was pitching myself and making a sale. It was nice. I missed dating. I missed feeling yearned after. And when it first happened, you hadn’t touched me in God knows how long. From there, it just continued.” He breathed out and back in.

“How many times? I have no fucking idea. A lot. A lot, a lot. We fucked constantly. Is that what you want to hear? God, I just want this all to fucking go away, and now the bitch won’t even answer her phone...” he trailed.

“This has nothing to do with her right now.” Marissa replied, still absorbing the information, but shocked at his passing of the blame card.

“How does it not? She fucked me, too, and she’s off the fucking hook!” Preston yelled, before leaping back off the couch and aiming his stance at her.

“She’s not getting away with anything, but she’s also not the one that’s married. She’s fired, didn’t you know? But of course not – you tried to call and she wouldn’t answer. Now, continue answering my questions. Is she the only one you fucked?” she asked, seriously – her eyes narrowing as if laser piercing into his soul to discover the truth.

“I’m not dignifying that with an answer,” he said before walking away. “I’ll be in the city,” he called over his shoulder before rounding the corner leading to the hallway, most likely to gather his things.

~~~

Call it her natural pessimistic outlook, or call it sulking, but Haley couldn’t help but stew on the fact that she knew this would all happen. She knew she’d be outcast as soon as she revealed the truth. She knew, but could she blame anyone? Could she really say anything in regards to the reaction she got? Hell, if anything she was lucky she wasn’t knifed by an estranged wife wronged by both her husband and friend. She was lucky being an outcast was all that happened to her. She missed them, though. She missed them
all
so very much.

A temptation sparked in a single moment led to a fueled chaotic fire destroying all in its wake for an unforeseen number of moments to come. This was all so much, so complicated, so stressful, so destructive. It had led to lies and deceit on her part and his; it had led to stress on not only the parties involved in the disparaging affair but also the parties it affected – the kids, Marissa. Poor, poor Marissa. It led to the betrayal of her trust more than it had done anything. And Haley knew that she would always regret it.

              She wished there was something she could say to Marissa. She wished there was something that could help the situation. She wished, she wished. “
Wish in one hand!
” she screeched at herself. My God, she
was
going crazy, but that’s all she seemed to be able to do. Wish. Wish. Fucking wish. There weren’t words in the dictionary appropriate for such an apology though. So she could keep on wishing. She wasn’t being forgiven – at least not anytime soon.

There weren’t a lot of eloquent words to saturate the bullshit of the situation. There wasn’t even any sort of device to filter any of it out. It was what it was. It was
bullshit
. Steaming, smelly, foul, and in all of its glory:
bullshit
. Villainizing Preston wasn’t the answer to everything. It wasn’t entirely his fault. No, he wasn’t an upstanding father or husband – but she had participated. She was also to blame, she kept reminding herself. This was her fault too.