Copyright © 2014 by M. E. Mathis
All rights reserved.
2. Fine?
Utica, New York
Henderson Inc. Headquarters
I am frozen, paralyzed. I am caught in a sapphire gaze. Somewhere, far off, someone is saying my name over and over again, trying to get my attention. Marie, Marie, Marie. The sound is muffled though. I can barely make out the words, but somehow I know that it is my name. I feel myself swallow. I feel my lungs expand; the air filling me and then letting it out again. But most of all I feel my heart racing like a hamster on a wheel. His mouth moves, and I feel my breath catch. Then I am fighting, clawing through the fog that covers my mind, trying desperately to hear his voice. To hear that sound again.
Instead, when I come to, all I hear is Jess's repetative chanting. I don't turn to her though, instead I stay focused on him, afraid that if I blink he will dissappear. He meets my stare head-on, steady.
"Marie?" Jess's voice calls from behind me.
"Yes, I can hear you," my voice is weaker sounding than I would like.
He breaks eye contact to assess the woman behind me and instantaneously I feel my face flush and a wave of jealousy hits me. It takes everything I have not to grab the stapler off of the nearby desk and inflict some damage on her pretty little blonde face. The worst part of it is that I know I have given him the very reaction that he was looking for. Chaz, sensing my discomfort gives Jess a look and he moves aside when she nudges past Zane to get inside the office. Soon after the door closes, the new secretary decides to leave for her lunch, announcing it to no one in particular. She quickly grabs a paper bag off her desktop and along with it, her purse and laptop and then she too leaves the room.
We are alone now and I can no longer hold in the nagging question.
"What are you doing here?"
He seems to relax now that I have finally spoken to him and he looks down at his shoes, stuffing his hands into his front pockets, disturbing the the fabric of his well-pressed pants.
His voice is dripping with sarcasm as he retorts, " No hello, how are you, or how have you been. Just straight to the point. 'What are you doing here?'" He's mocking me and I feel my cheeks getting even hotter.
I don't deserve this, not now, not today. I am vaguely aware of the way he is watching me. He is looking at me the way a child studies something that they're seeing for the first time. I am at a lost for words and the very realization of this fact is infuriating. My thoughts are too jumbled and hazy; I am in pure shock. Don't be sucked in, not now, not ever.
"Marie?" His words break me from my daze and I allow my eyes to focus on his sapphire ones.
"We can't do this again," my voice is lacking conviction and I can tell by the look on his face that he isn't buying it; I no longer have to just convince him, but convince myself, "I can't do this again. It's not healthy, Zane."
"It never is." His words sting more that I'd like to admit and I can feel my palms begin to sweat and my heart rate increase dramatically. Tell him how you feel, my sub-conscious encourages.
"I mean it this time. This time, I am done no more games. No more truces. I'm done. I'm done, " my voice cracks a little, "You chose her."
"Marie," his tone is a warning, but I ignore it and continue.
"When I asked you that night to choose, you chose her."
"I made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. Even you make mistakes."
"What the hell is that suppose to mean. You know damn well that I make mistakes. This isn't about me. I was faithful, you weren't."
"Oh don't give me that shit, Marie. I've had enough shit from you. You're always the angel, the innocent one. Not even once have you considered that this isn't all my fault."
"All your fault? How could it not be? What, are you going to stand there and tell me she forced herself on you? Little, feeble Zane couldn't stop her. She was too strong. Am I right? She threw herself at you and you're so damn helpless that you couldn't push her off or simply say no. Sorry skank, but I happen to be in a relationship. Or wait, maybe I have it all wrong. Its not her who is at fault here but me. Is that it Zane? Does your little twisted brain truly beleive that the reason you cheated is because of me?"
"It takes two to tango, Marie. It's in all relationships. It's a two-way street. We are both at fault here. Don't be dramatic." His tone of voice and the way he is looking down at me like the arrogant arsehole he is makes my blood boil.
"Dramatic? Fuck you. I was faithful to you no matter what you say. I stayed by your side even when I knew you were sleeping with other women. Even when I could smell their damn perfume on your clothing. I never said anything, I never called you out and yet there you stand. You have the audacity to stand there and imply that your cheating isn't entirely your fault and that I somehow I am at fault here. What did I do? I gave you a choice. You made your decesion, you made it loud and clear. So, there you have it. I said I was done, Zane. I said it as loud and clear as you did when you told me you thought it be best if I left. You stood infront of me and told me that I should leave, not the whore who was sleeping in my bed with you, but me, the woman who has stupidly stood by you for three years. But not anymore, I have had enough. Milan was it, I am done."
The words are out of my mouth before I can even process what I am saying.
Half of me wants to take it all back, while the other half is praising me for having the guile to finally say it.
It isn't until I take in the look on his face that I realize how powerful my words really are. He looks shaken, as if he has just seen his ghost. It looks as if I have beaten the life out of him, when in actuality I feel as if I have ripped the life out of myself. But this time is different. No matter how ridiculous it sounds because I have been in this situation so many times before. I can't allow myself to stand here and feel guilty for something that I know deep down is the right thing to do. However his next words begin to slowly melt my resovle, only a little.
"You don't mean that. You can't possibly mean what you're saying. I love you, Marie. I have always loved you. Please tell me you don't mean it. We can't be done," Zane's voice once again pulls me from my thoughts and I am met with the same lost-puppy-dog expression from before. For the first time in the three years that I have dated this man I am not a melting mess over that expression. I no longer feel an overwhelming, suffacating feeling of guilt rising in the back of my throat. Instead I feel nothing but anger.
I take a moment to revel in the beauty of my anger. Never before had I been angry with him. I had always been caught up in work and school, but I never strayed from him, I was always loyal.
And yet there were countless times where I would come back to our shared apartment after a much needed "break" and find another woman in my place. Never did I question him or put any blame on him. I was stupid, niave, and young. No, that's not true. I wasn't as niave as I was letting on. I knew our relationship was toxic. I knew I should have left his sorry ass years ago. I stayed for selfish reasons; I stayed because the thought of living without him, without anybody, was too much to handle. I was, am afraid of being alone. And it's total bullshit. I am twenty years old. I have had enough. This is it. Milan was the last straw, the straw that broke the camel's back.
My mind made up, I turn to look at him with as much intensity in my gaze as was in his when he first stepped out of Chaz's office. "I mean every word," I take a deep breath, waiting for the blow that I know is coming. I know from experience that Zane's wounded puppy side only lasts for a mere minutes before his temper breaks through the façade. This I can handel, I have dealt with angry Zane many times, too many times.
I don't even bat an eye when his jaw tightens and the vein in his neck throbs as he tries to hold in his errupting fury. I don't even flinch when his voice gets so low that it is a hoarse whisper, a true sign that his anger has completely surpassed furious and has moved on to a contolled rage, "So that's it? You think that you can just leave me? What happen in Milan was a mistake. That's all it was. I don't love her, she is nothing to me. She's a whore, you said so yourself. I don't want her, I want you. We have been through this before. It always ends the same. You yell at me, I yell at you. You don't get to end things. I think you and I need to have a little chat." I have never seen this side of him, and frankly a controlled Zane is scarier than any crazy, irrate Zane. I unconciously take a step back, no longer able to disguise my fear as confidence as his sapphire eyes become completely consumed by pitch blackness. Don't back down, stand your ground, my sub-conscious tries to reason. I throw back my shoulders, straighten my spine and stare him down.
Crossing my arms across my chest, defensively I respond curtly, "No, you and I don't need to have 'a little chat'. I have said all I needed to say. We aren't going to discuss this further. My decesion is final," I can't help but feel as if I am a parent repremanding a child. I recieve a quirked brow from the dark brooding man across from me. I feel a lump rise in my throat when he's face breaks into a smirk that sends unwanted chills down my spine. I half expect him to laugh as he pulls his right hand out of his pocket and passes it over his face, finally stopping to rest two fingers pressed against his closed mouth as if he is trying to contain a chuckle. His amusement at my very serious attempt of ending things is driving me nuts.
I don't even have time to conceal my surprise when he finally answers quietly, "Fine." Unsure if I have heard him right, I lean forward and ask, half wishing I've heard him wrong, "Fine?"
He lets out a seemingly defeated sigh, "Yes, fine. If that's what you want, then who am I to deny you?"
I am not convinced, even after he repeats it for the second time. His voice is lacking sincerity and his eyes still hold that crazed look in them. He isn't giving up that quick, he can't be. Zane Alexander Clark does not back down. He told me that once, fed me some bullshit about it not being in his blood to give up. He's going to use this against me, he's going to try to throw all of this back in my face. I stare at him, mouth open in surprise.
He takes my silence as an opening to throw another heartless "Fine," at my face. The word cuts threw me like a knife, shredding everything in its wake.
Once again my new found anger flares up, "Fine? Fine, huh? That's all you have to say? After three years, that's all you have to say to me?" Before I know it I am on the brink of hysterics, my voice comes out sounding more high pitched then normal and incredulous, "Fine. Screw you. Yeah, screw you, Mr. Clark! Screw you and your money. Screw you and your snobby little suits and self-entitlement. You walked away from me. I gave you a choice, you blew it for the office whore. Don't you dare try to throw this in my face. I'm only finishing what you started," I'm screaming now, my hands clinched into fist tightly. My sanity is hanging on by a thread, teetering on the edge. "You're nothing but a worthless sleaze bag anyway. I don't need you. No scratch that, I don't want you. I never wanted you, how about that asshole," the calm look on his face only fuels my anger. At this point I don't care if Chaz and Jess can hear through the thin walls. They're probably banging each others brains out anyway. I laugh aloud at the absurdity of the situation. Here I am cursing out my boyfriend of three years and I am getting sidetracked by the idea of my coworker getting down and dirty with my boss. I am laughing until my sides hurt only because I fear that if I don't the tears will come instead.
I find myself leaned up against the front of the secretary desk, cackling like a mad woman. All my life I have been know as Marie Lane, calm, cool and collected. I have had people compare me to a robot, even tell me I was a government experiment. Zane was different. He had found my social awkwardness endearing. I was always sure to reserve all emotions for when I was at home and out of the public eye. People, coworkers, mostly Jess, were always throwing around the words lighten up. Boy, did I lighten up?
My mind no longer clouded by humor but with one thought that blinks out at me like a neon sign; I have to get out of here, away from him. My laughter dies down, the aching in my chest no longer able to be surpressed. Without even a single glance in Zane's direction, I stand up, smooth out my navy blue pencil skirt and white button down. Grabbing the stack of Post-It's off the secretary's desk. I sift through the coffee cup filled with pencils for a pen and write a quick note to Chaz, telling him to call me. Note in hand I walk past Zane, carefully not to make both physical and eye contact, I press the sticky side to the wood of the closed door with a slap of my hand. Palm stinging, I turn on my heel, wishing with every part of me that it was Zane's face that my hand connected with not a wooden door.
I almost do just that when his voice rings out, "Marie?" I don't stop like I am sure he would want me to do instead I pull my Blackberry from my hand bag, calling a cab.
"Marie," his voice sounds more insistent this time, more conerned, " Are you all right?"
Without turning to look at him I walk out of the room, throwing my words over my shoulder as sarastically as possible, "All right? Zane, honey, I'm fine. Can't you tell?"
From behind me I hear him call out arrogantly, "We both know you'll be crawling to my doorstep in a week."
What a prick. Walking swiftly down the hall, I yell back, "Go to hell, Zane"