Who'll have the power now? I follow her up the stairs and a grin spreads across my face.
Strong men believe in cause and effect.
Strong men believe in cause and effect.
You reap what you sow, Mara.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mara
That Simon and I have finally made it to this point is intoxicating. I feel a rush of danger, lying here in the bed he shares with his wife, being the other woman. It turns me on in a way that is indescribable. I love that I can pull a man away from his marriage—maybe that makes me a bad woman, but so be it. He’s risking everything he and Abbey have built together. That’s how addicting the thought of me is to him, enough to ruin it all.
He straddles me, his lips making their way from my lips down my neck, slowly. He stops at my collarbone and nuzzles it with his nose, back up to my neck for just a moment, and then he is sucking on my nipples, his fingers inside of me. I feel him grow hard against my leg and I reach down to stroke him, slowly at first, building up momentum. He lets out a moan against my breasts, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. I know how to make him feel good. Do you, Abbey? I think to myself, grabbing his wrist and forcing him to finger fuck me faster, harder. Did you let him do this to you, Abbey, when the two of you had your romantic little date night in the city? I won’t ask him because I don’t actually want to know for sure, but I can assume what I want. I’m moving my hips up and down, signaling to him that I’m ready, that I can’t take only his fingers inside of me anymore, I want to feel him. I need to feel all of him inside me, every single inch.
He sits up quickly, pulling a condom from the pocket of his jeans he was wearing that lie in a heap at the end of the bed. He unwraps it and slides it over his hard cock, coming back down onto me but I tell him no. I shake my head. “No condom,” I say. “I want all of you. I don’t want anything between us. Please.” I look at him, biting my lip because I know that drives him crazy and that it’s a for sure way to get what I want.
He rips the condom off of himself, tossing it and the remaining pieces of the wrapper into the can beside his bed. He kisses me hard. Really hard. Harder than he ever has, almost to the point of being strangely aggressive. I close my eyes to shake the bizarre feeling bubbling up inside of me, to get back into the moment. Just as he enters me though, immediately going hard and fast on top of me, my mind flashes to Ryan.
His desk, the papers, his tie. The zipper of his pants, his strong hands. The way he forcefully shoved his tongue down my throat and grabbed my hair.
I open my eyes, searching for Simon’s face to comfort me but all I see are Ryan’s eyes. They’re dark. They aren’t the big beautiful eyes I remember from so long ago. I look into the eyes staring back at me and they’re black bottomless pits. I try to shove him off me the same way I did when he had me pinned up against the desk, knowing this is wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, but he holds me down.
He says, “You like that, don’t you?” And I shake my head no, unable to get words out because he’s back kissing me again; this excited him, he’s thrusting harder and harder against me while I’m fighting against him.
“You are such a fucking tease. Don’t act like you don’t want this.”
I don’t want this. I thought I wanted this but I don’t want this. I try and roll to my side to get out from under his grip but he takes that as a sign that I want to roll onto my stomach so he can fuck me from behind. I don’t want this. He flips me over, not breaking pace. I feel him slap my ass and extend as deeply as he can into me. I can’t fight anymore, the more I push against him the harder he grows inside of me, turned on by the taboo. I decide to stop fighting and wait for it to be over, letting my body go limp, face down in the pillow so my tears are absorbed by the cotton fabric of the sheets. I wait.
~
The tears continue flowing even after I’m back in the home I share with James.
I think about what Abbey said at our lunch date the other day. “This is why so many adults who experienced child abuse first hand have problems with boundaries, empathy, and forming solid relationships.” I guess I never really allowed myself to think about the things I went through. It all hurts too much. I’ve blocked so much of it out that when I do think about it, it consumes me. I think about her words and how true they are. I have zero boundaries with Abbey’s husband, or any other male I decide I want. I don’t even feel bad about it, despite feeling love for James. I never thought about why that is until now. I feel terrible about all of it for the very first time. I feel like a piece of shit for getting so close to my boss, for flirting with Simon, crossing lines. Deceiving James. That part hurts me the worst. That man has never been anything besides wonderful to me. He has no idea the monster that I am. I think about how just a few sentences spoken by someone who knows what they’re talking about can change the course of a life, can change your perspective completely.
I think about all of these things on repeat until I do something I don’t ever remember doing, something I didn’t think I was capable of: I cry. Hard. I’m sobbing. I’m a fucking wreck and for the first time I’m seeing what Benjamin did to me, what Ryan did to me, what Simon just did to me, that the people I trusted did not keep me safe. I blame them but I also blame myself for letting all of it happen. I have thought a lot of things about Abbey but the only thing I’m thinking about her now is she might be, ironically enough, the one to save me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Abbey
Three weeks have passed since our date night in the city. Three weeks and what seems like a lifetime. At first, Simon and I were on an uphill climb, or so I thought. I was trying harder than I had in years initially. I was the one to initiate sex each time. I even got on top and blew him, two things I never do because I’m just not comfortable. I sent more pictures after buying some cheap lingerie from Amazon and using my Prime benefits. Simon seemed to enjoy it, especially the sex. He was so ungodly into the sex. It was like he was a different person having an out-of-body experience. I could tell he was finally enjoying it after years of our typical missionary love-making.
I even found a bottle of perfume he must be saving for our anniversary. I assume he bought it in the city because that’s the closest Macy’s to us and he was adamant about me getting a massage. I know he likes to divert my attention when he’s trying to pull something over on me, good or bad. I really felt we were on an upswing until recently. We had settled into a new normal, one that involves more adventurous sex and less insecurity.
But over the past few days, things have crumbled at my feet.
Mara’s acting strange, Simon seems off, and I’m feeling uneasy. Normally Mara’s on the verge of suffocating me daily with texts and phone calls. After our lunch in my office, she has fallen almost completely off my radar.
On top of everything, I missed my period and since we’ve been trying forever, I'm sure it’s stress, but I take a test anyways.
The three minutes I have to wait to find out my fate feel torturous. I pace back and forth in the bathroom but then ultimately just collapse on the floor. I’m exhausted. Every bone in my body aches and I am so tired of this never-ending rollercoaster I’m on. It’s Simon and Mara’s world and I’m just living in it. I hate feeling so much doubt, so much uncertainty. I hate thinking of my husband this way, of my friend like this. Something inside isn’t letting it go.
I'm hoping the psychiatrist in me is just reading too much into things but the voice of reason in my head keeps sounding off alarm bells. I’ve gotten so close to Mara over the past several weeks, I thought for sure we were past the accusations and feelings of dismay. Being in the same room as the two of them though has become almost insulting. It's more on Simon's part than hers, at least lately.
He looks at her like he used to look at me. I remember it well. It was the same look he gave me in our college class so many years ago. He hasn't looked at me that way for years and it worries me.
I hate being the woman who
lets her husband get away with things. I vow to myself to figure out what’s going on. I won't be the woman scorned. I won't be someone who begs her husband to stay when he doesn't want to. I hope it doesn't get to that. I hope so badly that I’m wrong.
When I finally get the courage to stand up and look at the digital pregnancy test, I really do throw up. The test confirms I’m pregnant. I have so many ungodly emotions coursing through my veins. I’m so pissed off at the universe for sending me a baby now. This is cruel. Why not let me be pregnant years ago when we were first trying? Tears fall from my eyes as my hands shake but at the same time a part of me feels excited. It’s disgusting. I’m sad, happy, confused, and grateful all at once. I’m so out of sorts that I decide to do something I would never do on my own. Being pregnant in this moment gives me the confidence to do what the old Abbey wouldn’t have ever done: figure this shit out.
I decide to walk over to Mara's house with the intention of trying to read her. My cover will be to borrow a couple of eggs for a meatloaf recipe
When I arrive, I notice James's car is gone but Mara's is home—perfect. I ring their doorbell and Mara answers quickly. She looks shocked to see me standing here, maybe a little worried? Am I just seeing what I (don't) want to see?
I tell her I’m there for eggs and she invites me in. Mara offers me a cup of coffee. "World's Best Dog Mom" is written in big comic sans lettering on the mug.
"Dog mom?" I question, genuinely confused.
"We had a dog when we first got together. I left the gate open one night and she got out, we never found her again despite plastering fifty-seven lost dog signs all over the city. Kind of ironic, huh? A mug with ‘World's Worst Dog Mom’ would have been more fitting."
I apologize for bringing it up. I probably wouldn't have kept the mug, though. It would bring up a pretty awful memory. I sip the coffee, happy to bide my time here with her. She looks sad and maybe a little on edge, too. She shakes her leg relentlessly, making the table rattle as her knee hits the underside.
"What's wrong, Mara? Please don't tell me nothing. We've been friends for a while now. I can tell there's something bothering you." I hope the gentle approach will sway her to admit what’s going on.
She’s visibly off her game. I hate feeling this way because I truly thought we were becoming friends, but I cannot ignore this growing feeling of dismay. Mara looks like she’s aged ten years since moving in.
I’m sick and tired of this roller coaster the three of us have been on. Are Mara and I friends? Is she trying to steal my husband, getting closer to him by befriending me? Is my husband falling for it? It's absolutely exhausting.
"Abbey. I do need to tell you something but I want to be able to explain everything, to get all I need to say out, before you react." Mara looks at me like she might cry.
I instantly feel nauseous. This is really happening. I didn't think it would. I thought she would give me the same excuses Simon throws out.
Mara continues on, "When James and I first moved here I was excited to get to know both you and Simon. I need to admit to you that I was very attracted to your husband. I have been wanting to get that off of my chest for so long. I know that you know about my past. I was hoping I would never have to bring this up again but it's clearly time." Mara takes a sip of her coffee to buy herself time to come up with what she wants to say next.
"I need you to know that back in high school, with Mr. Kent, I did have strong feelings for him. It was purely emotional for me. He physically assaulted me. He crossed that line. But, it did really mess me up, Abbey. I still think about it, still have nightmares about how close I was to being raped. I went to therapy, something my parents put in place, but I didn't go for long because I didn't think it was helping. I lied to my parents and said the therapist put his hand on my knee and I had PTSD about ever going again. I think ever since that time in my life I have had an odd obsession with wanting men I can't have." Her face goes red and I can tell this is hard for her to tell me about. I let her keep going.
"Simon and I got close. At first, it was nothing but sexual tension. On both of our ends. Before I really got to know you, Abbey, I didn't give a damn if I enticed your husband. I hate saying that to you but I'm trying to do the right thing here and be honest with you. You deserve to know this."
I interrupt her, "Mara, please, just get to the point. I cannot handle beating around the bush. I need to hear what you are trying to say." I'm getting irritated with the long, drawn out story.
"I'm sorry, Abbey." She looks genuinely sad now. "Simon and I formed a bond just as you and I did. Once you and I got close, when you shared your background with me and the things that led you to become a psychiatrist, the things about Simon's family you told me about, I felt a bond with you that I couldn't ignore. You’ve become one of my very best friends. Simon wanted to take it further after that. He wanted to have sex with me. I hate saying this to you, I really do, I am so sorry. We were intimate, we have done things together and I refuse to go into detail but you need to know."
I cannot sit in this woman's house for one more second. She told me exactly what I needed to know. I stand up and walk quickly toward the door.
Mara stops me and it takes everything in my body to not slap her across the face. "Get your goddamn hands off of me, Mara," I say through clenched teeth.
"Wait, Abbey. Just wait. I'm not finished and if I don't say it now, I might not ever get a chance to say it." Tears are falling from her eyes now. I want to spit on her.
"When you and I got close, I told Simon I couldn't continue sneaking around behind your back. This is going to be hard to hear for you but Simon tried to rape me. On your bed." She is borderline hysterical now.
"You are a fucking liar!” I yell in her face. “Simon may be a lot of things but he would never do that. Don't try and throw him under the bus to make yourself look better, Mara. You tried to fuck a married man when you were sixteen and you tried to do it now, too. Do not fuck with me." I hold nothing back. This woman was never my friend.
"Look for the condom wrapper in your bedroom trash can. I know you don't use condoms. I know Simon isn't smart enough to think to throw it away. You’re smarter than this. I have no reason to lie. I didn't have to tell you any of this but I am. Look for the wrapper. Please."
I turn to the door and she starts in again. “Abbey, I want you to know something else.” I stand staring at her but not speaking. I have nothing left to say to her. “I’m starting therapy next week. I just wanted you to know. You helped me realize so much. I’m going to do better. I am going to be better. For James, for myself. For you, Abbey.”
With that, I am out her door and practically running to my house. I am so sad, so angry, but no tears are coming. I turn back right as I get to my front door and Mara is still standing there, door open, looking at me with a blank expression on her face. I step inside and slam the door, heading to our bedroom.
~
Simon is a fucking idiot. Mara was right—there is a condom wrapper in our trash can, right under the bubble wrap from something he bought earlier this week.
Picking it up to examine it more closely, I see that it’s gold foil, Magnum. Who is this dude kidding? We haven't use condoms for seven years. I would love to see how he tries to get out of this one.
I feel like I'm going to be sick. I grip the side of the nightstand to steady myself, instantly becoming dizzy. I don't know whether to cry, scream, or faint. The condom wrapper is crunched up in my right fist and I’m disoriented. I make my way over back to my bed, the bed he tried to fuck her on, and I sit down, head in my hands, not knowing what to do. I cannot believe that this is my life. I think about how this could be a nightmare; I frequently have them. But I know this is real life. I know because I feel like I want to die, I want to shatter into a million pieces, I want to leave myself here on the floor for Simon to sweep up after he gets home. I want him to see the woman he has made, the woman that he's broken, the life that he’s ripped to pieces. Or better y
et, maybe I should rip my own fucking heart out and serve it to him for dinner. That would be almost as fucked up as what he has done to me, to our marriage.
I want to go back over to her house and tear her goddamn head off. I want to tell James he needs to divorce her immediately, that he’s way too good for that piece of shit. How could I have befriended someone like that? I'm pregnant with this man's baby and for all I know, she could be pregnant with his baby too. How cute, step siblings weeks apart!
I don't know if I should call Simon, if I should go confront Mara, if I should act like it never happened? My mind is spinning, trying to find a way out of this, trying to get back to our semi-perfect marriage before Mara dug her claws into my husband.
There’s no good outcome that could happen from this. I think about all the ways that he could try and lie in this moment. How is he going to spin this? I am so incredibly thankful that he doesn’t know I’m pregnant.
I sit resting on the bed for what seems like minutes but I think is actually hours. Sitting here has given me a bout of clarity. I glance down at the condom wrapper that I'm still clutching and then drag my eyes over to our picture on the wall. I look out the window at Mara's house that she shares with her husband. I look back down at the condom wrapper and I know exactly what I'm going to do. It may take a little bit of time, a bit of deception, turning on my work mode. But it will all be worth it in the end. It’s me and my baby, and no one is going to ruin this for us.
~
When Simon had a bout of depression and anxiety about six months ago, I had picked up a prescription of Ambien to help him sleep. He refused to take it. He told me the side effects outweighed the benefits. Did he realize how many times I heard this? The statistics show that the number of people who truly experience side effects are much lower than those who benefit from the drug, yet still, he refused and ultimately either buried his feelings or overcame them with the pot he doesn’t think I’m privy to.
Those We Trust Page 12
