by Karina Sharp
“Isn’t Hawaii absolutely breathtaking?”
I look up to Mick and smile. He continues to look off into the distance, but I see his mouth turn upward.
“It is beautiful, but I can think of things that more appropriately fall under the category of ‘breathtaking.’”
I don’t know if he’s referring to me or not. Logically, it makes sense that he would be, but I’m so not accustomed to hearing any genuinely positive words describing me, and I don’t want to be presumptuous. It would be embarrassing to think that he’s paying me a compliment and it turn out he isn’t, making the joke be on me. I choose the only course of action I can think of, which is to nod passively and change the subject.
I unknowingly twist my hair around my index finger as I gawk at his face in admiration. I shake out of my stupor and move on with changing the subject.
“What do you do in your spare time, Mick? Other than go to burlesque shows and cut a rug on the dance floor, that is...”
Mick runs his hand over his hair and turns up the corner of his mouth, showing off a dimple. “Well, ‘cutting a rug’ and stalking gorgeous women does take up a great deal of my time, but should I find a spare moment, I usually read, listen to music, and jog.” He shrugs.
“Living a life of adventure and mystery, huh? Sounds about as exciting as mine. I just finished reading Jane Eyre for the millionth time, but I am sure I will read it again. It’s one of my favorites.”
I know I must be drunk because he seems completely invested in my pitiful attempts to make conversation. I know I cannot be all that interesting, but I will pretty much do and say anything if that means he will be alone with me longer.
He looks down at me with a warm and appreciative gaze. I feel my heart rate increase in speed in response. He is so stunningly gorgeous, I want to burn the image of his face into my brain. It seems against the laws of nature for someone so handsome to seem genuinely interested and entertained by my rambling.
“You like the classics?”
“Only certain classics,” I explain. “I like ones with strong female characters and, of course, I am all about stories where lovers unite and wind up together, against all odds. I’m not a love conquers all kind of girl because I don’t believe that’s true. Love and relationships are work and something you continually work and fight for, but I do believe that until you know love, you aren’t truly living life. Not that anyone really knows what it means to live life, since that is defined differently for everyone, based on certain parameters and details of one’s life, but I do think that once you find a connection or love worth working toward, then you’re living your life the best way you know how.”
I realize I have been talking non-stop and distracted by the street lights in the distance when I notice that Mick has angled his body toward me and he’s looking at me with an intensity in his eyes that wasn’t there before. My breathing becomes more ragged and the electricity wildly moving throughout my body causes all of my extremities to tingle. Picking up on the passion and fire I am exuding, Mick cautiously moves his head closer to mine. I feel the heat of his sweet breath on my neck, moving in full, deep breaths of desire. Inside, I am screaming at myself that I have a husband and that this is wrong, but nothing about it feels wrong at all. Regardless, I know that it is wrong, so when I am able to regain control of my thoughts, I clear my throat, which seems to snap him out of his haze as well. He clears his throat in response and awkwardly places his hands in his pockets, looking down at his feet.
I shrug off my near brush with infidelity and, in true Ari fashion, divert attention away from what just happened.
“I think they made last call. We should probably go make sure that everyone we know here is still alive and in one piece.”
“You’re probably right.”
He smiles, seemingly in gratitude. He takes my hand and leads me back inside. I am not at all bothered by the fact that we are walking hand-in-hand. In fact, I wish we didn’t have to let go at some point. I am in such bliss that I forget that we are in public or have our respective friends to return to. We reunite with our party to knowing and some accusing faces.
I try to ignore them and focus my attention to Macy. “Mace? You okay to drive?”
Macy looks at me as though I’ve asked the most ridiculous question or I’ve just sprouted an extra head. “Girl, please. Of course I am! I’ve been filling up on water. Honestly, some of those shots I took weren’t alcohol because I knew I had to drive us home.”
She pretended to take shots when she wasn’t? I find that unbelievable and a little odd, but maybe it’s just my many rounds of shots talking to me. I let go of Mick’s hand and lean into her ear. “Then why take any at all?”
She smirks at me and winks. “To keep up appearances. And to make sure you got drunk and let loose.”
We bid our hangout buddies goodbye and wish Mick’s friend who is transferring good luck. Macy claims that they are all her new best friends.
I start to head toward the door in step with Macy until I hear her say, “Marta, aren’t you going to bid your friend a proper farewell?”
I roll my eyes at her and stick my tongue out as she follows my movement with her eyes. I walk back over to Mick and give him a big hug. In order to do so, I have to stand on my toes. I take advantage of the embrace to take in another mental note of his muscular frame, flexing as he squeezes me tightly.
“Thank you so much for being such a great dance partner and awesome company tonight. Be safe. It was really great seeing you again.”
I close my eyes, taking in a strong whiff of his scent of cologne, some perspiration, and him. I convince myself that I need to make the most of these last few seconds with him and take it all in.
I pull back and he smiles at me, with the same passion in his widened pupils as before, but with maybe a tinge of regret. I wonder if my eyes convey the same sentiment because that’s exactly how I feel. We bid each other goodnight and give fond farewells.
As soon as I am out of his company, I yearn for his warmth and security that I had felt all night.
***
“Ohmigosh,” Macy says bouncing and moving her hands up and down, “You two totally have this thing. I don’t know what it is. I can’t describe it, but everyone can see it. What happened?”
I sigh and look out the window of Macy’s car. “Nothing happened, Mace. We danced and talked about nothing, really. Then, we parted ways.”
Macy looks over to me in disbelief. “Nothing happened? That is grade A, solid poop you’re spewing, and you know it. You two didn’t leave one another’s sides all night, and he always had a hand on your lower back or you were touching in some way.”
I didn’t realize we were in such close proximity all night, especially so much so that others took notice. Guilt begins to creep into my stomach.
“We just had a good time. Like you said, you can be married and still have fun with good-looking men. Besides, he doesn’t even know my real name.”
“I know! I figured that must be your stage name when he first said it. I’m pretty sure he knows it’s not your real name too, but he was a good sport about it.”
Shifting tones, she says, “But really, Ari, there is something between the two of you. I know you haven’t confided much in me about your marriage to Brody, but I can tell you that I see you just about every day, and every day you look a little more deflated, as if someone is chipping away at your soul little by little and replacing it with misery. I see how you try to smile through the pain and give the ‘everything-is-great’ act, but I know better. You’re not as good at masking your emotions, especially your pain, as you think. But, what I saw tonight was someone who was care-free, happy, enjoying themselves, and just freaking being you. That’s what you deserve all of the time.”
I feel like I might choke from the tightness my throat is feeling caused by what Macy just said.
“You don’t know what I deserve,” I mumble.
Macy slams on the brakes and ch
anges to her loud voice that she uses to tell our PT guys what to do. “No! YOU don’t know what you deserve! If you think you deserve to live a life of isolation, of losing yourself to depression and loneliness, and feeling as if you’re worthless and have nothing to offer this world, then you are the biggest loon on the planet and grossly mistaken. You are one of the coolest chicks I’ve ever known. You’re hilarious and look at everything from an interesting perspective, which makes others look at their world in a different way. Not to mention that you’re freaking gorgeous, and I am so jealous of how sexy and alluring you are to people. I know somewhere, locked away in a deep chasm of your brain, you know that too. It’s just been pushed way down by people who honestly don’t deserve you or an iota of your attention.”
Taken aback by the vigor and passion with which she just addressed me, I don’t know what to say. Everything I’ve kept bottled in for so long begins to manifest itself in the form of tears and snot. Lots of it.
Macy pulls to the side of the road, places the car in park, unbuckles her seatbelt, and brings me into her arms as I sob- no, ugly cry -into my hands.
All of the tears hidden behind smiles, the reassurances of “I’m fine,” and the fake “look on the bright side” faith-in-humanity-despite-knowing-that-I-am-destined-for-a-future-of-misery persona all flood my senses at once. The worst part is that I know I chose this path for myself. I may not have been able to predict exactly how my relationship with Brody would evolve or how cruel he would become, but I do know that my worst fears of being lonely and unloved have transcended into reality, despite my being married.
Macy quietly holds me in her arms for a great deal of time until I stop shaking, tears stop flowing, and sobs stop screeching from my chest.
When I regain some composure and indicate that it’s alright to continue our journey, Macy and I ride to my house in silence. We pull into the driveway and I wipe my eyes once more for good measure.
Macy gives me a hug and a reassuring smile. “There are people who can help you, you know. I’m not telling you what you should or shouldn’t do, but should you choose to even just talk to someone and ask questions about the legalities of separation or divorce, there are resources out there. You can make an appointment with a JAG officer on base. They handle those kinds of things for free. I love you, friend. You deserve the moon, and this...,” she gestures to me and toward my apartment, “is certainly not it.”
I nod in silent acknowledgement as I reach for the door handle. I give a small wave and whisper, “I love you too, Mace. Thank you.”
Standing in my driveway, trying to regain my bearings and process what just happened, I feel numb and hollow. Letting out all of those emotions has now left me feeling empty and confused. Everything she said is true. I know it is, and have known it for some time, but I haven’t yet had the courage or the push to do anything about my situation. I’ve been standing in place, not moving in any direction, yet somehow my life’s goals, ambition, and drive continually move further out of my reach. Right now, my senses are overloaded with fears of whether or not I can stand on my own two feet or if I even have any place to go, should I decide to escape my situation. I used to think that getting a divorce seemed like admitting defeat and giving up, but I am beginning to see that if I can accept that I did something human, which is that I made a mistake, and put the potential for happiness in my pride’s place, I just might be able to be move closer to those lost dreams and desires for life.
I reach for the doorknob of my apartment, facing my present predicament, and let out a weary and defeated sigh. All of those things are good in theory, but for right now, I have to accept the reality that I created and enter what has now become very much like my tomb.
Chapter 8
Arielle
I silently enter the apartment, which is unusually quiet. Perhaps everyone has passed out early, or they took the party elsewhere. Either way, I am relieved to come home to a bit of calm after all of the mess I just let out in Macy’s car.
I head to the bathroom to wash my face and whisper, “Hey Swanks,” as I pass through the living room.
Swanks pauses and allows me to pet him as always. His head is grooved, yet soft as always, and I find the texture of his shell calming.
“I’m heading to bed,” I tell him. He nods his head in understanding, and I hear the clacking of his feet on the floor as he moves back to his favorite resting spot.
Kicking off my heels and reveling in the release of my poor feet from their pointed cages, I hear Brody stir. I am really disappointed to know that he’s home. Hopefully, he will be too sleepy or out of it to talk to me.
“Ari,” he croaks from the bedroom, and I hear him move around in the bed.
I peek my head around the corner of the bedroom door.
“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just go lie down on the couch.”
I try to get back to washing my face, but am thwarted when he says, “Ari,” a little more clearly this time. “You didn’t come show me your outfit before you left.”
My stomach drops, and I halt in my tracks. I think back to before I left and remember he was asleep. “You were asleep when I left, and I know how tired you’ve been from working so much.”
Brody sits up on the bed and turns on the bedside lamp. He blinks his eyes several times and rubs both of his hands on his face. “I didn’t say ‘don’t wake me,’ Ari. I said to make sure you let me see you in your outfit before you left,” he spits out.
Feeling unusually bold, I roll my shoulders back, walk to the foot of the bed, and say, “Well, this is the dress. You can see me in it now.”
Sensing my change in tone, I see his chest heave in anger. “I can see this is the same fucking dress, but I wanted to see you BEFORE you left, when you looked hot. Not now with your hair all sweaty and your makeup smeared and shit.”
I stumble back away from the bed as fear bleeds into my chest. I can see where this is going if I don’t play it smart.
“I’m sorry, Brody. I just thought you would prefer to sleep and rest. You see me all of the time, but you don’t get sleep as often.”
I’ve really upset him, more than I usually do. On the one hand, I want to stand up for myself and scream at him and make him feel every bit of pain and loathing I’ve ever felt, but on the other hand, I’m terrified of how he might react.
“Damnit, Ari!” he yells. “I don’t give a FUCK what you think I might prefer. I told you I wanted to see you before you left. When I tell you I want to see you before you leave, it means I fucking want to see you BEFORE you fucking leave!”
He’s screaming now, and I don’t know what to do. In my mind, I wonder if this is really happening to me, if I am really allowing someone to speak to me this way. I always told myself I was too strong to allow someone to treat me like shit or abuse me. Abuse is something I thought only happens in Lifetime movies starring Meredith Baxter or Tori Spelling, not to once regarded smart, vibrant, and strong people like me. Plus, I tell myself, it’s not like he’s ever put his hands on me. No. No, this is not abuse because if it is, it’s certainly not going to happen to me.
With a little more resolve, I reply, “I know what you said. I heard every word of it, and I’m telling you that you were out cold. Snoring. And since you’re always complaining about how tired you are, I made the decision to not wake you.”
I’m breathing more rapidly and a little surprised at my response.
Suddenly, I hear a crash and the sound of something breaking. I look over to the side wall and see the alarm clock broken into pieces.
“GOD! Why do you do this to me? Why do you DO this to me, Ari?”
I stand silently, not really knowing how or if I should respond. I let the unreal situation circle around me and step back from myself, as if I’m watching a movie happen. Did I really just witness him throw something and break it out of intimidation? I do not condone that kind of behavior.
“I married you,” Brody cri
es as he slaps his hand to his chest. “I brought you here with me. I got us this apartment. If you didn’t have me, you would have nothing. You would be back in that shitty town and alone. Do you really think anyone else is going to choose to love you?”
I thought I had no more tears left in me after the huge cry I had earlier, but I was wrong. I thought I could stand strong and not become a person whom I loathe, but I was mistaken. Tears pour out of my eyes because I can’t hold them back.
“Oh, and now you’re trying to make me feel bad by crying. Boo fucking hoo,” Brody mocks me. “What about me? What about everything I’ve done for you, and what have you done for me?” His face is red and his hands are balled into fists.
I choke on my tears as everything he’s just said to me seems very true. “Brody, I-”
He stands up and stalks toward me until he’s directly above me, staring down at me with contempt in his eyes.
I cover my face and sob into my hands repeating, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” over and over, only I don’t quite know to whom I’m truly apologizing.
Brody’s disposition changes and he says a little more quietly, “I’m sorry too, Ari.” He lets out a sigh of frustration. “Look, you just...you drive me crazy. And I am tired. I didn’t mean to lose control like that. Please. Come to bed with me, and let’s be husband and wife.”
He coldly places his hand on my shoulder and directs me toward the bed.
Nausea overwhelms me. I know precisely what be husband and wife means to Brody, and it’s the last thing I want to do right now.
Looking above my hands and through my tears, I mutter, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Brody.”
Glaring straight into my eyes he says, “You are my wife and we WILL be husband and wife. Plus, you owe me.”
I don’t owe him, or at least I don’t think I do. I don’t know right now because everything is confusing to me at the moment.
