“Yes. Before you even checked into the hotel in Rome, we swept that room and put in surveillance,” he said softly.
“They saw everything?” she squeaked out.
“No one was watching, Misch. There wasn't a van down the street, or anything.”
“But there's a recording. Somewhere, some fucking security company has a 'greatest hits' reel of me cheating on my husband, breaking up with my husband. Fighting with you, fucking you, oh my god, I'm gonna be sick,” she groaned, bending forward and putting her head between her knees.
“Baby, I swear, no one will see them. Sotera never came in your room, there won't be any reason to watch anything,” Tal said, squatting in front of her again.
“I don't care. They exist. You used me. You used me,” she cried, putting her hands on the back of her head.
“No. I compromised the mission, almost lost my job, for you,” he told her.
“Fuck you! You should've told me! You had so many times you could've told me! On the beach! Why didn't you say anything!?” she was shouting at him as she rocked back and forth.
“I couldn't, baby. I couldn't,” he whispered.
“You could. But you didn't.”
“I didn't.”
“I was a job to you.”
“No.”
“A fucking job.”
“No. You weren't, baby, really. I tried to shield you, tried to keep you out of it. That's why I got you out of certain situations.”
“That's why you didn't want me to come to Turkey … I would've found out.”
“No. I didn't want you to come for the same reason I didn't like you working in Rome – it was dangerous. Sotera's a dangerous man. That's why I was always trying to get you to skip work,” Tal reminded her.
Silly me thought it was because he just wanted to spend time with me.
“So I would come back to my room with you, where everything we did was monitored. God, oh god, oh god.”
“I meant everything I said, baby, ever wor-,”
“I am not your baby!” she shrieked, sitting upright in a flash. He smiled sadly and pressed his hand to the side of her face.
“You're my everything,” he whispered.
She lurched away from the bed, away from him. She sucked in air, but wasn't taking in any oxygen. She thought she might pass out, or throw up. Possibly both. In what order, she wasn't sure.
“You're a liar. You lied to me. Everything. You acted like you didn't know me. Introduced yourself, fuck. I can't believe it. You knew me, and I had no clue who you were. You had a mark, a mission, a job. All those days, all that time, just pretending,” she went on and on.
“You know me, Misch. You know me,” Tal stressed, following alongside her as she paced.
“I don't. I feel like I'm just meeting you right now, and I don't like this man very much,” she cried, pushing at his chest when he got close to her.
“You love this man,” he reminded her.
“How can I love someone I don't know!?” she shouted, shoving and hitting as his arms came around her.
“You do. You know me, you love me,” he kept repeating it.
She screamed and cried and shoved at him, but he held her tighter. Crushed her to him. Held her as she sobbed.
“I don't. I don't know you. I don't, I don't, I don't. I don't know this person. How could you do that to me? I loved you.”
She cried for a long time. He lowered them to sit on the floor, and she was reminded of their last day together in Rome, which just made her feel worse. She had thought breaking the news to Mike had been the worst thing ever?
Wrong.
“Mischa,” Tal whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there for; long enough for her to stop struggling against him. “You lied to your husband, to be with me. Well, I lied to you, so I could be with you.”
“I want you to leave,” she whispered back.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“I can't do this right now, Tal. First Mike, and then divorce papers, and now this. God, I always knew I wasn't a strong person, but fuck, you really wanted to nail it home for me,” she cried against him.
“I didn't. You are strong,” he assured her.
“I'm not. I'm weak, and you made me worse.”
His arms got tighter for a second, then loosened. Fell away. They were just two people, sitting on a hotel room floor, not looking at each other.
Strangers.
“I never wanted to do that,” he told her, his voice empty sounding. “I saw you in those pictures, saw you through a camera lens, saw you in Rome, and I thought to myself 'wow, what is this beautiful woman doing in this place?', and then I met you. Talked to you. Touched you. I'm selfish, Misch. So selfish. I couldn't stop. I wanted more. I'll always want more. Maybe that's wrong. Maybe I made a mistake. I've made a lot. But I'll always want you, always want to touch you. I have for a long time. I will for a lot longer. You own me, Ms. Duggard. Body and soul.”
Ms. Duggard.
“I made the mistake, Tal. Not you. All me. I told a lie – it gave birth to more. You're right, I lied to my husband. I can't get mad at you for lying,” she sighed.
“You can. I deserve it.”
“I deserve worse.”
“Stop it.”
“I want you to leave.”
“No.”
“I don't want this.”
“That's a fucking lie.”
More tears.
“You know, Tal,” she chuckled, wiping at her eyes. “For the first time in a long time, I'm gonna stick with the truth.”
“Fucking liar.”
She finally lifted her eyes to his, smiling at him before she got to her feet.
“Mr. Canaan, it was very nice to meet you. Beyond words. But I've been playing around for long enough. I think it's time for me to go home.”
Tal stood as well and loomed over her.
“You said you loved me,” he growled.
“I know. I meant it.”
“And I love you.”
“I think you meant it, too.”
“Then what's the fucking problem!?”
“Everything. I ended my last relationship in lies. I don't want my next one to be built on them.”
Hard logic to argue with, even for Tal and his silver tongue. His jaw worked, clenching and unclenching. He looked like he was in pain.
“Please, babe. Please, don't do this,” he begged.
“I have to do this. I'm in love with a guy I met in Rome. You're in love with a girl you met in Rome. Neither of us are those people.”
He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest.
“Then get to know this man. You'll love him even more.”
“It's time to go home now, Tal.”
She walked to the door and opened it. When she turned back, he was still standing in place, glaring at her.
“Home is with you,” he stated. She gave him a watery smile.
“Home is in Detroit. You hate the U.S.,” she reminded him.
He strode towards her, eating up the ground. She didn't even have time to react, he just grabbed her and kissed her hard. They fell against the open door, moving backwards as it hit the wall.
One of his arms was completely wrapped around her waist, under his t-shirt, his palm hot against her skin. His other hand cupped her jaw, holding her head in place, like he was afraid she would try to get away.
She didn't. She kissed him back. She would have to feast on this fantasy for a long time to come, so might as well end it with a bang. She stood on her tip toes and gave as good as she got, moving her tongue against his while she raked her fingernails up his back, settling her hands on his shoulders.
She was pretty sure he would've kept going till they passed out, but when she got dizzy, she had to pull away. She dropped her forehead to his chest and took deep breaths through her nose, inhaling him. Memorizing him. She felt his lips on her he
ad.
“Don't do this, Mischa,” he whispered.
“I'm no good right now. I'm broken,” she replied.
“Let me fix you.”
“I'm sorry, Tal.”
They broke apart.
“This is wrong and you know it,” he called her out.
“Maybe. It won't be the first time. But I'm getting better at dealing with it,” she told him. He moved into the hallway.
“Do me a favor, Misch?” he asked. She turned towards him, but he wasn't facing her. He was staring off down the hall.
“Anything,” she responded.
“Take care of you. Take care of your heart. And don't … don't forget us,” his voice fell into a whisper.
“I could never. Not in a thousand years. Not at all.”
He gave a curt nod, then walked off down the hall. She watched till he turned a corner and got on an elevator.
Mischa shut the door. Slid on the chain lock. Then she took a couple steps. Paused. Then walked into the bathroom and threw up; a particularly painful experience, since she hadn't eaten since breakfast the morning before.
The love of your life, and you didn't even know him.
~Mischa~
I made a conscious decision to cheat on my husband.
I can't say that it went well. It certainly didn't go according to plan.
If I could do it over, I would have done things differently.
When I first accepted the job overseas, I would've talked to him then. Told him that I wanted to separate, and me working abroad would be our chance to explore life without each other.
I would've gone to Italy. I would've met Tal. It wouldn't have been scandalous. It wouldn't have been a secret. It would have been two people meeting, two people dating, openly. I wouldn't have been so nervous and panicky and overwhelmed and unsure. I would've been more aware, I would've noticed all the signs, I would've asked more questions.
I can only hope he would've answered them.
But I'll never know. And he'll never know. And Mike will never know.
Because I did it all wrong, and instead of cheating on my husband to feel better about myself, I upset three lives. Broke three hearts.
Oh, and was involved in a low key international terrorist incident in a foreign country.
But I feel that part was minor in comparison.
~Home~
To say things weren't good at home would be a drastic understatement.
And even just getting home had been an ordeal. The Turkish government hadn't wanted her to leave. Mischa was an employee of a known terrorist aider-and-abetter. That was frowned upon in the best of situations.
This wasn't one of those.
After arguing over her visa for days, suddenly, she was given permission. Just like that. She could only assume that Tal had intervened on her behalf, and she was grateful.
But she didn't see him.
She flew home, but she didn't have anywhere to go. She hadn't called Lacey ever again, and Mike still wasn't returning her phone calls. The apartment was half hers, of course, he couldn't keep her out, but she didn't want to be more bothersome than she already was to everyone around her.
Her little stint as an international-woman-of-mystery had become somewhat infamous. Peter got arrested in Turkey, and the story blew up.
“U.S. Insurance Agent Aids al Qaeda”
“Insurance Agent from Detroit Sells to Terrorist Groups”
“al Qaeda Life Insurance Policies, and The Man Stupid Enough to Sell Them”
The last article heading was her favorite.
Her name was mentioned a lot, and she got requests for interviews about her relationship with Peter, about her detainment in Turkey, about her interactions with the super secretive military security company, Ansuz. About her interactions with a very specific agent within that company.
She declined all of them.
She stayed in a hotel at first. Another goddamn hotel. Her father picked her up at the airport and he drove her to the hotel, promising to help her find a place as soon as possible. He made good on his word, locating a shitty apartment in a decent part of downtown Detroit. It was small and it was old and it was ugly.
But it was hers.
They quickly found out that Misch's dad would have to loan her the down payment for the apartment – the savings account she shared with Mike had been cleaned out. Zero dollars. Her company had offered her a hefty severance package, which she gladly took, but she wouldn't get the money for a while. Her checking account was pretty close to tapped out. If she didn't find a job, pronto, she'd be living with her parents again.
How fucking depressing.
Mike wasn't speaking to her. Her friends weren't speaking to her. Her own mother wasn't speaking to her. Her father basically had to meet up with her in secret. The only interaction she had was with a corner grocer, and the few newspapers that kept calling her.
It took a while, but she finally got a job at a dance studio. At first just helping in the office, but eventually she was allowed to teach a toddler class. Simple stuff, but she enjoyed it.
Tal would approve of this.
She thought about him a lot, didn't avoid it anymore. He had earned it. Earned all her thoughts, all her memories.
“Have you talked to him, sweetie?” her dad came right out and asked one night.
“Who?” she played dumb.
“You know who.”
“God, isn't this nice? An apartment with a terrace, I never thought I'd have one downtown,” she sighed, leaning back in her lawn chair.
“Baby. We're sitting on a fire escape.”
“Don't ruin it, Dad. It's gonna be bad enough when winter comes.”
They were sitting on a fire escape, looking across an alley at another fire escape. But it was late July and a heat wave was ripping through the city – Misch's new bachelorette pad didn't have air conditioning. So they were trying to catch a breeze, knocking back beers.
“Stop being squirrelly. Have you talked to him?” her dad demanded.
“No, I haven't.”
“But he's called.”
“How would you know that!?”
“Because I've talked to him.”
Misch sat up so fast, she knocked her beer over. She'd been home for almost two months, and she hadn't spoken with Tal at all. He'd called a couple times. She'd gotten a whole new plan, a new number, but of course he found that number. Not a shock. But he only ever left one message. One voicemail, and after that he never called again.
She still hadn't listened to the message.
“What!? When!?” she shouted, turning her chair to face her dad's.
“Oh, he calls every now and then, to check on me. Or really, you. But I haven't talked to him in a while, about two weeks. Usually I hear from him about once a week,” her dad said it all casually, like it was something they talked about all the time.
“What does he say? What do you say? How is he? Why is he calling you!?” she was baffled.
“We talk about a lot of stuff. Ball games and women and work, things like that. I think he calls cause, well, he doesn't have a lot of family he's close to anymore, I think he's the black sheep. And I think talkin' to me makes him feel closer to you,” her dad answered honestly. She got a warm feeling in her chest and she sat back in her chair.
She and Tal had talked a lot, so she knew about him feeling like a black sheep. Knew that he didn't get to see his family very often. It was a little weird, the dude she had an affair with that one time, calling her dad like he was said dude's own dad. But it was nice, too.
“Good. I'm glad,” she sighed.
“He does seem kind of sad,” her dad added on.
“He does?” she asked, keeping her voice soft. She'd worried about that, couldn't stand the idea of him hurting. Of him being sad. Of her being the cause.
“Yeah. Did you ever listen to his voicemail?” her dad questioned. She shook her head and took a swig of his beer.
“Nope.”
>
“You should, honey. What he did wasn't right, but you didn't do a whole lot right, either. Just hear him out,” her dad suggested. She shook her head.
“Don't you see? That's just it – we both did so much wrong. Both of us. And two wrongs certainly don't make a right,” she pointed out.
“This is love, sweetie pea, not physics. Pull your head out of your ass.”
She laughed at him.
They said goodbye after that and she walked him to the door. His words settled in her brain and she wandered through the apartment, thinking about Tal. She stretched out on her bed and stared at her ceiling. Remembered what it had been like with him, wondered what it would be like if he was there. She smiled. He'd probably be yanking and pulling at her skinny jeans, fighting to get them off her.
“God, why are they so tight!?”
“You love it when I'm in them.”
“Yeah, but not so much when I have to get them off. They're impossible to get over your clown feet.”
“I do not have big feet!”
“Don't worry, Boppo, I love your clown feet.”
She actually laughed out loud, remembering him. Remembering them. Then she remembered what happened after the skinny pants were gone, and she stopped laughing. Smoothed her hand over her stomach.
She hadn't had sex since Tal. Couldn't really imagine having sex with anyone else. She went to work and she went home, that was it. Her heartless, “I'm gonna find a man and fuck his brains out” mentality was all gone; probably because the man she'd found had gone ahead and fucked her brains out.
Her phone started ringing, startling her fingers away from the waist of her pants. She glanced at the screen nervously. Maybe Tal had psychically tuned into the fact that she was about to touch herself while thinking of him and he'd decided to give her a ring-a-ding.
But she was almost more shocked by the name she saw on the screen.
“Lacey!?”
“Can you meet me somewhere?” her friend whispered down the line.
“Of course. Please. Just say where,” Misch scooted off the bed and dashed around, looking for shoes.
“That pub we used to always go to.”
“When?”
“Is right now okay? God, you're probably busy, we don't have to, I can just -,”
My Time in the Affair Page 22
