Full Circle

by Lynne, Donya

  Karma nibbled on a tasty amuse-bouche, as Mark called it. Single, bite-sized hors d’oeuvres. This one was a tiny cheese and bacon stuffed pastry decorated with chopped baby lettuce and herbs.

  Waiters carried tray after tray of amuse-bouches among the guests. Cherry tomatoes cut in half with tiny chunks of mozzarella between the two halves and speared on a toothpick with a small strip of fresh basil; bacon-wrapped shrimp; bite-sized gourmet pizzas; finger sandwiches; sushi; even miniature bowls of different kinds of soup, and so much more. Karma had yet to see two trays alike.

  Then, of course, there were the drink trays. The party was a smorgasbord of fine food and potables.

  “Tell me about this poker game that ended your poker-playing days,” she said, dusting her hands on a cocktail napkin as Mark grabbed them two more flutes of champagne from a passing tray.

  Mark handed one to her, his eyes shifting restlessly. “What’s there to say?”

  Had they not gotten past all this secrecy by now? “Obviously, quite a lot, from the way you’re dodging the question.” She crossed one arm over her chest, holding her glass in the other.

  Wilting, his head dropped to one side as he met her gaze. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you’re probably going to think I’m a flake.”

  “You? A flake?” He might be flaking on setting a wedding date, but in all else, flaky was not in Mark’s bio.

  He held up one hand. “Just . . . okay . . . here’s what happened. I was out with a bunch of friends. Rob, a few of the guys I worked with, a couple of buddies from school . . . and Antonio.”

  “Antonio?” Why was that name familiar? It was something important.

  “Carol’s dance partner,” he reminded her.

  Her eyes opened wide. “Ooohhhh.” Antonio. The guy who stole Carol out from under him.

  Mark took a sip of champagne and moved them away from the bar. “I was winning big. Really raking in the chips.”

  “You played with real money? Not just for fun?”

  “We usually just played for chips, but that night, it was for real. Real money. Real stakes.”

  And why not? He was filthy stinking rich.

  “I was up ten thousand dollars and was dealt an amazing hand. Full house. Aces high. Only two hands could beat that. Four of a kind and a straight flush. The odds were in my favor, so as the bets came around, and players dropped out while others—Rob included—continued to bet, I went all in. When Antonio turned his cards, he had four queens. Four of a kind. The bastard had never even flinched. Talk about your poker faces. I thought he might have had a straight or a flush, or maybe even a lower full house than mine to keep betting, but the prick had four of a kind.” The shadow that wouldn’t completely die played over his face.

  “When was this?”

  He snorted and shook his head as he glanced down into his glass. “My bachelor party. Can you believe that? Not only was Antonio fucking my fiancée behind my back, stealing her away from me, but he beat me at my own game. He took my ten thousand dollars and my fiancée.” His gaze drifted away as if he were watching a memory. Then he snapped out of it and glanced back at her as he sipped his drink. “I never played again.”

  “She really hurt you, didn’t she?”

  “They both did.”

  She frowned into her glass, her teeth worrying the inside of her bottom lip as her mind churned with a sudden revelation. “Do you think that might be why you’re so hesitant to set a date for our wedding?”

  “No, no.” He shook his head, frowning, responding a little too hastily. “I just . . . you know . . . things are so busy. And I want to be able to focus on our wedding. I don’t want to feel rushed, okay?” He took her free hand in his and squeezed. “I promise I’m not intentionally putting it off, Karma.” But the fearful shadows darkening his eyes said otherwise. “I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. I swear to you.”

  But being together was not necessarily the same as getting married. What if Mark was content with simply living together and raising kids without actually tying the knot. What if he was fine with a commitment like that. One where he had no intention of leaving but didn’t want to make it legal, either. There were men like that. Good men who were loyal to their women. Who stayed with them through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, until death do they part, even when they weren’t legally required to do so. Maybe she and Mark could have such a relationship. Would that be enough for her?

  She sighed and glanced up at him. “Okay,” she said, relenting. “I just thought talking about her and what happened might help. Or even talking to her. I’m not sure if you ever have, but—”

  “I’m with you now, Karma. You have me.” He shook his head. “Let’s enjoy the party and not talk about it, anymore, because, really, there’s nothing else to discuss.”

  Wasn’t there? Why did she get the feeling he was diverting again? And just because he didn’t want to talk about Carol didn’t mean she didn’t want to. She had questions. And the more he avoided discussing Carol, the more questions she had.

  Before she could push the issue further, Mark’s best friend Rob broke through the crowd with a perky blonde at his side.

  “Mark, hey, good to see you here,” Rob said.

  Mark let go of her hand and man-hugged him. “Rob. Man, you look good.” He stepped back to Karma’s side. “You remember Karma?”

  “How could I forget?” Rob shook her hand. “Mark damn near drove me nuts last year when he was back in Chicago obsessing over you.”

  “Really?” She looked from Rob to Mark. His face flushed crimson.

  The blonde giggled. “Yes. Mark definitely had it bad for you. I got to witness some of his mania firsthand. I’m Holly, by the way.” She held her hand out, and Karma shook it.

  “Nice to meet you.” She turned back to Mark. “Is that true? You were obsessing over me?” She grinned. “And suffering mania? Really?”

  Mark tossed a playful glare at Rob. “You just had to open your big mouth, didn’t you?”

  For the next thirty minutes, Rob and Holly shared stories about Mark’s behavior during the year they’d spent apart. About how he’d blown up at Rob for setting him up on a blind date with an overly talkative Chicago Bulls cheerleader. About the way Mark had snapped at Rob the night he told him he was marrying Holly. About how Mark turned his manic energy toward a crushing cross-training routine, which had allowed Rob to dole out some retribution for all the shit he’d taken, since he’d been Mark’s personal trainer.

  But even though Mark laughed along with them and even added his own amusing anecdotes, Karma could still see that damn shadow hovering around him, especially when Holly asked, “So, when’s the wedding?”

  It was like the punchline to a bad joke, and it simply wouldn’t go away. Everyone wanted to know when the wedding was, but she didn’t have an answer.

  Before she could reply with the pre-decided excuses Mark had made, someone brushed her arm.

  “Excuse me.”

  Karma turned to find Giada beside her, taking her hand.

  “I’m stealing Karma for a while.” Giada pulled her away from Mark’s side then wrapped her arm conspiratorially around Karma’s, leaning in like they were old friends. “I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I want to show you off a bit.”

  It seemed the news of her and Mark’s engagement had made Giada’s day, if not her entire year.

  Giada pulled her into the other half of the room. Over here, the guests seemed of a different class. Richer. More refined. It was like the party had segregated itself, and she and Mark had remained on the side of the lesser man. Over here was quite another story.

  Her head spun as Giada swept her from one person to the next, all of whom were dressed to the nines, wearing more money than she made in a month. And the women! They didn’t look real. Like perfectly coifed mannequins, not an ounce of fat on them. One wore a body-hugging sheer black turtleneck with what appeared to be leather leggings on slender legs extending for
miles. Except when Karma got closer, she could tell the material was some kind of shiny, stretchy fabric, not leather. And her strappy shoes looked more like art deco than footwear.

  This half of the room was definitely a study in the best clothes, shoes, faces, and boobs money could buy. Even some of the men looked botoxed.

  She got the once-over more times than not, especially from the women. Through narrowed, suspicious eyes, they efficiently swept over her casual, non-designer attire before they forced a polite, tolerant smile and blinked several times as if waking themselves from a dream. The message conveyed was clear. “You don’t belong here.”

  But she was with Giada, and Giada was the goddess of the evening, so they put on their fake smiles, perfectly feigned all the right congratulatory words when Giada proclaimed she was her future daughter-in-law, and oooed and aaahed over her ring the way they were expected to. Then they huddled in their tiny conclaves, whispering and staring, as Giada led her off. Karma had looked back a couple of times to catch them in the act.

  Without saying a word, they let her know she wasn’t a member of the coveted circle. She didn’t belong.

  Giada glanced across the room and smiled, “They’re about to serve cake. Come along, dear.”

  Karma stopped her. “Um, where’s the restroom?”

  Giada gestured toward the rear exit from the ballroom. “There’s one back there, but if it’s occupied, take the stairs to the second floor. There’s another down the hall to the left.” She leaned in and winked. “That one’s only for family.”

  Family. She was officially family now. If only her dad could be so benevolent.

  She slipped out and didn’t even waste a stop at the larger community bathroom. She wanted privacy. Somewhere quiet to calm the insecure, paranoid voices in her head, which were telling her she didn’t fit in with these people and that they were all talking about her.

  Upstairs, she found the restroom, freshened up a bit, and then stepped back into the hall. It was so peaceful up here. She could barely hear the party.

  For the first time in over a half hour, she took a full breath. How nice not to have people staring at her, whispering about her, probably making fun of her outfit.

  She adjusted the off-the-shoulder collar. As she did, she glanced up and down the hall. It was a lot wider than an average hall in an average house, with carpeting so thick it felt like firm pillows as she took a few steps to the left, away from the stairs leading back down to the party.

  Feeling a bit like she was doing something wrong, she placed her hand on a heavy, brass doorknob and twisted. The door opened into a large bedroom not quite as big as the master suite in her and Mark’s new house, but bigger than the one in her apartment.

  A queen bed rested along the far wall, and walnut bookshelves and a matching built-in desk big enough for a Fortune 500 CEO shared a wall with the door. There was even a leather couch and small end table that held a lamp, as well as another set of bookcases along the far wall.

  The room appeared preserved. Like Julia Child’s kitchen at the Smithsonian Institute.

  Was this Mark’s childhood bedroom?

  She took a step inside and spied a picture of a much younger Mark wearing a red graduation cap and gown.

  It was his room. She smiled and walked farther inside, feeling like she’d just found a long-lost piece of Mark’s history.

  * * *

  Mark pulled Rob aside. “I need to talk to you.” He couldn’t let this go on any further.

  Rob’s face filled with concern. “Is everything all right?”

  Mark shook his head. “Yes and no. Let’s just . . . I need to talk to you.” He nodded toward the exit.

  “Okay, give me a second.” Rob turned to Holly and said something to her. She nodded then smiled sympathetically at Mark as Rob turned back around. “All right. Where to?”

  “Let’s go to the pool room.”

  “Lead the way.”

  A couple minutes later, Mark opened the door and led Rob inside the room that held his parents’ indoor pool. It wasn’t a big pool. More of a place for his mom to swim laps. She was an avid swimmer and swam at least fifty laps a day.

  Mark flipped on the lights and led Rob to the small bar in back beside the staircase leading to a loft sitting area. He grabbed two bottles of water and a large bag of peanuts in the shell and tossed them on the bar before taking a seat.

  “Okay, so what’s up?” Rob said. “What’s got you so upset? Are you pissed I told all those stories about you from last year? I didn’t mean to—”

  “Hell, no, I’m not mad about that, Rob.”

  “Then what’s wrong, because I can tell something’s wrong.”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m fucking everything up. I’m blowing it, Rob.” He broke open a peanut with enough force that the nuts flew across the bar. He discarded the shell and grabbed another, opening it more carefully. “I’m totally blowing everything.”

  “Whoa. Back up. How about you start from the beginning.”

  Mark let out a sarcastic laugh, meeting Rob’s gaze. “I don’t even know where the beginning is. All I know is that I’m destroying everything I returned to Indiana for. If I can’t get my head together, I’m going to lose her.”

  This had been eating at him for weeks, ever since he’d told her about his anal fantasies. She hadn’t mentioned the conversation again. It was like she was avoiding it.

  Last night, he’d started to broach the topic while they’d waited for her parents to join them for dinner, but his timing had been about as good as gunning the gas after the stoplight had already turned red.

  “Karma? Are you talking about losing Karma?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, so lose her how?”

  His laugh sounded as self-deprecating as he felt. “Oh, let me count the ways, Rob.” He split open another peanut shell with his thumbs then plucked out the nuts and popped them into his mouth.

  “Talk to me, Mark.” Rob turned on his barstool to face him. “Let’s hear it. Maybe then I’ll know how to help.”

  Mark ran through the conversations he’d had with Karma, trying to figure out where to start. “Okay, the beginning.” He broke open another peanut. “Saint Lucia.” He glanced at Rob.

  “Where you took her for Christmas.”

  “There was more to that trip than just asking her to marry me.” Rob had been in on the planning of the Saint Lucia trip, so he knew all about his intention of proposing. “I wanted to tell her about my past.”

  “I thought you’d already done that.”

  Mark shook his head. “No. You don’t understand.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Man, Rob, you don’t know the half of it. I told her things I never even told you. Stuff I never told anybody.”

  Rob’s forehead crinkled. “I thought I knew everything about that time in your life.”

  “Well, there was some shit that I was too ashamed to admit, even to you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, man. I never meant to keep you in the dark. I just didn’t want to talk about it, let alone remember it.”

  Rob shifted on his barstool and spun a peanut with his fingers. It made a papery scraping sound like gears grinding, only really quiet. “You don’t need to explain, Mark. I get it. What you did tell me about—I mean, what I witnessed with my own eyes—was pretty bad. And I’ve known you for-fucking-ever. Long enough to know that if you’re carrying around shame about the other shit you did, it had to be really bad. Shit that you’d want to forget.”

  “Yeah, well, I told Karma. I had to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I didn’t want to move forward until she knew the worst there was to know about me. I wanted to know I’d told her everything. That way I could have a clean slate, no secrets, nothing to hide. A totally fresh start.”

  “Yeah, but it could have backfired. And for you to be sitting here pissing into your pile of peanuts about how you’re destroying everything tells me you’re thinking it has. So
, what’s going on? Tell me what you told her. Come clean with me so I can help.”

  “God, Rob.” He hung his head then glanced at him sideways. “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  After a couple of false starts, Mark finally got going and slowly spilled his guts about his deviant past. Nina, the sex clubs, the threesomes, the prostitute, the drugs. He unloaded everything he’d told Karma all over again, this time to his best friend.

  Afterward, Rob sat in silence for a long while then said, “Shit, Mark. I never knew.”

  “No one did. No one but me knew how bad it got.” He drained his water bottle. “I’m sorry. I should have told you a long time ago.”

  Rob perked up, shaking his head. “Hey, you don’t owe me an apology. Like I said before, I get it. I totally get it. Your head was fucked up back then.”

  “Yeah, but you got me back on my feet. Without you, I’m not sure I would have made it back. I owed you.”

  “You didn’t owe me anything. You’re my best friend. We’ve shed blood together. Since we were kids, you’ve had my back as much as I’ve had yours. You would have done the same thing for me under similar circumstances.”

  Mark grabbed another peanut. “Yeah, maybe. But there’s more.” He rested his forearms on the bar as he pinched the shell and split it open. “And this is where I might have crossed the line with Karma.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I got off on some of that shit, Rob.” He slung the broken peanut shell toward the trash can behind the bar with more force than was necessary. “I liked some of it. As fucked up as most of it was, some of that shit was hot.”

  Rob didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then, “And you told Karma that?”

  He crunched into a peanut like he was biting off the head of a tiny demon. “Yes. I told her. And I told her I wanted to do those things with her.”

  “And . . . how did she respond?”

  “That’s just it. At first, everything was great. She seemed open to the idea. I thought I’d hit the jackpot.”

  “And now?”

  “She hasn’t brought it up again.”

  “Have you?”