Sabato: The Cross

by Mj Fields

  “I want you to pull over, now.”

  “We’re on a highway,” I argue.

  “Tough shit. Find a place.”

  “For what?” I snap.

  “Because I said so!” she yells at me, really yells. “Now!”

  I see a rest stop ahead and decide I want her out as much as she wants to be out. The vehicle isn’t even in park, when she is out the door and running to the bathroom.

  How dare she! How dare she think that we are friends, that she knows me or my life, that she can speak to me this way.

  I want to walk away, fuck, I want to leave her there and drive off. I feel a sharp squeeze in my chest and I hate that she can make me feel this. She is no different than the countless others, except she saw me at a weak point. Once. That mistake will not happen again. Never again. I gave her what she needed. I didn’t need that. There was no need to be friends. I sure as fuck wouldn’t touch her again and hell would freeze over before I allowed her to touch me.

  Suddenly, I need to know exactly how long I will be forced to live in this hell. I need to know because I am now thinking prison would be less of a hardship than living with a woman who actually thinks they can tell me what to do. For twenty years, I have managed to take care of myself. I have managed alone.

  Alone is better than this, this, fucking...feeling shit.

  Feelings.

  The need to get off, the need to get someone else off, hate, lust, desire, orgasm; these are the only feelings that do not betray or get taken away by bastards who want you dead, who want to ruin your life.

  The other shit, I have no room for in my life.

  I look at the clock and five minutes has passed.

  Ten minutes.

  Twelve minutes.

  I start to get concerned.

  Did she run?

  I’m so angry, my skin feels like it’s steaming. That bitch better not have run.

  Seventeen minutes.

  Is she hurt?

  Why should I care, if she is? If I do, it’s only because she is my key to freedom.

  Twenty minutes.

  Is she safe?

  I open the door and get out. Three vehicles are parked in the parking lot that weren’t here before. I feel panic strike.

  I walk around, checking out the area. No woods, just pavement and a building. It’s just a rest area.

  I walk inside and push my sunglasses up to rest on my head. There are couples looking at maps, children running off extra energy from being in a car too long and older couples, all seemingly happy.

  But no Melyssa, happy or otherwise.

  I spend a few more minutes pacing outside the women’s restroom. My instinct tells me to go in, but that isn’t possible right now. Too many people would see.

  I try to blend, but there are too many eyes on me. I don’t blend. I would never be caught dead in the travel clothes some people wore.

  A red-haired woman walks out with a chubby miniature in tow. She looks at me, then shakes her head and walks away. Her daughter turns around as they make their way to the door and does the same look. I scowl at her and she sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Bambino viziato.”

  Another younger woman walks out and another. Finally I ask the last, “Is there a blonde woman in there?”

  “A crying—”

  “Are there others?”

  “No, but she seems pissed.”

  Ignoring their judgmental glares, I walk in to find Melyssa with a wet paper towel over her face. I immediately feel relieved.

  When she pulls it off, she jumps. “What are you doing?”

  “You’ve been gone a long time.” I try to hide the fact that I am angry, relieved and angry all over again, all in the space of a half-second.

  “Well, I had a lot to consider.” She looks past me. I take a good look at her face. It’s red and puffy.

  She smiles and I know it’s not at me.

  “Sorry,” she apologizes and walks around me, out the door.

  When I turn I see two women, both young, both nice looking, both giggling.

  They’re looking at me, not at Melyssa. I shake my head and follow her outside.

  I wait at the vehicle for Sabato to come out.

  He takes a few minutes; I assume he is using the bathroom.

  I lean against the vehicle, taking comfort in its warmth. I am over this. Completely and totally over this. Who cares if it is what’s best for me financially, education wise? Future-wise?

  I look up when he finally comes walking up. Black, messy hair, aviator sunglasses covering his very expressive, deep brown eyes. Chiseled face, perfect lips; his strong, solid, muscular upper body is clothed in a plaid button down with a tank top underneath. He has on khaki shorts and brown leather sandals.

  These clothes are clearly his attempt to ‘blend in.’ But he could never blend in. Well maybe one of those reality TV model programs, but not in everyday situations. I think it’s amusing that he thinks he does.

  I stand facing the car, with my hand on the handle, waiting for him to hit the unlock on the key fob. But he doesn’t.

  Instead he hands me a bottle of water and reaches in front of me to open the door.

  I almost laugh at the forced chivalry of this infuriating man. But I don’t really feel like laughing.

  “Thanks.”

  He gets in and looks at me, then at the bottle of water, “Do you need me to—”

  I open the bottle, already knowing what he’s going to say.

  “Who did you live with on breaks from school and holidays?” I ask.

  “I don’t care to discuss—”

  “I’m not asking as a friend. That delusion is gone now. Also, if you want to get fucked, just be discreet and don’t get caught. I’ve decided against that. I will never—”

  “Hold on!”

  “No, fuck you. I will not ever let a man—or anyone else talk to me the way you just did. I have turned off any hope of being friends, or of making this...this situation, anything more than what it is. I have no desire to force,” I pause, “anyone to like me.”

  My eyes are filling again; I feel the burn, the lump building in my throat, so I squash it.

  “You said—”

  “Well, I’ve said a lot of things. So have you. If you want, I can pretend to like you.”

  “Pretend?” he gasps.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Tell me, Sabato, does it make you feel better to make others feel worse?”

  He scoffs. “I apologize for whatever I said that made you flip like a fucking switch.”

  “Unbelievable. We are, what? Three hours from pulling off this bogus wedding? And you pick this time to try to make me hate you? Well, good job, bud. No worry about feelings on my part. I keep forgetting that’s not part of the deal. But I demand respect.”

  “Demand?” He laughs maliciously.

  “Look at me and tell me you can’t at least respect me for doing this for you, Sabato. If the answer is no, then I walk. I don’t want your money, your ring, your car, or your stupid, perfect house. All I want is my future. Mine, alone. Pay my tuition for my courses, that’s it. Courses, which I pray to God I am still enrolled in, after this, this... foray, whatever the hell it is and we are even. Be rude to me again and I walk. I didn’t ask for this. You did.”

  He starts the car without saying a word and backs out of the parking space.

  After about twenty minutes, he says. “I spent holidays and breaks at the housing units at my different schools.”

  “Since you were seven, you never went to Salvatore’s homes?”

  “Not once.”

  My heart burned.

  “Briefly after high school. Two weeks, but he wasn’t there. Now,” he says, his voice tight. “Share, why are you going to law school?”

  “I can do more good this way.”

  And it doesn’t fucking hurt as much, I think to myself.

  “More money,” he says, without expression.

  “No, I
can do more to change things.”

  He doesn’t ask for an explanation and I don’t offer one. He has made it clear that he doesn’t want to be friends and I have to try my best to try to stop wanting to save a man who doesn’t want to be saved. No matter how much I want to. Pushing him didn’t break him open, like I expected; it made his hardened exterior even stronger.

  Last night was insane and perfect and for a few naive hours, I thought I had gotten through to him. Shown him what it’s like to feel cared for. But no, I was sadly mistaken.

  “So. You’re a voyeur. Would you like to discuss that?”

  I am ready to crawl under the seat at this point, but I decide to not let this intimidation tactic work on me.

  “I’ve watched porn online.” I shrug. “Always just streaming, casual. Never rented a movie, never that pay-per-click stuff. It was to settle my curiosity.”

  “Did you get yourself off?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you, it was curiosity. My friends don’t know. No one does.”

  “Are you ashamed?”

  I shrug. “I suppose.”

  “Have you watched your previous partners fuck other women for pleasure, or just me?”

  “Again, you were a curiosity. And no, I wouldn’t enjoy that.”

  “Then why?”

  “As I have told you before, I don’t find many people who are able to hold my interest,” I lie.

  God I am such a liar. Even as I sit here talking to him, trying to be as cold as he is, I am lying to myself. The problem is, he’s way better at it than me.

  “Did it make you as hot as—”

  “Sabato, please no more questions.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.”

  We are more than halfway home, when he pulls off the highway. “I’m hungry.”

  I’m not, I want to say, but why bother? It’s not like he’ll listen. I wish I had something to distract me, but my phone is still in my car. Not that I could use it, even if I had it, but—hold up, he’s been using a phone.

  “Can I use your phone?” I ask, and he looks at me confused.

  “For?”

  “Never mind.” I cross my arms and look away.

  “Where would you like to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “You haven’t eaten all day.”

  “I’m not, hungry.” I enunciate hungry and his eyebrows shoot up.

  “Fine.”

  He pulls into a parking lot and goes towards a drive thru.

  He orders burgers, fries, some of those chicken nuggets and sodas. He orders a lot of them. When he pays, I catch the drive through attendant flirting with him and he smiles. I lean forward in my seat, so she can see me. I even hold up my ring finger. I am like a fucking child hidden in an adult body when it comes to him.

  Even worse, Sabato snaps his head around and catches me doing it. I swear he smirks before he looks away. Like he’s pleased with himself. Fucking head-trip.

  He hands me a drink, which I choose to take, only because I am thirsty.

  “We haven’t eaten today Melyssa, eat, please.”

  “I don’t feel well. I’m not hungry. I do have to use the bathroom, though. So if you don’t mind pulling over up over here?”

  “Will you be gone long?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Will you start trouble with the girl?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The girl who was working in there. You obviously had a problem with the way she and I interacted.”

  I roll my eyes. “That had nothing to do with you, Sabato.”

  “On the contrary, I think it had everything to do—”

  He pulls over and I jump out, not letting him finish.

  Girl code, that’s the problem. Some bitches don’t seem to care.

  I walk into the restaurant to use the bathroom. When I come out, the fry chick is standing beside the car, talking to Sabato.

  He is smiling and I am immediately pissed off.

  Fuck him, fuck her and fuck this.

  I walk up and tap her on the back she spins around, “You want him? He’s yours, bitch. But do me a favor and make your little arrangements when I’m not around, you fucking low-rent skank.”

  “Fuck you bitch,” she says, already reaching for her hoop earrings. “You wanna throw down?”

  “Melyssa, that is enough!”

  Sabato opens the door and gets out.

  “I’m not afraid of either of you! Perfect fucking pair, if you ask me.”

  I jump into the driver’s seat and lock the door. He tries to open it, then beats on the window when he can’t.

  I roll it down a little. “My fucking ride, pal. I’m driving. You can choose to ride bitch or stay here with McSleazy. Either way, I’m going home.”

  “Oh no you didn’t,” she sputters.

  “Oh fucking yes I did, whore!”

  Sabato is in the passenger seat slamming the door behind him, before I can think up and worse names to call her.

  “You are out of control!”

  “Go fuck yourself.” I don’t even try to hide that I am furious. Why would I? He doesn’t bother to.

  I peel out, leaving McSlutbag in a cloud of dust.

  “Don’t you ever act like that again! I am humiliated! She was only being—”

  “I’m out, I mean it.” My hands are shaking angrily on the wheel. “You are cruel, heartless and downright mean.”

  The floodgates open and this time my tears turn to pure, unadulterated meanness. “I would never be friends with someone like you, let alone marry you. You are trash, Sabato, plain and simple. You can dress as nice as you want and drive the most expensive cars, but you clearly have no idea how to be a gentleman, or treat a woman. So,” I pull over at the side of the road. “You can either behave like the criminal you are and kill me, or accept that I cannot help you.”

  His face is almost purple with rage. “Can’t help me? Or won’t?”

  “Both!” I get out and he is around the vehicle before I can walk even five feet away.

  “Get in the vehicle now.” He sneers.

  “No.”

  “You get in there or,” His eyes are cold, his face dangerous. “So help me God, Melyssa. If you cross me now, I am going to make you sorry.”

  “I’m already fucking sorry! I thought you were messed up, but no more than the rest of us. I was wrong. You are cruel, mean, evil!” I am sobbing and spewing the most hateful things I can think of. “In a matter of days, you are making me question who I am. I don’t even recognize myself. Back there, that white trash showdown? That wasn’t me! I don’t even like who I am now. And that’s on you! So yes, I am going back on the deal. I want you to do whatever it is you need to do and then leave me alone, just leave me alone!”

  “Get. In. The. Vehicle.”

  He grabs my arm and pushes me to the passenger side, opens the door and pushes me towards it. I give up and climb in with the attitude that I don’t give a shit what happens.

  For a long moment, there is silence. Then he walks around the car, gets in, takes his cell phone out and dials. “I need one more day,” he snaps into the phone. “Yes, Valentina, just one.”

  “No he doesn’t,” I yell.

  His jaw nearly hits the floor and looks at me in a way he never has before, disgusted. I try to get out and he yanks me back, pulling me to him.

  I’m so full of rage, but kind of impressed at the same time.

  I yank my arm, but he only grips it harder.

  “You sit, YOUR ASS STILL!”

  Putting the car into drive, he peels out.

  His chest rises and falls quickly, he’s growling words, he’s hitting the dash and I am crying into the oversized shirt that I am now hiding in.

  The car is jerking around wildly and then suddenly he slams on the brakes. I feel his arm in front of me, stopping me from hitting the dash. Then he grabs my arms and forces me to turn towards him.
>
  “LOOK AT ME!” he screams.

  “No!”

  He pulls the shirt away from my face and grabs my jaw, lifting it so I am looking at him. I snap my eyes shut.

  “What the fuck do you want from me!?”

  I don’t answer, I can’t answer.

  “I trusted you!”

  “And then you crushed me! Then you made me feel insignificant and, and used!”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “Yeah, only took me twenty three years to become a sensible, responsible adult, but look how quickly it crumbles!” I poke him in the chest, “You should be proud of yourself, that’s fast fucking work! Are you happy now? Are you happy?!”

  “No! I’m not fucking happy! Of course I’m not fucking happy!”

  He stares at me, breathing hard, as he realizes the truth of what he’s saying. He’s not happy. Maybe he never has been. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize it, even if he felt it.

  I grit my teeth and look away. I will not feel sorry for him. I will not do that to myself, not again.

  “Fine.” He lets go of my face and his voice sounds defeated. “Fine, I will take you home and I will do what I should have done to begin with.”

  “What’s that?” I choke out.

  “It’s none of your concern, not anymore.”

  “That’s not true! I am concerned. I don’t want to be, but I am! You made this my concern, my problem! You,” I sob again. “Oh, god! I don’t just want to go home! I want to go back, I want to go back!”

  “Back where?!” I yell at her, trying to force her into making sense.

  She makes about as much sense as all these feelings inside of me right now.

  “To...before I met you, before I saw you. I was fine! I was fine and happy and I was going to be fine. I was going to be happy. I was getting there, I was—”

  “You are making no sense right now, Melyssa!”

  She is covering her face again. Good, at least I can’t see her cry.

  I’m starting to feel a little unhinged, too. “I hate this, the crying. I hate to make women unhappy. I like to make them come, not feel giddy and crazy and emotionally drained. I like to tie them up and fuck them. Then, I like to untie them and let them go. Not keep them, because obviously, that’s what ruins them.”

  “What?” she squeaks out.