by Andrea Mara
When the door closed, she picked up her phone and typed a message in Norwood Girls.
Oh my god, Marcus just suggested moving to a bigger place so there’s room for our future children. Someone pinch me and wake me up from this nightmare?
Crying laughing emoji from Jude and same from Erica. They’d voted Cleo least likely to have kids enough times to find this hilarious, and she should have been laughing too but she kept thinking about the flash of anger she’d seen.
Sarah was next to reply.
I seriously cannot wait to see you knee-deep in diapers, Cleo. Hey, why don’t you come baby-sit for me some night. For practice?
Very funny. They followed with a stream of ideas – how many babies she should have, what their names should be, and what to buy her for her baby shower. Ruth stayed quiet. Cleo was about to ask her how her week had been – she was still having a tough time at work – but Marcus arrived back in and instinctively she put down her phone.
“Hey, you look engrossed – everything okay?” he asked, putting a bag of bagels on the kitchen table.
“Yeah, just checking on some client emails.” She wasn’t sure why she said that.
“On a Saturday? You work too hard. And you know you don’t have to – I earn enough for both of us.”
“Sure, but I like my work. Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Then why not give up The Cornerstone and focus on the graphic design? You surely don’t want to be a waitress all your life?”
Where was this coming from? “Whoa, so you were happy to go home with the waitress after work, but it’s not okay now you live with her – is that it?”
She waited for the apology.
“I don’t like you working there.” He said it casually, but there was a wisp of something else just about audible between the words. “I see customers staring at you in your short skirt and I know what they’re thinking.” He continued taking the bagels out of the bag.
“Hold up. That’s more double standards right there. It was fine for you to look at me in my short skirt, but now you have a problem with other men doing the same?”
He looked up at her and said nothing for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was a too-tight string.
“Yes, I do have a problem with it. You brought me home the first night we met. I didn’t have to work too hard for it, did I? I don’t want the same to happen with someone else.”
Then he walked over to make coffee, leaving Cleo staring open-mouthed at his back.
“Did you actually just say that?”
“I don’t want you working there. I earn plenty for both of us,” he said, busy with the coffee machine.
“Marcus, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Is this how it was with Shannon?”
He turned then, and she saw outrage flash across his face. “Don’t you dare mention her name. That’s none of your business.”
Cleo didn’t even try to answer. She shook her head, picked up her purse and walked out the door.
When she arrived back into the apartment that evening, after a long walk in McCarren Park and a coffee with Ruth, Marcus was deeply engrossed in the books on her bookshelf and didn’t hear her at first. As she closed the door, he jumped back from the bookcase like he’d just been burnt.
“What’s wrong?” Cleo asked, forgetting for a moment that she was still angry.
“Sorry, I just wanted to borrow a book,” he said, moving towards her. “I wasn’t going through your stuff.”
She laughed. “Jeez, I don’t mind you looking through my books – take as many as you like.”
Then she remembered she was mad at him, and stopped laughing. Taking his cue, he bowed his head, and the apologies came thick and fast – he should never have asked her to give up work, he shouldn’t have flown off the handle when she mentioned Shannon, and he’d never do it again. She told him it was fine, everyone gets angry sometimes.
But from then on, she was wary. She avoided talking about work, and started wearing jeans for her shift. Not because he told her to, but because it was easier than fighting. She didn’t like this new person she’d become, and it made her question the relationship. On paper, it was hard to find fault – most of the time Marcus was the perfect boyfriend. But it was still there under the surface – just that little bit of tension, the sense that she needed to take care, to anticipate his mood and work around it. She tried explaining it to the girls but, predictably, most of them said it was a normal element of being in a relationship.
Of course you need to be a little sensitive, Cleo – no offence, but you’re not known for your sensitivity, said Sarah.
Jude chimed in.
It works both ways. If Nate has a tough day at work, I don’t launch into an argument about the trash, and if I have a tough day he cooks me dinner and gives me a shoulder rub instead of bringing up the credit-card bill (so let’s just say sometimes I fake a bad day at work).
It wasn’t quite the same thing, but she didn’t push it.
She didn’t tell them absolutely everything either, and that niggled at her, but sometimes it was easier. So when they wanted to meet up in a group, she made excuses to explain Marcus’s absence, and when she couldn’t think of a credible reason, she said both of them were busy. She was seeing the girls less often, and relying on the text group for contact, but more and more it was just simpler to hide behind a screen.
Chapter 13
Aside from Ruth, the only other person not celebrating Cleo’s new settled-down status was her mom, but that was mostly because she hadn’t met Marcus and – in her words – couldn’t form an opinion. Cleo had held off introducing her; maybe because of their less than perfect back-story, or perhaps because she knew Delphine wouldn’t like him. And she was right – things got off to a bad start.
It was the last Sunday in October – one of those perfect crisp fall afternoons in New York, and Delphine was coming for lunch. Just before one, Cleo ran out to pick up a cake from the bakery and bumped into her mother on the way back in. In Delphine’s arms was a badly wrapped gift – Cleo could see bits of something gold or brass poking through the pink-and-white candy-striped paper. She offered to carry it up the stairs to the apartment but Delphine insisted on holding on to it – a gift for both her and Marcus, she said.
Inside, Cleo introduced her to Marcus and, after some small talk, Delphine handed over her gift. There wasn’t much work left to unwrapping it, and inside was a set of candlesticks, the kind you see in churches – heavy, brass ornaments that would look completely out of place in the apartment.
“They’re Romaneseque,” Delphine told Marcus, who was tracing a finger over the intricate plaited detail at the base. “They were made in France in the nineteenth century, I believe. Aren’t they wonderful?”
Cleo waited for Marcus to say something but he didn’t, so she jumped in. “Thank you, Mom, they really are beautiful. I’ll make us some coffee while we wait for lunch – Marcus, could you put the candlesticks over at the fireplace?”
Marcus said nothing, but picked them up and carried them across the room, then very deliberately put both of them behind a huge bamboo palm, where they couldn’t be seen at all.
“Oh no, I mean out at the front of the fireplace, one either side,” Cleo said. “Nobody can see them there!”
But he ignored her and walked over to the stove to check on the chowder. So Cleo moved them herself, already mentally writing her next Norwood Girls message. She and Delphine had very little when she was growing up, but manners were everything, and it was starting to feel like a line had been crossed.
Delphine, to her credit, took no obvious offence, and began quizzing Marcus about his life – his parents, his work, his childhood in Texas. He was as recalcitrant as ever, and while Delphine bravely soldiered on with her questions, Cleo grilled sourdough and seethed.
“Do you know, although I’ve travelled all around Europe, I’ve never been to Texas – what part are you from?” Delphine asked.
“Gatesville
,” was Marcus’s one-word answer.
“And do you have family here in New York?”
“No.”
Was he this rude to Shannon’s grandmother during their Sunday-night dinners, Cleo wondered, as she put chowder in front of each of them, wishing the lunch was over.
Halfway through the meal, Marcus’s phone buzzed. Cleo saw him reach into his back pocket and threw him a look to tell him to wait. But he paid no attention and, as he read the text, she saw a flash of irritation. He pushed back his chair and announced he needed to go to the office.
“On a Sunday afternoon?” Delphine said. “Surely they can’t expect you to work Sunday afternoons?”
“It’s a recurring problem and I need to shut it down,” he said, his voice tight.
He pulled his jacket off the coat-stand, and walked over to the coffee table to open his laptop. Swivelling the screen away from them, his eyes narrowed in concentration, he typed something, then closed the laptop and walked to the door.
“Marcus! Can’t it wait?” Cleo asked, though in truth she was glad he was going.
“No, I have to deal with this. I’ll see you later.”
And with that, he was gone.
Delphine and Cleo looked at one another and for a moment neither of them spoke.
“Well,” Delphine said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I presume I shouldn’t be planning the wedding just yet?”
And because it was all so ridiculous, they both burst out laughing, and Cleo knew then that if she couldn’t even begin to defend him to her mother it wasn’t looking good.
Marcus still wasn’t back when Delphine left, so Cleo ignored the dishes and sat down on the couch with her phone and a glass of wine. She clicked into Norwood Girls to update them on her relationship status.
I know you are all going to kill me, but I’m not sure there’s any long-term hope for Marcus and me. My mom visited with us this afternoon and he was SO RUDE to her. I think it’s a deal-breaker.
Erica was first to reply.
Nooooo! How could anyone be rude to your mom? She’s the sweetest person I know! Was it really that bad?
Cleo typed her answer quickly, glad to have somewhere to vent.
Yes, it truly was. What to do?
Jude was cautious as ever.
Maybe he’s just in bad form? Is he out somewhere now?
It struck Cleo that Jude instinctively knew she wouldn’t be chatting online if Marcus was there.
Yes, he had to go to the office. Shit, I need help. Do I dump him? How do you break up with someone who lives with you?
Sarah was next.
I think if he’s not for you, there’s no point in wasting any more time. It’s one thing when you’re 21 but not now when everyone is settling down.
Before Cleo had a chance to answer, Erica was back.
Hold on now! He is a very attractive man and you have been deeply obsessed with him for months. Don’t do anything rash!
Cleo heard the key in the door then and stuck her phone under a cushion. As he walked in, she watched from the couch, waiting for an explanation.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I wasn’t myself this afternoon. It’s this work thing, it’s really bugging me.”
He sat down beside her, taking her hands. His were ice cold. His eyes were red-rimmed and he looked tired. He never talked about work, so Cleo never asked, and in truth she found it kind of boring even when he did. But maybe he really was finding it stressful, and she’d missed the signs.
“Talk about it when you’re having problems at the office – don’t just bottle it up and then take it out on everyone, right?”
He nodded and pulled her into a hug. His leather jacket was cold to her cheek, and smelled of October smoke. After a few seconds, she untangled herself and asked if the problem was resolved.
“Not yet,” he said, his mouth in a tight line. “But someone needs to learn I won’t be pushed. I don’t respond well to threats.”
She sat up straighter. “Wait, what? What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just work. It’s boring. Let me check something on my laptop, then I’ll grab a glass and join you.” He kissed her neck, the way she used to love being kissed, and got up to get his laptop.
Only she didn’t like being kissed that way any more.
Afterwards, Cleo knew she should have walked away that day, but she didn’t. Of course she knew it was just putting off the inevitable – procrastinating over a break-up the same way she did with everything. But it was hard to think about leaving him when he was so stressed about his job all the time – he was working late a couple of evenings a week, and still getting texts at the weekend. She had the sense that someone – a boss or a co-worker – was putting particular pressure on him, but he never opened up about it. On the other side, he was constantly asking Cleo about her day – if she’d gone out anywhere, who she’d met – and the double standards bugged her – why, if he wouldn’t talk about his day, did he expect her to itemise every minute of hers?
Ten days or so after her mother’s visit, Cleo broached the subject of Thanksgiving and it all came to a head. Despite how badly the introduction had gone, she wanted to invite her mom for dinner, but Marcus wanted them to go away instead – fly to Florida for a break. She told him she couldn’t leave her mom on her own, and he kept insisting they go away, saying Delphine didn’t like him anyway. Eventually, tired of arguing in circles, Cleo took her phone into the bedroom and told him he could sleep on the couch.
She messaged the girls the latest update, and they were sympathetic – maybe more so than usual because anything involving Delphine got their defences up. They chatted online for a while, then Cleo put down her phone and switched off the lamp, thinking this is it – tomorrow I’ll ask him to leave. She stared out the window into the moon-washed night, watching a leaf drift past, floating gently towards the ground below. The landing would be soft, as it is for insubstantial things. Like already dying relationships.
Chapter 14
The following morning Cleo could hear him in the kitchen making coffee, so she stayed in her room until he was gone – she was pretty pissed at him, but not enough to break up when he was due at the office.
At eleven, Ruth called by with a box of glazed donuts. She’d had a wisdom tooth out and was slightly woozy from the painkillers but happy to keep Cleo company and coach her in the art of breaking up.
“So, today’s the day, right?” she stated more than asked, flopping down on the couch.
“Yep. It’s happening. Now I just need to find the words. I truly can’t bear the thought of sharing a bed with him again. I slept so much better last night without him there. Did I ever tell you about his foot odour?”
Ruth snorted. “Foot odour?”
“Yeah, I never noticed it until he moved in. I’m talking a hold-your-breath kind of odour. Totally gross. I have no idea why – it’s not like he doesn’t wash. If anything he’s a clean freak, kind of OTT on the hygiene front? Like, long showers, and much mirror-gazing – I’m always ready before him when we go out.”
Ruth bit into a donut and cupped her hand under her chin to catch the crumbs. “In Marcus’s defence, you have an edge on all of us there – you don’t even need make-up. I take a lot longer than you do to get ready. I might be on Team Marcus for this one.”
Cleo punched her lightly in the shoulder. “No, seriously, he’s too much. I had no idea when I first met him that he was so into his looks – it all seemed very casual and thrown together. Who knew it took hours to perfect that floppy hair. But yeah, despite all that, his feet stink.”
She picked a Boston Cream from the box and broke it apart on the plate to let the gooey yellow cream ooze out.
“So what are you going to say?” Ruth asked. “I mean, you need a better reason than feet.”
“I don’t suppose I can just change the locks and hope he goes away?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, you have to be a grown-up about this one. He’s not jus
t one of your flings, he lives here.”
Cleo took a sip of her coffee, staring at the bookshelves by the fireplace, at the rows and rows of books, like narrow coloured houses. “You know, he doesn’t own one single book on that shelf. Isn’t that odd? When we met, he always had a book at the bar with him. But, since he moved in, I haven’t seen him read a single thing.”
“Well, maybe he’s just the kind of guy who likes to read books specifically in bars but nowhere else?” Ruth suggested, getting up to wander over to the shelf. “Actually, could I borrow a few of these?”
“Sure, take your pick. Yeah, I’m wondering now if the book in the bar was just an affectation – a way of seeming more interesting. He probably wasn’t reading at all.”
“Oh, come on,” Ruth said, turning back to look at her. “That’s a step too far. I’m sure you’d know by now if he’d gone to that level of subterfuge.”
“No, seriously. I don’t think I know him at all. I’ve never met his friends, and the only time I saw where he lived was when we went to clear out his apartment – and were practically chased out of there by Chris – Shannon’s brother. At the time I assumed he was just being protective but now I’m starting to wonder what else went on. And Marcus hates it if I bring up Shannon.”
