The Marriage Contract

by Tara Ahmed

  But instead, I leaned into his touch, for the lush fragrance of lavender mixed against his musky cologne, momentarily blinding me. My eyes slowly closed, as my lips parted to a slight smile.

  “I think I figured something out,” he whispered, his lips hovering a millimeter above my neck.

  “What did you figure out?” My voice was soft, as I exhaled slowly.

  He hesitated. “That you smell…like guacamole.”

  I blinked.

  It took me two seconds to realize what he had done, before pushing out of his embrace. I shot him an ominous glare, as he doubled over, laughing at my reaction.

  “Oh, geez!” he exclaimed, snorting. “Everything was so serious, Princess, and I hate serious things. Sorry to burst your bubble, but this man isn’t falling for a chick any time soon. Least of all you—“

  “You’re so immature!” I snapped. “Seriously! You’re thirty years old, but you act like a four year old—“

  His eyes narrowed. “I’m twenty eight—“

  “Well, you’re almost thirty—“

  “I’ve got two years left,” he snapped. “And call me a child all you like, but there was nothing at all childlike about the way your body reacted to my small, innocent hug.”

  Oh, he got me there. He got me good.

  I tilted my chin, trying to feign ignorance, as I shrugged nonchalantly at him.

  “So?” I challenged. “It’s normal…I mean…forget it. I’m going to bed. And please, for goodness sake, just order the damn furniture already! Please!”

  He gave me a blank stare, seeming not to care about my annoyance, as I turned, headed towards the bedroom. His footsteps followed behind me, his shadow walking beside mine.

  “Could you stop walking for a moment?” he asked.

  I sighed, turning my head to the side, my legs ceasing their movement.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  He didn’t reply, but instead, rushed beside me, and scooped me up as though I were weightless in his arms. I kicked my legs, shooting him a surprised stare, my eyes bulging, and my heart- pounding.

  “This is fun,” he said, winking at me.

  He cradled me in his arms, walking through the long, brightly lit hallway.

  “Put me down,” I snapped. “Now!”

  He stuck out his tongue, shaking his head. Then he made a silly face, wiggling his eye brows, and I could no longer suppress my laughter.

  “You make no sense.” I smiled. “You’re angry one moment, and completely carefree a few seconds later—“

  James’s grip tightened over me, as my legs dangled in the air, over his hold. He turned the corner, into the bedroom with the only bed in the two story- furniture less pent house. I glanced at the bed, then back at him, and was surprised that he was no longer smiling. His dark gaze was pinned on the white comforter, as he strode towards it, gently placing me on top of it. My head hit the soft pillow, as I stared into eyes that were much too dark. He sat beside my hip, placing one arm on his thigh and the other over my side, next to my waist.

  “What are you doing?” I pushed my head back, my body becoming rigid as he leaned over me

  James tilted his head, and I could no longer read his expression, for a grey mask clouded over his handsome face. His hip pressed against my waist, as the hand that caged over me, slinked closer. His orbs travelled from my head, down my mouth, and further below, before snapping to my eyes once more. My chest rose and fell like a slow tide, as his face was only inches from mine.

  His hand reached towards my cheek- a small smile splashed over his lips as I flinched, turning my head to the side. I could feel my face begin to simmer, as I smiled with him, suddenly too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

  His hand hovered over my cheeks, and just as I willed myself to turn my head towards him- his lips pressed into my neck. His mouth was no longer cool from earlier today at the seaport, but warm. My eyes widened, as my hands circled over my stomach, trying to prevent the squirming of my intestines.

  “Goodnight…guacamole head.” He whispered just inches above my neck- his cool breath gusting over my flesh.

  My smile widened, and though I still couldn’t look him in the eye, nor utter a word to him, I hoped he could read the words spiraling through my facial expressions alone.

  As he got up from the bed, I kept my eyes closed, as his footsteps tapped towards the end of the room.

  My neck was the most sensitive part of my body, and he had dared to kiss it. I had never blushed so deeply in my life, but a part of me, just a small part, wouldn’t mind had he done it again.

  I awoke to a clattering mess outside the bedroom, as objects were thumped against the ground, and odd voices streamed through the hall. I groaned, stretching my arms over my head- my eyes adjusting to the light. Yawning loudly- my mouth twisted into a lion’s growl, as I slid my legs off the bed. I wiggled my toes against the warm, smooth wood, before standing.

  “Good morning.” The voice sounded like James’s, but did not have any hint of amusement.

  I turned my eyes towards the door, as a tall man, elegant in a cream polo shirt, and black trousers- cleared his throat.

  “Richard?” I asked. “What are you doing here? And…what’s that noise?”

  I approached him, frowning as his eyes turned towards my shoulder, then quickly looked away. A slight pink hue stained the apples of his cheeks, as he cleared his throat once more, meeting my eyes- then glancing once again at my shoulder.

  “You should adjust your clothing,” he said, turning his attention to the side.

  I glanced at my shoulder, noticing that the left strap of my white dress had dipped dangerously low- my blue bra strap threatening to slide off as well. My ears burned, as I quickly adjusted both straps. His eyes met mine, and we both appeared uncomfortable, as I shuffled my feet against the floor, giving him a stiff smile.

  “I think I’ll check out what’s happening in the living room,” I said. “Excuse me.”

  I walked past him, exiting out of the room, staring at the men walking in and out of the rooms, carrying furniture, paintings, and other household objects in their meaty arms. They ignored my stare, talking happily, as I walked down the hall. Two men, carrying a large, black leather sofa, walked to the end of the living room, placing it beside the tall window. Other men covered the ceiling with peach hued curtains, as the other workers adjusted a large flat screen T.V. against the wall. A carpet in the shape of a white lion, rested over a black coffee table, as a tall black lamp rested against the couch. Sound speakers, like those from night clubs, were placed beside the T.V., as the men moved beds and mattresses up the spiral staircase at the farthest end of the living room.

  All I could think was that James had terrible taste. I could only hope that the animal carpet was a fake.

  “You seem not to like his choice in furniture,” Richard noted.

  I shook my head. “Which sane person would?”

  He smiled. “You should change clothes. My brother has an important meeting to attend today, so he called me to keep you company—“

  I frowned. “Like a babysitter?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “He merely didn’t want you to eat breakfast alone.”

  I licked my bottom lip, running a hand through my unkempt hair.

  “Is it an inconvenience for you?” I asked. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve got something better to do.”

  He didn’t reply to that, but simply stared at me with this curious gaze over his eyes. The stare was too long for my comfort, as I cleared my throat, wanting to escape the weird tension. As the silence grew awkward, I politely excused myself, heading towards the bathroom.

  As I entered the bathroom, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed that James had just left this morning without a word. It would have been nice if he had woken me up, for I would have gotten breakfast with him, and maybe, we would have shared a few laughs with our waffles. Assuming we had waffles of course.

  The water from the shower washed over
my hair and back, as I circled around the tub, wondering where James had gone.

  Then I frowned.

  Dorothy, I told myself. This marriage is a façade. Don’t fall for him you fool.

  But as I recalled his kiss that seeped like hot oil into my flesh, I wondered, if like our marriage, that too, was fake.

  “So where are we going?” The sun streaked over my neck- the warm winds blowing through the open window of the car, as Richard drove past the Brooklyn Bridge.

  Men and women biked through the bridge, while tourists took pictures overlooking the crystal blue ocean. Cars appeared like tiny streaks as I stared at the farthest end of the road, enjoying the rush of the morning transport.

  “Just somewhere,” he replied. “You look nice, by the way.”

  I turned my eyes to him, giving him a stiff smile.

  “Thanks,” I smiled. “You don’t look too shabby either.”

  I glanced down at my knee length navy skirt that had small daisies etched along the bottom. My top was a loose fitting pink sleeveless tunic, revealing naked arms that I’d forgotten to apply sunscreen to this morning. A grey headband rested over my head, as my orange locks spilled across my shoulders in a curly wave.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “Dressing up for James?”

  “A woman dresses for herself,” I replied.

  Richard and I entered a middle class apartment complex, walking through the quiet hallway- his footsteps leading the way. The lemon paint on the walls of the building was beginning to chip, as the checkered tiles cracked along the edges. The scent of something tangy lingered in the air, as I followed his back towards a door at the end of the hall.

  “We’re having breakfast here?” I kept my voice light, so as not to insult him if this truly was where we were to eat.

  But why did he bring me here?

  “Yes,” he replied. “Come in.”

  “Is this your place?” I asked, walking into the room.

  He closed the door, twisting the lock above the knob.

  “It’s my mother’s,” he replied. “I just live here.”

  “Your mother’s? But…Oh.” My voice trailed off, as I pieced together what he meant.

  Richard’s home was a modest one, for he had no posters, nor a flashy television. The living room was carpeted with soft brown wool, and at the end of the room, was a small kitchen. A round table rested beside the kitchen, as a short hallway led to what I imagined was the bedroom. His place was smaller than mine and April’s, as I looked around the area, noting the meager space.

  “I’m assuming James told you?” he said, bending down to remove his black shoes.

  I nodded. “He did.”

  Richard’s brown locks were swept to the side, as he walked towards the kitchen. I removed my white sandals, placing it on a shoe stand beside the door, enjoying the woolen carpet seeping into my soles.

  I had a few questions to ask Richard- questions that were burning deep within me, that needed to be answered. But instead, I drank the tea he offered, and ate the toast he served, sitting across from him on the small round table.

  It would be insensitive to pry, and though I had no intention to be nosy, I did not want to make him remember any hurtful memories. I knew how it felt to lose parents, and I always hated it when people asked how I felt about it.

  “My mother would have loved to meet you,” said Richard, breaking the silence.

  I stared at the bread crumbs on my plate, guilt seeping through me.

  “Would she have?” I asked. “Maybe she’d be disappointed.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  My throat felt dry, as I quenched my thirst with the final drop of tea from the black cup. I lifted my gaze towards his, surprised at how genuine he was being, for his eyes held no judgment.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “I guess…I guess there’s a lot about me that’s empty…if that makes sense.”

  He smiled, but just slightly, as the edge of his lips curved up.

  “Does James know you live here?” I asked this slowly.

  Richard stared into his cup, then back at me.

  “No one knows that I live here,” he said. “It’s better that they not know. Especially James. He would hate me if he knew where I’d been living for the past five years.”

  My eyes widened. “Five years…wow.”

  “After mom’s accident, everyone in the Bellevue household went a little insane. My father blamed himself, because he thought that if he’d been a better husband, she would never have left him…never have died. It’s funny, because he did the best he could for her, but it wasn’t ever enough. She was greedy for his attention, but he was just too busy to give a hundred percent of it. He would forget Valentine’s Day, but the day after, he’d take her to Paris, on some romantic getaway that you’d only seen in movies. But it wasn’t good enough, because he wasn’t there for her on the day he should have been. He was always late with things. And my brother, he forgave her for everything. You know, when she met that asshole she left my father for, she wouldn’t visit us as often. I resented her for it, but James never did. He always made excuses for her, saying she was busy, and truly believed her lies. I began to hate her. I really did. There were some days that I wished she’d never visit us again, because when she did drop by, it wasn’t ever for more than half a day. And then, one day, my wish came true. She really did leave for good.”

  A comfortable silence passed between us, as he turned his head to the side, staring at the open window. Bright white clouds floated by, as a warm gust streamed through, stroking past my arms.

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”

  He turned his head towards me.

  “I don’t mind,” he said. “Ask anything you’d like.”

  “Why do you live here?”

  His eyes lingered on mine for a few seconds, before breaking contact, staring out the window once more. There was a kind of peacefulness about him, as though he were content in life, but still searching for something more.

  “To forgive her,” he said.

  “Have you?” I asked.

  He smiled at the wind, staring out the open window.

  “I think so,” he said.

  The sun cast a glow over his profile, and when he turned his eyes to me, there was humor floating in its brown depth. His brows rose, as I looked away, feeling my heart warm.

  “Would you like to hear some music?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

  James’s mother owned a 1950’s juke box that played some of my favorite old school songs. It was huge, almost as tall at me, as I leaned over the mahogany object, scrolling through the list of songs within the box.

  Richard stood beside me, leaning into the box as well, as we both searched for something good to play.

  “I found one,” he said.

  I smiled. “Play it! Oh, Richard. This juke box is amazing.”

  A fast swinging song began to play, as a man’s soul filled voice circled the space of the small apartment.

  My legs began to move, as I smiled, twisting my body to the music. My hair swung in every side, as I imagined I looked like a hot mess. The jazzy beats of the song grew louder, as I danced in a corner of the room, absorbed into the song.

  I closed my eyes, feeling light on my toes, as I danced on and on, not realizing that someone else was in the room.

  But when his cool hand circled over my waist, pushing me tightly against his chest- his other arm holding mine in the air- I stopped moving. My heart thumped slowly- my eyes fluttering open, as he gazed at me in a way that James never had.

  Richard’s eyes dripped to my mouth, and I gulped.

  This was not what I signed up for.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The saxophone blared through the juke box, as the singer’s husky voice danced along the walls of Richard’s small apartment, circling around us like a soft summer’s wind. His arm pressed lightly agains
t my back, his other hand curved over mine in the air, in a waltz like position. I glanced at his hand that held mine, feeling it shake just slightly, as he licked his bottom lips- an apprehensive glint resting over his eyes. He breathed deeply- his Adams apple rising and falling, as he stared at me, waiting for my answer.

  “I’m your sister in law.” I spoke softly. “This isn’t…this isn’t appropriate.”

  I took a step back, slipping my hand out of his, and preparing to walk around him. The warmth had left the room, and in its place, was a cold silence. My heart felt heavy, and for some reason, I felt a bit bad for rejecting him. I gave him a stiff smile, hoping that I didn’t hurt his feelings too deeply.

  As I walked around him, I could feel his gaze piercing through my back, burning into my chest. Crouching down, I grabbed my black purse from the clothing rack by the door, looping the strap over my shoulder. The hem of my navy skirt, brushed against my knees, as I twisted the knob- icy against my palm.

  “Don’t go.” Richard’s hand curved over mine on the knob- his lean form pressed against my side. “Please…don’t go.”

  I stared at his pale hand that rested like a boulder over my skin, squeezing so hard, that my palm began to sting over the knob. My eyes turned to his, narrowing dangerously.

  “I have to,” I insisted. “Richard…I don’t know what you’re doing right now, and I have no idea what you mean, or what you’re trying to say, but it’s making me uncomfortable. If this is some sort of game you’re trying to play then please…just stop. I don’t want to hate you--”

  His eyes widened, as he stared at me with a look of desperate longing. Before I could react, his long, muscular arms wrapped over me, thrusting me violently against his chest, into an unwanted hug. My chest pressed into his, as I felt the beats of his heart thump erratically against mine.

  “Hey, get off!” I snapped, punching his back with a fierce might. “You’re crossing a line—“

  He exhaled a deep sigh. “What the hell, Dorothy…What the hell are doing to me?”

  “Richard, I’m warning you. I have a black belt, and I really don’t want to beat the living crap out of you—“