The Marriage Contract

by Tara Ahmed

  I breathed deeply, my chest heaving.

  “You’re horrible,” I whispered. “Get out of my way. You’re going to get killed when James finds out—“

  “You’re worried about me?” His voice dripped with hunger, as he dipped his head towards me.

  I lowered my gaze, feeling repulsed by his shamelessness.

  He chuckled, placing an index under my chin, lifting my head up to meet his dark brown gaze. I stared defiantly at him, my hands closing into fists by my side.

  “This is your fault,” he whispered. “You made me want you.”

  I glared at him, and he smiled.

  “I didn’t do anything,” I snapped, keeping my voice low. “You’re just a psychopath—“

  “Oh, those eyes, Dorothy,” he whispered. “Don’t look at me like that, with those pretty grey eyes. I warned you. I warned you long ago, but I’m afraid you forgot—“

  “What the hell are you talking about? Move out of my way—“

  He clicked his tongue.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he repeated slowly. “I just might fall for you, and if I do, you’ll have nowhere to run. You’ll be mine…do you remember those words?”

  I gaped at him, not believing that he was being serious. My heart thundered in my chest, as he slid to the side, uncaging me. I stared wide eyed at him, not knowing what to say, as he opened the door, and without another word, exited out.

  The door clicked closed, as I stared at it, replaying his words in my mind like a song on repeat.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The squeak of my red sharpie dragged across the small square box of the calendar against the wall, as I sighed, not sure whether I was excited or nervous. Under tomorrows date, written in messy cursive, read, “Carnival”. The same carnival that James had adamantly refused going to. I stared at the date, my heart sinking at the thought of not going back home to my small town, spending the lazy nights listening to my grandmother’s stories.

  My bare toes wiggled against the wooden floor, as I turned, leaning against the white wall- glancing to the side at James. His un-brushed brown locks stuck out in all sides- long legs spread out over the black leather couch, a bag of potato chips resting in his lap. Crumbs dusted like snowfall on the lion road kill carpet, as the blaring sounds of the Discovery Channel played from the wide, flat screen T.V. plastered against the wall.

  He was immersed to the screen, his golden brown eyes locked on the tigers running towards their prey. As the tigers cornered the lone giraffe, I stalked my way towards the T.V., annoyed that he was too focused on the show to notice me crouch down on the ground, wrapping my hand over the plug.

  His gaze widened, and just as he stood, his mouth agape, I pulled the magic plug.

  “What the hell,” he shouted. “You know I waited a week for that to air!”

  I stood, my hands placed on my hips- glaring at him.

  “You also didn’t vacuum your mess for the past three days,” I snapped.

  I gestured my hand towards the couch and carpet, sighing exhaustedly.

  “Look at this mess! You’ve let everything in your side of the house become a garbage pile for the past month. Honestly, how can you live like this? I helped you clean last week, but you just start over and make the same exact mess again! You’re supposed to clean any mess you make, but instead you just let everything pile up—“

  “You’re over reacting,” he said. “This isn’t a big deal. And if you hate it so much, then why don’t you do the cleaning, and I’ll do the…relaxing.”

  I scoffed. “You can’t be serious. This is part of our rules, or did you forget?—“

  “Oh, I remember perfectly,” he replied, smiling wickedly. “But I think you’re the one that forgot.”

  My neck flashed hot and cold- my eyes bulging. He smirked at my discomfort, running a hand through his messy hair, and taking a few steps towards me. I turned my head, my ears beginning to burn, as he placed a hand under my chin, lifting my head to meet his eyes.

  “You’re going tomato red, Princess,” he whispered, staring down at me. “Are you perhaps, remembering that kiss you gave me about a month ago?—“

  I stepped back, staring at the ground, then back at him, feeling my heart race.

  “That was a mistake,” I said. “It…it means nothing, so just, I don’t know…just pretend it never happened, alright?”

  His eyes were still smiling, as he tilted his head.

  “Oh, but it did happen,” he continued. “I still remember…you were all over me—“

  “Knock it off!” I turned, walking to the end of the room, towards the stairs.

  He followed, amused by my embarrassment, as I walked up the cream carpeted staircase, towards the second floor.

  His deep voice danced along the walls, as he followed me up the stairs, trailing behind me.

  “Don’t you remember Dory? You were all, ‘James I’m so in love with you—“

  “I never said that!” I snapped. “That’s only in your perverted imagination—“

  “Then you tried to stick your tongue in,” he continued, ignoring my objection. “Geez, did you eat garlic that day or something?—“

  I jogged up the stairs- my eyes pinned on the library at the corner of the second floor.

  “I swear, I’m warning you,” I said. “If you don’t stop mocking me, I’ll—“

  His arms circled over my waist, as he turned me around- my body falling against his strong chest. My pulses ran like a river wild, as he threw me over his shoulder- his arm secure around my legs. I had gained a good five pounds in the last month, so I wasn’t exactly feather light, yet he ran through the extensive hallway of the second floor, as though I weighed nothing.

  I was mistaken. I weighed a ton, for he groaned, his knees shaking as he turned the corner towards the open door of the library.

  “Did you eat a fridge for breakfast?” he accused. “I can’t feel my arms!”

  I scowled at the ground, giving the back of his hair, a slight pull.

  “I might be fat, but at least I’m not an immature brat like you!” Though I was annoyed at him, I could feel my lips upturn into a small smile, a part of me hoping he wouldn’t put me down.

  “What did you just call me?” he demanded, giving my butt a light tap.

  I gasped, my eyes widening in shock.

  “You just spanked me!” I accused. “That’s sexual harassment.”

  I could almost feel his mischievous smile, as his finger traced an outline over my ankles, causing me to giggle. The afternoon light from the hallway streamed through, casting an orange glow over his neck.

  “It’s not harassment, if you enjoy it,” he argued. “Besides, you haven’t once asked me to put you down. Isn’t that interesting?”

  I opened my mouth to give a good retort, but closed it upon realizing that I had nothing to say. My lips zipped closed, as he walked inside the small office library, placing me on a brown revolving chair at the corner of the room. Four Shelves stacked with novels, encyclopedias, and texts, rested in a neat line on the four walls of the room. On the ceiling, was a round, crystal chandelier, tinkling against each other as the wind from the open window gusted by.

  I stared up at James, giving him a small smile as an answer to his question, and to my surprise, he flushed pink. His cheeks stained a light scarlet, as he cleared his throat, walking towards the book shelf.

  “You know, it’s funny,” I said, breaking the awkward tension.

  “What is?” He traced his long, elegant fingers against the third row of books, before stopping on a novel. He tapped it once, as though deciding it was the one, and squeezed it out of its place in the shelf. The coverless brown novel rested in his hands, as he turned around, shooting me an expectant stare.

  I straightened my back on the seat, picking my legs up and scooting them under my thighs. My yellow t-shirt was loose against my chest, revealing zero curves- my cotton blue pants dancing by my ankles.

  “Ever
y room you step in, becomes a mess,” I began. “You either drop something on the ground and refuse to pick it up, or you sit on the bed too hard, and distort the sheets. Basically, you don’t give a crap about any room in the house, except this library. How come?”

  James walked towards me, dropping the book on my lap, and turning towards the door. The novel, I noticed, was ‘A Farewell to Arms’ by Ernest Hemmingway, and for a moment, I wondered why he chose that particular book to give to me. After all, the heroine dies a tragic death at the end, and though it wasn’t my favorite novel, it was one of the saddest I’d ever read.

  I frowned as James began to exit without answering my question, but to my surprise, he stopped before the open door. The rush of sunlight poured over his back, as his navy t-shirt waved against the passing wind. White shorts rested by thick knees, as his long athletic legs stood before the door.

  “I cherish what I love,” he said.

  I stared at his back, my lips pursed in a rigid line.

  A few seconds of silence passed, as I cleared my throat, sitting up in my seat. The novel rested in my lap, as I stared at it, placing my palm over the cover.

  “What about the things you don’t love?” I spoke slowly, cautiously.

  “They don’t matter,” he replied.

  I hesitated. “Do I matter?”

  I cringed. I shouldn’t have asked that.

  My eyes closed, as I gripped the novel with both hands, awaiting his answer which I feared would sting like a bullet through the heart. I imagined James laughing inwardly at my question, possibly feeling awkward that I’d asked.

  I was always so direct with how I felt about him, yet he had yet to respond. Ever since the day I’d kissed him, he kept a kind of distance from me, and though he would tease me, I couldn’t decipher how he really felt.

  The wait of his answer was beginning to frustrate me, as I sighed- my shoulders slumped against the chair.

  Then, in a matter of seconds, he walked towards me. His hands cupped the sides of my cheeks, as I kept my eyes closed. The room had stiffened to a warm silence, as the soft tip of his nose brushed against mine, twice, as though giving me an Eskimo kiss.

  A smile escaped my lips- my eyes fluttering open, as he crouched before me, staring warmly at me.

  “You’ve got something,” he whispered.

  “What?” I breathed.

  He grinned. “There’s a piece of tuna stuck at the center of your teeth, and since your class starts in about an hour, I think you should get that fixed.”

  I blinked slowly, my mind registering his joke, before scowling at him. I jumped to my feet, slapping him on the arm, as he laughed, feigning hurt.

  “You’re never serious,” I snapped. “You’re so frustrating.”

  He stuck out his tongue as though he were a child, walking past me with his head held high. My eyes burned holes through his retreating back, as he exited out of the room, leaving me in a terribly annoyed mood.

  Since the incident with the video of me and Professor Bukowsky aired on YouTube, class had been a kind of silent rumor mill, to say the least.

  I sat in my usual chair, my legs crossed, as my red maxi skirt trailed an inch above my ankles- silver sandals tapping lightly against the wooden floor. My hands fiddled with the ends of my cotton white blouse, feeling Edgar, Andre, and Helga’s eyes pinned on me. I lifted my gaze, staring back at them, as they quickly looked away.

  A cotton candy scent filled the air, as a pair of stiletto heels stalked their way towards me. I didn’t have to turn to know who the perky energy belonged to, as Stacy sat in the seat beside me, scooting two inches towards me.

  “Hey, girly girl,” she sang, nudging my elbow. “You will not believe what happened to me over the weekend.”

  I glanced at her. “Did Alex finally ask you out? You were telling me about it last night, remember?—”

  She clapped her hands like a seal, her sunny blond locks wagging against her pony tail.

  “No, but someone else did,” she said. “I’m over Alex. I heard a rumor that he has a foot fetish, and foot fetishes totally aren’t my thing. Anyways, I met this guy at a bar a few minutes after we talked, and we kind of hooked up—“

  “Wait, you hooked up with a guy you just met?”

  She frowned. “Don’t be a prude, Dory! We’re college girls, so hookups happen. It’s no big deal.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not judging. I’m just surprised. Anyways, I’m happy if he makes you happy. Will you see him again?”

  She stared at me- then laughed so loud that everyone turned to stare at us. I sighed, feeling a bit amused that she didn’t even notice their stares, and continued laughing as though I’d said the funniest thing.

  “Oh, Dory, you’re such a child,” she said, lowering her voice. “It was a one-time thing. You know…we had a great night, but I’d never want to meet him again. He has this weird snorting laugh.”

  I frowned. “You should be more careful, Stacy. I worry about you. I mean, what if that guy had ulterior motives. What if he hurt you—“

  “Chill out,” she smiled. “He’s rich.”

  “So?”

  She dipped her head, flashing her off white teeth- her pink lips, glossed under the light of the room.

  “A rich guy wouldn’t waste his time hurting a girl that isn’t worth his time,” Stacy whispered.

  Her sparkling blue eyes lingered on mine for a moment too long- staring at me in a way that sent a chill down my spine. I looked away, straightening against my seat, as Mr. Bukowsky made his way up the stairs, his bald head shining under the ceiling bulb. The tall open window at the end of the stage- blew out a brisk wind, swaying his multi colored Hawaiian shirt as he walked towards the center stage. The classroom went silent, as we all stared at him, watching as he sat at the seat at the head of the room, placing a worn out briefcase beside the chair.

  “I’m assuming you’ve all memorized your monologue for the final exam,” he began, a leg crossed over his knee.

  “Professor,” said Eloise, sitting at the other end of the circle. “There’s only a month left till the semester ends, and I think everyone would agree that we’re not at all prepared for the final. Can’t you just extend the test?”

  “She’s right,” said Emanuel, a thin haired, gangly looking guy sitting across from her at the other side of the room. “We need an extension.”

  Everyone, including me, nodded. I had two other classes including this one that I had to study for, and like my classmates, I wasn’t keeping up.

  “I have an idea,” Stacy chirped.

  We all turned our eyes to her, as she tucked a blond strand behind her ear. There was an excitement in her gaze, as she stared shyly at Mr. Bukowsky, as though ready to unveil a juicy secret.

  I called that look, her gossip face.

  “What is it Stacy?” Mr. Bukowsky asked.

  She cleared her throat dramatically.

  “Well, the thing is,” she began, looking around the room. “Why don’t we ask Dorothy when the final should be—“

  “What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong,” said Stacy. “I’m just saying that if you so kindly request Mr. Bukowsky here to extend the final, he would happily do so.”

  There were whispers around the room, as the students stared at me, then at the Professor. I breathed evenly, glaring at Stacy, who simply shrugged as though nothing was the matter. There was something infinitely weird about her, and not in the good sense of the word.

  “And why would I be happy to extend the exam upon Dorothy’s request?” Mr. Bukowsky asked.

  Every head turned back to Stacy, eagerly awaiting her response. She giggled for no apparent reason, continued to smile in a way that was starting to annoy me.

  “Well, isn’t obvious, isn’t it?” She grinned. “Everyone can tell that you’re attracted to her. Am I wrong?”

  The room went silent, as I gaped at the girl I thought was my friend. Sh
e ignored my stare, crossing her long legs, as her yellow skirt flowed by her knees. I felt every eye staring at me, waiting for my next move.

  A lump rested at the center of my chest, as I exhaled a deep breath, not believing what she’d said. As I gawked at her, I no longer saw my classmate, but a woman with two faces. Stacy turned her head towards me, raising a brow, as though challenging me to say a word against her.

  “I don’t feel the need to answer your question, Ms. Kendrick,” said Professor Bukowsky. “Now, if you’d like to continue spreading false rumors, you may do so after class. For now, let’s start practicing the monologues for the final, shall we?”

  Stacy’s smile fell, her cheeks flushing red. Everyone took out their monologue from their notebooks, reading it quietly amongst themselves. Some worked in pairs, while the rest, practiced alone.

  Stacy took out her sheet of paper as well, reading it silently to herself.

  I stared at her for a moment, withholding the urge to push her off the chair.

  I stood. “I have something to say.”

  All eyes turned on me, as I walked to the center of the circle- my back facing the Professor.

  “Now is not the right time, Mrs. Bellevue,” said Professor Bukowsky. “Perhaps, after class-”

  “No, I need to say this right now!” I insisted.

  A few seconds of silence passed, as the room went quiet- all ears ready to listen.

  “I have an idea of what everyone in this room thinks of me,” I began. “You all think that I’m some gold digger that hit it rich when I married an heir. I hear your whispers, and I’ve gotten used to it. I’ve been through a lot worse than petty rumors. Say whatever you want about me- think whatever you want about me…It doesn’t affect me in any way. I don’t have a job to keep, I don’t have a reputation to uphold, and I sure as hell don’t have kids to feed. But Professor Bukowsky does! I shouldn’t even have to explain myself, but I will. That video you all saw was of a teacher and his student discussing a novel, and eating lunch. That’s all! It’s not our fault that some psycho decided to record the event and make something out of nothing. Stop the rumors, stop the hostility, and let’s just end the semester peacefully. I don’t need you all to like me, but don’t accuse Mr. Bukowsky of creeping on a student, when he did nothing of the sort!”