Secrets and Lies (Chapters: 2 & 3)

Something I wrote a while ago. 

     Beneath the table, at the apex of my thighs, lust pulls, tightens. It’s probably nothing to Jare, just an accidental look without purpose. To me, it’s an exquisite thrill, something besides fear of dropping the ball tonight. 

     Gazing at Dicksin, I notice he’s getting beyond buzzed. He stands up launching into the story of his introduction to the industry when he was twelve. He’s telling it exceptionally well tonight. Our company of thirty VIP’s who's interest seemed feigned begin to appear genuinely entertained. Dicksin is a gifted presenter. 

     I never expected to marry someone as charismatic, handsome and charming as Dicksin is on the outside. His nose is a bit large, his face is gaunt and at times he looks like a praying mantis, but his body is lean wiry muscle. 

    On the outside, it seems like I have a perfect fairytale ending. Young, wealthy and married to a handsome successful man. I should be counting my blessings instead of thinking about how I want to just grab Jare and say, ‘Let’s blow this popsicle stand and go live on a street somewhere. Any place no one knows who I am and Dicksin Hooker doesn’t exist.’ Another thought comes one I try to suppress, but can’t. ‘Some place only you exist Jare.’

   Longing stabs through me and for a moment I can't breathe.  

  The women in the group smile at me like I should be dancing on rainbows and singing with joy. I try to act like it’s true. I wanted to be an actress once; now, I wish I could just be me. 

    I miss me. I miss saying whatever, no filter, I miss breaking into dance moves in public whenever a song came on I liked. I miss running naked in the rain, in a remote place no one will ever find me, trying to catch the lightning, while thunder crashes through my body. I miss thinking every day could be the day ‘it’ whatever ‘it is' will happen. 

I miss being alive. 

   Hours pass. 

    Dicksin is on a roll but despite his funny anecdotes the tables empty. Dicksin is too drunk to notice, the only people still paying attention to him, are the wait staff shifting on their tired feet. I feel for them. They look at me expectantly. The sober responsible one, they wait for me to take charge of the loud wildly gesticulating drunk. 

    Stupidly, knowing I will be made to pay; I listen to their unspoken expectations. I place my hand lightly on Dicksin’s elbow, hoping it's enough to garner his attention, get him to pause in thought, just for a moment. To my surprise after only a few minutes, it works. His speech stumbles and he looks down at me, a confused dazed look on his face. 

    Trying to make my voice as demure as possible, “I think the restaurant is closing hun.” I say, hoping he will understand the need for us to leave without a stronger approach... because already, I’ve overstepped. 

    Dicksin blinks his eyes at me, I wait for comprehension to dawn on him. Momentarily it does and he blearily looks around noticing, for the most part, his audience has long since left. Only four VIP’s remain involved in conversations excluding us. 

    Fear plays behind Dicksin’s eyes, he feels abandoned but with a laugh, he pretends everything is fine and still laughing, he is grabbing and bruising my arm pulling me up from my chair with a force to lift someone twice my size. 

    

“He’s just drunk,” I tell myself. “Drunk people don’t realize their strength,” I fight against the pain. I fight not to grimace, afraid Dicksin will mistake my pain for disgust and become crazed. 

    In the parking lot, I try to patiently and sweetly get him to give me the keys. I know if I use any force, my case is lost. 

   Dicksin's eyebrows knit together, “No. We’re in a big city. You don’t know how to drive in a city.  Even drunk I’m a better driver than you,” he slurs. 

     In his mind, I know this is true. I drive too slowly for him. Dicksin goes a minimum of twenty above the speed limit, he drives like he’s playing Grand Theft Auto, and I drive boring and dull, obeying the rules and taking too much time. Dicksin gets bored when I drive. 

    I’ve had two fender benders, one in a parking lot and one at a signal light. To Dicksin this means I’m a terrible driver. My opinion differs. Dicksin’s killed, running over a dog, a monkey and... the black thing roars and burns in my mind, I almost drown. He never stops. Just keeps driving. 

    Dicksin gets away with his behavior, even when he's pulled over or caught in the act. He’s funny. He makes whatever police officer laugh, like him and let him go with a warning. Only twice has Dicksin gotten tickets since I've known him. His failure to manipulate his way out of one of those tickets resulted in a broken car horn.  

    Now Dicksin is much better at NLP (neuro-linguistic programming) and it's been more than two years since he’s suffered a negative consequence for his behavior. Studying hypnosis, sales techniques, and NLP every day all day, he's become a master manipulator. I feel like he can convince me the sky is red, the grass is made of unicorns and I walk on my head. 

    Somehow I gather up the willpower to refuse to get in the car, telling him simply “I’ll just take a taxi.” Dicksin’s eyes flash, his jaw clenches with anger even as he smiles at the last VIPs getting in a car. Soon, we’ll be alone and I will pay for my defiance. 

   Dicksin angrily starts the car turning the key too hard. It whines in protest. 

“God, you’re so fucking boring. You act like you’re my mother. No wonder I’m not attracted to you. No man wants a fucking bitch telling him what to do.” Slamming the door in my face my husband drives off without me. 

     Left wondering if I really act like his mother, wondering what I can do better, I feel tears flooding behind the dam erected between how I feel and showing it. Trying not to let Dicksin’s words and actions bother me I search my clutch for my phone and discover it is missing. 

   With a sigh, feeling like no matter what I do, I can’t win... I turn back towards the restaurant hoping that not everyone has left yet.

   Out of the shadows, a figure moves. 

    Jare. 
   
    I stumble back. 

Chapter Three

    “Need a ride?” Jare’s mouth twitches with a bit of a laugh at my awkwardness. 

     Silently I nod, then I shake my head. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. This is wrong. I know he just means a ride to the hotel, but being near Jare... makes me ache, yearn, what we once had spins me in a million directions. 

    “I, I, I, can’t,” I stammer.

    Jare pulls out his cell. Pressing a button until the beep sounds, “Taxi service near me.” 

    Siri responds but my eyes are on Jare’s lips and my head doesn’t translate her words. Jare shifts towards me and I look up into his eyes. A sudden flare of heat between us, his gaze cinges my cheeks. I look away, knowing he sees too much, sees my wanton aching desire. I tremble. 

    Jare reaches out to me, his hand brushing my skin. Chills ripple outwards from the contact, racing over me. I cross my arms trying to contain the painful desperation for his touch.

    “Cold?” His rough voice draws my gaze back to his flashing piercing blue eyes.  

    Dumbly, I nod and he takes off his jacket wrapping it around me. Covering me, he pulls me close to him. I try to step back, but he holds onto his jacket. The smell his skin taunts memories to surface, memories from before I was married and Jare was my world. His breath caresses my face.

   I want him to kiss me so badly it's painful. I know it’s wrong, I know it’s stupid, foolish, and part of me doesn’t care. Part of me feels like I will die if he doesn't kiss me and if he does, everything will be alright again. 

    Jare’s eyes study my face, his gaze licks my lips and I almost believe he wants to kiss me too. The door of the restaurant opens. Jare steps back and laughter rings out. 

    My heart plummets and guilt gnaws through me. 

    I deserve whatever Dicksin does to me. Tears prick at my eyes and I turn away from Jare walking a bit farther into the cold away from everything and everyone. I hear car doors slam and people drive off. I take a deep breath expectant Jare has gone too. 

    To my surprise, he is still there, on his phone, with his eyes skating over me. I try not to be happy at his nearness. I try to squelch the hope bubbling inside me. 

    Jare puts the phone away from his mouth and calls out, “It’s going to be at least thirty minutes before they can get a taxi here, are you sure you want to wait?” 

     I nod my head emphatically like a bobble-headed doll at a sudden stop. 

    Turning away, Jare speaks into his phone again. With wind and traffic, I can’t hear what he says. Jare hangs up and then walks towards me again. 

     I start removing his jacket so he can take it and go. “Thank you for...” I stop mid-sentence. Jare’s hands are on mine stopping me from returning his jacket. I stop looking at the ground a habit, I seemed to have slipped into and jerk my eyes to Jare’s face. I’m so frightened I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what he wants. I struggle for breath. 

    A panic attack is coming on. I always do the wrong thing. The world seems to tilt and whirl beneath me. I just want to make him happy. I just want everyone to be happy. 

    Drowning in memories of Dicksin’s rages. Glass breaking, furniture being smashed, yelling and fear. The flash of fur as Dicksin is hurling Monkey, my little puppy through the air. 

   Strong arms catch me before I hit the pavement of the parking lot. 

  

   “Are you alright?” Jare asks.

   Through a haze feeling suffocated and far away under a sea of memories I force myself to speak. “Yes, sorry just a dizzy spell, no worries. I make my lips smile. Which upon opening my eyes and seeing Jare’s face, knowing I’m in his arms, isn’t hard. I get my feet back under me and gain my balance. “I’m fine.” It’s a lie but for now, in this moment, it’s true enough, and then I pull away out of his arms and it really is a lie. 

    “You should probably get going,” I hear myself say the exact opposite of what I want. 

    Jare looks around skeptically, it's a little past midnight and we’re not in the safest part of this city, but I try to believe nothing bad will happen in the thirty minutes it will take for the taxi to get here. 

    “I’m not a douche, I’m not leaving you.” Jare’s voice sounds angry and I almost wonder if he’s referencing Dicksin. 

    “It’s my fault,” I say. “I didn’t want him to drive and I thought if I told him I wasn’t going unless he let me drive, then...” I trail off still not sure what I should have done differently. 

   “Stop. He was too drunk to drive and you tried to help. It isn’t your fault, he’s an ass. No man would leave you alone like this unless he doesn’t care about you.” 

    

He’s right Dicksin doesn’t care about me, love me... How could he? Dicksin, smart, handsome, a self-made millionaire, how could he possibly care about me. I... nothing. People don’t care about nothing. 

    No career, or life of my own I’ve let myself become nothing. I understand why Dicksin treats me the way he does. My body becomes cold with the realization of how nothing I am. 

     I look up at Jare, numb, drained of life. “You should go,” I rasp through the wind and tightness in my throat. 

     Jare hasn’t gone because he cares about the girl I once was. He doesn’t realize I’m nothing now. He sees flesh and blood and believes there is something inside this skin besides paralyzing fear. Only, I’m already dead and whoever I was before my marriage when we were together, she’s gone. I, a zombie, a shell, a nothing. 

    “Azure,” Jare reaches for me. I pull away. “Dammit.” Jare curses under his breath.

    Afraid I’ve offended him I touch his arm with my hand. He looks at my hand then our eyes meet and I feel my body pulse with need. “Sorry,” I whisper, dropping my hand. I turn away. A long silence stretches between us. 

    “I don’t want to keep you. You have so much to do. Aren’t you speaking tomorrow?” My question hangs in the air for a moment.

Jare says nothing. I glance back. His eyes search mine. I look away. It is too painful to be so close and so far. The wall of lies. The chains of my wedding vows. Invisible, binding, barriers between us. 

  

   “I’ll wait,” Jare says.

   Openly for the first time in years I study him. Underneath Jare’s eyes are dark circles, his pale Russian skin is bruised from lack of sleep. A tension in his face from stress, or worry maybe. Jare’s mind always so filled with thoughts, torments him with constant insomnia, he only sleeps well after sex. 

    I remember laying next to him, his breathing slow and deep. His face lit by the moonlight from my small apartment window relaxed, at peace. His warm arms held me, his heartbeat strong steady. I miss watching him dream.  

   “Jare you need rest for tomorrow. I’ll be okay. Please go,” I say, trying to be good, trying to shake off the memories so tempting to repeat. Jare doesn’t move, just watches me. Guilt eats at me with each passing moment. 

     With a sigh, I walk to his car. Lights flash as it unlocks. Before I can reach the handle Jare is opening my door. My body brushes against his as I slide into the car and down into the buttery leather seat. 

     Jare, belting me in, his body inches from mine, I push myself back as far as possible away from the contact of his skin. Jare takes his time fiddling with the seatbelt. I don’t know if it’s on purpose or accidental, then his hair brushes my cheek. 

   The breath I’d been holding since he leaned across me escapes and blows across his ear. Jare stops fiddling with my seat belt. His body goes completely still. 

    I put my hand lightly on his shoulder. “Are you okay?” I ask, nervously licking my lips.

    His face turns towards mine His gaze falls on my mouth. Seconds pass, the world falls away. Jare’s blue eyes intensely examine my face looking for something.

    Though it kills me, I turn away. Jare steps back into the night and I finish snapping the closure of the seat belt while he walks to the driver’s side. I watch him get into the car, trying to memorize the curve of every bulging muscle beneath his clothing. Then I look out the window before he sees my hunger. 

    I hear his door shut and the car start. I close my eyes afraid of the peeling out, afraid of the crazy darting in and out of traffic, I grab onto the seat holding on as tight as I can. 

    

Several moments pass before anything happens. I open my eyes and peek over at Jare questioningly. He shrugs a shoulder and then cautiously reverses. Jare drives slow, careful. A few minutes go by and I begin to relax. 

   “Jare,” his name is delicious on my tongue, “I should call the taxi service and let them know I won’t be needing a car.”

“I told them not to come, I wasn’t going to let you stand outside and freeze for thirty minutes,” Jare says, quietly lowering his voice. 

    “It was my choice,” I whisper retreating further into myself feeling even more powerless. 

    “I know.” Jare lets out a long sigh. His voice is soft, “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you suffer.” 

    Tears prick my eyes. I want to break down. I want to fall into his arms and tell him everything. I hold back wrapping my arms around myself keeping myself from falling apart, keeping myself from falling into him. 

   I begin twisting my wedding ring, hating it more with each moment. Bulky, annoying, uncomfortable. Jare looks at it and looks away. “You’re going to break it.”

    “I know.” I sigh frustration and tears edging my voice in a way I hope he doesn't notice. 

    A red light stops us. Jare reaches over grabbing my hand with the wedding ring. He pulls it off. “That’s better,” he says tossing it into onto the dash. 

    I feel naked and free for a moment before panic sets in. I glance from the ring to my finger, several times. 

    “You’re not going to leave him,” Jare says as the light turns green and he steps on the gas, punching the car forward and my hands go back to clutching the things nearest them. He slows down and I look at him. Hope and sorrow are at war on his face. 

    “He hasn’t hit me,” I say softly. 

    “That the only reason you stay with him? Because he hasn’t hit you?” Jare’s words, like ice water pouring over me, chill me to the bone.

    I want to tell Jare, ‘I made my bed. Now, I have to lie in it.’  Tell him, ‘marriage is sacred, I should do everything I can to make it work.’ Give him all the reasons, I’ve been giving myself for years now, but everything I grew up believing about life and marriage now seem trite and stupid in my head. “I can’t leave,” are the only words that make it out.

    Jare shifts his body away from me. Leaning against his door he flips on the radio. My mind wanders to my nephew, whose cancer could relapse at any moment, to my mother and her abusive boyfriend putting her in the hospital. So many reasons to stay... So many reasons to leave.... My arm still hurting where Dicksin grabbed me, jerking me to my feet. 

    ‘He was drunk,’ I tell myself making myself believe that’s an excuse, a reason... Making myself believe Dicksin Hooker’s behavior is acceptable. 

    Then the black thing is hovering at the edges of my consciousness, the one thing I can’t rationalize, justify or forgive... the thing that makes my stomach heave, and wakes me up at night twists inside. Screams claw at my throat, I bite them down. Losing the rest of my sanity won’t help... My heart hammers in my chest, I strive to gain control.

    Fighting my way out of the darkness and back to sanity, Steadying my short gasps of air back to normal breathing I look over at Jare. He’s seen me panic before, this is nothing new. Only this time we aren’t backstage and there aren’t a ton of people around.

    We’re going to fight. I can tell by the way his shoulders tense, the way he readies himself. “I’m fine,” I say cutting in before Jare has a chance to start the battle. 

     He quirks a skeptical eyebrow at me. “Fine? Dick heading into oncoming traffic with you is fine? Stressed out every moment and so panicked you can barely breathe is fine? No, Azure, you’re a long way from fine,”  Jare isn’t yelling he’s speaking soft and low like he’s trying to coax a wounded animal to let him help. 

    I glare at him. I know he’s right, I just don’t know how to fix any of it. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying, I know it isn’t enough. I’m cold, unloving, but I don’t know how to change it. I don’t know how to give Dicksin what he needs. Jare, he’s my husband. He works hard, and I’m the one who fails. If I could just do things right, do what he wanted,” I stop, I don’t know what to say next. 

Even if I could do everything right, or be exactly what my husband wants, I would still be empty and broken. I feel so hopeless. I gaze into the night. City lights mar the darkness I crave. I’ve always loved the dark. Darkness, a dear friend comforting my pain, hiding my weakness. 

    After a prolonged silence, I look back at Jare. He stares out the window, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. “Your world is upside down and inside out Azure. Your husband was drunk, bragging to me about the girls he’s ...” Jare trails off not wanting to say the words he knows will hurt me. 

    I glance down embarrassed. I want to tell Jare how it isn’t Dicksin’s fault. I’m just not sexy enough, thin enough or a thousand other things Dicksin needs to perform. I can’t. The truth is too awful to admit to. 

    “I want to deck him. I want to hurt him. I see the ways he hurts you and it kills me.” Jare’s words echo our past. I keep doing this to him. My messy life tearing him apart. 

     We’ve reached the hotel. A valet opens my door and I step out walking away as Jare turns the keys over to another valet. A doorman holds a heavy glass panel inlaid with gold for me, I thank him and step into the gilded cage. 

     For a moment Jare follows, but then he is stopped by his team members and people who want pictures and videos with him for their blogs. I glance back and see Jare trying to extricate himself from the gathering mob. 

   I make it to the elevators, just as golden aluminum slides open. I step in. As the doors close I see Jare, but he is too late. I want to stop the doors, wait for him, but restrain myself. I need to get back. Anxiety hammers in every part of me. Telling me, if I don’t get back now Dicksin will do something awful. 

Maybe someday I will have the guts to finish it.