An Unfortunate Truth: Part Two

Marion made her way to the door hurriedly, fumbling around in her purse for her key ring. The wind whipped back and forth, its bitter cold claws lashing out, striking her face. She could hear it whistling through the trees as she located the house key. Seconds later she made her way inside and tightly closed the door behind her, closing herself off from the outside world.

It had been a long day at work, but the week was finally over and Friday always promised a somewhat relaxed weekend. Keeping this in mind, Marion took her boots off at the doorway, hung her winter jacket in the coat room closet, and made her way to the bar in the kitchen where she sat her purse down on the counter. The number two flashed irrefutably on the home phone, its red light illuminating the dark kitchen. She flipped the kitchen light on with a sign and pushed play on the answering machine.

Marion’s fingers drummed on the counter as she listened to one of her students’ drone on over the recording for a good, long 45 seconds. He begged, unconvincingly, for another chance to rewrite his final essay to receive a better grade, but only made a half decent argument before the answering machine cut him off. The second message was much shorter, however, much more convincing:

“I’m really sorry for what I said, and for what I did. I had good reason; please call me back and give me a chance to explain myself.”

No matter how mad at Brantley she was, Marion could never stay that way after having heard his voice. It was so smooth, so cool. His words came over her like a stream of cool, soothing water on a hot maddening day, causing any discomfort to be washed completely away. However, at the same time, no matter how smooth his words, Marion could not forget what he had said and done, for the memory still burned in her mind…

To Be Continued

An Unfortunate Truth: Part One

Marion held her half empty, lipstick stained wine glass in one hand and sank down into warm, soapy water that caressed her ear lobes. Anguish masked all other expression on her face and misery hung in the air like thick, choking smog as she waited for his message.

Her phone chirped on the table beside the bathtub and she sat up involuntarily.

“There’s a reason we’re still doing this, and a reason your body still quivers when I’m close to you.”

Without thinking she responded, “Remind me how that feels and maybe I’ll be happy again.”

For Marion, happiness and misery were one in the same, except one occurred first, and the other directly after. At least it was this way when it came to being involved with Brantley.

Before she had time to put her iPhone back down on the table another message came through: “Are you sure this is what you want?”

She hated questions like this because she never knew exactly how to answer them. On one hand, she honestly thought she wanted to continue their on and off relationship because he could make her happy in ways no one else could, but on the other hand, having an affair was as emotionally exhausting as it was physically. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. Marion could never hurt long enough to realize how much pain Brantley actually caused her. Instead, she thought of him as a hero who healed her pain, without ever admitting to herself that he was the cause of it all in the first place.

Tonight Marion would make the same mistake she had been making for the past year once more.

A quick glance at the digital alarm clock on the counter was enough to remind her that her husband would be home in roughly two hours. At the realization she quickly texted back.

“Yes, please remind me. Be here in 15 minutes?”

She waited hardly another second before the last message of their exchange came through, but she didn’t even have to open it to know that he was already on his way.

…..

Shortly after Brantley left, Marion’s husband returned home from work just as he did every evening; he left his shoes at the door upon entering, and walked straight into his office with a briefcase full of unfinished work, and his mind elsewhere. Marion knew she had gotten away with it again. In fact, it was never a question of whether or not he would figure things out on his own, but rather, whether or not she could keep from telling him. She knew she could never tell him. She wasn’t ready to give up her one and only source of attention.

The next morning Marion awoke beside her husband with the same familiar knot in her stomach. It was one of guilt, and it nagged the very same question she had been asked several hours earlier: Are you sure this is what you want?

To this day it remains a question she does not know exactly how to answer, for the two sides each weigh in heavily, however, wrong always seems to bear more weight than right.

 

This post is written for yeah write ( http://yeahwrite.me/moonshine-140 ) and is a continuation of my post Misery is her Happinness (https://mlbyard.wordpress.com/2013/12/21/misery-is-her-happiness-100-word-song-happy/ ) for 100 word song (http://lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog.wordpress.com/2013/12/18/100-word-song-happy/) over at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.