Complicated: A Tainted Love Novella (15 page)

He holds me tightly to him, whispering in my ear, “I’ve missed you. I hate being away from you.”

I bury my face in his chest, inhaling his freshly showered scent and agree, “I missed you too. Being away from you sucks.”

For the rest of the day, we don’t leave each other’s side; and at the end of the night, we curl up with each other, expressing our feelings in ways words can’t.

Marshall

T
he time for me to leave came sooner than either of us wanted it to. The bubble we had spent the last few days in was about to burst and neither Rachel nor I were handling it well. We’d spent part of the day before I left arguing about what we’d do that night, resulting in us spending a few minutes apart. By the time I found Rachel in Ben’s home gym, I was regretting the stupid argument altogether.

I’d found her running on one of the treadmills and crying. I’d brought the machine to a slow walk for her and then scooped her up into my arms, bringing her over to the shower. I bathed her and then took her slow and passionately up against the shower wall. For the rest of the afternoon, we watched movies in Ben’s theatre room and reminisced on the week we spent having a normal relationship.

This week was a week of firsts for us and it was more than I ever hoped it would be. We’d gone on our first public date to a Thai restaurant, gone dancing, ice skating…I even took her to a carnival where we took quirky photo booth pictures that I will cherish until the day I die. It had been an amazing week, a week we spent getting to know each other again. We did all the things we weren’t able to do when we were together in the early days and it was beautiful and memorable and everything in between.

I’ve enjoyed Rachel more in these past few days than I have in a very long time, not since we were younger, and the thought of not having her for a month is eating away at me. Would it be so terrible to move out here to be with her? Considering I’d be with her, I don’t think so.

I’d spent the night before I left watching her sleep, committing her profile to memory, as well as thinking about how I was going to uproot and move to Philadelphia. The more I tossed the idea around in my head, the more I warmed to it. I want to spend the rest of my life with Rachel – that much I know – so if that means giving up a damn good job and the comfort of home to be with her, I am willing to make that sacrifice.

We need a fresh start anyway.

Rachel, Delilah, Ben and I make our way over to the airport in Ben’s Rolls Royce Phantom. Rae is unusually quiet, but I can’t blame her. It’s all I can do not to tell Simon to turn the car around. I’m feeling a wave of grief settle over me like a dark cloud. It feels like I’m telling her goodbye, like if I leave her now she’ll be gone forever. I fear that with the month I’ve given her to think everything through and figure out what she wants, she’ll come to her senses. She’ll realize that her life goes on without me and decide that she fucked me out of her system and not want us anymore…and then I’d be forced to kidnap her and become a Mountie.

Fuck.

Looking at her forlorn face, I wanna punch something. I hate seeing her so sad, and if she cries, it will ruin me. We just need a month. In a month, everything will become clearer for us and then we’ll be together. Whether she comes to New York or I go to Philly, we’ll be together and that’s the important thing. That is what keeps me the next few nights without her.

In the week since I left Philadelphia, Rachel and I have spoken every day. Whether through phone calls, Face Time, text or Skype, a day doesn’t pass that we don’t touch base with each other at least three times a day. It’s been hard not having her next to me, but we’ve been dealing as best we can, using substitutes in place of the real thing.

Rachel gave me her favorite teddy bear, a behemoth of a stuffed toy that she dressed in one of her lace boy shorts and a silk teddy. It also smells a whole damn lot like her. I cuddle with this bear every night and when I get a whiff of her perfume on it, I get so fucking hard. Rachel, on the other hand, sleeps in my clothes every night – a pair of worn jeans and a white t-shirt. I also left a bottle of my cologne with her so that when she washes the few items I left with her, she still has my scent to walk around with. Thoughtful, she told me so herself.

“Marshall, are you listening to me?” Sid asks me, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Sorry, was in the zone just now. What’d you say?” I jolt, grabbing my gym bag and placing my
shodan
in. My black belt is one of my most prized possessions.

“I was asking if you’re ready for this, man,” he queries, picking up his own bag.

We were in the gym preparing ourselves for our black belt grading. I am up for third degree black belt while he was grading for a second degree. Today would be the day I take one step closer to becoming
Jun-shihan
, a fourth degree black belt. This was an important step for me. I have come to love this craft and everything that comes with it: the fights, the rigorous grading, the training, and the instructing. I teach young blue belts katas while I instruct teenaged brown belts the art of the fight. It is a rewarding experience, one I hope to pass on to my own children someday.

“Fuck, yeah, I’m ready for this,” I respond with a smile.

Rachel had called to wish me luck in my grading this morning. She told me she looked forward to hearing more about
Gojo Ryu
and possibly even enrolling at some point. That made me smile so fucking big that I thought my face would split. It meant that she was giving moving back here some thought. We haven’t addressed that elephant yet, but I am trying to wrap up the case I’m on as soon as possible so that I can talk with my bosses about a move out to Philly.

I don’t know if they’ll approve it, but it’s worth a shot. I just hope that Rachel is making similar moves so that when we do finally get to talking about a way forward, we can see our way clearer and assess what the best move to make would be. All I know is that this distance is killing me.

My cell phone rings and I smile thinking it’s Rachel calling to wish me good luck again, but an unknown number pops up instead.

“Hello? Marshall Keyes speaking,” I answer, thinking it’s a client or potential client.

“Marshall?” an accented female voice drifts through the phone and I try to place where I’ve heard it from, but draw a blank.

“It’s Consuela,” the woman says further, putting the puzzle together. It’s Rachel’s family’s maid.

Consuela has been with them for over twenty years and she’s the only adult that knew about our relationship years ago. I’d taken Rachel home one Sunday night and, not being able to resist, I kissed her in the stairwell. Consuela had caught us and was mad as hell about it. After she chased Rachel inside, she cornered me and told me that if I hurt her
mija
, she would cut off my balls. I took her threat seriously.

I’m confused as to how she got my number and why she would be calling me. I haven’t spoken to her in seven years.

“Hello, Consuela,” I say. “You can’t make good on your promise to cut off my balls. Rachel broke
my
heart, not the other way around.” I try for a joke, but am met with soft sobs.

“Oh,
mijo
,” Consuela cries. “So much blood.”

What the fuck?

“Consuela, I don’t understand. Calm down, talk to me,” I try to placate her. She’s scaring me. I don’t know what she’s going on about, but my mind shifts to Rachel and a mild panic sets off inside me.

“She fainted, Marshall,” she goes on and my heart sinks, because I know she’s talking about Rachel.

My knees buckle, and I fall against the wall, sliding down until my ass meets the floor.

“Marsh, man, you okay?” I hear Sid ask, but his voice sounds so far away. All I can seem to hear is the woman on the other end of the line.

“Who, Consuela?” because I need to know for sure. “Who fainted?”

“Oh, Marshall,” she chokes out. “It’s Rachel. She’s in the hospital.”

My world darkens, tears springing to my eyes.

Oh, God, no.

For the first time since I began Seido karate, I miss a grading.

Rachel

T
he more time I spent away from Marshall, the more moving to New York appealed to me. It had been a week since he left Philadelphia and I was experiencing a serious case of loss. I missed him more than I ever thought possible. It felt like our breakup all over again, only this time, I had hope. This time, I had him.

I’d begun missing work, oversleeping, feeling depressed and barely eating. I’d been more tired than I’d ever been lately, even after hours of sleep. I’d told my boss that I was sick, which wasn’t a complete lie, but didn’t mention a word to Marshall. Honestly, the idea of no longer going to work and living with Marshall in New York sounded like a better deal to me. If he moved to the moon, I’d go there just to be with him.

I’d lied when I told Marshall that I felt trapped. Truth is, I wanted the two point five kids and the white picket fence. I wanted that life because I would have had it with him. I just didn’t allow myself to have the happily ever after I wanted because of the guilt of my actions. It was time to let go of that guilt for better or for worse. If I lost Marshall because of it, then I’d know we weren’t meant to be together.

When he told me about his black belt grading, I thought it would be the best time to deal with my past. I’d booked a flight to New York for the day of his grading. I thought I’d surprise him by showing up at his apartment, so that when he came home a third degree black belt, he could celebrate inside of me.

But first, I had to close the chapter on my parents. That thought felt more freeing than it ought to have been. I wish I’d been brave enough to do it years ago. Terrible as they have been as parents, however, it led me to Marshall and for that, I would be forever grateful. If it had not been for their horrible parenting, I would not have gotten so close to Delilah and her family, and I would not have fell in love with the most wonderful man I’d ever met.

Staring up at the skyscraper my parents call home, a tingle of fear shudders through me and causes my stomach to roil with nauseated fear. Dashing to the side of the fifty floor apartment complex, I throw up the contents of my stomach, which isn’t much since I’ve hardly been eating.

Popping a mint, I take a deep breath, psyching myself up for what I’m about to do. It needs to be done. I need closure from this family, the family who has hurt me countless times throughout my life.

Rounding the front entrance once again, I see our old doorman, Mr. Delaney, looking sharp as ever in his dark blue suit with the red-lined lapels, crisp white shirt and blue and red tie, black hat, black shoes and white gloves. When he realizes it’s me, his eyes go big as saucers and instead of his customary tipping of the hat, he grabs me in for a hug.

“Miss Welles, oh my days!” he exclaims feelingly. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

My eyes tear up from his outburst of affection. Mr. Delaney was like a grandfather to me, whereas my own grandfather was a mean old tyrant. The doorman was always kind, always protective and always gave me a present for my birthday, ever since I was a little girl. Surprisingly, he hasn’t aged a bit, aside from the fact that his usual salt and pepper hair was now a full head of white.

“Mr. Delaney, it is so good to see you. And you still smell like Old Spice,” I express, trying not to burst into tears and rock back and forth in the fetal position. You’d think my dog died or something – I’d been so fucking emotional lately.

“Let me look at you.” He holds me at arms’ length and looks me up and down. He gives me a smile and a nod of satisfaction, as if to say I look good and healthy, before pulling me in for another hug and then releasing me.

“How have you been, Mr. Delaney?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.

“Oh, ya know, same ole, same ole,” he answers in his very pronounced Brooklyn accent. It didn’t occur to me until now how much I missed that accent.

“Same ole shit,” I say, quoting one of his favorite things to tell me when I ask him that question.

“Different shitty day,” he finishes, laughing. “Ya remembered.”

“How could I forget?”

We stand there lost in a few seconds of reminiscence before I break the silence.

“Are they home?” I ask, somberly.

“Your mother’s home, but your Dad’s out. Consuela’s there, too,” he replies with a smile, my own breaking out across my face.

I loved and missed Consuela. She had been my family’s maid for longer than I’ve been alive. She was
mi mama
when my own mother was too annoyed with being a mother to me. She was my rock, my best friend, even before Delilah came on the scene. She cared for me as much as she could without getting into trouble. If my mother had ever caught wind of how close Consuela and I had been, she would have fired the beautiful Latina who’d hailed from the Bronx by way of Puerto Rico.

Consuela had long, wavy, honey blonde hair and was tall, yet shapely. She’d never had kids, slaving away to put away money for her retirement, since she had no family. Consuela was an orphan and had made her way to the United States via boat and then took the bus to New York. She never told me how she came to work for my parents, but it didn’t matter. I was just glad she was in my life.

“Thank you, Mr. Delaney. Hopefully I’ll see again before you change shifts,” I bid him, hugging him one last time before going to meet my fate.

On the fiftieth floor is the penthouse suite that calls my parents owner. It is ostentatious like they are, too much over the top with the statues in the hallway and the crystal chandeliers. I go up to the door, dread settling in the pit of my stomach. I will the nausea away and knock three times on the heavy white door.

After the longest few seconds of my life, the door opens, revealing Consuela’s aged face. She is about forty five now, but she looks older, worn, but still so beautiful. She is wearing her maid’s uniform, a navy blue and white tunic with white shoes. As soon as recognition flickers in her mind, her eyes water, as do mine.

“
Aye, dios mio!
” she gasps, throwing her arms around me and sobbing on my shoulder. “
Mija!
I have missed you so much!”

“Consuela!” the shrill, whipping voice of Mariana cuts through the air.

Quickly we pull apart, only to see mother standing a few feet away with a deep scowl on her face. She’s wearing a black and white pants suit and heels – who even wears heels in the middle of the day while they’re at home? She hates these displays of affection between me and Consuela, but never provided a substitute in herself. I hate her for that.

“Mother,” I acknowledge, my palms sweating.

“What are you doing here?” she bites out.

“Hello to you, too.” I step fully inside the house and I feel the chill from her attitude.

Mom stomps off, her heels click-clacking on the white marble floors, into the direction of the living room and Consuela nudges me forward to follow her. I nod, knowing I have to do this.

I am wearing a long peasant skirt with a green buttoned sweater and black ankle boots, but even that can’t keep me warm enough against the chill of my mother’s rejection. Why? What could I have possibly done to warrant her hate?

“Mother, I need some answers,” I tell her. Why–”

“Look at you,” my mother sneers, cutting me off and looking down her condescending nose at me.
Why did I come back here?
“You’ve done nothing with your life. Nothing! I told Allan that he shouldn’t have sent you money all those years ago because you didn’t deserve it. Lying that you were in real estate. You barely have a manicured nail in the door!”

With every spit of venom she spews, I expect to feel beaten down, like nothing, but all it’s doing is fueling a fire inside me that’s been waiting to burst and consume these hateful people I call parents from the moment they told me I would sully the family name at the age of fourteen because I’d been failing Math.

“You went everywhere and nowhere with that Keyes girl, who was going nowhere anyway, all on her back – if the news is any indication – and look at you now,” she utters hatefully.

“Well,
Mom
,” I spit her name with disgust as if the word alone makes me want to gag. “I could have had a life. If I had only listened to my heart, my…gut, I wouldn’t be in front of you right now and I’d be okay with it. You both would have disowned me if you knew and I should have let that course run because, really, you guys never deserved me as a child.”

“We are the best things to ever happen to you, you ungrateful girl!” she yells, her face reddening with anger.

“Well, I fail to see what’s so great about it. The best thing that ever happened to me was getting pregnant at seventeen with the baby of the love of my life –” her face falls at that but I forge on –“but I let you and Dad ruin that with your expectations of me.”

Tears stream down my face now as the grief resurfaces, all the regrets. Instead of staying on the surface, it pours out, freeing me of the guilt I’d held on to for so long.

“I could have had my baby right now if I wasn’t afraid of disappointing you!” I accuse, foolishly. I know it was my decision, but it feels so good to pour it all out.

“Why am I not surprised?” Mom laughs, one reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the West. “A slut – that’s all you are. I’m just glad you were smart enough not to bring that bastard child into the world.”

I gasp, her words destruction to my soul. I literally feel the pain from them and I clutch my belly protectively as if I had a fetus to protect.

“You are pure evil,” I mumble, shaking my head and regretting setting foot in this place.

“Is that all you had to say to me?” she asks impatiently. “Because I haven’t the time to–”

“You
will
listen to everything I have to say, you shrew!” I yell at the life-sucking viper.

“No matter how hard I tried, I was never enough, was I? But I kept on trying.” I’m all over the place, but it feels good to let it all out. “Even when I left, I still kept trying to make you guys proud of me, hoping that one day you would love me, but you never did…” I gasp, because a revelation socks me in the heart at this moment. A devastating revelation.

“You guys would never have loved me, would you?” I whisper, my voice quavering. “Would you?” I insist, knowing I won’t be getting an answer.

The look on my mother’s face is one of utter disdain which makes my heart break into a million pieces. They say the truth will set you free, but right now, it has set me on fire.

All these years I tried, worked my ass off, obeyed every rule under their roof…killed…my baby, because I was seeking their approval. All these years, I have lived to believe that if I could succeed I’d be finally good enough for them, when in truth, when in fact I never would have been.

“Why?” I whimper, because I deserve to know. The truth she drops on me, however, is more than I can handle.

Like a snake, she inches closer to me with an evil glint in her eyes and spits her poison, “Because you are a bastard child, Rachel, and I could never love something born out of lust and depravity. You are nothing because you were born out of nothing. My only consolation was that you were never ripped from my loins. I’d certainly kill myself if that were the case.”

I clutch my stomach as a pain like no other attacks me and I double over. At first I think it’s the pain of her words that has wounded me, gutted me, but then a tingling between my legs alerts me to something much more serious. I feel wetness between my legs and suddenly, my head goes fuzzy.
What’s happening?

“You better not vomit on my marble floors!” Mother…Mariana panics. I feel like I’m dying and all this woman cares about is her fucking marble flooring. Maybe I should just die right here, right now. That would drive her insane.

The pain rockets up my spine and stabs me repeatedly in the stomach. I try to catch a breath, but the pain is so excruciating that it brings me to my knees.

“Help…me,” I wheeze, casting a blurred, desperate vision up to Mariana.

She scowls at me but sighs in resignation before calling out, “Consuela!” as if it took everything out of her to do.

Consuela shuffles in as if she’s been at the door waiting all this time for Cruella to summon her. She gasps when she sees me lying on the floor and runs to my aid.