I am HER... (64 page)

 
“Not that I’m aware of.  Z only knows what has been publically reported, and about the few details you told him when you were unwell in his apartment.  He has enough information to know he wants everyone involved brought to justice.  And I know he has used some of his own resources and connections to make this happen.”

 
“Why?  Why would he do that?  It doesn’t make sense.  He isn’t Peter.  I don’t get it.”

 
“He was doing it for you, Suzanne.  Z wanted to try to fight for you somehow
now
, because he didn’t know what was happening to you
then.
  I’m sure if he had, Z would have stopped his father years ago.  He cares about you Suzanne, deeply.  Z wants…”

 
“Mack stop! 
Please.
  I don’t want to know what Z wants, and I don’t want to know how he does or doesn’t care for me.  I just wanted to know how he was.  That’s all.  I don’t want to go there Mack.  Not today.  I still have Marcus to deal with today.”

 
“I understand, Suzanne.  We’ll focus on your visit with Marcus.  Are you comfortable at the table?  Did you want to move to the chairs where we usually talk?”

 
“All right.”  And moving to our chairs in the opposite corner from our table, I try to focus on today’s problem…
Marcus.

                         
          ==========

 
I haven’t seen Marcus in close to a month and I’m dreading seeing him.  Whenever I
have
seen him I become emotional, enraged, and horribly depressed.

 
Marcus represents the ‘middle’ part of my life, so far.  He was the ‘in between’, and as such, he carries some of the weight and responsibility for the way I felt as an adult, but he also holds none of the responsibility of making me the way I am.  Therefore, I pity him
and
  I dislike him too.  It’s really quite confusing.

 
“What do you want to say, Mack?  You seem extra irritated about Marcus coming here today.  Why?”

 
“Suzanne.  Marcus hasn’t told me why he wants to be here today, but he did say it was really important, and he had to get answers.  When I pressed him, he wouldn’t tell me anything more.  So, clearly, I’m a little nervous for you.  I don’t like the
unknown
either Suzanne and I won’t tolerate Marcus putting any pressure on you, whether
he
needs answers or not.  That’s my only concern for you today.”

 
“Okay.  What do we do now?  What do we talk about?”

 
Mack actually pauses.  He rarely does that.  Mack is just too smart to ever need a minute.  He seems able to think, speak, and act on the fly, and everything usually ends up right. 

 
I envy that about Mack.  I wish I didn’t have to over-analyze and fear every single thing I do, say, or feel from one moment to the next.  I wish I could just be a person who doesn’t fear
everything
, every single day.

 
“Suzanne.  We need to talk about your “Big Three”.  We have to.  Should Marcus talk about your marriage, or your sexual relations, I don’t want you confusing Marcus’ and your sex, with the brutality of your past.”

 
“Sometimes, they run very close, Mack.  I don’t think Marcus really knows the difference.”

 
“The difference in what?”

 
“You know... The Big Three.  Marcus wasn’t very good at sex, as I’ve told you before, but I seriously think he has confused what the types are.”

 
“Maybe he doesn’t know the types, Suzanne?”

 
“Oh, he knows.  He always knew.  He just didn’t care.” 
He NEVER cared.

 
“Suzanne.  Before you explained ‘The Big Three’, even I didn’t know about them.  Of course your Big Three make sense, just as they are, but there are variables, and I didn’t place certain sex acts, or experiences, or even positions into a category of ‘three’ like you have.  It’s nearly impossible Suzanne…”

 
“No, it isn’t Mack.  It’s very easy.  I know it is. 
Everything
fits into my theory of ‘The Big Three’.”

 
“Okay Suzanne, here’s a hypothetical for you; A very loving couple, who have been together for years,
make love
frequently and are very happy with each other in life and within their sex-life.  One night, the wife is feeling a little
frisky
, so
she
decides to have sex with her husband.  It’s a different experience, maybe even a different position then they usually make love to.  When it’s over, both are thrilled, and they still love each other very much.  Nothing changes between them; nothing changes even for a moment throughout the sexual experience.  Now, which of your Big Three did they have?”

 
“Easy.  She’s a slut who fucked her husband, and of course he went along with her for the ride… Oh,
literally,
I’m sure.”  Giggle.

 
Ooops.
OH FUCK!!! 
I HATE that!!!
I forgot to think first.
  SHIT! 
I forgot to think before speaking.

 
“Never-mind Mack, my mistake.  They
made love
of course and nothing changed between them.  Sorry.  I forgot to think, um, I forgot to use my
brain to mouth
filter.  Sorry.” 
Argh

 
“Do you use your ‘brain to mouth filter’ often with me Suzanne?”

 
“Of course.” 
What?! 
SHIT!  “No!  I really don’t Mack.  I’m fine.  Sorry I just get confused when you talk about that kind of sex, I mean stuff.  That kind of
stuff.
 
Shit.
  Mack, please don’t touch me.” 
Dammit! 
I’m losing it. Breathe.

 
“Suzanne, I would like you to take a deep breath and look at me.  I’m not moving near you and I’m not touching you.  I’m just looking at you.  I want you to remember that I won’t hurt you no matter what you say or do.  You are safe with me Suzanne.”

 
“I know.  I just need a minute to breathe Mack.  Okay?  Just don’t talk for a minute…
please.
”

 
And as silence continues, I realize Mack is right- I always think of everything
badly.
  Everything is ‘The Big Three’-
always.
  Even non sex is somehow categorized into my head as ‘The Big Three’.  It’s gentle, mediocre or brutal,
always
.  Everything is, and every person is gentle, mediocre, or brutal.  That’s it.  Period.  I seem to place all events and even
people
into these three categories.

 
“Mack.  I think I may have just had an epiphany of sorts, but I’m begging you to let me talk about it later, AFTER Marcus leaves.  I just can’t do it yet.  It has to do with everything, and Z, and everyone, and how I
do
categorize everything and everyone.  I know I do it, and I’m sure there is some perfectly
shrinky
reason for it, but I just don’t want to do this right now.  Its 11:25 and I really need a little nap before Marcus arrives.”

 
“Suzanne, you just woke up…”

 
“I know, but I’m most strong and, like, clear or something after I wake up.  I just want to rest for an hour, that’s all.  You can stay or go, maybe find Kayla.  Oh, is she here this morning?  If she is, go find her, fake a doctor emergency, and then take her to the gross cafeteria for breakfast, or I guess lunch now. Yes. Do something like that.  Mack?”  Why is he just staring at me?

 
“Suzanne, you’re behaving a little erratically at the moment.  Can you tell me what has you feeling so stressed out?  I know you, and I know when you’re pushing me away, or deflecting, and right now that is
exactly
what you’re doing.  What is it?  Just tell me Suzanne, and we’ll work through it together.”

 
“I can’t Mack.  I really can’t.  If I start now, I’ll start crying, and I won’t be ready for Marcus.  And we both know I
need
to be ready for Marcus.  Please just give me until 1:30, and then wake me.  I’ll be ready quickly for Marcus, and we can get it over with. 
Please,
Mack?”

 
“That’s a little longer than a quick nap Suzanne, but if you honestly believe you need it, then certainly.  I’ll entertain myself elsewhere, and be back by 1:30 sharp.  Are you sure Suzanne?  That doesn’t leave you much time to prepare yourself for Marcus.”

 
“Yup.  I’m good.  I know what I’m wearing already, and my shoes are picked out.  All I need to do is brush my teeth, reapply my lipstick, get dressed and we’re on our way.  Mack, honestly, you’re wasting my nap time.  Go.  I’m fine.”

 
“Okay Suzanne, I’ll see you shortly.”

  At 1:55 Mack and I leave my room, for the more impersonal conference offices.  Mack's residual hospital privileges allow for him to book the room for the next 2 hours.  God, I hope this meeting with Marcus isn't going to take two hours. 
Argh...
  When we enter the room, Mack pulls a chair in the middle of the table for me, nearest the door.  Sitting two seats over on
my
side of the table, Mack settles in with a kind of 'it's going to be okay' smile and shrug.  God, I love him.  He
always
knows what to do in any given situation, at any given time with me.
  "Mack?  I just want to tell you how much I love you, and how wonderful I think you are, no matter what happens."  I whisper, and almost choke up. 
Dammit.
  "Suzanne, you’re going to get through this, and I will not let anything or
anyone
hurt you.  I promise.  Oh, and I love
you
very much Suzanne."  Mack winks, shrugs, and grins.
  "Thanks, Mack." Big exhale.
  Seconds later, there is a knock on the door.  Jumping, my head whips around a little frantic looking at the door. 
Shit.
  What did I think was going to happen?  Marcus magically appears in the chair across from me? 
Christ
.  Get a grip.

 
When Marcus enters, I just freeze.  I have no breath.  I don't have a single thought.  I don't even think my heart is beating.   Everything is just still. 
SHIT!
  "Marcus.  Please take a seat." 

 
Mack offers the chair across the table from me.  Dammit.  Now I have to look at him, or at least in his direction. 
  "Thanks.  You look lovely, honey.  It's so..."

 
But already everything is wrong.  Shaking my head, I can't help but start pulling at my hair.  No names.  NO NAMES!  He isn't supposed to call me names. 
EVER.
  No one is allowed to call me names anymore.  Mack promised.  No one gets to call me a name.
  "Marcus!  As I discussed with you, countless times, this is SUZANNE, your wife, and I must insist that you use her proper name,
SUZANNE.
  Do you understand?"
  "Ah, yes. Sorry.  I just always called her, hon..."
 
Christ,
I actually hear myself moaning.  What the hell is that?  I'm
moaning?
 
JESUS!
  I sound psychotic.  It's just a word.  It's actually a good word.  Most people don't think of that word as a bad word. It's really not that bad.  Stop acting like a psycho. 
Shit.

 
"Suzanne?  Suzanne can you talk to me?  Would you like Marcus to leave the room for a minute so we can talk privately?  Suzanne?  Can you answer me?"
  Mack gently reaches out, and takes my one hand into his.  Oh, smart.  Holding my hand stops me from pulling my hair out.  Giggle.  Shit.  Don't start this.  Not now.  Marcus will hate me for sure.  Then where do I go?  Ooops, and there’s another giggle.
  "Suzanne.  I need you to talk to me.  Right now.  What are you thinking about?"
  "Well, Mack, I was thinking how smart you are holding my hand so I don't rip all my hair out, then I was thinking that Marcus must despise this kind of behavior, which makes me giggle a little.  Then I thought, 'Huh.  Where do I go when Marcus decides he wants a divorce?’"  And another giggle escapes.
  "I don't hate you!  And I, ah, don't want a divorce.  I came to see when you were coming home with me."
  "
Coming home?
  With
you?
  To
Chicago?
Are you
INSANE?
  Why the hell would I go
anywhere
with you, Marcus?"
  "What?  Ah... I thought you wanted to come home."
  "Why would you think that?  Because I've been so
keen
to keep in touch with you?  Or because I’ve seen you no more than 4 times in the last four months? 
Why
Marcus?  Why would you think I want to return to you,
with you?
  Because you're
'Marcus'?
"
  "We're married.  You're my wife, honey..."
  "DON'T CALL ME THAT!!  I am not
her
anymore. 
Fuck!
"  Wow.  Marcus jumped at my swear.  That's kinda funny actually.
  "Suzanne.  I want you to take a big breath for me, right now.  Suzanne!  Look at me!  Now!  I want you to turn and look at
ME
."