by MV Ellis
Fuck. This woman knew how to slay me. Why would she cry? And more to the point, why wouldn't she want me to see that?
I gently turned her back toward me and brought my hand up to rest on her cheek. I looked into her eyes, trying to read her, but she kept her expression artfully blank.
“I told you I see you. I’ll always see you. Even when you want to hide, I’ll find you. I see you.” I walked toward her, and taking my cue, she returned to her original position, seated on the back of the couch. I followed suit, kneeling on it between her legs, pushing them wide open, before slipping inside her. We both caught our breath.
“I’ll find you. I’ll find you. I’ll find you.” I chanted over and over, moving in and out of her in time to the rhythm I created.
“I’ll find you. I’ll find you. I’ll find you.” Each thrust took us closer to release and drew her closer to me. Every time our bodies met and parted, it was as though some of the armor she wore to protect herself fell away. We didn’t break eye contact, even while we came long and hard, emotions coursing through our veins. Even as the tears she had predicted fell silently down her cheeks.
So many times I had likened her in my mind to a china doll. It was her beautiful porcelain skin, wide, often unblinking eyes, and her perfectly crafted rosebud lips, but more than that, it was her underlying fragility. Just like a china doll, on the surface she seemed tough, like she could weather whatever may come her way, but anyone who looked closer could see the cracks and the stresses. Treat her too roughly and she'd shatter into a thousand tiny pieces.
Despite her apparently outgoing nature, Marnie played her cards incredibly close to her chest. In fact, she rarely put herself in situations where she needed to play them at all. I knew it took courage and trust for her to open herself up to me like that. To let me see her. To watch me see her. I was honored that she’d trusted me again to witness the vulnerable side of her she always kept so well-hidden from other people, especially after I’d shattered her trust before.
I wasn't sure what she wanted from me in that moment, as we came down from our highs and her tears continued. I cradled her head in my hands, fingers embedded in her thick, jet-black bob, and used my thumbs to wipe away the tears as they fell. She didn’t stop me. In fact, she slid her arms around my waist and pulled me closer. I would have stayed there all night if she’d needed me to.
Twenty-Seven
Marnie
I woke with a start, completely disorientated. For a split second, I had no idea where I was or what day it was. I sat up abruptly, quickly assessing my surroundings. Mia’s house. My old room. I began to remember. I had fled to Mia’s because I’d desperately needed to escape the city. The video. I’d wanted to be out of the firing line as that shitshow erupted even more than it already had. Luke. I’d tried to hide from him, but he’d found me, in more ways than one.
He may have found me, but he was nowhere to be seen now. I guess he’d gotten what he came for—to check on me and see that I was okay. He’d wanted to cover himself if something were to happen to me or had already happened. He wanted to be able to say he’d been a good friend. It was bullshit of course. Real friends didn’t fuck and run when they’d explicitly said they’d stay.
“I’ll still be here in the morning.”
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I was fairly certain that Luke hadn’t kept his word—not that I’d expected him to, but it would have been nice to have been proven wrong. After fucking on Mia’s couch, he’d had carried me upstairs, my legs wrapped around his waist monkey-style. I’d directed him to my old room, and once there, we’d tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of long, entwined limbs and ardent anticipation. We’d slowed the pace the second time, taking a moment to explore and savor each other’s bodies, answering questions we’d never before been willing at ask. I’d fallen asleep in Luke’s arms, daring to imagine doing the same every day.
I reached for my phone to check the time—7:00 p.m. Jesus. I’d slept the afternoon and evening away, but I guessed I’d needed it. Plus, it wasn’t like I’d had anything better to do than that. Nobody wanted me or needed me anywhere. No job. No friends desperate for my company. No Luke. In fact, if it wasn’t for that sex tape, I could probably have disappeared without a trace and nobody would have noticed for weeks.
I padded downstairs, considering my next move. Where did I go from there? I stopped in my tracks, halted by the smell of Lysol and delicious food. I tiptoed hesitantly into Mia’s kitchen and was blown away by what I saw. Luke was bustling around the room, wearing my grandmother’s apron, as though he’d done it thousands of times before. He looked up when he heard me approach the threshold.
“Oh, if it isn’t Sleeping Beauty herself. You hungry? I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat when you woke up, so I ordered pretty much one of everything Uber-eats had to offer. What do you feel like?” He waved his hands expansively at the spread in front of him. He wasn’t lying—there was enough food there to feed a small army.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“Gone? Why would I have? Don’t you remember me saying I’d be here in the morning?”
“I do, but…”
“But you figured I was full of shit and as soon as your back was turned, I’d disappear without a trace?”
I didn’t say anything, but my silence spoke volumes.
“Well, I guess I asked for that, but just know that if I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it. If you need something, I’m there. If you even think you might need something, it’s done.” His eyes burned with sincerity that left me in no doubt that he meant it, but it also had me questioning why he seemed to care so much.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh? I thought we’d been through that already. I’m serving food. Why? Is the apron too much? I thought it looked kinda cute.” He gave me a look of mock indignation, though he couldn’t contain his grin long enough to convince me he was genuinely hurt. That grin. My heart kicked in my chest.
“No. I mean playing house. The place smells like a hospital. What did you do?”
“I cleaned. I’m guessing you haven’t been here for a while. Everything was a little dusty, so I thought I’d freshen the place up a little. I even ran the vacuum. You slept through the whole thing.”
“You cleaned? Yourself?”
“Uh… well, there’s nobody else here, so…?”
“Why?”
“Again, I feel like we’re going around in circles. The place needed spring-cleaning. I cleaned. It’s that simple.”
Ha! I hope he recognized the irony of that statement. The situation was the furthest thing from simple.
“I meant, why would you do that for me?”
“Seriously, Marns? Why the fuck wouldn’t I? Why wouldn’t anybody?”
Because I’m not worth it. I’m not that girl who people bend over backward for. Never had been. I had no idea what to say to him, so I changed the subject.
“What did you order? I’m starving.” I wasn’t really, but it gave me something to say.
“What didn’t I order is a far easier question. What do you feel like?”
I felt confronted and confused. I wanted to question him more about what the fuck he was playing at. On the other hand, I figured that some things were best left unsaid.
I approached the counter, peering down at the mammoth spread in front of me.
“Ummm… right now I feel like something hot… and spicy.” I raked my teeth across the corner of my bottom lip, well aware of the effect the action was likely to have on him. Sure enough, Luke’s gaze followed the movement, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“Perfect. I have a curry you really need to try.”
An hour later and we’d collapsed in a food coma on the sofa. Luke had switched on the TV, but I wasn’t watching it—though he seemed engrossed in a documentary about rap legends on Netflix. I was idly flicking through social media on my phone when he spoke out of the blue.
“Hey, M
arns, can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal.”
I had a theory that if someone has to seek permission before they ask you something, they already know it’s offensive or hurtful or otherwise inappropriate.
“You can ask me, but I reserve the right not to answer.”
“Okay, that’s fair enough. Of course I’m not about to try to force you to do something you don’t want to….” He hesitated, which made me worry that it was something really bad.
“Why do you hide?”
“Excuse me?”
“Emotionally, I mean. Not physically.”
“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. I’m talking about the way you hold back from being yourself every single day. Recently, there have been moments when you’ve let me see you, where the mask has slipped momentarily and you’ve let me in, but then just like that, it will slot back into place, and you’ll be gone.”
“I don’t d—” I started to protest, but he wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily.
“This is me you’re talking to. Whatever shit you tell other people to shut them down and shut them up isn’t about to work here, so you can save it. Do you think I don’t know why you were doing whatever it was you were doing with Arlo as long as you were? That whole time I’d tried to work out the dynamic between the two of you and couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but now I see it so clearly I can’t believe I could have missed it before. It was so blindingly obvious, right under my nose.”
I suspected he was way off base with whatever theory he had, but he seemed so fired up I knew he wasn’t going to move on from this until he’d had his say.
“You sought him out because, until recently, he was as emotionally unavailable as you were. That meant he was ‘safe.’ It meant you could be with him without truly being with him—he was never going to ask more of you than you were prepared to give. It also meant that you had the perfect excuse not to get too deeply involved with anyone else and risk opening yourself up to them. You kept coming back to him because it was the easiest way to protect your heart.”
Well damn.
“Listen, Luke, instead of spending years overanalyzing me when you thought I wasn’t looking, why didn’t you just ask me? If you had, maybe you’d know that I kept coming back to Arlo because he’s ridiculously good in the sack. Like the best I’ve ever had.” I emphasized the word ever, all the time knowing it was a total dick move. He’d hit the rawest of raw nerves, and I needed to shut him down before he tried to open the wound any further.
“Touché. I’m sure he’s incredibly talented, if the sounds I’ve heard from his bedroom and the reports from countless satisfied women around the world are to be believed.”
Touché right back at me.
Luke knew mentioning that I was one of scores of women who had sampled Arlo’s delights was akin to him returning the backhanded insult I had just served him. That made each of us equally assholey.
“I told you I see you. And what I see right now is someone who has built a cage around themselves, especially around their heart. You’ve even chosen a career that on the face of it means you’re out there for all to see, but in reality means that you get paid to hide who you really are and be whoever someone tells you to be. It’s the perfect cover. Your whole life is about you hiding, but what I want to know is why.”
What?
“I don’t know, Dr. Freud, probably the same reason you hide your talent behind your twin brother’s big personality and giant ego.”
“What?”
It was a low blow turning the tables on Luke like that, but on the other hand, I believed what I said, 100 percent.
“You heard me. Do you think you’re the only one with eyes or the only one who ‘sees’? We’ve known each other a long time. I’ve witnessed it so many times over the years between the two of you, and it drives me insane. You constantly stand back and let Arlo shine, while you’re in the shadows trying not to wither. Arlo’s the front man of the Heartless Few, so he tends to be the face of the band, I get that. But what I don’t get is why you let him lead everything you guys do. You’re just as talented as he is, arguably more so. You play mean guitar, and your voice is amazing. Even the poems you used to write when we were kids were as good as any lyrics Arlo has ever penned, yet you don’t seem to believe you’re worthy of the glory he receives. You don’t back yourself.”
“That’s not how it is.” He looked at me with a mix of curiosity and irritation.
“Isn’t it? That’s exactly how it looks from where I’m standing. You don’t put yourself out there. You don’t take risks. You let him do all that, and as a result, you’re robbing yourself of the opportunity to reach your full potential. Obviously, it’s part of the weird twin dynamic thing you have going on, but it pisses me off that your life is all about him when you yourself have so much to give.”
“That’s bullshit, Marns. My life isn’t all about Arlo. How can you even say that?”
“Isn’t it? Whatever you say. Where do you live?”
“I stay at Arlo’s when I’m in NYC, but that doesn’t mean—”
“How many songs have you contributed to Heartless Few albums over the years.”
“None basically, but Arlo—”
“But Arlo. But. Arlo. Do you realize how often your start and finish sentences that way? But Arlo this. But Arlo that. What about Luke?” With my eyes, I challenged him to contradict me.
“Look, I know it might seem like that from the outside, and you know how much we’ve struggled and clashed over the years, but our shit’s tight these days. You know that too. As weird as other people might think it is, it works for us, and that’s all that counts.”
“Does it really work for you though? I know it works for Arlo, but all I see is you making compromises and him doing whatever the fuck he wants. Arlo does Arlo, and the rest of the world has to fall in line, you more than anybody.”
“Arlo has my back no matter what it looks like.”
“Really? Is that why he let you drop out of film school to go on the road, even though it was clear that it was something you really wanted to do at the time? Never mind that whole Mrs. Robinson thing, which would have been another reason to stay.”
“He didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted to.”
“I can’t know what’s inside your head, but what would have happened if you hadn’t wanted to? What if you tried to do something for yourself? Would Arlo have been so accommodating then? You and I both know he wouldn’t have. Face it, Luke, it’s his way or the highway, and given that you’re still lurking around in his wingspan, clearly it’s his way 100 percent of the time.”
Twenty-Eight
Luke
I really wanted to be able to tell her that she was talking shit, but I knew that at least on some level, she was on the mark. Everything in Arlo’s life was about Arlo, and with his talent, confidence, arrogance, and ego, almost nobody dared to tell him any different. Except our Mom. And Gramps. And London, of course. She didn’t take any shit from him. Not even close. It was almost fun to witness him floundering with the shock of not holding all the cards. Almost. When I was feeling more generous, I felt sorry for the poor bastard. He was experiencing what the rest of us went through as kids—finding out that everything in the world wasn’t all about him. I guess he was a late developer on that front, and as a result, London was busting his balls. It couldn’t have happened to a better douche.
“Is that why you leaked the video? To teach Arlo a lesson?” As soon as the words were half out of my mouth, I regretted them, but even as they tumbled from my lips, I knew there was no taking them back. I also knew I was going to regret them for a long time to come. Sure enough, Marnie looked as though I’d slapped her in the face. No. In fact, she looked like I’d punched her in the gut.
I sat paralyzed while I watched the emotions march across her face, and she struggled to keep them in check. Hurt. Anger. Frustration. She b
it her bottom lip, clearly trying hard to keep her shit together.
“Do you really think I’d do that? After all that crap you literally just finished spouting about seeing me, in the next breath you accuse me of intentionally hurting a friend?” She sounded sad more than angry, which made me feel like even more of a dick.
“Marns, I’m sorry. I seem to be constantly fucking up with you. I’m not gonna lie, the stuff you said about Arlo was close to the bone. I guess I lashed out because you hit a raw nerve. I know you wouldn’t intentionally do anything to hurt Arlo, or anyone, for that matter. Honestly.”
She swallowed a few times, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill.
“If you didn’t mean it, you wouldn’t have said it. It’s cool. I know I fucked up majorly with that video and that you and Arlo hate me for it. I guess I don’t blame you, but for the record, I took that video in a moment of weakness. The worst thing is that I knew Arlo’s rules about no photos or videos, but I was drunk and lonely and acting out. No excuse, but it is what it is. I never even looked at it again afterward. In fact, I had honestly forgotten all about it until it all blew up, and now, of course I regret it, big time. If I could take it back, I would, but I can’t, so it’s fucked.” She drew in a ragged breath.
“I’ve been to the authorities about it though. I don’t know who, how, or why, but the only logical explanation I can come up with as to what happened is that my phone has somehow been hacked. How else would anyone get access to that footage? Still, I’m sure Arlo will never forgive me, regardless. I’ve made my bed….”
“I don’t think he’ll never forgive you. It’s just gonna take some time, is all. I mean, he’s pretty fucking mad right now, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I saw him so riled up, and you know how much of a temper he has. He was white-hot with rage. I think less about the video itself, and more because London took off as soon as she heard the news.”