I need the sound of the city.
I need to feel myself moving through space with each motion.
Franklin and I have still not had sex. The more I find out about him, the more certain I am that I don’t want to be intimate with him, so if anything were to happen, it would be without my consent.
Honestly, I'm pleasantly surprised that he has not pushed the issue since the wedding night. He says that he's been busy, but maybe he is just occupied.
He has had lots of meetings with lawyers and various members of each department all in an effort to try to make this transition as smooth as possible. But given what I heard at the party, I wonder how much his lack of interest in me is a result of his keen interest in something else.
I pick up the pace and put one foot confidently in front of the other. The wind feels cold against my face. I pump my hands to get the blood rushing around but it does little to warm me up.
I walk past a mother rushing by me with a baby in a stroller as well as a golden retriever who is only too happy to be out and about. My mouth is parched and my lips are dry, cracked. My eye tingles and a tear forms, not from sadness but from a strong wisp of cold air that slices through it.
I want desperately to stop when I get to the first intersection but I force myself to jog in place, get a hold of my breathing, and keep going. When I pass a bodega and the smell of freshly baked bread consumes me, I am thankful for the fact that I never bring my wallet because I probably won’t be able to say no.
The cramp in my side that started out as a little annoyance has ballooned into something that feels like a gut punch with each step. I don’t make it to the end of the second block. I stop just short of the intersection, bending in half trying to get some air into my lungs.
I hate running. Did I ever mention that?
I walk for another block and start to feel better. My mind seems to become clearer and more focused. My thoughts are no longer jumbled together.
I still don’t know what to do about Henry, Franklin, this marriage, or the Tate Media empire but at least I have the thought that I can come up with a plan.
I take my time going back home. I walk a lot and run in short little bursts but don’t push myself like I did on my way out.
When I get back to my building, I get on the elevator and my mood shifts. Whatever clarity I just experienced, suddenly vanishes. Franklin’s apartment is thousands of square feet and yet it’s not enough.
Just as the elevator doors open, I see her. She has tears streaming down her face, which she wipes off with her sleeves.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I say as she tries to get past me and into the elevator.
“Nothing, nothing,” she blurts out and continues to cry.
The girl looks to be around sixteen and that’s being generous. She is skinny and barely 5’2. Dressed in jeans and a hoodie with her hair falling into her face, she looks like any teenager you would see on the street.
“What happened?” I ask her. “Please, you have to tell me.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” she snaps and brushes my hand off her shoulder. “Let me go.”
I hesitate to follow her down but I change my mind at the last minute and put my hand out for the doors to open.
“What are you doing?” she asks, burying herself into the corner.
“What happened? Were you just with Franklin? Did he do something?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, hiding her head.
“Please,” I beg. She hides within herself, clearly traumatized.
I try one more time.
“Please, tell me your name. You can trust me.”
“You’re his wife, right?” the girl asks, pulling her face slightly from behind her loose hoodie, just enough for me to see her.
Her eyes get wide just as mine narrow.
Suddenly, I recognize her.
“You were there at the party, right?” I ask. “I saw you two talking by the library.”
“Get away from me,” she says, swatting my hand away as I try to touch her.
She thinks that I’m upset about her sleeping with him, when it’s something else entirely.
“How old are you?” I ask. “What happened? Please, you can trust me.”
When the elevator doors swing open, she rushes past me and disappears down the hall.
When she glances back, I snap a photo of her.
5
Aurora
I ride the elevator back to the penthouse completely shaken up. I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what I'm not supposed to do.
There's usually an elevator operator here, pressing the buttons but today he's absent. Did Franklin arrange this, too, or is it just a coincidence?
I walk into the apartment and take off my running shoes in the hall closet. I walk quietly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. After downing all of it, I stare out of the window at the New York skyline and wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do. If that girl was just having an affair with my husband, then that's one thing but if she was actually underage and if she was crying because he attacked her, then…
My thoughts trail off.
I knew that Franklin was a difficult and egomaniacal man.
What I did not know is the extent to which he could be cruel and unkind.
I walk to the far end of the apartment toward my bedroom. There are sounds coming from further away. My throat tightens up. It's still going on.
I walk to the back room, the master bedroom, and peek through the cracked door. The moaning is coming from them; Franklin is on top of her. I can't see her face, but it doesn't sound like she's protesting.
I clear my throat and he turns to look at me. I expect him to be surprised and to pull away but he doesn't. Instead, he winks at me and keeps going.
“Oh, no, who is that?” the woman asks, trying to get him to stop.
“Don't worry about her. That's just my wife,” he says and thrusts into her.
This time I don't bother making a scene. I just go to my bedroom, close the door, and lock it.
I change out of my sweaty clothes and jump into the shower, letting the hot scalding water rush over my naked body.
I stand here for a long time hoping that the heat will wash away some of what I've seen, but the visual is as strong as ever when I towel myself off.
An hour later, there's a knock on my door. I don't answer.
He knocks harder.
“Come on, Aurora, let me in.”
“Go away,” I say without looking up from my computer.
“Open the door. Now.”
He knocks so loud that the door sounds like it's going to come off the hinges.
“I'm not kidding,” he says and I force myself out of the bed.
I've been sitting in my best approximation to a yoga position and my legs have fallen asleep so it takes me a few steps to walk normally.
“I'm sorry you had to see that,” he says.
“Me, too,” I say through the crack in the door.
Franklin pushes it open and walks in. He sits down and pats the seat next to him. Instead, I pull the chair from the desk and position myself across from him.
“Come on, this is what you're going to be like?”
“I don't know what you want me to say,” I say. “Do you want me to applaud you?”
“Listen, we already had this conversation. You made it perfectly clear that you didn't want to be touched and I have made it perfectly clear that until that happens, I'm gonna do what I wanna do.”
“So, you'll stop cheating on me if I have sex with you?” I ask. “Is that what you're saying?”
“Well, you clearly have no interest in having sex with me. Why can't I be with someone else?”
I don't really have an answer to this.
What I really want to ask him is about the underage waitress who rushed out of our apartment with tears in her eyes.
What I really want to know is why did she look so scared?
&nbs
p; What the hell did he do to frighten her?
But I keep my mouth shut. For now.
If I were to bring it up, he would probably deny it and that would be the end of it.
No, I need to find out more about her first.
“Listen, I don't know why you're getting so withdrawn,” Franklin says. “I have tried to make a move on you. I have tried to take you out on a romantic date. I have tried to woo you, but you are rejecting all of my advances. I have needs and I have a lot of shit going on with this buyout so I need to let off some steam. I'm sure you can understand that.”
“I feel like we've had this conversation already,” I say. “Can you please leave?”
“Yes, we've talked about this a number of times but nothing is resolved. What do you want, Aurora? Do you want me to be faithful to you even though we don't have anything between us? What exactly am I going to be faithful to?”
I don't have an answer to that. The only thing I know is that I can't stand sitting across from him and him peering into my eyes.
I stand up, wrap my arms around my shoulders, and walk toward the window.
I stare at the skylight and wonder what all of those people below us are doing, thinking, and experiencing. Perhaps, if I try hard enough, I can transport myself to another world and not be here anymore.
Unfortunately, I'm not so lucky.
Franklin takes a few steps closer to me and touches my shoulder.
I flinch but he just pulls me closer to him. He pushes my hair off my neck and places his lips to my skin.
Shivers run down my spine but not the good kind. My heart starts to pound out of my chest and it's so loud that I can barely think.
I shake my head no and try to pull away from him but his grasp is firm and strong. “No,” I whisper just as he puts his mouth over mine to shut me up.
“No,” I say again, pulling away.
“Well, now, baby. Just let go. Trust me, I'll take you to the moon.”
“No.” I shove him away from me. “Don't you get that? I don't want you.”
Instead of replying, he raises his hand and slaps me across the face.
I grab onto my burning cheek and glare at him.
“I'm so, so sorry,” he says quickly under his breath.
He pulls me closer to him and apologizes over and over again. I shake my head trying to push him away but not so hard that he would slap me again. The violence came out of nowhere and the tenderness that followed confuses me.
“Aurora, I'm sorry. I have no idea what happened.”
I don’t respond.
“I just got so…angry,“ he continues. “But that was way out of line. That was so fucked up. Please, please forgive me.”
When I don't say anything, he continues to hold me as tight as possible.
His whole body is shaking as he repeats himself over and over again. It takes me a few moments to realize that the only way I can make him go away is to accept his apology.
“It's okay,” I say quietly.
“Really?” he asks, giving me a kiss on the cheek.
I nod and he kisses me on the forehead.
“I just need to be alone now, okay?”
“No, you can't,” he says. “You can't leave me like this. I feel like such an asshole.”
Well, you are, I say silently to myself.
I force a smile and repeat my request. After a few moments, he finally caves.
“I have some work to do anyway,” he says, walking out of the room. In the doorway, he stops and turns to face me. “But we're okay now, right?”
I nod, averting my eyes.
“Yes, sure,” I whisper to get him to leave.
When the door closes and he disappears down the hallway, I pick up my phone and dial Henry's number.
6
Henry
I haven’t talked to her since the wedding. I’ve tried calling and texting but I haven’t heard anything back. At first, I held a grudge. I was angry at her for not telling me what’s going on and for leaving me hanging. I was angry with her for going through with the wedding. But then something occurred to me. Maybe Aurora only did it because she had no other choice.
That’s when I decided that I would answer her calls no matter what. I wouldn’t play the cat and mouse game. If she ever called, texted, or contacted me in any other way, I would be there. I would put away my pride and I would be there for her.
Why?
That’s what people who love each other do.
Let’s just say that it’s easier to make this promise than to keep it. It has been weeks since I have heard from her after I had left her about a hundred voice mails and texts.
Then one night, one lonely Wednesday night, suddenly, I see her name on my screen.
A big gulp jumps into my throat.
My pride makes me want to reject her just like she had rejected me. I want to push her away. I want to make her wait. I want to tell her no she can’t have access to me every time she wants it because she doesn’t deserve that.
When the phone rings again, I press Accept.
“Aurora?” I ask.
“Henry, I’m sorry,” she mumbles. Her voice is frantic and out of control.
“What happened? What did he do?”
“Nothing. Nothing happened.”
“I don’t believe you. Did he hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” she says. I hear her take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I’m sorry that I didn’t call you earlier. I’m sorry that I left things the way that I did.”
“Why did you?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” she says after a long pause. “I was lost and I just got married and I thought that… I don’t know what I thought.”
“What is going on? I thought that you were going to go to your father and tell him that the wedding was off.”
“Yes, that’s what I was going to do but then something came up.”
“What?”
“I can’t talk about this now. Not over the phone. Will you meet me?”
“I don’t know,” I say quietly. “I’m not in New York City and I don’t want to drive two hours just to hold your hand when you have a fight with your husband.”
That’s a cold thing to say, but it’s the truth. She has to hear it.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Of course, I’m being selfish. I just want you to know that I…love you and that has never changed.”
I shake my head, trying to figure out what to do. I want to see her and I want to talk to her face-to-face about everything that has happened but I don’t want to be the one making the first move.
“I really need to talk to you, Henry. It’s not about us, it’s about everything that is going on. I need your help.”
I let out a sigh.
“I’m going to be in the city tomorrow. I’m working in the office now, two days a week. We can meet for lunch.”
“I’d love that,” she says as her voice cracks.
I see Franklin at work during our weekly meeting. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t feel a pang of guilt over meeting up with his wife. The only reason why I’m here, working in this high-rise is because of him.
He gave me a chance when no one else did and he even wrote me a very generous check to cover all of my mother’s pancreatic cancer procedures.
The insurance was useless when it came to experimental treatments and barely covered the chemotherapy and radiation as it was. Thanks to his thirty-thousand dollars, I was able to prevent her house from going into foreclosure, stay on top of all of the medical bills, and hire a nurse to take care of her when I couldn’t be there.
I suggest that we go to a restaurant but Aurora said that we should meet in the lobby of a three-star hotel that caters to business travelers. I don’t know why I’m here but I grab a seat in the lobby near the window and answer some emails on my phone, waiting for her to arrive.
Aurora walks in dressed in jeans and a form-fitting blue sweater that accentuates her graceful body. She tos
ses her hair nervously from side to side and it bounces as if she were a model in a shampoo commercial.
I don't think I have ever seen anyone as beautiful as she is right now. She sits down next to me without giving me a hug or even touching my hand. When I reach out to her, she pulls away. She looks around cautiously and whispers, “I can't.”
“How are you?” I ask.
“I'm okay,” she says quietly.
She's lying but it's too early for me to press her. For a second, I just want to stay in the moment. I just want to lose myself in everything that is right between us, rather than dwell on all of the things that are wrong.
Aurora stares into the distance, somewhere behind me, and I look at her face in her hands for signs of pain.
Did he hurt her?
Did he force himself on her?
Has she had sex with him willingly?
I don't know the answers to any of these questions and I will not find them out here.
“I need to talk to you,” she says after a moment. “I got a room. Number 513. I'm going to go upstairs now. You stay here and follow me up in five to ten minutes. Please make sure that no one is following you. We cannot be seen together.”
She gets up before I can nod. She heads to the elevator and disappears behind the stainless doors.
I glance at the television screen in the lobby and stare at the gray-haired anchor talking about the fires in Australia. When a sufficient amount of time has passed, I go upstairs.
7
Henry
I knock on the door of her hotel room and as soon as I walk in, Aurora closes it, nestling herself against my body. She holds me tightly and begins to sob into my shoulder.
“I have missed you so much,” she whispers over and over again.
I drape my arms around her and hold her tightly as wave after wave of tears flows through her. I rub her head slightly, bury my hands in her hair promising that everything will be okay. I make this promise over and over again knowing full well that it may be a lie.
“What happened?” I ask when she finally pulls away from me. “Did he hurt you?”
Fatal Marriage Page 3