Love's Illusions: A Novel

by Cazzola, Jolene

  “Oh yeah, I guess I forgot that part of the story,” I replied. “It just happened when I left the hospital… I backed into a pole as I was trying to get out of the parking space – some asshole pinned me in. My parents are going to kill me when I file an insurance claim to get it fixed.”

  He shook his head – “Did you forget what I do for a living? You don’t have to file an insurance claim, I can fix that for you, and your parents’ll never know the difference.”

  “But you’re a mechanic; my car needs body work – you can’t do that.”

  “Ahhh, yeah, but I’m multi-talented. And remember, Jeff works at a body shop, believe me, we can fix that in no time at all,” he said. “C’mon, let’s eat.”

  We ate, joking and talking about nothing – the small talk flowed between us as it always did. I could pick up a single grain of rice with chopsticks; Michael had a hard time even holding them, and I teased him unmercifully about his lack of coordination. He loved to try to make me drop whatever morsel I was balancing between the sticks by poking me in the ribs or saying something sexy to get me to laugh. Tonight he was reaching his arm across the small round, glass top table in the dining area of the studio apartment, brushing hair back from my face and hooking it behind my ear. His touch was gentle and caring – it felt good, relaxed me and made it easier to talk.

  When he was done eating, he got up, walked behind my chair, leaned on the back of it, and brushing the hair to one side, kissed the back of my neck. I felt a twinge of excitement shoot down the length of my spine – he knew how sensitive the back of my neck was. He repeated the kiss, then his arms crossed over my shoulders, and slid down to my breasts squeezing as the warmth of his breath on my neck started a flame burning inside me.

  I squirmed, but before I could ask him to stop, he did, whispering in my ear, “Can we talk now?”

  I nodded. He motioned towards the bed with his chin and I smiled. “Okay, that’s always a good place to talk,” I said.

  I sat down on the edge of the double bed – actually it was just a mattress and box spring on the floor, no frame. He bent down pulling off my boots, then sat, removed his own, and scooted back plumping and arranging the pillows to prop us up. I wiggled into my favorite position, his arm around me, with my head on his chest; I always felt safe like this, and I needed that sensation to have the conversation I knew we must have.

  “All right, can we start over?” Michael asked. His voice was as soft and calm as I can ever remember hearing it. “Tell me again what happened with Stephen. I’m listening now.”

  This time I went through the events in a more coherent fashion, my voice steady instead of semi-hysterical, trying to describe my feelings along the way, but still avoiding any reference to my fantasy of putting my marriage back together – he had sensed that, and I sure didn’t want to put any more emphasis on it then necessary. Of course somewhere between yesterday and now, it was becoming all too obvious that ‘fantasy’ was exactly what it was – even to me.

  “You do know that he’s lying to you, don’t you,” Michael stated.

  “Maybe… probably, yes.”

  “It’s not ‘maybe’ Jackie, he’s lying. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but he is,” he said rolling and propping himself on one elbow so I was forced to raise my head and face him. “You don’t need Kent to tell you that whatever a rectal fistula is; it didn’t happen from falling off a ladder.”

  “You don’t know that – you’re not a doctor and…”

  “I don’t have to be a doctor to know – stop being so naive.”

  “I’m not…”

  “Right! You’re the most naïve person I’ve ever met – when you want to believe something you do, no matter what’s staring you in the face! Of course, that’s one of the things I like most about you,” he snickered.

  “Bullshit! He knows I’ll check… or at least he should know. I may love him, but I’m not going to be stupid anymore…” Michael’s face went blank. Realizing what I said I bolted up straight on the bed and shook my head – “Oh shit, that’s not what I meant. Goddamn it, please don’t do this, I can’t deal with… with any more right now! I just can’t!”

  The blank expression was looking labored – he was having his own internal struggle, looking for words, wanting to say… something… then finally he said, “But you are still in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “Michael, damn it… he’s my husband, I married him – I made a commitment to him! It’s not that simple. I can’t just snap my fingers and poof – all the feelings are gone just like that!”

  “Then why did you come here? Is that a simple enough question for you?” He was looking at me, his eyes questioning… no, his eyes were hurting – he was in pain.

  As I looked back into those whiskey colored eyes I felt things I couldn’t express – why DID I come here? All I could manage was, “I came here because you’re my friend, and my lover, and I needed to see you.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For now – I’m in pieces, it’s all I have to give. Is it enough?”

  It took what seemed like forever – I was almost afraid to meet his eyes, but I had to see and I did. I saw it the instant he decided. Wrapping himself around me, and pulling me back down onto the bed he murmured, “For now.”

  We laid there still – not moving, neither of us wanting to let go of the other, and then, as if overcome by some all-consuming urge he kissed me hard – harder than he ever had before. It hurt. I pulled back trying to breathe, trying to get away, but his grip on my arms only tightened, his fingers digging into my flesh as he rolled on top of me letting his full weight press me deep into the mattress. He lifted himself, his eyes boring through me – then just as swiftly as before he kissed me again hard on the lips. This time I tasted a slight hint of blood. He yanked my sweater up, lowered his head and sucked on my breasts just as hard. I gasped as he bit my nipples. “What are you doing? Michael, what the hell… you’re being too rough!” I tried protesting, but was caught somewhere in an unfamiliar emotion, between pain and ecstasy as his hand shoved down under my jeans finding the already wet, slippery place between my legs.

  I bit his shoulder through his shirt in response, pulling at the buttons to get it off. Kissing and nipping at each other in a whirl of emotion, as if all the talking, and feelings that couldn’t be expressed in words had to be let lose somehow before they consumed us, we were naked and panting in mere seconds. Sliding lower, his body falling off the edge of the bed, he grabbed my thighs forcing my legs apart, and raising my hips until his mouth engulfed me. I threw my head back then forward, and opened my eyes only to see that his eyes were open also watching my every expression. Our eyes locked – neither of us able to break the spell. I wiggled around trying to get loose, trying to regain some sense of control over my body, but he held me so tight, I tried fighting back again, I knew my thighs would be bruised in the morning. I also knew I didn’t care.

  My mind shot from one thought to the next then scattered into pieces until I realized what he was doing, and I struggled even harder to get away. He was overpowering me, consuming me, trying to own me. The more I struggled, the more determined he became; I knew that giving in was the only true option, but my mind refused to let go. Unable to stop my body from responding to his domination, I finally closed my eyes again, signaling that the struggle was over. He read my surrender… Seeing me give in mentally as well as physically, he pulled himself up and thrust inside me, hard, pounding, pushing so deep I could feel him in my womb, over and over… even wrapping my legs around his and squeezing as tight as possible couldn’t stop the force. He needed to consume me. My nails dug into his back in a long, deep raking motion causing him to gasp and flinch. I knew I had broken the skin, but he didn’t stop. I bit his arm hard, again drawing blood, and was rewarded with another pounding thrust. I could feel him still looking through me, and knew if I opened my eyes, I would see him staring back. I couldn’t look – I didn’t need to. As I gave
in, that edge of pain disappeared, and a sense of calm ecstasy shot through my entire body. I reached up and pulled Michael’s face to mine kissing him, in a wave of fanaticism, until he collapsed on top of me. We just laid there still joined with the sweat of our bodies acting like glue – neither of us said a word.

  Rising in silence, I headed for the shower. As the water tumbled over me I let my mind go blank. Michael pulled back the curtain and stepped in a few minutes later, still not saying a word. We kissed. The scratches on his back where I had broken the skin were deep, the bite on his arm wasn’t. I whispered an apology. Looking at the marks that were already starting to show on my arms and thighs he said, “me too.”

  “It’s okay, I wanted you too,” I replied, ending the conversation.

  ~~~~~~~~

  I was tired, overtaken by fatigue. My mind was uncertain of anything, so confused by the events of the last couple days, and the act Michael and I had just performed. All I wanted to do was sleep, however; I could neither sleep nor stay awake. I rolled around in a fitful state of unrest for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere in the wee hours before dawn I felt Michael kiss me and run his hands down my body. I know it happened, even though my mind refused to leave its half-conscious state. I remember wincing when he entered me this time; I have a foggy recollection of him saying something like, “I know, I’m sore too,” and stroking the hair out of my face. Then I slipped back into semi-sleep again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Black Lights

  I woke early, getting dressed as Michael continued to sleep. I was still drained, still an emotional wreck from all the pieces of my life that seemed to be in turmoil, not to mention the mental upheaval racing around my brain from our rough sex. He woke to the smell of coffee brewing. I found some bread in the sparsely stocked kitchen and popped it in the toaster. After some initial chit chat while we ate, neither of us mentioning anything about the night before, he asked, “Are you going back to the hospital today?”

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so,” I replied. “I want a chance to talk to Mary Beth and Kent, if possible, before I go.”

  He just nodded in agreement saying, “That sounds like a good plan.” We made arrangements to meet later for dinner at Vito’s. Michael would bring a couple bottles of wine – Evanston was a dry town, so if you wanted alcohol with dinner, you had to BYOB – and I headed home.

  Mary Beth said she had been trying to get in touch with me when I answered the phone that afternoon. “Where were you last night?” she asked. I told her the complete saga from the hospital, and explained that I had spent the night at Michael’s place (not mentioning anything about my bruises), but adding, “I’m not sure what I’m going to do about him. I think he wants more than I can deal with… at least at this point.”

  “Yeah, I coulda’ told ya that was happening – the bad boy is falling for you. Just don’t worry about it right now… it’s great sex, right?” she added.

  “Hmph, yeah, my mind flashed to last night, ahhh, yes, but I don’t want to hurt him…”

  “He’s a big boy, Jackie, he can take care of himself. Enjoy it while you can. I’m not sayin’ to treat him like that jerk with the names on the wall, but you’re not responsible for him. He’s known about Stephen from the start.”

  “Gee, thanks for reminding me, I’d almost managed to forget that jackass existed,” I hissed back. She just laughed, saying she had to go to her study group, and suggested she and Kent meet us at Vito’s later – Kent had information for me.

  My mind floated back to “the jackass” as I got ready to meet everyone for dinner, making sure I wore a long sleeved shirt. It happened shortly after I started at The Canteen, before meeting Michael – Levi and Rick were still flirting with me, competing to see which one was going to be the cause of my getting fired. Levi was not used to females rejecting him, even if it wasn’t personal as I had explained over and over. He was just too gorgeous and had too big an ego; it had to be satisfied somehow.

  A friend of his showed up one night who was just as great looking as Levi – long, dirty blonde hair, green eyes, a fantastic smile and exuding confidence. Levi introduced us assuring me that he was a good guy. Next thing I knew, he was feeding me ludes and I was hanging on him in between serving drinks. We left the bar that night together; he was the first man I had touched sexually since Stephen, and only the second lover I’d ever had. Of course he didn’t know that – in the age of ‘sex, drugs and rock’ n roll’ that was unusual. It was exciting, and I was wasted. We ended up back at his apartment, a very nice place on one of the upper floors of a high rise just off Lake Shore Drive – it fit well with the person standing before me, telling me how much he wanted me. When we were done, he handed me a kind of magic marker, and turning on a black light that was perched over his bed told me to sign my name on the wall. My jaw dropped to the floor as what seemed like multitudes of female signatures came to life under the light. He had to keep prodding me to sign – I wrote Jack, underlining it as I asked him if this was like notches on his belt. He laughed; I left. He never came back to the bar. The next night when I showed up for work, Levi was smirking and said, “I knew you could be had.”

  “Hmph,” I quipped back, “never said I couldn’t – just not by you.”

  A parade of men followed in the wake of that night. My anger with Levi waned when I decided that women could have notches on their belts too, but I never completely forgave him – of the three, Charlie, Rick and Levi, he was the one I trusted the least. I often found myself wondering if he had names scrawled on his bedroom wall too. I decided he did.

  I remember it being exciting, not caring who I was with or where I was. Exciting and terrifying. I had never behaved anything like that before. All I knew for sure then was that I didn’t want to think about Stephen, our time together, marriage… anything. I just needed it all to go away, and being with a series of men – that I was using – seemed like the simplest way to keep those thoughts at bay. Nobody asked any questions, we were each notching our belts, signing a wall that could only be seen under a black light. Just another part of working at a scummy bar, another part of my double life – an escape I wanted to go on forever.

  I stood in front of the mirror staring at myself, trying to figure out who I was. It had been so simple – ‘sex, drugs and rock n’ roll’; no problem except picking someone to go home with for the night, and there never seemed to be a shortage of guys to choose from. They taught me to enjoy sex, or at least I thought they did. I thought my sex life with Stephen was good, but of course I had nothing to compare it with. He didn’t seem to have any problems having sex with me; at least at first he seemed to want it. I remembered always feeling a tad shy with him, or maybe it was Stephen that was shy with me – the lights were always off, and although he’d touch me in sensual ways, maybe we were just awkward with each other, an awkwardness that we never managed to overcome. Sex with some of these assholes from the bar had been horrible, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell back to my own apartment – I always went to their place, never brought any of them to mine. For some reason I didn’t want them to know where I lived, didn’t want any of them to be part of my space. Sex with others was good – and those nights I stayed longer, but never all night, until I met Michael that is.

  I kept trying to remember – had Stephen ever kissed the back of my neck the way Michael did now? Sex with Michael was wonderful; I didn’t feel used with him like I did with the random men – no belt notching. It felt like I’d had more sex with Michael in the six months we had known each other than Stephen and I had had in the five years of our relationship. Sex just wasn’t something Stephen seemed to want as much as Michael did. Shit, this was all just too complicated, I thought. Just go to dinner and think later.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Circumstantial Evidence?

  Vito’s was one of my favorite places. The food was wonderful and it was cheap. I almost always ordered the baked spaghetti with meatballs and ton
ight was no exception.

  The four of us met at 7:30 pm. Michael got along well with Mary Beth and Kent; we’d all hung out before. We’d gotten stoned and gone to concerts or dinner together many times. At first I was surprised that Michael and Kent got along as well as they did – they had almost zero in common except Kent liked Michael’s Mustang and in turn, Michael thought the Corvette Kent drove was a cool ride.

  It was a good dinner, all of us laughing, enjoying each other’s company, telling jokes and swapping stories. As it wound down, but while we still had plenty of wine to finish, Kent took some papers from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. Sliding them across the table to me he said, “I photocopied some information on rectal fistulas for you at the library.” The table hushed as I picked them up. He looked at me and continued, “Put them in your pocketbook – you can read it later, and I can explain anything you don’t understand if you give me a call.” He paused giving Michael a sidelong glance.

  “It’s okay, you can say… I mean, you can talk in front of him, he knows everything,” I replied. “Unless you’re practicing for when you’re a real doctor who won’t even talk to a wife,” I quipped meaning it to be a joke.

  It fell flat. Kent gave me a half-smile, as Mary Beth said, “You know that doctor couldn’t talk to you – Stephen could sue him. You’re lucky that nurse let it slip, or you wouldn’t know what you do.”

  “I know, you’re right; I’m not upset with the doctor. If I was reading his face right, he wasn’t very happy with Stephen for not telling him about me. I’m sorry Kent, I didn’t mean to… I guess I’m not handling all this too well. I’m almost afraid to read this stuff,” I said smiling back, but letting my eyes fall to the papers on the table.

  “It’s okay, I’m not sure I’d like finding out this stuff this way either. But Jackie, no matter how you found out, the truth here is that most likely Stephen is making up the story about falling off a ladder.”