My Time in the Affair

by Stylo Fantome

  For Tal.

  Come find me …

  ~Tal~

  When I think of Mischa, certain things come to mind immediately.

  Exotic.

  Smart.

  Great legs.

  Fun.

  Sexy as fuck.

  Love.

  I know what we did was fucked up and what I did was fucked up, but honestly, none of it ever mattered. The only reason I ever talked to her was because of just that, I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to be close to her. Wanted to touch her, as much of her as possible, as much of her as she'd let me.

  She let me touch all of her, especially her heart. That was the deal breaker, right there. That's when “just sex” flew out the window and “holy shit, I need this girl to be a part of my life” entered the picture. I never once cared that she was married – if he was taking care of his shit, she wouldn't be there, plain and simple. Maybe that's fucked up, but oh well. Cheating is just a symptom for something else that's wrong. Should she have cheated? Fuck, no. Weak move. But she had been a weak person.

  I wanted to make her stronger.

  Eventually, I also didn't care that I could lose my job. It didn't matter. She had never been about the job. I never saw her as part of it. I didn't care.

  The only thing I cared about was her.

  Probably the only thing I had ever really cared about, was her.

  I needed more time. Time is an issue with me, I'm always going somewhere, doing something. Busy, busy, busy. I should've made more time for her. Given her more time to trust me, to trust herself. That fucking guy, I swear. Her husband fucks with her heart, makes her doubt him, in turn she doubts herself, so she doubts what's between us.

  Then again, that doubt also brought her to me. I believe in fate, so if that's what it took to bring her to me, then that's what it took. Sorry, everyone, only not really.

  But I have to wonder … why did fate take her away?

  I miss her so goddamn much. I didn't even know her for that long, how can I miss her so much that it hurts every part of my body? Every part of my day?

  All those years, bumming around, being an adrenaline junkie, being the job. I was actually looking for her.

  But see, that's the scary part. It took me so long to find her.

  What if she never finds me?

  ~Epilogue~

  Mischa sighed and flipped a page in her book, wiping sweat from her forehead.

  Why does it have to be so fucking hot all the time!?

  She was trying to get lost in the story she was reading, but her thoughts kept wandering. It was a common occurrence lately; she was distracted all the time. So she didn't even notice someone was sitting down at her table till the man was making himself at home in a chair. She was startled and jumped a little, dropping her book. She went to pick it up, but the stranger beat her to it.

  “Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you,” the man said, his voice friendly. She gave him a tight smile.

  “No worries. Can I help you?” she asked, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to encourage his little visit. She'd come to the outdoor cafe to sit and wait and read. Not to pick up random dudes.

  “I just saw you sitting here, thought I'd introduce myself,” he explained.

  “Oh. Well, thanks, but I'm reading,” Mischa informed him, holding up her book for emphasis.

  “I'd love to hear about your book. Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, peeking at her cover before giving her a big smile.

  “No, thank you, I'm fine, I'd just like to read,” she replied, holding her book in front of her face.

  It's too fucking hot out for this.

  “How about dinner? It's just about dinner time, you must be hungry,” he pointed out.

  “Nope, not hungry,” she replied, refusing to return his smile.

  “Maybe we could go for dinner some other time, then,” he suggested.

  “I don't think so. It was really nice meeting you.”

  “But we haven't met. I'm Conrad.”

  “Hi, Conrad. I think I have to go now,” Mischa sighed, giving up. He wasn't going away, so she decided she would go somewhere else. She slowly climbed to her feet, shoving her book into her tote bag.

  “What about lunch?”

  “No, but thank you.”

  “Breakfast.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Coffee, then. Let me take you to coffee. I live near here, we must be on the same schedule – I've seen you eating here before,” he told her, standing up as well.

  Not creepy at all.

  “I don't drink coffee. Just wine. Bye!” she tried to cut him off and edge away from the table. But he gently grabbed her wrist, stopping her as he moved to her side.

  “Then maybe we could go to a wine bar I know. If you'd give me a chance, I think you'd like -,”

  “Hey, fucker, beat it, it's not gonna happen – you're hitting on a married woman.”

  Misch's left hand was grabbed and practically shoved into the overzealous admirer's face. Conrad turned a deep red and he nodded curtly before walking off down the street.

  “You know,” Misch sighed, “that trick only works when there's a ring on my finger, you idiot.”

  “I work all day in this fucking heat, and then I save your ass, again, and what do I get? Hassled about marriage. Women.”

  *

  Eight Months Earlier …

  *

  Oh, Mischa didn't give up.

  Fuck that. Tal wouldn't have given up, so she didn't.

  When they'd been together, he'd asked her to believe in them, to have faith in them. So she clung to that fact. She put all her faith in him, and went with her gut.

  She bought a plane ticket to Rome.

  Tal had lived in a lot of places, all over the globe. Rome was a long shot, really – he'd only been there for a job, just to follow her boss. Why would he go back?

  Because that's where we became ourselves. That's where we found each other.

  Ansuz was not always an easy company to track down, and they didn't exactly have an office building in Rome, the way they did in New York. It took a lot of digging to find out what kind of contracts they had in Europe, and then if any of those were even in Italy at all.

  But she had faith.

  As it turned out, they had a contract with the Vatican. The frickin' Vatican. She couldn't imagine Tal in a church. He was far too sinful.

  It was a long shot, but she was willing to try anything that might lead to him. Mischa lurked around the cathedral for days. She toured it so much, she was pretty sure the security guards were starting to get suspicious. She considered finding a nun costume, but figured that was going too far. She was already a cheater. She didn't need more points to fast track her to hell.

  Why would he even be here? Maybe he guards the Pope. Maybe he guards a bishop. Maybe he's in Tahiti with some pearl farm heiress-slash-supermodel and I'm wasting my time and money.

  He was there, though.

  The first time she saw Tal again, she felt like her heart stopped. She was in a crowd of people, waiting their turn to enter the cathedral, when he came outside. He was with a bunch of guys, all a lot younger than him, and he was barking what sounded like orders, all in Italian.

  He looked so different. It was like dreaming about something for so long, then seeing it in real life. Had it all been a dream? Had she just imagined him as the smooth talking, long fingered, dirty man that she'd fallen in love with?

  He was wearing a very fitted suit – she wouldn't be surprised to find out it had been tailor made for him. He was clean shaven, his hair neatly styled, and he had a radio piece in his ear, a curly wire trailing down the back of his neck. He looked so prim and proper.

  Two words she never, ever would have used to describe a man like Tal Canaan.

  A few seconds was all she got, then he breezed right past her. It took her heart a lot longer to start beating again, and by then she was shuffled inside by the crowd.

  Tal would have bee
n proud of her, she became an excellent stalker. “Recon”, she told herself. That's what Tal would've called it. She staked out the church. It took her about a week, but she finally learned his schedule, knew when he got off work, what door he left from, things like that.

  She was being stupid, she knew. Her father and Lacey told her so every night, when she checked in with them. They told her to just go talk to him, to walk up and say hi. Ask how he was doing. Then just jump him.

  “Dad! I can't just 'jump him'!”

  But they were right. She couldn't just watch him from afar, either. It was creepy and pointless. Not to mention the fact that she was living off of savings – she couldn't stay there indefinitely. She had to do something.

  Mischa was scared, though. She'd left him. She'd made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. She hadn't returned any of his phone calls. It had been three months. What if he was over it? What if he didn't feel the same way? What if he had failed to leave any sort of forwarding info because he didn't want her to find him? What if he was with someone else!? She couldn't bear that thought, not even a little. Maybe he hadn't contacted her again for a reason. Maybe it was time to let him go.

  Come find me …

  Tal lived in an old building that had once been a great home, but had long since been converted into apartments. There were HUGE wooden double doors, easily twice her height, and they were locked – a panel with buzzers sat to their left. “T.C.” was clearly labeled, second row, sixth button down. She knew exactly where it was because she'd stared at it a lot.

  When she'd left for Rome, Mischa had bought a round trip ticket. She'd given herself one month to find Tal. One month to see if all they'd been was an affair. Just a moment in time. Or if maybe, just maybe, fate had something more in store for them. She'd spent the first two weeks looking for him. Another week and a half stalking him. Mischa had three more days before she had to go home.

  Three days till she had to leave him.

  It was night time when she finally screwed up the courage. It started raining on her way to his place, so she stopped in a shop and grabbed an umbrella. She felt ridiculous, wearing shorts and a tank top in the pouring down rain, but Italy in late September was still warm to her, so she'd packed for the warmth.

  She huddled and shivered outside his door, repeatedly pushing his button. It wasn't exactly how she'd pictured it happening, her beating down his door. She'd been hoping for something slightly more subtle. Romantic. But the rain was torrential, she had to get out of it.

  No one answered.

  She scowled and pressed the buzzer again, letting her finger stay on it for a solid minute. Still no answer. She didn't get it. From what she'd seen, he always came straight home after he got off shift. Always. In that week and a half, she'd never seen him do anything different.

  Really? Tonight of all nights, he decides to stay out!?

  As Misch turned and scurried down the stairs, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. People, walking down the sidewalk. She turned her head and realized it was Tal. She was so startled, she slipped down the last two steps, almost falling on her butt. By the time she caught her balance, she realized something else, too. He wasn't alone.

  Misch ducked behind a thick telephone pole a little ways up from his door, peeking around it to spy on him. She felt ridiculous. Her umbrella was jutting out, rain sliding off of it like a sluice, but she held her ground. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

  He was with a woman.

  A short woman, with amazing hips and long, thick black hair. She was chattering away, Tal smiling and laughing at her side. He was carrying two huge cloth grocery bags, long baguettes sticking out the top of one.

  Oh my god. He's on a date. I'm gonna puke. I waited too long. I'm gonna puke. I deserve this. I'm gonna puke. I cheated on Mike, I don't deserve to live happily ever after with Tal. I'm gonna puke.

  Tal and the woman stopped walking and turned towards each other. She was smiling up at him, and he was smiling right back down. His gorgeous smile, all his perfect teeth showing. Not even a hint of sly.

  I can't watch this.

  Tal deserved happiness, she didn't begrudge him that; she loved him. More than anything, she wanted him to be happy – even if that meant he wasn't with her. But that didn't mean she could stand by and watch it happen with someone else. She turned away, not wanting to see them kiss. She wiped at her face, took a deep breath. Took several more. Then she started walking the other way down the sidewalk.

  “Mischa!?”

  I can't do anything right.

  She turned around, planting a big smile on her face. Tal had moved so he was standing in front of his own door. Mischa was a door down from him. The Italian woman was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hi. How are you?” she called in a lame voice.

  “Is it really you!?” he sounded incredulous

  “Yeah. I just wanted to … to say hi,” she babbled, feeling stupid. Beyond stupid.

  “'Hi'!?”

  “Well, yeah. I was here … and you were here … so I -,”

  He moved so fast, she barely realized he had started walking before he was right in front of her. Just like their first time together, he swept her off her feet. Wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up, knocking the umbrella out of her hands. They were soaked in an instant.

  “God, I missed you so much,” he was whispering in her ear. She hugged him back, as tight as she could.

  “I've missed you, too. Since the moment I left,” she replied.

  “Then why'd you leave!?”

  “So I could find myself,” she whispered back.

  He finally put her back on her feet and he stepped away, but only a little. His head was tilted so he was looking straight down at her, water running over his eyebrows and down his face.

  “I thought I found you,” he reminded her. She managed to smile.

  “You did, but it was my turn to finally do some searching.”

  “Mischa. What the fuck are you doing here!?” he demanded.

  “I … I also figured it was finally my turn to find you,” she answered. He stared at her like she was nuts. His black eyes opened so wide, she felt like she was going to fall into them. She chewed on her lip and glanced around. “I didn't mean to interrupt.”

  “Interrupt what?”

  “Your … thingy. Your lady friend back there, I don't want to hold you up. We can catch up another time,” Misch offered.

  Tal laughed. Long and loud, from deep in his chest.

  “You thought I was on a date?” he clarified. She shrugged, almost shredding her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “I don't know. You were laughing and smiling, she was laughing and smiling,” she rambled.

  “Hey now, Ms. Duggard, not all of us are cheating bastards,” he called her out.

  She gasped.

  “Screw you! I fly all the way out here just to see you, and you insult me and -,”

  He kissed her, and Mischa didn't even care that he'd just insulted her. Didn't care that he'd just been walking down the street with another woman. Didn't care that they hadn't seen each other in months. Didn't care about anything, except touching him as much as possible.

  “Thank god you're still feisty,” he groaned, running his tongue along her bottom lip.

  He grabbed her hips, pulling her towards him as he maneuvered them to his front door. It took some fumbling, but he managed to get his keys out and the door unlocked all while keeping his lips attached to her own. Then he yanked her into an elevator that was barely big enough for the two of them and hit the button for his floor.

  “I wanted to come here sooner,” she whispered, kissing along the side of his neck.

  “You should've.”

  “Who was that lady?”

  “Next door neighbor. Don't worry, she's married.”

  “She's married? Then I'm doubly worried.”

  That earned her a chuckle. Tal's hands were still on her hips and he gently push
ed her back, forcing them apart.

  “I'm not so into married ladies anymore. Single women only,” he told her.

  “Oh really?”

  “Mmmm hmmm. And what about you, Ms. … Mrs. …,” he fished. She smiled at him.

  “Definitely Ms. It's Ms. Duggard now, all the time,” she assured him.

  “Thank god,” he groaned.

  The elevator stopped, but there were still stairs, and he led her up them. His apartment was formerly the attic, but it had been remodeled. One bedroom, with a small kitchenette built into one wall. Seemed tiny, especially for such a big man, but he walked straight through it and right up to a large window, that she thought led to a Juliet balcony.

  It led to a huge terrace – his attic apartment was actually on top of the building, and the rest of the roof was all open. He had potted plants and trees lining the sides, and some patio furniture scattered about, as well as a ridiculously huge barbecue.

  “This is nice, Tal. Really nice,” she commented, glancing around the space. Then, as if on cue, the rain let up. He stepped around her and went outside.

  “You think? I thought you'd like it,” he sighed, looking around as well.

  “How'd you know I'd ever even see it?” she laughed at him. He turned to look at her.

  “I knew. I had faith.”

  Mischa had always felt so overwhelmed by Tal. From the first moment she'd met him, when he'd been “saving” her, to when he'd reminded her what passion was that very same night. Even in Positano, he'd completely bowled her over with his presence. With the sheer force of his spirit. She'd never quite felt worthy of him.

  But maybe she finally was …

  “I leave in three days,” she blurted out. He raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh, really.”

  “Yeah. I wasted too much time, looking for you, and then trying to work up the courage to talk to you,” she went on. “So much time had passed, and you had moved – why did you move? Why did you come here?”

  “They wanted me back in the field, they wanted me abroad, I had no choice. So I asked them to send me here, and had faith that you would find me.”

  “You have an awful lot of faith in me.”