by Heidi Lowe
"I'm finished in here," I said, switching off the water and stepping past him, doing my best to avoid skin to skin contact. The sight of his boner only made my skin crawl, made me want to throw up. Was it simply because it belonged to him, or was it the thing itself that repulsed me? My attraction to men hadn't waned, not really. Though lately my desire to be with them sexually wasn't what it used to be. That was an inner discussion for another day. Now I had a horny twenty-two year old to get rid of.
"Now I know I'm not going crazy. You're pushing me away," he said, standing in the middle of the room stark naked, dripping with water.
Put that thing away! You won't be using it with me, my inner voice scolded him. It was a little hard to ignore his manhood when it was staring right at me.
"I'm not pushing you away. I simply wanted to shower alone. What's wrong with that?"
"Well nothing...if that was all. But you don't want to kiss or cuddle me anymore, and don't get me started on your habit of finding any excuse not to have sex."
I clutched tightly to my towel so as not to give him any more of a view. This, too, must have seemed absurd to him. Couples didn't usually hide their nudity from each other.
"I didn't come here to have sex, Marcus. Unlike you, I have other things on my mind."
He gave a humorless laugh. "You're acting like I badger you every day to do it. Jesus!"
The whole idea in waking early and jumping in the shower before he woke up was to avoid having this discussion, which I'd foreseen. I'd been pushing him away for weeks; him snapping was a long time coming. Marcus was a patient boy, but everyone had a limit.
"Look, I don't want to fight with you. Can't you just get dressed so we can get today over with?"
He narrowed his eyes in wonderment. He must have seen how noncommittal I was being, how disinterested in him or his grievances I was.
"Something's changed with you. I don't know what it is, but you're different. When you first got here, we were close. Now it's as if you can't wait to get away from me."
"You're making a big deal out of nothing. I'm gonna get dressed now so we can get the souvenirs for my friends and family. I suggest you do the same."
"You know what, you should go without me," he said, heading back to the bathroom. "It seems you prefer it that way."
"Suit yourself." Although he made me laugh, made me feel like a kid again, going anywhere with him meant putting on a show, trying to be a convincing girlfriend to a boy I wasn't in love with. Holding hands with him in public felt uneasy, disingenuous, where it never had before. Because being with him felt like I was betraying Scarlett.
By now I knew my way around enough to get into central London alone, and welcomed the solitude. There were over a dozen names on my list – parents, cousins and a handful of friends – to buy for, and I made a point of spending the whole day out of the house, away from conflict. When I got home, Marcus had thawed, apologized for freaking out, and promised not to try and pressure me into sex. My guilt levels spiked. Here he was blaming himself when I was the one cheating. I would go to hell for this, surely.
It was the following evening, however, when everything turned to shit.
"My father cheats. No matter what his position is in the game, he'll find a way to better it. By any means necessary."
I was helping Marcus fill bowls with popcorn, potato chips (which they called crisps), and other snacks we found in the pantry. In the living room, his parents were setting up for the games night. An evening of board games, wine, and jokes. Something, Marcus confessed, that only ever happened when they had guests. "They want everyone to think we're this close-knit, adoring family unit, when in actual fact we spend as little time together as possible," he'd said.
Having observed them for six weeks, I'd come to see that, despite his claims of the family not being close, they made a point of dining together at almost every meal, helping each other out, and generally doing things together that only people who truly cared for one another would. This was why Scarlett had never flown the nest; this was why being with me had such severe ramifications. She loved her family more than anything, and they loved her right back. Too bad I loved her also.
"How does someone cheat at Monopoly?" I laughed.
"I don't know, but he always finds a way. Robs from the bank, hides favorable chance cards before the game starts, that sort of thing."
"Wow, and there I thought he was a nice guy."
"He's a charlatan!" He chuckled as he poured a bag of Doritos into a large bowl. "But no one is more ruthless than Scarlett. You'll see."
I froze. "Scarlett's coming tonight?"
"Of course. It's family game night. Wouldn't really be the same without her."
"What are you telling her about me, little brother," came a voice behind us that startled us. She stood with her arms crossed and a smirk playing on her lips.
"Nothing, only that you're a tyrant when it comes to Monopoly. It always ends with a battle between her and Norman."
She laughed, helped herself to a handful of chips. My eyes remained on her the whole time, though she wasn't paying much attention to me. I hated when she did that, like I wasn't in the room. Okay, so we had to keep our affair secret, but completely ignoring my existence was overkill.
"That's because you and Mum don't know how to play. You sell to the highest bidder and then wonder why you go bankrupt when you land on our hotels."
When Marcus disappeared to use the toilet, Scarlett and I were alone for the first time since the night of her birthday.
The low-cut black top she wore gave her an enviable cleavage – a mouthwatering cleavage to the right observer. Focusing anywhere but on her bosom was nigh on impossible.
"Can I see you tonight?" I said, hearing the desperate ring in my voice.
She smiled. "I would like that. You can bring the banjo if you want."
I let out a little laugh. Then, making sure we were still alone, I stole the quickest, stealthiest kiss from her, catching her off guard. The feel of her soft lips on mine made the wait bearable. I planned to rock her world all night, and only return to my own bed once we were both crippled by sex, and sick of it.
But we had to get through games night.
Just as Marcus had warned, Norman liked to cheat. He seemed to start the game with more money than everyone else, likely from a secret reserve he had up his sleeve prior to the commencement of the game. And true to form, Scarlett got into Margaret Thatcher mode, taking no prisoners in her pursuit of power and money. Seeing that side of her only made her sexier. That domineering, no holds barred, hot bitch in charge type of persona gave me the chills, in a good way. Was this how she conducted her business in the real world? How she won her cases in the courtroom?
"Well, I can't pay the rent, so I'll have to sell my airports," I said, looking at my meager possessions. Two airports and two random streets. That was all I had to show for my efforts. "And if I land on Norman's purples, I'm toast."
By now, Marcus and Fiona had already gone bankrupt, and I was hanging on by a thread while Norman and Scarlett screwed me for all I was worth. I'd landed on Scarlett's red streets, where she'd erected hotels, and owed her astronomical rent.
She grinned malevolently. "You can just give them to me and I'll write the debt off."
"No, sell them to me. I'll pay top dollar," Norman butted in.
There was no point in me playing, and I was just making them rich. So I gave Scarlett my airports, then, on my next roll, when I did land on the purples, I declared myself broke, and ducked out of the game.
Marcus put an arm around me as we watched Scarlett and Norman battle it out. "You did well to last this long against those two."
I shrugged his arm off. Scarlett looked up and caught me.
"Jenna, do you have games nights with your family?" Fiona asked, sipping her red wine and easing back in her chair.
"No. My father is too much of a sore loser to play anything with him. He takes the fun out of everything."
> "I can attest to that," Marcus chimed in. "We were playing a game of poker once, and he tried to convince me that a full house trumped four of a kind. Even when I googled it and showed him proof to the contrary, he wouldn't hear it."
"You've already met Mr. Lincoln?" Norman said, rolling the dice and blowing them for good luck. "And now Jenna's met us. Sounds trés sérieux."
Oh God! Here we go again.
"Well, I guess we knew this was it for us," Marcus said, smiling warmly at me. "I met him quite early on in the relationship. He gave me his blessing, you know, in case I decided to pop the question."
My body went cold, turned to ice when Scarlett looked at me. I couldn't tell exactly what she was thinking, but it couldn't have been anything good.
"You didn't tell me that," I said to Marcus.
He scratched his head shyly. "Well, I didn't want to scare you away. It was when you and your mother were in the garden. He said that I was a great guy and would welcome me into the family if I decided, down the line, to make an honest woman of you."
"He must have been joking. He does stuff like that," I said, feeling my cheeks burn up. It was Scarlett's glare, which I only dared see through the corner of my eye, that scorched my flesh. "He wants to marry me off to every guy he meets."
"He wasn't joking. He thought I would make you happy."
"Marcus, now isn't really the–"
"That's great news!" Fiona cried, overcome with excitement, like she'd just discovered the formula for eternal youth. "When can we start planning the wedding? Where will you have it? We could have the reception here. Heck, perhaps even the ceremony in the garden."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, no one's getting married," I piped up hurriedly, trying my best to laugh it off, secretly wishing death on Marcus for bringing it up. He knew what his parents were like, how much they craved grandchildren.
"Eventually. In a year or two," Marcus said.
"No." My voice and face were stern. "We're not getting married. Not now, not ever."
His smile faded. His expression was crestfallen. What planet was this guy on? Did he genuinely believe the isle was where we were headed? I could barely stand holding his hand, yet he thought we were ready for marriage.
An awkward silence enveloped the room. My tone was unmistakable. I didn't feel the same way about him as he felt about me, and I wouldn't be the one to give them grandchildren.
"I'm actually getting a bit of a headache. I think I'll go lie down," I said, and sped from the room.
An ambush, that's what that was. Marcus had totally backed me into a corner, given me no choice but to crush his dreams.
Well now he knew...and so too did the rest of his family, Scarlett included. At least I wouldn't have to convince her of my commitment to her. All that remained to be done was get through the rest of this vacation and break it off with Marcus, freeing myself up for her.
Sadly, even before the bedroom door swung open and he walked in, I knew we would fight. He found me lying on the bed an hour later, presumably after he'd given me enough space and time to think.
"Just so I understand, you had no intention of marrying me or even considering it?"
I sat up. "For heaven's sake, Marcus, we've been together seven and a half months. Of course I wasn't thinking about marriage. No sane person would be."
"Then I must be insane, because I thought about it."
It broke my heart to hear him admit that, knowing how wrong he'd been about me. How could two people in the same relationship be on completely different pages?
"Well I'm sorry, but that's not where I saw this going."
He slammed the door shut. "And where did you see it going? Anywhere?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, but not there. I thought we were having fun."
He laughed without humor. "Fun? I brought you to meet my parents, Jenna. You've spent the last six weeks with my family."
I had no response. Beneath his glower, which threatened to scorch my skin, I felt like the scum of the earth. The worst person in the world. He didn't deserve this, no one did. Just for that moment, to save him from misery, I wished I felt for him what he felt for me.
He took a deep, rattly breath, then said, "I love you..."
"Marcus..."
"You don't love me, do you?"
No answer was all the answer he needed. He wrenched the door open and stormed from the room, ignoring my calls to him. Ignoring them because, no matter whether he stayed or went, he would never get the answer he wanted to hear.
I waited two hours for him to return, and when he didn't, I drifted off to sleep.
It wasn't Marcus I saw standing over me when my eyes sprang open later that night. The curly hair came into view first, then the rest of her. My first instinct was to smile at seeing such a beautiful sight upon waking. Until I noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks.
I sat up quickly. "Scarlett, what's wrong? Is Marcus okay?"
She shook her head, sniffed. "He's anything but okay, Jenna. I've just spent the last few hours trying to console him because his heart is broken."
"I–I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt him, I just couldn't say what he wanted me to say. You know why."
She wasn't really listening. A dreadful feeling consumed me.
"He loves you. He wanted to build something with you. And I took that from him."
I got up, put my hand on her shoulder. "No, no you didn't. We were never going to be serious. Even before you, I was never going to marry him. I don't love him."
"We never should have done this." She shook her head over and over. "He's my brother, my job is to protect him, not destroy his world. This was a mistake."
Those were the words I'd dreaded hearing. I'd had nightmares about them. Mistake. Mistake. Mistake. The words ran through my head. I was a mistake; we were a mistake.
"Look, I feel just as bad as you for doing this to him, but–"
She shoved my hand away. "How could you? You said it yourself, you don't love him. You never have. But I do. He's the most important person in my life. I should have known better."
"And ignored your feelings for me?"
"Exactly that. No one is worth losing my brother over. No one!"
"Not even me?" Tears clung to my lashes. This wasn't just a breakup, it was an assassination of my heart. The look of scorn she gave me, only an enemy deserved that.
"Not even you." She wiped her face with her hands. "I can't do this anymore. Don't come looking for me again. I won't answer if you knock, and I won't speak if you call. Forget about me."
"How can you expect me to do that?" My voice was a hysterical shriek.
"I don't care how you do it, just do it." And with that she was gone, without a glance back to see the damage she'd caused.
That night on the Rutherford-Manning grounds, three hearts crumbled to pieces.
SEVENTEEN
It was just as well that Marcus didn't return to the bedroom that night, because I was so inconsolable, distraught, that through anger I would have let everything out.
Hey, Marcus, I've been fucking your sister. And guess what, we're in love. But thanks to you we can't be together. None of this was his fault, but that didn't stop me blaming him.
She wanted nothing more to do with me. She was throwing away something real for the sake of her brother. It would have made me love her more had the situation been different. Her dedication to him – like a mother bear protecting her cub; what should have been an admirable trait only came off as loathsome to me.
My tears soaked the pillow, both pillows. There had only been one time in history that I'd ever cried so hard, and that was the time my pet rabbit got crushed to death by a car, after I forgot to lock his cage. I was eight, and Harry was my best friend. After his death, I started seeing him everywhere, hearing his little paws on the tiles, smelling him. It was weird. That was my first time dealing with loss, and all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and disappear.
Not much had changed in that respect. I spent t
he night in the fetal position, pillow squeezed to my bosom, wishing to all the gods that this whole sorry mess was a nightmare from which I would wake in the morning. That Scarlett's words, her anguish, her reproachful glare were part of a horrible dream. But when morning broke and I found myself in the same position, pillow still damp, I knew the worst had happened. We were through; she'd been torn between doing right by her brother and giving her heart what it wanted. She'd chosen her family.
Well now I had a choice to make: which hotel would I stay in for my last days in that god forsaken country? Because staying at the Rutherford-Manning house, trying to pretend as though nothing had happened, wasn't an option.
After leaving the useless banjo in a corner of the room, I tore and disposed of the expensive scarlet dress she'd bought me. Everything I owned was carelessly stuffed into my suitcase, while I sniffed back snot and wiped away my tears. No trace of me would remain. I would take my heart with me, seeing as it was no longer welcome there.
I showered in a hurry, jumped online to find the cheapest and closest hotel I could, then lugged my suitcase down the stairs. Just my luck that Marcus was leaving Scarlett's apartment when I stepped outside.
"Where are you going, Jenna?" His brow furrowed as though he could think of no conceivable reason why I would want to leave, or where I could possibly go.
"I'm checking into a hotel."
"You don't have to do that. We can work it out. I won't bring up marriage again, I swear."
Tears began to fall once more, and frustratedly I wiped them away. He still didn't get it.
"It's not about marriage, Marcus. It's us... I shouldn't have let this go as far as I did. I didn't realize how serious you were about me."
"Was any of it real?" His tears matched mine now. Those puppy dog eyes tugged on my heartstrings, making me want to cuddle him, baby him, take his pain away.
"We had fun. You were fun. Being with you was fun. That was real."
He opened his mouth to speak, but instead dashed into the house. I pulled out a tissue from my purse, dabbed at my face, and then I spotted her. At her window, peering out at me, having pushed the curtain to one side. We looked at each other for the longest moment, and telepathically I willed her to come out and face me, tell me she didn't mean those things she'd said. But my taxi arrived, and when I looked at her window again, she was gone.