The Everlasting Chapel

by Marilyn Cruise

  All at once, the room feels very, very hot. I feel intense heat rush to my cheeks, and the throbbing sensation builds between my legs, but I look away. I can’t tell whether I’m reacting this way because I’m angry as hell or if it is because he’s right. But dammit, I don’t want to let him be right!

  I lean forward. “You’re damn right it was sweet love. I loved it when you fucked me. Every. Single. Time. I gave you my heart and soul, Michael. But maybe it’s true what they say: sometimes love isn’t enough.” And shit, no, no, no! The tears are coming now. I can’t—I won’t let him see me cry. “Excuse me for one moment.” I stand up quickly before he can notice, and run to the ladies room. I lock myself into the handicapped stall, and just let the tears flow.

  Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe love isn’t enough. Maybe I need more. He needs more. Maybe we’d just kill each other slowly, and that’s why this is so difficult. Some people should never be together because they just make each other miserable, and we definitely fit into that category. Although, when we’re good, it is really, really good. I wad up some toilet paper and blow my nose.

  I just don’t have it in me to try again. I want a stable life with a stable relationship. Michael and I don’t even have trust, which is the foundation for any relationship. There can be love without trust, but there can’t be a safe harbor. And dammit, I need that right now. I need safe. Warm. Stable. A friend. Someone more like Spencer.

  I strengthen my resolve to keep Michael at arm’s length, dry my tears, and return to our table.

  Michael’s salad has arrived, and my coffee waits for me.

  “Is everything alright?” he asks when he sees me, rising to his feet.

  “It is,” I say. “So tell me how you’ve been.”

  “Do you really want to go there?”

  At first, I think, no, but then I realize I really do want to know how he has been. “Yes.”

  “Well, you know everything that happened. I don’t think we need to linger in the Valley of Death.”

  I try not to, but it’s hard to ignore the pain in his eyes. Suddenly I feel very bad for him. “Michael…?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m truly sorry about you mother. I wish she hadn’t suffered like she did,” I say.

  His face goes slightly ashen, and I want to reach across the table, take his hand, and tell him he can come to me and talk about it if he needs someone. But I don’t want to give him false hope that I have any sort of desire to reunite with him. So I don’t offer.

  “Thank you, Scarlett,” he says.

  I can, however, give him honesty. “I have something I need to tell you, and although I really don’t want to, it’s for the best.” I have to let him know what Diane did. It’s the only right thing to do, and as I have resolved to start living my life right again, this is one of the major things I absolutely must do.

  He studies my eyes for a moment. “Okay.”

  “Your mother sent me another letter,” I admit.

  His eyebrow peaks. “Oh?”

  “I think you should read it.”

  “I don’t need to read it. You and me…that’s what’s important. Not a letter that will perpetuate the secrets and lies.”

  “But two very large checks were enclosed in the letter,” I say.

  “I don’t care about the money, Scarlett. You can keep it for all I care.”

  I’m taken aback by his statement. “But you…created this entire crazy deal just so you could get your hands on that money. You dragged me into it, and we…” I slump back in my seat and let out a loud huff.

  “You’ve changed me, Scarlett. I wasn’t kidding when I said I didn’t truly love a woman until I met you,” he says.

  Tingles shoot up my spine and across my shoulders. “But you ended it. You divorced me. You…”

  He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “We needed a fresh start. We needed our relationship to start anew without all that baggage.”

  I look down at my hand, not quite sure what to do. “You hated me for lying to you. I’m a stripper, remember?” Why the hell am I trying to convince him I’m no good for him? Oh, yeah, looking into those deep, blue eyes, I forget that I don’t want to be with this man. He hurts me again and again. Deeply. And it will only be a matter of time before he hurts me again. I’m not really into that kind of self-torture.

  “I don’t care about that,” he says. “You can keep stripping for all I care. But it’s the real Scarlett I have fallen for. The one who takes care of her father. The one who is coming clean despite the threat of losing billions of dollars. The one who made love to me and gave herself so freely that it made me feel loved for the first time during sex.”

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just say you’ll date me. I won’t even ask it to be exclusive. You can date the other guy if you want to. Just give me another chance.” He lifts his other hand to my face and gently strokes my cheek.

  “I need to think about it.” He’s being far too reasonable. He must be hiding something.

  “Take as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he says.

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I’m not. I will prove to you that I have changed. And soon you’ll see that we are worthwhile. That you can trust me. I trust you, Scar.”

  If I say yes, that means I’ll at least have to try to forgive him for all the things he put me through. The whole fucking deal. The mother-in-law. The lies he made me tell. The lies he held onto. The rejection when he found out I was a stripper.

  But if I say no, I might regret it for the rest of my life and always wonder what could have been had we given it a fair shot. Because he’s right. There was no way we could have lived a happily ever after with that deal. I don’t even think I know who Michael truly is. Everything was a fabrication. He was a fabrication. I was a fabrication even though I don’t really want to admit it.

  Are we worth another shot? Will it be worth it to me to find out? To risk having my heart broken again? Because what he’s asking me to do, I can’t do it half-assed. I’ll have to give it my all.

  I take a deep breath. I suppose I’ll never know unless I try. I can’t believe I’m saying this. “Give me a few days to think about it.”

  My heart swells in my chest, but it’s not full. It’s nothing but a huge hollow cave where the anger used to be. What should I fill it with? Should I really agree to this? I have to think about it. I have to discuss it with Anne. She’ll say hell-no! But she hasn’t been here to see the man change. And has he changed?

  5

  The next day is Tuesday, and since the bank is finally open, I decide it’s time to deposit the check. However, I also decide that I’ll only use the money to pay for my father’s medical bills, and nothing else. I still don’t consider it my money, only money I am borrowing until times get better.

  At the bank, I quickly get an audience with the bank president, Mr. Thompson. I find out he knew about the checks Mrs. Manning had written and he has been expecting me. Of course she knew where I banked.

  I almost ask him if the check is indeed valid, or if it might be a cruel joke the late Mrs. Manning is playing on me, but I bite my tongue, feigning trust and confidence. Once the check is deposited, he tells me that since the amount is so large, it will be several days before the funds are available. He suggests I look into buying stocks and bonds, and offers me the business card of a prominent financial advisor. I give him my word that I’ll look into it. I still feel guilty and am still not certain I won’t return the money. It just doesn’t seem right.

  But oddly enough, just moments later I feel slightly giddy…okay, fucking marvelous that three billion dollars is just waiting to clear in my account. What a rollercoaster ride.

  I call Anne on my way to work, and tell her the news. She is super excited on my behalf, saying I deserve and earned every penny of it. She immediately reminds me that I owe her a few cars and a house, and I assure her that I will come through on my prom
ise. She says she was just kidding, but I tell her that I am not. I think she almost passes out on the other end she’s hyperventilating so much. After I have purchased her those things, then I won’t spend any more money.

  Lunch is here in no time, and as planned, Spencer shows up. Today he’s wearing a suit and tie, and I almost have to catch my breath when I see him. Knowing now that he used to work as a stripper, I can tell he has learned how to move in a very appealing way.

  We head to Word of Mouth café again, and this time I order the turkey Panini.

  “How was the rest of the day yesterday?” he asks.

  “Well, after you left, Michael paid me a surprise visit and forced me to go to lunch with him.”

  “Forced you?” he asks with a puzzled look on his face.

  “I have sworn to leave my past behind, Michael included, but he insisted I meet him.”

  “And…?” He doesn’t seem phased or jealous at all, which is rather awesome. The more I get to know Spencer, the more I like him. In fact, he’s the epitome of a likeable guy.

  “I went out with him, and I broke down because it still hurts, you know?” A lump starts to form in my throat.

  “You never told me what happened.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  I tell him about how the entire deal went down, how Michael asked me to marry him so he could get his inheritance, about Diane, and how sneaky she was, how I fell for Michael and he fell for me, how we couldn’t make things work because of the broken trust, and how we got married and divorced shortly after. When I’m finished, I look at the time.

  “Shit! I’m late! I’m so sorry I talked the entire time,” I say.

  “Well, having gone through all that, I can understand why,” Spencer says. “You need to get it all out.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “I can’t imagine what you must have been going through. Just listening to you gives me goosebumps.” He strokes a hand over his muscular forearms.

  I pull out my credit card. “It’s my turn to pay. Sorry, but I have to get back.”

  “Put your card away. I invited you,” he says.

  “No, I insist,” I say.

  The waiter comes over and Spencer hands him his credit card before I have a chance to hand him mine.

  “Fine, you sneaky bastard, but if you don’t promise to let me pay next time, I’m not coming with you,” I say.

  “Is that your way of saying you’d like to go out again?” he asks, giving me an, oh, so charming smile.

  “I suppose it is. I enjoy talking with you.” Although there is little to no spark between Spencer and me, I truly enjoy his company. I just wonder if he expects more, and if so, how much and how soon? “Is that okay?”

  “Is that okay?” He throws his head back and laughs. “I’d never turn down spending time with a sexy, intelligent, and amusing woman.”

  He really thinks that about me? I don’t know what to say in return to that, and not wanting to lead him on, I just smile. “Well, it has been a pleasure.”

  We exit the restaurant, and Spencer walks me across the street.

  “Same time tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Sure,” I say.

  He looks me in the eyes, and there’s a moment of silence as our faces are only about six inches apart. Then he leans in closer, and for whatever reason, I stiffen. I don’t want to kiss him. I don’t want him to kiss me. Thankfully, he doesn’t. Instead, he gives me a hug, his soft cheek against mine, his cologne filling my nose.

  “See you tomorrow,” he whispers into my ear.

  I pull back. “Tomorrow it is.” Walking backward a few paces, his gaze drops from my face to my chest to my abdomen and all the way down to my feet.

  Oh, he is definitely interested. Way more than I am at this current moment. I need to make it even clearer that I am not looking for anything right now. Unless we’re both clear that this would only be a no-strings-attached, sex-only fling. Damn Anne and her ideas. I swivel around and head to work.

  * * *

  On my way to job number two, I call Anne up.

  “Hey, honey,” she says.

  “Hey. Why did you have to suggest I have a fling with Dr. Jamison to get over Michael?”

  She gasps. “No way! Did you sleep with him?”

  “No! I just…” I produce a growling moan.

  “Spit it out,” she says.

  “Well, it’s a long story. I met him by chance at the bank, and he asked me out to lunch. Thing is, now we’re on for lunch like for the rest of the week, and after lunch today, he gave me the look.”

  “The I-wanna-fuck-you look?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Honey, what do you want?” she asks.

  “What do you mean what do I want?”

  “It’s not a complicated question. Do you want to get laid, or what?”

  “No!” Yes.

  “Then don’t do it.” She pauses, and then says, “Wait, is this about Michael?”

  “Well you know I’m still not over him.” I tell her what he said during lunch and how he thinks we should try again, but without any of the deals or money involved.

  “He really wants you, doesn’t he?” she says.

  I inhale and hold my breath. “I just don’t know if I can trust him again. He completely…” I can’t say the words as they get caught in my throat.

  “Broke your heart,” she says. “I know. I should give him a piece of my mind for doing that to you.”

  “No offense, but somehow I don’t think it will help,” I say.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. At least you got your money.”

  “I almost don’t want it anymore,” I say. “It’s like it’s been tainted by everything that’s happened, and by Diane. You know, like she’s still controlling me from beyond the grave.” Thinking about it makes me sick to the stomach.

  “Scarlett, listen to me. Don’t let him bully you around. If he truly has changed and loves you, he will wait. I mean, are you in a hurry to get married to him again?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Then what’s the rush? You’re letting him call the shots, and if he loved you, he wouldn’t force you into anything.”

  “But…I…” I sigh. “I think I might want to try again, too. Am I insane?”

  “Now that’s different. If you are sure you want to give him a second chance, just stick to your guns. I’ve always said, if it’s meant to be, it will be.”

  “Okay. Will you just help me—make sure I actually do stick to my guns?” I ask.

  “You are a grown woman, and are fully capable of doing that on your own.”

  She must not understand the effect Michael has on me. I become completely helpless and lose all control when he’s around. It’s as if he has some special power over me.

  “But I’d be more than happy to be your cheerleader and talk you through it anytime you’d like,” she adds.

  “Thanks,” I say. “I’ve arrived at Ophelia’s now so I have to go. Hey, what are you doing this weekend?”

  “You know, dancing.”

  “Can’t you get Laila to give you a day off?” I ask.

  “No. As you are aware, we’re one girl short, so she’d never allow that. Especially on the weekend.”

  “Are you trying to guilt me?” I ask.

  “Of course. I miss you! The Black Chapel has become The Chapel of Doom without you there.”

  “I miss you, too.” I don’t see her nearly as much now that I’m working a gazillion hours a week. “Maybe some other time then?”

  “For sure. Take care,” she says.

  “You too.” I hang up and head to work. The restaurant is rather slow tonight, so I don’t make nearly as much in tips as I normally do. Not that I need it, but there’s just something about making my own money.

  I’m back home by eleven, and my father is already asleep. I don’t like this new schedule, in fact, I’m starting to hate it. I ne
ver see my father or Anne. Once the check clears, I could technically just quit working. Except the benefit of working at the Portland Museum of Art is that I get to stay connected with local artists. The benefit of working at Ophelia’s is that I make more money.

  6

  On my way to work the next morning, my phone rings, and when I check it, I see that it’s Michael calling. My heart speeds up. Shoot. What should I do? I told him I needed a few days to decide, and here he is calling me the very next day.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Scarlett. It’s me, Michael.”

  “I haven’t taken you out of my contacts, you know.”

  “Well that’s nice, but before you bite my head off…I’m not calling to get an answer,” he says.

  “Oh…okay…?”

  “I wanted to see if you would accompany me to the grand opening of a new business of mine,” he says.

  “No, Michael, come on. We agreed that we wouldn’t do this,” I say.

  “I agreed I’d give you a few days to decide whether or not you would give me a second chance. In the meantime, there’s no harm in spending a few hours together, is there?”

  “Have you no boundaries?” I ask.

  “Not when it comes to you,” he says.

  Here we go again. “The answer is no. And please, don’t call me again. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  “Alright. But don’t leave me hanging too long,” he says.

  “You said I could have as long as I need.”

  “I did say that, but I miss you.”

  “Well, stop.” I hang up and throw the phone back into my purse.

  I spend lunch with Spencer again, and this time he brings a picnic basket with sandwiches, white wine, a fruit platter, and pound cake.

  “Is this your way of getting out of me paying for the meal?” I ask.

  “Absolutely,” he admits with a sly smile.