A Woman Lost

by T. B. Markinson

  She laughed angrily. “A child could top that one without even trying.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” Peter would not take this news well. Oh, and my mother. Maddie was playing with fire.

  “Yes. I thought I could share it with you. Obviously, I was wrong. Dead wrong.” She crossed her arms.

  “Oh, Maddie. I’m so sorry. I never meant to imply anything. I’m just shocked, that’s all … not that you are, but you’re with Peter … ” I hesitated. “Really, you can never tell him. Or my mother. Never my mother.”

  She looked terrified. “I know. That’s why I wanted to talk about it. It’s killing me, this secret.”

  “Shit, Maddie. I’m so sorry.” I reached across the table and patted her hand.

  “Shit. What? You don’t have some fancy word for that.” She pouted.

  “Excrement, but that doesn’t quite suit the conversation. And it’s not that fancy.” I picked up my fork and tapped it against the table.

  I sensed she regretted telling me. Let’s face it; I did a horrendous job of handling the situation. Really, I don’t think I could have bungled it more.

  “Listen. I’m here for you. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”

  Her eyes softened. “Thanks, Lizzie.”

  “Ah, Peter hasn’t mentioned a prenup or anything has he.” I put up my palms. “I know it’s none of my business, but I was just thinking out loud.”

  “Ha! No. Trust me, Peter won’t ever mention a prenup. Let’s just say my father can make or break Peter’s career.”

  I knew there had to have been a reason Peter risked marrying a southerner.

  “That’s good. That’s perfect, actually.” I smiled weakly at her.

  She looked more confident. “I warned you.”

  “Warned me about what?”

  “That you wouldn’t be able to handle my secret,” she teased.

  It was a real corker. One to keep‌—‌in my family.

  Chapter Six

  “How was your day?”

  It was Monday night and I had just walked into my apartment. The front room was right at the entrance, and Sarah was sitting on one of the chairs in front of the television. She picked up the remote and muted the show. Glancing at the screen, I saw that she was watching a favorite of hers, The Bridges of Madison County.

  “Very long,” I answered. “How was yours?”

  Sarah stared at me. She had this weird look in her eye. Was it fear or anger? “Have you been working all day and night?”

  “Yes. I guess I lost … ”

  “Track of time?”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah. I probably use that excuse a lot.”

  “About three or four times a week.”

  I sighed, dropped my bag, and slumped down on the couch next to her. Rubbing my eyes, I asked, “Why do you stay?” I wasn’t trying to be mean or cold.

  “That’s the stupidest question you could possibly ask me at this moment.” She watched me, intent on what I would say.

  I sat up and leaned closer. She kissed me before I had a chance to say anything. Before I knew it, we were both naked on the floor.

  Afterwards, she rolled over and looked me in the eyes. “You’ve never been like that before.”

  “Like what?”

  “It’s hard to describe. It’s like you wanted to possess me. Not only were you in control, but it was like you were dictating all of it.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “It wasn’t bad, Lizzie. In fact, it was fucking hot. But you have never been like that before.”

  The next morning, I rolled out of bed at five and hopped on my bike. I rode as hard and as fast as I could. It was like my legs became part of the machine, pistons pushing me further and further on the trail. The pain of exerting myself beyond my normal speed and distance disappeared. All I saw and felt was the path in front of me. After carrying the bike upstairs, I checked the odometer‌—‌341 miles so far.

  When I walked into the bathroom for a shower, Sarah said, “Is it that hot outside already? You’re dripping with sweat.”

  I pulled my shirt off and looked down. Sweat poured down my stomach. Even with all of the riding I had been doing, my stomach was still a little paunchy. I suppose I am almost thirty, but it still bothered me.

  “Don’t get too close to me.” Sarah backed away. “I just got out of the shower and you, Lizzie, need to get in.”

  I stepped closer and pulled her to me. She tried pushing me away, but when I kissed her, she gave in. Her towel fell to the ground. I moved us both toward the shower and turned on the water. She did not fight me when I pulled her in with me and fucked her up against the wall.

  Afterwards, while Sarah was getting dressed for work, she said, “I don’t know what has gotten into you these past couple of days, but I really like it.”

  Maddie and Peter left later that afternoon. I didn’t call to say goodbye. Neither did Maddie.

  * * *

  “I can’t even tell you how much our sex life has improved. It’s like we can’t get enough of each other.”

  Ethan stirred more sugar into his coffee. “You can’t have the one woman you want, so you’re trying to possess the other.”

  I stared at him, giving that a thought. “Sarah told me that one night‌—‌that I fucked her like I wanted to possess her. Is that what I am doing?”

  He wiped some crumbs off the table with a napkin. “What do you think?”

  I shook my head. “The other day, Maddie commented that I love a challenge, but she wasn’t sure yet if I liked to conquer things as well. I don’t really know what she meant by that.”

  Ethan laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  I looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  “Let’s just say that you are an extremely driven individual.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with that?” I pushed up my shirtsleeves.

  “Nothing. As long as you don’t hurt the ones you love while striving for perfection.”

  “I don’t strive for perfection.” I scoffed.

  “No … really? When’s the last time you received a grade lower than an ‘A?’ Have you ever received an A minus? I doubt it. How many honor societies do you belong to? I know you’re Phi Beta Kappa. I’m surprised you haven’t joined some bike-racing challenges yet.”

  “Listen, smarty pants, I got a ‘B’ once.” I pointed my stir stick at him.

  Ethan chuckled and shook his head. “Once. Wow, I stand corrected.” He put his palms up mockingly.

  “I’m not that uptight, you know.”

  “Oh, I know. Like you would never cry if this place ran out of chai and you didn’t get your way.” He laughed.

  “Whatever, Ethan. You know you’re more uptight than me. Have you driven home lately during work so you can take a crap in your own home?”

  When Ethan was in high school, he would drive home to take a shit. He was never very comfortable with his bodily functions, or anyone else’s. Sex was a big issue for him, since it involved fluids that grossed him out‌—‌even his own. I wondered if he ever masturbated.

  “I live across the street from the school. I can walk there.”

  We both laughed. “So we both have our issues.”

  “Fair enough. I’m going to grab another coffee. You want another?”

  “Sure. But doesn’t coffee make you want to poop? I’ll understand if you have to make a mad dash for your car.”

  “Knock it off, wise guy, or I won’t get you a chai.”

  “All right. Let’s call a truce, for the day at least.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Miss Perfect. What class did you get a ‘B’ in?”

  “Astronomy. All I wanted to do was look at the stars, but the professor wanted me to do mathematical equations.”

  “Are you saying there’s a field you haven’t conquered?”

  “Oh, shut up. Go get our drinks, and I hope your coffee gives you the shits. I would love to see you run out of here holding it in and the
n drive twenty minutes to Loveland.”

  “My car is souped-up for those types of emergencies.”

  “Maybe I’ll get you a police siren for Christmas.”

  “That would be awesome.”

  He wandered over to the counter to get our second round of drinks.

  Chapter Seven

  “I see that you’re still riding your bike. How’s the great bike challenge going for you?”

  I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Maddie. I knew it by her voice, and besides, she was the only one who knew my bike challenge secret.

  “Really well, actually. How’s the new job?” I slowly turned around and gazed into those beautiful blue eyes. It had been weeks since we had seen or spoken to each other.

  “I love the job. They’re starting to trust me with my own projects.” She paused. “How far did you ride? You’re dripping in sweat.”

  Neither of us mentioned how odd it was that she’d showed up outside of my apartment. She’d never been here before. How did she find out where I lived? I wasn’t sure she had forgiven me yet for the conversation we had at our last meetings. I hoped both of us could forget the incident.

  “I had a lot of energy, so I went longer than normal. I rode to LaPorte and back.” I tugged at my T-shirt, which was sticking to my skin. “Geez, look at me‌—‌I’m a mess! Do you want to come in? I’m dying for a hot shower. You can hang out while I get cleaned up.”

  “That sounds nice. Hope you don’t mind, but I won’t hug you until you shower.” She waved her hand in front of her nose. “Stinky.”

  “Smelly McGee, that’s me.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze. What had compelled me to make such a nincompoop out of myself?

  Maddie snapped her head up to eyeball me. “Oh, wow. That’s pretty dorky, even for you. I wouldn’t suggest trying that one on the ladies.” She snickered.

  “Come on, smartass.” I led her up the flight of stairs to my apartment, searching for my pride with each step.

  “Is Sarah home?” Maddie asked.

  Had she sensed my embarrassment and wanted to divert the conversation away from my gaffe?

  I laughed, feeling more at ease. “She doesn’t officially live with me. But no, she isn’t here right now. She and her mom are bonding today. They’re having breakfast, and then they’ll shop till they drop. They are definitely shoppers. When I go with them, I have to take energy shots just to keep up.”

  “Two women after my own heart. You don’t like to shop?”

  “I prefer to have someone else do it for me.”

  “So you always have a girlfriend to take care of you?”

  “You’re spunky today.”

  We walked into my apartment. She looked around and said, “Not what I was expecting.”

  “Really? What did you think my apartment would look like?”

  “I wasn’t expecting a feminine touch.” She gestured to the fresh flowers and candles on the table.

  “Thanks‌—‌I think.” I fiddled with my hoop earring.

  “I mean you aren’t a bull dyke or anything.” She laughed. “But you aren’t super fem either.” Color flooded her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I tend to put my foot in it. To be honest, when I met you, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Peter doesn’t have any photos of you and you don’t come up during family gatherings. I thought you were a raving feminist and all of them were embarrassed by you. I was taken aback when you walked up to the table, looking normal, like a female version of Peter. But you were wearing makeup. I had envisioned a woman with a shaved head and covered in tattoos.” She stepped from side to side nervously.

  I watched her eyes wander over every crevice.

  “Don’t tell Peter that we look alike,” I warned.

  “Oh, I won’t!”

  She turned back to me. “I thought you would have a very sterile apartment. No unnecessary items. No personal touches.” She motioned to photos of Sarah and I on the mantle.

  It was my turn to blush. “I can’t take the credit for the personal touches or for the flowers. Sarah loves to decorate. She has a fetish for fresh flowers and Yankee Candles. I can’t even guess how much she spends each week on them.” I chuckled. “I swear, as soon as she started staying the night, she began putting her mark on my place. And maybe she didn’t like the smell. I have to admit, I do like the smell of the clean cotton candle.”

  We stared at each other, awkwardly.

  “Make yourself comfortable. It won’t take me long to clean up.” I went straight to my bathroom, turned the water to hot, and stripped down. Before stepping into the shower, I frowned at myself in the mirror and said, “Behave, Lizzie. This is Peter’s fiancée.” But I didn’t want to follow my own advice. I felt compelled to pursue Maddie.

  I usually take an extravagant amount of time in the shower, but that day I rushed through the routine. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Maddie in the apartment‌—‌actually, I didn’t care what she got into‌—‌but I didn’t want to waste any time. I didn’t see her that much.

  She was perched on the couch, reading one of the history books I had been perusing for my research.

  “What did you get yourself into while I was in the shower?” I said, towel drying my hair.

  “Your sex toys, of course,” she quipped. She winked and flashed an arch smile. Then she gestured to the book. “The Hitler Youth, from the excerpts I have read, they don’t sound like a fun bunch to hang out with.” She sat up. “I mean, I assumed they wouldn’t sit around the campfire singing ‘Kumbaya’ and shit. But from what I read, some of them were monsters.” The color drained from her face. “And at such a young age.”

  “I think a lot of people don’t like to think that children can be evil. It’s cool in a horror story, but in real life, it makes many people tremble. You have to remember, though, these kids were indoctrinated at an early age.

  “And not all of them were like that, of course. There are stereotypes. Actually, membership in the Hitler Youth was mandatory.” I walked over to my bookshelf and grabbed a book. “Here’s a memoir of a boy who had to join the Hitler Youth in childhood. He was a weakling, and he didn’t fare too well. In fact‌—‌” I stopped mid-sentence. “I’m sorry, but sometimes it’s hard for me to turn off the historian in me. Do forgive my transgression.” I bowed slightly.

  “Your transgression? You and Peter are the only two people I know who talk like that.”

  I felt slightly uncomfortable about the mention of my brother’s name, and about yet another comparison to Peter.

  “Well, Mom beat us if we didn’t ace our vocabulary tests. By the way, how is the old biddy?” I sat down on a chair, heavily.

  “She seems like her old self.” She looked out the patio door.

  “So, still demanding, demeaning, and full of debauchery, but not the fun kind?”

  “I guess you could say that. How is it that I know how your mother is and you don’t?” She turned to me, staring hard.

  “I haven’t spoken to her since we all had dinner together. We aren’t, shall I say, a close-knit family.” I intertwined my fingers and then pulled them apart to enhance my point.

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Maddie sighed. I could only guess that Peter and Mom were pushing family and duty crap on her. I had no idea why Peter agreed with such antiquated notions of what the wife of a well-to-do businessman should be like.

  “Anyway, I have something for you.” She jumped up and went to the counter, where she had set her purse.

  I was extremely curious about what that “something” was.

  She pulled out a small box and handed it to me.

  “What on earth are you up to, Miss Maddie?” I opened the box. A bracelet. It was silver, and it reminded me of those chain-links we used to make in school to decorate the Christmas tree, except the links were much smaller and were not made of colored construction paper.

  “When I saw this, I immediately thought of you. In your office, I noticed you had
a copy of Atlas Shrugged on your desk. The bracelet isn’t a blue-green, but it symbolized something else for me.”

  I gazed into her eyes and replied, “This I am dying to know. Do tell.”

  “Seeing you in your domain, aka your office, I saw how you’re chained, in a way, to your studies. I’ve never seen so many books and articles piled on top of each other in such a tiny office. Really, Lizzie, you need a designer.” She laughed and added, “And a candle, or some incense or something. It’s very stale in there. Maybe your fave: clean cotton.”

  I started to laugh.

  She looked at me, unsure whether she had offended me.

  “Bravo! Bravo. No one has pegged me so quickly. Not only that, but no one has realized I don’t mind being chained to my studies. I love that I am. Would you help me put it on my wrist, please?”

  She smiled and looked relieved.

  “But shouldn’t I be the one getting you gifts … to help you celebrate your upcoming nuptials?”

  “Oh, you aren’t getting out of buying me a gift or two. Trust me. I’m a girl who likes gifts.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Well, since you drove all the way up here to give me this.” I rattled the silver chain. “Can I take you to lunch, madame?”

  “Why, yes, of course you can.”

  We both laughed together. It was so easy to be around her. I couldn’t explain it, except that it was easy. Usually, I didn’t get along with people all that well. I preferred books. Give me Dickens any day. But maybe not today.

  * * *

  Sitting at Coopersmith’s, both bundled up in sweaters this time, we chatted.

  “Does your dad ever talk?” Maddie asked.

  I wiped a smudge off my water glass. “No. Not much. And when he does, it’s more like barking orders. He usually starts every sentence with a verb. Not a statement‌—‌a command.”

  “I feel like I can’t make a connection with the man‌—‌see, I just called him ‘the man,’ not my future father-in-law, or by his name, Charles.”

  “Don’t take it too personally. ‘The man,’ as you say, doesn’t communicate all that well. He doesn’t communicate with anyone, unless it’s a computer.