One Week Three Hearts:

by Adele Allaire

  Everything Jason said took several attempts to register. His inquiries originated from behind a thick fog, repeating himself until Rose responded with stunted acknowledgments without lifting her empty eyes to meet his demanding gaze. They led two separate lives culminating in half-eaten meals shared in silence disturbed only by clinking silverware or a plate pushed angrily across the kitchen table. Dimly aware of his scaling frustration, each passing day brought more numbness to her behavior's affect on their surroundings. The dark early morning hours gave her respite from it all, and after a few fruitless attempts to draw her out, Jason eventually relented to her silence as she withered away in the computer screen's glow.

  On the days her mind lashed out and laid the blame at Jason's feet, she used the one weapon she possessed against him.

  She withdrew.

  Jason's renewed effort contained an insistence to check her email for some last minute travel arrangements Matt made. Something about a week in Hawaii; she was supposed to meet Matt in Kona tomorrow, and Jason would join them at the end of the week. The bizarre request and its urgent nature temporarily snapped her out of the haze catered to by the unmade bed.

  "If you love me, truly love me, then you'll go to him. I can't continue watching you destroy yourself every day like this." His palm thudded hollow on the locked bedroom door, and the carpeted floorboard groaned under his retreating footsteps.

  Tomorrow.

  Rose reached for her tablet on the nightstand and located the email Jason mentioned. One carry on suitcase. No bathing suit. One pair of flip flops. Skirts and dresses only. No yoga pants. No oversized shirts. Matt's brief packing list went on to describe the allowed and forbidden items.

  What the…?

  After reading through the perplexing list a few more times before flinging the tablet onto the mattress, Rose headed to the bathroom. The intention behind the list dawned on her when she inadvertently glanced at the mirror to find a barely recognizable reflection.

  Matt wanted her to surrender control to him; there wasn't a need for Rose to figure out how this relationship would work — he would take care of it. He didn't want her spending hours figuring out what to bring or second guessing anything. He didn't want her to think.

  The pleading from her husband confirmed his permission for Rose to make the journey alone; this denied any remorseful sense of infidelity. A new contradiction surfaced: the person at the center of her guilt might be the one to remove it all. The mirror reflected her chest rapidly expanding and contracting above the cluttered counter. The confessor transforming into her punisher was a prospect too tempting to ignore; that one night was only a glimpse into Matt's stored arsenal.

  Beyond the lure of Matt's particular brand of punishment, Rose hoped the trip could distract her attention away from the other box hidden in the closet — the one containing misguided early purchases of baby things. The small gender-neutral items she couldn't resist purchasing online or even grocery shopping: pacifiers, celery green bibs, and burp cloths. The condo transformed a prison of imagined memories and abandoned plans: they'd place baby gates over there, counting electrical outlets to cover, who'd arrange to donate the guest room's furniture. Shadows shrouded each detail as the days grew shorter.

  The bathmat missing from beneath her feet reminded her of how she slipped on that fateful day. Jason silently removed it after she tried to outrun the inevitable. They stifled the condo into a bleak claustrophobic tomb, and now she wanted to get away. Matt opened a door to escape.

  A forgotten sense of determination propelled Rose to rip the elastic band from her partially matted ponytail, and turn on the shower.

  4

  TUESDAY

  "You're supposed to open that box now," the limousine driver said. The darkened, soundproof glass partition separating the driver and the rest of the limo interior slowly rolled up until it clicked at the roofline. The limo lurched forward, and she almost fell off the seat.

  Rose looked around and saw a small white box tied with a wide robin's egg blue ribbon on one of the seats lining the sides. She had to lean forward in order to grab it. The loose knot was easy to untie, and she discarded it quickly. Lifting off the box's top revealed a small white envelope nestled in thin tissue colored to match the ribbon.

  A plain white card read:

  PUT THIS ON NOW.

  WEAR IT UNTIL I SEE YOU.

  Rose pulled out a g-string made of a series of medium sized pearl-like beads and elasticized wide blue ribbon from the tissue paper. There weren't any metal adjustment sliders on the sides in order for someone to tighten the contraption. Instead, the tight elastic didn't give too much when she tried to stretch the fabric with both hands. It would barely fit around the top of her hips.

  "He has got to be kidding," she muttered to herself. Calculating at least six hours until she actually saw Matt, she rolled her eyes and put the stringed thing back into the box.

  Her mobile phone rang with its text message alert sound from inside her purse. Rose fumbled around in the bag until she found it.

  Matt: Put it on Rose

  Matt: I am serious

  He is fucking unreal, she thought. She typed back: Matt it's 6 hrs!

  No response.

  Fine, she thought. I can do this. Rose hiked up her ankle length rayon skirt to her waist, pulled off her panties, and shoved them into her carryon bag.

  Some of the pearls hung out of the top of the box as the limousine slowly cruised the residential streets, but Rose knew they would soon reach the highway. She had to get her seatbelt on quickly or risk sliding off the seat.

  Rose picked up the beaded ribbon thong from the box, leaned back, and put one foot through one of the openings. Then she forced herself to put the other one through. Bracing her feet against the limo's carpeted floor, she pulled the thick ribbon up her legs to scrape her thighs. Rose tugged some more and it finally rested on her hips. The beads pressed tightly on the outside of her slit.

  Not too bad. His measurements are only slightly off.

  After pulling her skirt back down over her knees, Rose sat upright on the seat, snatched the end of the seatbelt, and strapped herself in while silently reassuring herself that she could handle her predicament.

  Then the limo hit a pothole as it turned onto the highway entrance ramp.

  Rose bounced on the seat and the close-fitting string of pearls hit her clit, and the tight skin between her vagina and her anus. One bead rested on her anal opening itself. She grabbed the safety handle next to the door in order to prevent herself from slipping to the floor.

  Just don't move. Be still. It will only be a problem when I have to walk. Sitting will be fine.

  The limo jostled as it sped along the highway. The pearls rubbed her clit whenever she bounced on the seat. Her clit engorged, bringing it closer to the pearls itself. Sharply sucking in her breath, Rose exhaled through her teeth. Her grip tightened on the safety strap. The blood drained away from her knuckles and turned them several shades paler than her normal skin tone.

  I am going to be doing a lot of that. Might as well get it out as much as possible now before boarding the plane. Thankfully the windows are tinted.

  Another hit on a pothole caused Rose to bounce on the seat. The string between two pearls pressed uncomfortably against her clit. She had to adjust her sitting position in order to rearrange them into a close cluster.

  Rose's sinuses opened up. A slow exhale followed a deep breath. The tinted windows yielded a crisp and vivid view. Each sound seemed amplified and crystal clear. Everything contrasted the last few months spent in a self-induced comatose state of passiveness and grief.

  Awake. Alive. Active.

  Squirming on the seat unearthed such a pronounced pleasurable feeling that Rose didn't wait for the next bump in the road to keep going.

  ***

  Rose precariously balanced her carryon bag on top of the roll-aboard suitcase in order to dig her phone out from her purse, and the pearls zinged her again. Hours spe
nt coping with the torturous panties wore away resistance. Ignoring its effects became easier. Finding the phone buried under all the gum, makeup, and everything else Rose managed in last night's hurried state to stuff in without breaking the zipper, she texted Matt that she was by Door 4.

  Doors? What doors? The entire Kona airport is outdoors.

  A white Jeep pulled up to the curb in front of her, and a smile spread on Rose's face when she recognized a clean-shaven version of Matt get out and walk towards her. His tanned skin heavily contrasted his white linen shirt, as did the warmth missing from his face. Matt didn't match her eagerness or excitement at all.

  Acting like a disappointed father picking up a child from school detention, Matt grabbed Rose's bags and quickly put them in the back of the Jeep without saying a word. No embrace, no kiss, and barely any eye contact with his unfamiliar cold expression as he held the passenger door open for her.

  He's mad at me for something. What is it? What did I do?

  Stunned into silence, Rose racked her brain trying to figure out what sparked his harsh attitude as they pulled out of the airport. Confused and somewhat frightened, she stared straight ahead at the road's two lane blacktop and nervously chewed her lower lip. This wasn't what she expected at all, Rose found herself questioning what mistaken interpretation drove her to come here.

  Matt stopped the car at a deserted four-way stop sign, and finally spoke to her. "Lift your skirt and show me," he said.

  Rose checked the rearview mirror to see if there was a car coming up behind them, and Matt made a disapproving click sound with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Embarrassment glowed her cheeks as she gathered her skirt to her waist, and indignantly waited for Matt to lean forward so he could observe that she obeyed his instructions.

  His inspection didn't last for more than a few seconds. "Did they frustrate you the whole time? Did they make you squirm?" Matt asked and refused to wait for her answer. "I hope they did. I hope they made you uncomfortable and desperate the whole flight. Because that's how you made me feel the last few months." Matt faced the road again, and put the Jeep into first gear while rising guilt overwhelmed Rose enough to widen her eyes and stare at his icy anger with her mouth open.

  "Matt… I…"

  He cut her off by turning on the Jeep's stereo from the steering wheel control, and the erratic whump-whump sound blasted from the speakers at an almost uncomfortable volume level. Matt's jaw set as tight as his focus on the road ahead of them while she sat in crestfallen silence.

  Rose didn't acknowledge the injury his cruel behavior caused; she clung on to the welling tears. Did Matt expect to add another layer of guilt to the huge pile built on grief? Sneaking glances from the corner of her eye, all hope plummeted. He didn't care. Sandaled feet powered by bulging calves stomped on the clutch or brake pedal as Matt focused on the road ahead. Even Matt's shifts into various gears enunciated his disappointment as the Jeep sped along the oceanfront road that lacked a sandy beach. The unbearable music droned on.

  How in the world can Jason and Matt both like dubstep? I can barely think while listening to this. Why did I come here? Fine, if he wants to act like this and shut me out, then I can do the same to him.

  Silence overwhelmed her as she looked out the window at low clouds snugly covering mountains in the distance, the colorful tropical foliage, and the lava fields that stretched from the road's edge. The exotic view would enthrall her under any other circumstances, but Matt's uncomfortable aura cast an impenetrable pallor through the tightly enclosed vehicle. Nerves rubbed raw from the experience, Rose pulled at the chipped nail polish on her thumb.

  Instead of spray paint graffiti, bright bits of white coral formed initials and names to decorate the coarse black rock. One particular set stood out to Rose as Matt turned the Jeep towards the ocean and passed through a security gate — "M+M" encircled to imitate the famous candy.

  Of course, there isn't a "M+R+J" anywhere. Something like that would look strange, and the 'M' part refuses to speak with me because he apparently doesn't understand what I went through the past few months.

  Matt pulled up the emergency brake in the center of a small circular driveway edged with high privacy shrubs. Before Rose could unfasten her seatbelt, Matt grabbed her suitcase from the back and carried it into the villa. He left the front door wide open instead of escorting her inside. Rose stared after him in disbelief for almost a minute before realizing she couldn't sit in the Jeep for several days waiting for Jason to rescue her from this bizarre situation.

  And I had it with this stupid contraption. He made his point, and it's coming off now.

  The pearl-like beads hitting the hard plastic floor mats sounded like a tiny hail storm. Cursing herself for yanking the G-string off her shoe's low heel, Rose held the ends of the broken strand to prevent the remaining six pearls on one end and four on the other from joining the others on the floor. Matt probably wondered why she didn't immediately follow him into the house. Restringing it would take too long. There was no way. Rose picked up whatever loose beads she could, and shoved the thong's remains into the Jeep's glove compartment.

  Yeah, definitely washing my hands.

  Rose grabbed her bag and strode into the house, and discovered a sight that took her breath away. She stood in the middle of a great room without any barriers to the ocean's vast dark blue waters. Waves lapped up against ancient jagged lava rocks extended from an infinity lap pool surrounded by flowered bushes. A soft breeze lifted a few loose petals to deposit them into the pool's clear water. The expansive stone patio eventually blended into the tile beneath her feet, and Rose couldn't help walking forward to the pool's edge to confirm it wasn't an illusion.

  I have to take a picture of this and send it to Jason, she thought. Rose rummaged around her bag to find her phone buried under her keys. An additional long shadow crept to mingle with hers; she couldn't discern where hers ended and the other began. Matt lacked his sunglasses, and his eyes hinted at sympathy instead of anger.

  "Hey, let me use your phone for a minute," Matt said. "The signal keeps going out on mine."

  It seemed like a perfectly normal request. Rose complied.

  He's treating me like a human being again.

  Matt's arm extended back and caused the sun to reflect off the phone's screen as it journeyed towards the surf. The phone smashed into several large pieces when it landed on the lava field separating the ocean from the patio's edge, while countless other bits formed a wide halo around the point of impact. The familiar tinkling of jangling keys scraped the patio tile near her feet, and a lipstick rolled towards the pool from dropping her bag in shock.

  Rose's life lay broken among the dark rocks. That one critical piece of technology served as her lifeline to Jason, alarm clock, camera, music source, and countless other daily utilities. Matt destroyed all her fertility data without any remorse: the ovulation tracking, records of doctor's appointments, menstrual data the doctors always wanted, test results, temperature checks, and everything else that made her hands curl into shaking fists.

  All she could do was wait for high tide to take the remains away.

  "Oops, I meant to get it in the water," Matt said. "You needed a new one anyway, and Jason will bring it at the end of the week."

  Mystified at his attempt to diffuse the situation by mixing sarcasm with twisted logic, Rose asked how she would call Jason. Matt arched an eyebrow, and the clicking sound from his watch band's clasp snapping against metal grated against her raw nerves.

  "There is no need to call Jason while you are with me," he said. He pointed to the house phone in the kitchen, and instructed her to dial zero to get the resort operator if she needed something. Matt also mentioned a block on long distance calls. "So if you want to call the police and tell them I bought you a new phone to replace the one I broke, then go right ahead."

  Click. Click.

  "Rose, it was an outdated piece of junk," Matt said. "Stop being so upset, and look at where you are.
"

  Matt's manicured fingers resembled those of a classically trained pianist as they appeared next to her painted toenails. He scooped up the keys and lipstick into her bag before handing it to her. The peace offering was enough to follow him back into the great room out of the bright sunlight.

  Her eyes dimly adjusted to the darker environment to realize they weren't alone. An intimidating stranger towered over the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables with a knife that looked like it could slice through bone. Matt introduced him as Mikhel, and explained he would prepare all their meals. Mikhel's thick goatee widened with a smile before asking Rose what kind of sushi she preferred. She explained she didn't like raw fish. Mikhel's grin disappeared.

  "So… is chicken teriyaki okay?" Mikhel's enormous hand popped a carrot slice into his mouth. Rose nodded, and Mikhel explained he had no problem preparing it but he was a sushi chef. Matt said something about she would probably tire of the same dinner in a few days, and how she should learn to expand her tastebuds.

  Sushi served as a connecting bond between Matt and Jason. Both regularly engaged in significant conversation about raw fish. They compared notes from whatever restaurants they individually attended, which pieces they enjoyed, and argued about the next sushi bar to try whenever Matt was next in town. Rose couldn't stand the stuff, and Jason learned early on not to force it after presenting her with a piece of octopus on a date. He called it something else, but Rose couldn't get the vivid image of the eight-legged sea creature out of her head. It revolted her so much that she excuse herself to find the restaurant's bathroom. As with video games and dub step, sushi defined her as an outsider to the friendship between the two men.

  Rose thought she saw Mikhel wink and slide an end of a carrot stick in and out of his mouth before biting it. Flustered by the perceived grotesque gesture, she pivoted on her heel and walked to meet Matt dragging her roll-aboard down a short hallway into another room.