In this moment, all I can hear is his slow breath on my neck and his soft heartbeat on my chest. This is what true happiness feels like.
"I can only stay for five more minutes," I murmur.
"It's only 7 o'clock. Why do you have to go so soon?" Charles' deep, groggy voice fills his apartment bedroom.
"I just have some work to do, that's all." Lie.
The truth is, my husband will be home from work at eight. Yes, that's right. I'm married. But it's not how it sounds, I promise. The person I'm married to is not a man--he's a monster. The days when we were dating were magical; I wouldn't trade them for the world. But the person he became as soon as our honeymoon began--possessive, dominating, and violent--is not the man I knew in the beginning of our relationship.
Mark and I have been married for almost two years. Two years of threats and bruises is not quite the happily ever after I was looking for. I'd started to give up on love until I met Charles a few months ago when I was going dancing with some friends. My friends were so proud of themselves for convincing me to go out, when really, it was Mark who needed convincing. It took me days to gain the trust I needed from him to have one fun night without him.
The funny thing is, when all the abuse started, I was offended that Mark thought I would cheat. But then I realized his possessiveness is about power, not his opinion of me. So I danced with Charles the entire evening, and at the end of the night, when he asked for a date, I could not give him my number quickly enough. Of course, Mark goes through my work phone so I have a cheap spare that I use just for contact with Charles.
When I arrive home from my evening with Charles, I find Mark sitting on the couch waiting for me. He hasn't seen me yet, so I tiptoe back out the door, hoping for an escape. But it's too late.
"Where were you?" Mark commands.
"I was just finishing up at the office, honey," I gulp.
"Wrong. The office said you left three hours ago." Why do I even bother lying?
"OK, OK. If you must know, I'm planning you a surprise party. I was out ordering the cake and buying some supplies. Gosh, why can't you let me surprise you just once?" I fake a smile. His birthday is coming up in a few months, so that lie has to be somewhat believable.
Remarkably, Mark isn't the mood for any bickering tonight. He sighs and goes to the bedroom. I breathe a sigh of relief and follow him in.
The next day, Mark leaves for a business trip in Chicago. Luckily for me, that means two whole days to spend with Charles without any fear. We've been seeing each other for a few months, and since there's no chance of Mark being home, I invite Charles over to my place for the first time. Every photo of Mark and I hides in the garage, as well as all his clothes and personal belongings that could tip Charles off. I swore to myself that tonight would be the night I would tell him the complete truth. Charles doesn't deserve to be lied to everyday. He's too good of a man for that.
That night, I leave Charles in the bedroom while I go out to make coffee. Five minutes later, I push open the door carrying two mugs.
"Alright, black coffee for you of course. And for me, four sugars and-" I stop in my tracks. There sits Charles holding my marriage certificate in his hand, looking more confused than a deer in the headlights.
"What is this?" Charles asks, a hopeful expression in his eyes.
"Please don't look at that," I say, rushing over to him and spilling scalding hot coffee down my arms and onto the white rug.
"Whose marriage license is this? Your parents'?" Here goes nothing.
"I wasn’t planning on this. Falling in love with you was the last thing I wanted. Because I know our time would have to come to end. Yet, here I am, begging you not to turn the page."
"Sweetie, what on earth are you talking about?" It only took a split second for Charles' face to transform from frazzled to concerned to total disappointment. He didn’t need to turn the page to realize what this means. It only took a split second for him to see through all the lies, a split second for my happiness to come crashing to a halt.
The floodgates open. The tears fall so heavily I cannot see in front of me. The lump in my throat feels like I swallowed a boulder; the knot in my stomach gets tighter and tighter with each breath I take.
"Please let me explain," I sob. I reach out for his hand, expecting him to move it from my reach. But he doesn't, and just like the first time I ever touched him, I feel a spark so strong between us, and I realize how goddamn selfish I am.
Despite all the lies I've told him, Charles, the most patient man alive, stays by my side while I tell him everything. I tell him about Mark--the happy memories as well as the situation I'm currently facing. I tell him how, at first, being with him was a spontaneous adventure, but now I'm in love and I have no idea what I'm doing. I tell him how every minute I spend with him gives me strength to get me through every minute I must endure with Mark.
At the end of it all, Charles smiles. "Run away with me," he says, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind my ear.
"What? But that's so dangerous. Not just for me.. he could hurt you. I couldn't live with myself if--"
"Hey, don't be like that. It will be OK; I won't let anything happen to you. The truth is, I got offered a promotion in Tampa today. I was going to ask you to come with me anyway," he says, blushing. And just like that, my life begins to turn around. In ten minutes, I'm packed and ready to go; I'm free. We hold hands as I close the door of my house for the last time. When the door clicks shut, I tuck the key under the doormat. Here we go.
Charles and I are almost to the driveway when, for the second time in an hour, my happiness comes screeching to a halt.
"Jess? Is that you? Who is that with you?"
We freeze in place.
It's Mark.
Prompt: Writer's Digest
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