I am HER... (10 page)

 
BUT WHAT ABOUT THE STUFF?! 
Argh…
 
  Grabbing a package of ground beef from the freezer, I cut up as many small pieces as I can before dumping it down the garberator and leave the empty package face up in the trash can.  From the fridge I pull out and also empty 2 jars of my homemade sauce down the sink, and rinse and line up the jars beside the sink to dry.  Brick of Mozzarella Cheese? 
Um.
  Grabbing it from the cheese drawer, I hide it behind the vegetables in the crisper drawer.  Ricotta?  Hidden behind the pickles.  Spices?  He'll never know.  Does Marcus even know where I keep all the spices and seasonings?  I doubt it.  Noodles?  Opening a box of lasagna noodles, I smash them into smaller pieces, hide them in a brown lunch bag, and push them low in the garbage with the empty ground beef package back on top.  Crushing the box of lasagna, I make sure it’s on the top of the recycling bin in the pantry. 
  There!
Ha!
  Marcus will never know I didn't make it today.  God, my hands are shaking.  I was in such a rush to
prepare
 my
already prepared
lasagna; I hadn't noticed that I've been holding my breath for hours it seems.  Marcus will never know though, so I'm safe from disappointing anyone tonight.
 

  T
rying to calm my nerves, I head back to my desk in the sunroom.  There are 6 new emails:
- 1 email from Mr. Wallace in Washington, with an amendment.
- 1 email from Mr. King in Sarasota.
- 2 emails from Kayla.
- 2 from Mr. Zinfandel timed in the last 45 minutes.
 

  I
don't want to read them, I really don't.  I can't handle any more of this... 
SHIT! 
I have to.  Opening the first email...
    

______________________
__________

From:  Z. Zinfandel

Subject:  I’m disappointed

Thursday, May 26

5:19pm

I am very disappointed in you, Sweetheart.
That was very rude.
I thought I made myself perfectly clear.   I will not tolerate rudeness.
Do not hang up on me. 
Speak
to me.
If I frighten you, or you feel uncomfortable, please say so.
I
want
to know what you’re thinking.
I would really like to know what you’re
feeling,
as well.
I will give you a little time to gather your thoughts.
I am very aware of your incessant need to feel 'in control' of yourself, but try to understand that it is NOT my goal to undermine your need for control.
Please do not push away my concern and affections... You will only hurt yourself further.
Yours patiently,
Z
________________________________

  His ‘
concern and affections’
?  He doesn't even know me! 
I
don't even know me anymore
. 
Oh, but at least I’ve
disappointed
him.  One whole day without someone’s disappointment might have actually given me a false sense of security or something.  Thank god! I’m back on track today.

______________________
__________

From:  Z. Zinfandel

Subject:  It’s a date

Thursday, May 26

6:00pm
Sweetheart,
I do hope that you’ve settled down some.
I’m going to call you this evening at 10:00pm sharp.
I suggest you have your phone with you and find a private location. I will be speaking to you rather bluntly, so I
strongly
suggest you find some privacy.

Please do not think it would be wise to ignore my call; I have
ways of forcing your attention, even if you do not
desire
my attention.
I look forward to speaking with you this evening.
Yours,

Z

________________________________

  10:00? 
10:00?
  Marcus will be here.  It's not like I could go anywhere else.  I never go out through the week.  What am I going to do?  What will I do?  This is INSANITY!  I'm married.  I have a husband who’ll be home while I'm talking to another man? 
Who does that?
  Not me. I'm not answering.  What can he actually do?  It's not like he’ll
show up at my home.  Does he even know where I live?  Ahh…
probably.
  Oh
god.
  I have to email him back.
 

______________________
__________

Reply

Subject:  It’s a date

Thursday, May 26

6:34pm
Z,
Please don't call me.  My husband will be home by 10:00 and I have nowhere to talk with privacy.
I am
feeling
very stressed out by you and your demands.
Please, leave me alone.
I have to finish work, and I can't with all these emotional distractions.
I'm begging you to stop harassing me.
I can't handle much more.
Please...
________________________________
  There.  I sounded a little pathetic but maybe that'll work.  I can't do anything else but beg.  Hopefully he’ll take pity on me, and leave me alone.

                                 ==========

 
Returning to my spreadsheets, I once again begin calculating expenses.  This is the easy part; it’s mindless.  Number crunching is easy.  I've already researched all the approvals, and categorized the approved and unapproved expenses for each Accounts Manager.  Now I just need to formulate grand totals.  I may even have this completed by mid afternoon tomorrow, in which case I could email off the summary reports to Mr. Shields before Monday.  Maybe if I'm early, I won't look so incompetent this week.
  At 7:35, the lasagna is out of the oven.  Running to my bedroom I have a quick rinse-off shower and finally get dressed.  Black capris and black cami top with cardigan.  There, I feel much better.  Returning to the sunroom, I work a little more while I wait for Marcus to come home.  I feel like I actually accomplished something today.
 

 
By 9:30, I'm scared.  Marcus isn't home.  I have no additional emails from Z, but I'm scared to death he's going to call me anyway.  Where the hell is Marcus?  Why hasn't he called to say he’d be late?  Marcus always calls if he isn't going to be home by 7:30, except on Mondays.

 
Walking to the kitchen, I look at the dried out, hours old lasagna I spent all day
slaving
over.  Huh.  I feel a giggle bubble up at the thought.  I haven't had one of those for a while.  Trying to suppress my laughter, I call Marcus from the kitchen phone.
  "Hi.  What can I do for you?" He quips.
  "Ah, hi honey... When are you coming home?  I told you I would prepare a proper dinner for you this evening."

  “Oh.  You’ve been so
tired
lately, I assumed you had forgotten to cook again,” he sneers.

 
Wow.  He really is pissed at me.  Maybe I should just apologize for questioning his sexual ability.  Maybe I should just tell him it's my fault.
  "Marcus, I'm sorry I haven't been well.  I'm not sure what's going on, but I'm calling the doctor tomorrow..."
  "Look, I'm very busy here.  I'm not sure when I'll be home, so don't wait up, okay?"
 
Holy shit!
  Marcus hung up on me.  Marcus doesn't know when he'll be home?  Marcus doesn't even care about the doctors?  He
always
cares about stuff like that.  He wants his wife to be healthy and drama-free. 
Wake up!
  Marcus doesn't care about me anymore.

 
At 9:58, I check my emails again, but there’s nothing.  Good.  Maybe Z decided to back off.  Maybe my begging worked.  Maybe he called someone else.  Maybe, Kayla? Maybe he became bored with me... 
  When my phone suddenly rings, I jump once more.  Will I ever learn to handle a phone ringing again? 
  "Hello?"
  "Hi Sweetheart.  Do you have privacy?" 
  "Um, yes.  My husband isn't home from work yet."
  "
Pardon?
  He didn't stay with you all day, and he isn't even home before 10:00?  Please tell me he at least called every hour to check up on you?" Do I lie?  Will he know if I lie over the phone?  Probably.
  "Um... No, he didn't.  I assured him this morning that I was fine though, and he trusts me, so he didn't really have to call me today."   God that sounded so pathetic.
  "To quote the charming Ms. Kayla, 'your husband is a fucking prick'!"
  "No, he's not!  We're just not like that. If I say I'm fine, he trusts that I'm fine.  There was no need for drama or concern today, because I told him I was FINE.  Marcus is a good man, and he’s nice, and he loves me." 
  "Well, I am delighted to hear that.  I'm pleased that your ignorant, selfish, jack-ass of a husband is ‘good and nice’.  I'm sure that’s exactly what you want in a spouse."
  "You don't know me! 
God,
Z.  Why do you keep talking to me, like we know each other?  We don't.  Marcus is EXACTLY the kind of man I want.  He is calm and stable and he loves me.  He’ll never cheat on me.  And he’s good to me…"

 
But even as a say it, I don't really believe it.  Marcus isn't actually
good
to me, he just kind of acknowledges me, has sex with me once a month, and that's really about it...
Huh.
  "Are you through, Sweetheart?  Have you convinced yourself yet, that your husband is the kind of man you actually want
?” 
No
, not really.
  "There is no convincing needed.  I married him, and he is wonderful.  We have a nice life.  We have a lovely home, and beautiful furniture to furnish our lovely home."

 
Furniture?
  Am I actually stressing Marcus' marital merits to a stranger with
FURNITURE?
  Z laughs, "Did you just try to defend your husband’s lack of thought and concern for you, with
furniture
?”  Yes.
  Yes, I did.
  "N-no.  I was just saying that we have a nice home together because Marcus likes nice things."
  "Marcus likes nice things?  And what do you like, Sweetheart?"  Um…

 
"I like nice things too.  We have a nice life together because he and I usually agree on everything."  Ah, except before, during, and after sex.  There we
really
do not see eye to eye, I giggle to myself. 
  "Why are you laughing?  Is it because you are finally seeing the absurdity of your statements?"  Nope.  It's because I'm thinking about sex with Marcus.
  "No.  I'm just thinking about something Kayla told me, um, yesterday."  Another lie? 
Shit.
  "
Really?
  And what did Kayla tell you that was so funny?"  Pause.  I can’t think of a single thing.  I have a complete blank where cognitive reasoning used to be.  And the pause just gets longer…
  "Um... It's private.  Just between girls..."  That's believable,
right?
  "Interesting.  I think you're lying to me.  Kayla informed me today, that though she tries very hard to be your friend, you’re very emotionally detached from her and everyone else she has ever seen you speak to. So I find it
intriguing
that you and Kayla would suddenly share something
just between girls
." 
 
What the hell?
  Why would she say that?  Why would she talk about me like that?  I'm not emotionally detached.  I
attach
.  I hate Kayla right now.  And I hate Z for talking about me with her.  I don't know what to say anymore.  I want to hang up and go to sleep. 
  "That’s n-not true.  I am emotionally attached to people; I just don't feel the need to tell everyone everything about myself."  God, I hate this.  In a near whimper, "I have to go now.  Thank you for calling... Ah, enjoy your stay in Chicago."  I am so polite,
always
.  I. Am. So. Pathetic.
ALWAYS.
  "We’re not finished with this conversation yet.  Do not hang up.  I would like to talk to you about what you're feeling right now.  Your mood changed rather drastically.  Listen, Sweetheart, I didn’t mean to sadden you."
  "Oh, I'm not sad.  I'm fine.  But I really must go.  Good night."
  "
Sweetheart..."
It sounds like a threat, but I just don't know what to say anymore.
  "What do you want me to say?  Please tell me.  Tell me what is a proper response, and I'll say it, and then we can hang up.  What am I supposed to say, Z?"  I think I'm getting to that shaky place again.  I'm not breathing very well.
  "Why don't you tell me what you're feeling right now?  You sound slightly distraught."