Marx Girl

“Why didn’t you bring this up before if it bothers you so much?” he snaps.

“Well…” I shake my head, because that is a very good question. “You told me about your family and I completely forgot about all this.”

“You were thinking about my fucking family while…” He connects the dots. “So, that was the last three days? Sympathy fucking?” He sneers.

“No.”

“What the fuck was it then, Bridget?” he growls.

“That… It came out wrong,” I stammer as I try to backtrack. “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

He shakes his head in disgust and starts to look around for his clothes.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Home. I have to work.”

“Bullshit. You’re avoiding this conversation.”

“For fuck’s sake, Bridget, leave the past in the past! It doesn’t matter anymore.”

My face falls. “Is that how you get through life, Ben?”

His eyes hold mine.

“By leaving the past in the past, never dealing with anything, but just moving onward and upward?”

He pulls his jeans on in a hurried fashion. “It’s for the best. No good ever comes from dwelling on the past.” He zips up his fly. “All I know is that we had a perfect couple of days and now you’re ruining it with shit that happened five years ago. Why?”

I watch him dress. “Have you ever seen someone… professional?”

He scrunches up his face. “Now I’m a nut job because I don’t remember a fucking conversation?” He shakes his head in disgust. “Can you hear yourself?”

“Have you ever dealt with your sister’s death?”

He points at me. “You leave my sister out of this!” he yells as he completely loses control of his emotions.

The room falls silent and he drops his head, clearly ashamed of himself for just showing me how vulnerable he really is.

Dear God, he has more issues than I thought.

I stand and wrap my arms around him. “Ben, let me in.” My eyes search his.

He puts his finger under my jaw to bring my eyes up to meet his. “I’m here, Didge,” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want all of you, warts and all. Not just the parts you decide to show me.”

Our eyes are locked and I can see him thinking. “Some people’s warts are bigger than others.” He sighs sadly as he pulls out of my arms.

“Another riddle. Really? You’re giving me another riddle? Just say what you fucking mean, Ben!” I snap, losing the last of my patience.

He seems to shift into some kind of rehearsed roleplay. “What I meant to say is… I don’t remember what I said the night we broke up. My sister has nothing to do with any of that, and it seems like you are looking for something to fight over.” He walks out into the lounge room and I follow him, still naked. “Now I’m going to work, and if you decide you want to talk about our future instead of our past then I will see you tonight.”

“And if not?” I snap as I put my hands on my hips.

His cold eyes find mine. “Then I guess I’ll see you around.”

“What? Are you kidding me, right now? I want to have a conversation, that’s not too much to ask for, Ben.” I can’t fucking believe this.

“Stop looking for something that isn’t there, Bridget. Just leave it!” With one last look my way, he walks out the door, and it closes behind him. I stare at it with my heart beating hard in my chest.

What the fuck was that?

It’s 11:00 a.m. and I have taken an early lunch to ring Adrian.

I need to talk about this and I don’t want the others to know. I emailed him, so I know he is waiting for my call. It’s just gone 6:00 p.m. yesterday for him in America. These time zones are annoying because I can’t just ring him whenever I want to. When I’m at home, he’s at work or sleeping, and when he’s at home, I’m working or sleeping. I grab my lunch, go to the park so I can talk freely, and I dial his number. He answers on the first ring. “Hey, Didge.”

Just hearing his voice makes me weak. “Oh, Adrian, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“What’s wrong, babe?” He’s clearly concerned.

“Well…” I scrunch up my face because I know that he is going to lecture me. “I’ve been sneaking around with Ben.”

“You have?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Yes. And…” I pause, because this sounds so lame.

“What about, Eric?” he asks.

I roll my eyes. “Long story, but we broke up.”

“And you moved on already?”

I shrug. “I don’t think I ever moved on from Ben, to be honest.”

“This is true,” he replies. “We did know this already.”

“I’ve been sleeping with him for three days.”

“How long have you been sneaking around with him?”

“A week.”

The line stays silent.