A Tale of Two Paramours Ch. 35

"Shut the door, Jessika."

"Not with you acting so fucking weird, Mark Warner," she said, folding her arms but not moving from the still open doorway.

"Then I guess the whole parking lot will have to hear me telling you that I have decided that I do not want to be without you."

"What?"

"And I want to marry you," I added, the words leaving my mouth almost simultaneously to the thought exploding into my brain.

Jessika's arms dropped to her sides as she stared at me. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if she wanted to say something, but nothing came out. With a shake of her head, she closed her eyes and just stood there for several seconds.

"Jessika, that kind of just slipped out. Although, I do mean it..." I said, but her eyes snapped open, and the look in them stopped me from finishing what I was saying.

Without a word, the brunette slammed the door. She then leaned back against it for a few seconds, eyes again shut. I was on the verge of resuming speaking when her eyelids snapped open. She glared at me for several seconds before walking past me and through the front room and into her kitchen, where she grabbed a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Next, she pulled out the cork, put the bottle to her lips, and took a long drink.

"Jessika..."

"Shut the fuck up, Mark," she growled before taking another drink of wine.

I did as she asked. When she did not say anything more, I took a seat on her couch. Jessika, wine bottle still in hand, came into the front room and sat on the opposite end of the couch. She glared at me once again, before again drinking.

"This thing was almost full," she told me, holding the bottle up for me to see. "Now I've drank over half of it, and it is not even 9:30 in the fucking morning yet."

"I can see that."

"I didn't say you could fucking speak."

"Sorry," I said. "But I kind of want to know your response. I mean, now that it's out there and all."

"My response? My response?" she yelled, bolting up and pacing back and forth. "My response is to wonder if I need to find you some psychological help, because you've clearly lost your mind."

"What if I have not lost my mind," I asked.

"Then you're going to need a different kind of fucking help because this is not something you should spring on someone out of the blue, especially if that someone is in a relationship, and even more especially if the question should have been asked more than a fucking year ago if the person asking the fucking question had been able to keep it in his pants and had not been fucking a psychotic little cunt who dragged him down into her fucking mess so much that he couldn't see what else he had."

"Actually, it was Jessi who encouraged me to tell you how I feel, how I have felt for a long time, really. But I have been too scared of telling you, because I was worried that you would not feel the same."

Jessika looked at me, then drank again.

"It's now almost all gone, Mark," she told me, shaking the bottle. "You know why? I'm trying to get drunk, so I don't beat the fucking shit out of you."

"I love you, Jes..."

"No!" she yelled, throwing the bottle against the wall, shattering it. "This is not how you are going to fucking tell me that."

"Jessika..."

"Leave, Mark," she said, her voice cracking.

"I can't. I need to know..."

"Just please leave," Jessika interrupted me. "I need you to leave."

"Look, I mean it..."

"I know you do," the brunette sobbed, dropping back down onto her couch. "I know you do. And I need to process this. So please leave."

I did not want to go, but I stood up. I looked at Jessika for several seconds, then stepped toward her.

"If you come one step closer, I will hurt you," Jessika said, her voice stronger despite the tears running down her cheeks. "You know I can do it."

"I do not want to leave you like this," I told her.

"How can you be so nice and such an asshole at the same time, Mark?" she asked, shaking her head.

"It's a gift, I guess."

Jessika stared at me for a heartbeat or two, and I thought she might laugh, but she merely looked away and said, "Please go."

"Do you promise to call me later?"

"Oh, you'll be hearing from me. Count on it."

While that was not quite the assurance I had wanted, I realized that I probably really should leave.

"I guess I will go then."

"Lock the door as you leave, asshole," she snarled, still looking away from me.

I thought about saying more, since I did not really want to leave on the note of the woman to whom I had professed my love, or tried to anyway, calling me an 'asshole', but I was afraid that I would only make matters worse by trying to talk to her more.

"Okay. Bye, Jessika."

"Fuck you, Mark," she replied, turning her back to me.

***

I had not been at home for even ten minutes when my phone buzzed. I did not recognize the number, but I took the call anyway.

"What the fuck did you do?" a female voice asked me, and it took a minute for me to realize that it was Jessi.

"What are you talking about?"

"Jessika just called me and chewed me a new asshole. Said you came over and asked her to marry you. And she sounds like she's been drinking, so at first, I wasn't sure if she was telling me what happened or what she thought happened. Then I thought about you, and I knew you probably did exactly what she said."

"Wait, you're in contact with Jessika?"

"Yes, I am. We started emailing, then texting, about seven months ago. I contacted her to apologize for the shit I put her through. It was part of my recovery process."

"Your recovery? Like AA?"

"Yes, Mark. I went through AA. Are you really surprised? You saw what I was like with booze."

"I am just wondering why you didn't contact me," I pointed out.

"This is not what I want to talk about now. In addition to thinking you have lost your mind, Jessika thinks I told you how she feels about you. I tried to convince her all I did was suggest that you tell her how you feel. You need to make her understand that I didn't betray her trust."

"Wait, how does Jessika feel about me?"

"If you don't know by this point, I don't know what to do to help you. Why do you think she is so fucking upset?"

Jessi was right, of course, but I had wanted to hear what Jessika had told her. I knew better than to push it, however.

"I know, I know," I admitted. "I tried a direct approach. I guess it did not work."

"No shit, Mark," Jessi sighed. "Just please tell her I didn't tell you anything about her feelings. This may sound weird to you, but Jessika and I have developed a kind of friendship, and I don't want her to start hating me again."

"I'm sorry, Jessi. I did not know that. I would have been more careful..."

"No, you would not've," Jessi interrupted. "You're a good man, Mark, kind and smart and all that, but you suck at dealing with big emotional moments in life. And trust me, I know because I suck at them worse than you do."

"I guess I did not see a reason to do anything but tell her directly," I responded, annoyed with the young woman's comment. "After all, we already know each other well. I should not have asked her to marry me, and maybe I should have done more to lead into what I wanted to tell her, but I was nervous."

"What you should've done was invite her to lunch, explain that you realized that you have very strong feelings for her that never really went away, and then tell her that she is important enough for you to take a chance she might feel the same."

"That sounds like the plot of a bad movie, Jessi. And besides, you are probably not the best person to be giving relationship advice."

I knew the moment the words had left my mouth that I should have never said them, so I immediately said, "Jessi, I'm sorry..."

"Fuck it, Mark. Do whatever the hell you want to do. But just remember, one of us is in a relationship with someone and the other isn't, so maybe my advice isn't so shitty after all."

"I didn't say it was shitty," I replied, but Jessi had already terminated the call.

I sat and looked at my phone for several seconds, then I texted the number on which Jessi had called me: "I am sorry, Jessi. You are just trying to help, and I was an ass."

"Yep, U were," was her almost immediate reply.

"I will text Jessika and let her know you did not tell me anything," I sent back.

"Good. Text me w/news."

I replied to her last text with a smiley face, but Jessi did not respond again. I knew she was probably still mad at me, and I also knew she had good reason to be. I had been a jerk to her for no real reason. And I had been as much a jerk with Jessika, I realized. It made me wonder whether subconsciously I might be trying to drive both of them out of my life again.

Shaking off my doubts, I sent Jessika a text: "I spoke with Jessi. She wants me to assure you she did not tell me anything. All she did was encourage me to tell you how I feel."

A few minutes went by before Jessika responded, "dont text me".

I stared at the terse message for several seconds, not sure what to do. Jessi was angry at me, so I was not going to find any help there. Jessika was more than angry at me, and I now better understood why that was so. She had confided in Jessi something about how she felt about me. And given her reaction to my clumsy attempt to tell her how I felt, and Jessi's subsequent reaction to my failure, I was quite sure that the brunette must feel the same way about me as I did about her, or at least close to the same.

"Fuck," I groaned, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands as I again seriously considered whether I was trying to drive Jessika away. The alternative was that I might be the one of the three of us with the more problematic issues with relationships, not Jessika or even Jessi.

After sitting and thinking for some time, I realized that I had a lot of work to do, both for the classes I was taking as well as those I was teaching. I forced myself to get off my couch and go to my office. After I turned on my computer, I stared at the screen for some time, unsure where to start. I eventually gave up with the computer and tried to do some reading. But every few minutes, I would lose the thread of whatever it was I was reading and start replaying my conversation with Jessika in my mind.

Just before noon, I gave up and went to make myself a sandwich. As I walked by my couch, I saw my phone lying on the coffee table where I had left it. I almost let it stay there, afraid of knowing whether Jessika had texted me, and uncertain whether it would be worse if she had texted or if she had not. But in the end, I had to know, so I grabbed my phone and tapped the screen. There were three texts, all from Jessika. Taking a deep breath, I sat down to read them.

"just hsd big figgt witj darrwn. wantd tp knoe why im durnk becusw of tje fucinh clensr", the first text read, and it took me a few seconds to decode the typos to understand that Darren and Jessika had a fight because she was drunk and that had disrupted the cleanse she had been doing.

The next one was even more difficult to understand than the first: "tolf hmi tp FUvK OFf todl hum i wa tied not beung mysefk amd we wrent rgiht 4 aechther". The gist of it, I thought, was that Jessika had told her boyfriend that they were not right for each other.

"FUCK U 2, Mark! i dudnt neef this SHIT!," was the last text, and that one was pretty clear to me right away, even with the typos.

"Jessika, are you okay?" I texted, hoping she would respond.

"fukc no," was the reply, followed closely by, "n bittkr 2 if almt wone".

"I did not understand your last text, Jessika," I responded.

"botlr numvr 2," was her next text, then "ov winne. Almst gonr."

I stared at the screen of my phone, then made a decision. I had once helped a very inebriated Jessi after I had done something stupid, and I was not going to sit by while Jessika was going through something similar because of me. I grabbed my keys and phone, then headed out the door.

About fifteen minutes later, I was again knocking on Jessika's door. She answered much more quickly this time, but she looked even less happy to see me. She was dressed in the same sweatpants and t-shirt she had been wearing earlier, but now with frazzled hair and red and puffy eyes.

"The fuck you want?" she slurred, glaring at me.

"To take the wine from you, first," I told her, reaching out for the nearly empty bottle she was holding.

"Touch it and I kick your balls," Jessika warned me, holding it away.

"I just want to help you, Jessika," I told her.

"By fuckin' up my life?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head.

"It's over," Jessika groaned, waving the bottle in my face. "Darren and me. Seven fuckin' months down the drain cuz you decided to shit all over my life."

"I do not understand..."

"You should get that on a shirt," the brunette snapped, and for a moment her voice was strong and the glassy look of her gray eyes was burned away by a flare-up of anger.

But then the moment was gone, and Jessika turned and stumbled her way to her couch, where she fell to a sitting position, holding the bottle out in front of her to keep it upright. I stepped through the door and softly closed it behind me. I then moved slowly into the front room and sat in the chair beside the couch.

"What do you mean, Jessika?"

"Things were okay between me and Darren," she sighed. "Or is it between Darren and I? Sometimes I'm not sure but I never want to fuck it up around you. I'm sure I do, though."

"You're fine," I told her, reaching out to touch her leg.

"Not fine, asshole," she snarled, moving away from my touch. "I'm pissed, and hurt, and confused, and pissed, and sad."

"You said 'pissed' twice," I pointed out in a light tone, hoping to add some levity.

"Meant it in the British sense, guvnor," the brunette chuckled in a bad imitation of a British accent. "Well, one of the times at least. Or maybe I'm just double pissed. Fuck, I don't know now."

I did not say anything, and after about a minute of silence, Jessika continued, "Think I coulda been happy with Darren. Just needed him to relax a bit. But no, you wanna get married. What the fuck?"

"How could you be happy with Darren?" I asked her, deciding that maybe she needed me to push back at her. "Look at you. You're not yourself. You are a female version of him."

"Well, you made damn sure I couldn't be happy with you, so he was the next best thing."

"How did I make sure you could not be happy with me?"

"Because you never fucking came back to me after it ended with the blonde slut!" Jessika yelled, jumping up and throwing the bottle at me. Luckily she missed, and for the second time that day, the brunette shattered a bottle of wine against her wall.

"We continued our friendship..."

"No we fucking didn't! I tried. I tried like hell, because I could no longer lie to myself about loving you, but you were gone from me. Why do you think the fucking sex was so bad? You were fucking gone. And later, when you weren't quite as gone, it wasn't the same. You put a wall between us. A big fucking wall made of your fucking insecurities over a fucking twenty-year-old taking you to dark places. Well, she's all fucking better now and you're still a fucking mess. Maybe she wasn't the one who fucked it all up."

"You love me?" I asked, not surprised that it might be true but shocked that she had said it.

"Yes!" the brunette screamed, stepping up to me and slamming her fists against my chest.

I stumbled back against the wall, but I did nothing to stop Jessika from continuing to pound on my chest. It hurt quite a bit, given her strength and that she was drunk enough to not truly realize how hard she was hitting me, but I let her continue anyway. Still, I was very thankful when she stopped after just a few seconds more.

"Why did you make me tell you like this?" she sobbed, putting her head on my chest and pulling us together tightly. "Why?"

"I am very sorry, Jessika," I told her, stroking her hair as she cried. "I love you too. But maybe you are right. Maybe I tried to bury that after Jessi."

Jessika looked up at me, then she reached to my face, stroking it with her fingers. I did the same, which brought a small smile to her lips. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone. She grabbed the back of my head and pulled me into a kiss.

Even had her mouth not tasted strongly of alcohol, I would have broken the kiss. It was not that kissing Jessika was something I did not want to do. It was just kissing her right then, in that state, that seemed wrong.

"Jessika, maybe you should have some water, and then take a shower. I'm sure you will feel better then."

"Okay. But I'm not gonna remember this, you know?"

"Remember what?"

"Anything after I started the second bottle," she said right before she sat back down.

I moved to sit with her, but the brunette gave me an odd look. Bending forward, she vomited on the carpet.

***

"Where the fuck am?" Jessika croaked, sitting up in her dark bedroom. It was nearly midnight on Saturday. I had cleaned her up and put her to bed. After that, scrubbed the carpet in her front room, then used her laptop to do some work for my classes while she slept.

"Your room," I said. "I'm sorry to wake you. I just thought you could use some water. You have not had any for some time."

"Mark? What're you doing here? Darren was just here. We had a fight," she said, looking around the room. "I broke up with him."

"I know, Jessika."

"I broke up with him because of you," she continued, staring at me.

"You remember this morning, right?"

"A girl doesn't forget shit like that, Mark," she sighed, lying back down. "That was by far the dumbest thing I have ever seen you do."

"Do you remember drinking the second bottle of wine after you broke it off with Darren, or texting me about it."

"Can you get me that water, Mark? My mouth is very dry."

"Sure, Jessika," I said, then I want to her kitchen and took a bottle of water from her fridge. After a moment's thought, I also grabbed some ibuprofen from her pantry, figuring she had to have a headache.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed when I came in, so I handed her the water and the bottle of painkillers.

"What are these for?"

"I assumed you had a headache," I told her.

"Oh, it may start soon, but not right now."

I sat down on the bed with about a foot or so between us, and when Jessika did not react negatively, I relaxed a little.

"Do you remember any of our conversation when I came over," I asked. "I mean, the second time."

"I think I remember some yelling and maybe throwing something at you," she said after she drained the bottle of water.

"You told me you wouldn't remember any of it," I responded, reaching out and taking her hand.

"What else did I tell you?"

"What happened with Darren, mostly."

"You were right, Mark, at lunch the other day," Jessika sighed. "I was losing myself in being what he wanted me to be. It took your stupid proposal, and a lot of wine, for me to admit that."

"I meant it," I blurted out, squeezing her hand, and when she did not pull it away, I went on. "About marrying you. I realize now I could have approached that much better."

Jessika did not say anything, but she did squeeze my hand back. We then sat in silence for a while. I wanted to say more to her, but I knew I needed to let her work through whatever she was thinking first.

"The answer is 'no'," she finally said, but she still did not withdraw her hand from mine. "But, it may not always be."

"Oh," was all I said, then we sat in silence again.

I thought about telling her that we had both professed our love for the other while she had been drunk, but I did not. The fact that her 'no' might not be definite was enough for me at that moment.