Two's a Crowd Ch. 01

"A client."

"Stop fucking with me, Myriam."

"He is."

"How long, Myr?"

Her eyes shifted and I knew. She looked like this when she was annoyed. At first she had looked puzzled, then scared. Now she was annoyed. Some decision must have been made in her mind. "How long?" I repeated.

"Don't make a fool of yourself, Bruce. Please." Her voice grew steadier. "It was a business function."

I almost lost it. I grabbed her wrist. "A fool? Am I a fool?"

Panic returned to her eyes. I had pulled her face almost to mine.

"Yes, Myriam! That is what I am, isn't it? A clown? A silly non-entity to trample on. To wave away. To have a good laugh over when you let your lovers pamper you."

She said nothing. Her eyes never met mine.

"Tell me, Myr. At least take me seriously enough to tell me."

She shook her hand free and started to rise. I pushed her down.

"There is nothing. So there is nothing to tell," she said with a whine. She rubbed her wrist. "And you hurt me."

I sat on the low table in front of her. I once more took her hands. She tried to pull away, but I held tightly to her hands.

"I hurt you?" I said. My voice was soft. "Come on, Myr. I know you fucked the guy. I saw you with him and I know you well enough to be very certain. I could force you to show me your fucked-out cunt. Maybe your ass, too. Maybe the love bites on your tits; his spunk on your breath."

I let go of her hands. I had her attention. I had never used words like fuck or tit around her. Let alone talk about anal sex. "I could, easily. But I won't. I won't check on you, Myriam," I went on. "You know why?"

She just stared.

"Because I love you." Her eyes widened. The white was tainted with red.

"Yes, you fucking whore," I went on. "I shall always love you as long as you are the Myriam I know. You may accidentally be weak and fall for the glamour of the moment. That would hurt me immensely. I think you know how that would hurt me. But you would still be my Myr. I'd find the strength to still love you. And hope that we would be able to get past this." Her eyes filled with tears. One spilled over and ran down her pale cheek.

I went on. "But maybe, honey, maybe you are someone I don't know at all. One who can live with betraying me, with lying to me and humiliating me. Maybe you have lied about our love for years. Secretly laughed at all I held precious. Tell me, Myriam. I need to know if I can go on loving you."

Tears were running freely now. My eyes burned too. Her lips trembled. A tear dangled from a corner. But she kept her silence.

I stood and looked down on her. "Good," I said. "You go shower your fucked-out body. Then go sleep off your exhaustion."

I made room for her to leave. She grabbed her purse and walked to the stairs. As she reached the first steps, I said: "You better get your act together, Myr. There is no clown in this circus." She stopped for two seconds. Her hand lingered above the rail. Then she gripped it and walked up the stairs, her bare feet sinking into the carpet.

I collapsed on the couch.

***

She slept till early afternoon. I wandered in and out of a shallow sleep myself. Around noon I went up to look in on her. I saw she hadn't showered. She hadn't even undressed. The fur lay like a dead animal on the floor. She was on her belly and seemed sound asleep. Her dress had crept up. I could not resist raising the hem. There were no panties.

Down in the kitchen I drank coffee and ate some toast. The turmoil in my head had died down. From a calm and featureless landscape loomed just one question, like a rock. Could we stay together?

I knew I could not answer that question. She could. If she wanted to. I poured a new cup and forgot how hot it still was. I burned my tongue. At that same moment I heard the shower start. It went on for a very long time. She finally came down in her robe. She looked fresh. Her wet hair was in a towel. Her smile was wan, but it was there.

"Coffee?" I asked. "It's nice and hot."

She stared at me. Then she nodded. "Honey," she said after sitting down. "I am sorry about last night, ehm, this morning."

I pushed the cup her way. "Why sorry?"

She looked into the steaming cup. "I left you with all these questions. I should not have done that, as there is nothing to worry about, really. You must have had an awful night."

She was all Myriam again -- cool, nice and in control. I said nothing. I shoved a muffin her way. She looked but didn't touch it.

"His name is Carlos Kirchner," she then said. "He is from Argentina. We buy his meat." She winced when she pondered that line. She knew I would see the unintended pun. My God, how we knew each other.

"There was this fundraiser at the Excelsior, as I told you," she went on. She did not look at me. Her finger drew figures on the counter. "Carlos asked me to accompany him there, since he was all alone in the city."

"When did he ask you?" I interrupted. She looked up.

"Is that important?"

I nodded.

"Ehm," she said and wriggled on her stool. "It was on short notice. His wife would have been here, but she became ill and stayed in Buenos Aires."

"You must have found that dress rather quickly then."

"I borrowed it," she said.

"Wow," I said. "Would love to know the friend who dresses that sexy."

She blushed.

"Myriam," I said. "Why don't you just stop this game? I don't buy it. And it hurts me to see you degrade yourself like this."

"I don't know what you mean," she said. Her voice got softer with every word.

I rose from my stool. "A few hours of sleep and a long shower obviously aren't enough to get rid of the lies, honey," I said. "I'll give you more time. I have packed a suitcase and will live at the hotel for a while. Not the Excelsior, mind you."

I walked past her. She tried to stop me. I shook her hand off. At the door I turned around. "If you happen to stumble on the truth, Myr, please don't hesitate to share it with me."

I left the house. Did I hear her sob? I don't remember.